Disclaimer: Per the normal. . . don't own them, don't profit off them.

Rating: FRM, P, V

Warning: Somewhat gory in places

Acknowledgement: Written for KET, who requested an alternate, slash ending for the episode, Vendetta, and gave me the plot bunny she found for it. It's been meandering around in my plot bunny herd since last year, being very difficult to catch.

Pairing: C/V

Notes: I've stolen a few passages from the original script, reworking them to fit the story, mostly because I didn't want to lose them.

Summary: What would happen if Chris had gone up against the Nichols boys?

Vin Tanner and Buck Wilmington sped across the prairie. Spurred on by Ezra Standish's words, they were racing toward Chris Larabee's homestead. The blond had stormed into and out of town a short time earlier, sweeping his father-in-law onto his black gelding behind him. The Nichols brothers, who had come into town to kill Hank Connolly, had discovered from one of the town's shopkeepers who the gunslinger was and where the two men had gone. Fortunately, before they could force more information from the man, Ezra had interceded and given them false directions to the blond's homestead. According to the quick thinking gambler, the family of cutthroats would end up in Juarez if they stuck to his directions.

As they neared a steep down slope, the two men reined in, Vin cursing under his breath. Looking toward the prairie floor, they saw several riders, all dressed in black. They were riding hard. . . straight toward Larabee's "shack in the hills" as the men had come to refer to it.

"Over yonder," Vin pointed out, "They turned around, headin' straight fer Chris."

"Someone must've straightened 'em out," Buck replied. The two men kicked their horses into a gallop, taking a shorter route Vin knew.

~@~

Chris looked up from his plate at the sound of horses approaching his home. With a frown and a soft, "stay here" to his father-in-law, he moved to the window. Curiosity took over his features as he recognized Buck and Vin just reining in at the corral. Willing himself not to respond to the sudden appearance of his lover, he swung the door open and stepped out onto the porch. "Trouble?"

Smiling at his old friend's use of few words, Buck said, "Could be if we don't get Hank outta here. Them Nichols boys are worse than stink on a skunk. They found out where you brought him; me and Vin are about two steps ahead of 'em."

Hank appeared just behind the blond. Without turning, Chris said, "You've gotta go." Moving quickly, he went to the corral and began saddling a chestnut gelding there. He barely noticed Vin nearby, saddling his black.

In a few short minutes, they were ready to go. Three men mounted, looking questioningly at the fourth, still on foot.

Chris looked at each of them, finding it the most difficult to look into the pair of pale blue eyes that spoke of the silent fear the man behind them felt. Clearing his throat, he said with a calm he didn't feel, "you boys get him out of here. I'll stay behind - "

"Chris!" The yell of protest came not from Vin, but from Buck.

"—and slow them up a bit," Larabee finished as if his old friend hadn't spoken.

"Ya sure about this?" Vin spoke quietly.

Nodding, the blond said, "I need you two to make sure he gets away safe. Ain't gonna watch him die. I'll take care of things here."

"Buck can get him away - "

Shaking his head, Larabee said, "No, both of you go." With a cocky grin he said, "There's only half a dozen or so, I'll be fine... meet you back in town."

As if he had only realized what the younger man was proposing, Hank said softly, "I was wrong about you, Chris Larabee." Leaning out over the saddle, he extended his arm.

Taking the proffered hand, Chris said only, "Via con Dias." As he turned, he found himself speared through the heart by his lover's concerned look.

"Chris. . ."

Looking into Vin's eyes, the blond read the words the other man didn't dare speak. Nodding, he said, "Go on now. I'll see you boys soon."

Resigned to leaving the stubborn gunslinger behind, Wilmington murmured, "Watch your back" before turning his horse and riding away. Vin and Hank followed close behind.

Watching the trio depart, Larabee sighed. He was no fool; he knew that his decision could very well lead to his death. Looking toward the sky he ran his fingers through his hair.

~@~

The three riders kept up a hard, mile-eating pace for some time. With Vin in the lead, they took a rather winding route, just in case the deviant clan got past Chris. As night fell, they found a place to camp.

Later, by the fire, Buck and Vin sat quietly, drinking coffee. Nearby, Hank lay, wrapped in his blankets, already asleep.

"We shouldn't have left him back there," Buck observed.

"Ain't like we got any control over the man," Vin grumbled. He had learned that only too well over the last several months. No matter how much Larabee cared about someone, he would do what he saw to be right and damn the price.

Even if that price was his own life.

The two men grew quiet, listening to the sound of distant thunder. Staring into the darkness, Wilmington found his mind wandering back a few weeks, to another campfire, one he had set near with Larabee. Whether it was the lonely feel of the quiet night, or the whiskey laced coffee, the blond had become contemplative. The two of them had found themselves reminiscing, the discussion turning as it sometimes did, to Sarah Connolly-Larabee.

~@~

"Remember that time ol' Hank, he caught you sneakin' around the barn to see Sarah? Came after you with a shotgun?"

Grinning, Chris chuckled, "Yeah, least he used rock salt instead of buckshot."

"Uh-huh, just his way of sayin' he liked you."

"Shoot, that old man did everything humanly possible to keep me away from his little girl."

"Oh, wasn't just you. You know that. Nobody was good enough." Buck's smile was bright in the firelight.

Suddenly sobering, Chris observed, "He was right. Nobody was."

His smile disappearing, Wilmington replied softly, "Yep."

"I can't see her face anymore, Buck. Can't hear Adam calling me Pa. They're fading away." The blond's voice took on a sorrowful tone.

"Maybe it's time for that." He suggested.

Larabee's expression was one of betrayal, mixed with pain. "No. No, I need to remember."

~@~

Buck wasn't the only one plagued by memories of previous campfires with Chris. Vin, too, was remembering. His mind called up the night he and the gunman had first made love.

The air was warm, the sky clear and filled with stars. They had been dancing around their feelings for weeks; both afraid of what saying the things they thought could do to their friendship. Neither was certain of how well their hints were understood by the other man. Finally, throwing caution to the wind, he had leaned over and kissed the blond.

Drawing back, he felt his heart stop at the expression on Larabee's face. The man looked as if he'd just been gut shot. Preparing to meet his maker at the wrong end of the man's Colt, he found himself suddenly kissed in return. After that, they sat there by the fire, grinning like idiots.

Recovering from their shock, the two of them began to explore one another's bodies. For the next several hours, they touched, caressed, aroused and sated each other. In the deepest darkness of the night, they curled up together, a soft breeze cooling their heated bodies. It was only when the first sign of dawn began to light the landscape that they reluctantly parted. The day found them sleeping in their clothes on opposite sides of the fire.

Taking a deep breath, Vin drew himself from his thoughts when he realized how his body was responding to that memory. Muttering an excuse, he left the fire and strode into the woods. There, hidden from the others, he leaned against a tree. Unbuttoning his pants, he released his swollen cock and took things in hand. Clenching his jaw as he came, the air hissed harshly through his teeth.

A short time later, he strolled back into camp. Staying out of the fire light, he hid the hot flush he could feel burning across his face. He found Buck stretched out, leaning back against his saddle.

"I'll take the watch," Vin offered.

Nodding, Wilmington replied, "Wake me when you need a break." Yawning, he relaxed, eyes closing.

~@~

Morning was nothing but a promise on the horizon when Vin woke Buck. The brunet pushed himself up on an elbow, yawning as he blinked awake. "My turn on watch?"

Shaking his head no, Tanner explained, "I'm goin' back ta check on Chris."

"He said he'd meet us in town."

"And if he ain't at 'is shack, then I'll head fer town," the smaller man replied impatiently.

"I'll go with you."

"Nah, you go on 'n make certain Mister Connolly gits gone, then head on back ta town. I figure since they ain't come after us, that Nichols bunch'll be causin' trouble back there." He mounted his big black, prearing to ride.

"If you boys ain't there by afternoon, I'm comin' for you," Wilmington promised.

~@~

Tanner sped toward his lover's homestead, both anxious and fearful of what he'd find there. He had spent the hours of darkness fighting off visions of what could be happening to the blond.

He could never have foreseen what he found.

The Texan reined in near the corral fence, his heart stopping at the sight before him. Chris was there, his shirt torn and bloody, his face beaten and battered. He was bound to the top cross post. "Oh, sweet Jesus," Vin moaned as he dropped from the saddle, stumbling the few steps to where Larabee hung, supported by ropes binding his wrists. Reaching out with trembling hands, he lifted the blond's head. "Oh, God, Chris. I should never - " Gasping, he watched as the other man's eyes opened halfway. "Chris?"

"'Bout time. . . you. . . showed b-back. . . up."

Gently leaning his forehead against his lover's, the younger man whispered, "thought ya liked it when I don't come too quick."

Trying to smile, but grimacing instead, Larabee leaned more heavily against the tracker. "Hurtin', Vin. . ."

Running his hands over Chris' sweat-slicked back, Tanner said softly, "I'm gonna take real good care of ya."

"Think you could st-start by. . . getting me. . . lo. . . loose?"

Nodding, the sharpshooter pulled out his long bladed knife and sliced through the bloodied ropes around one wrist. He frowned when Chris' arm didn't drop.

"Nail. . . they n-nailed it. . ." the blond explained.

On closer examination, he found that there was, indeed, a nail embedded in the middle of the blond's palm. "Jesus! What kind 'a sick bastards are they?"

"Got. . . loose once. They de-decided to make certain. . . it didn't hap. . . didn't happen again."

"Sons 'a bitches!" The head of each nail was dug into the swollen flesh, too deep to pull out. Sliding his hand over the top rail, where one hand was held captive, Vin felt the other end of the nail coming through the other side. "This is gonna hurt like hell."

"Already. . . does."

Looking around, Tanner found the hammer the monstrous family had used. Wiping it as clean as he could, he moved quickly through the corral gate. As he did, he explained what he was going to do. "I'm gonna push' 'em through from the back, then I'll pull 'em the rest of the way from the front." Even though his voice was as calm as if he were ordering lunch, his heart was pounding.

"Get on wi. . . with it."

Gut rolling and mind spinning, Vin nodded, even though he was out of Larabee's sight. Coming to stand behind his lover, he reached under the cross post. Curling his fingers over the other man's cold ones, he pressed the man's hand against the wood. Taking a deep breath, he hit the end of the nail, sending it back through the post, and his partner's hand.

Tanner wasn't prepared for the blond's response. First came a sharp intake of breath, followed by a soul-shattering scream.

"Jesus! Chris, I cain't - "

"Fin. . . finish it!" The older man ordered, panting.

"Chris - "

"Do it! Pl-please. . . Vin."

Managing to keep his hand from trembling, the sharpshooter moved to the other side of the gunman, preparing himself to repeat the action. He could hear Chris gasping for air amid the groans and moans. Slipping his hand under the post, he took a second to gently squeeze the other man's fingers. Wishing he could give Chris his own strength, he aimed at the nail end and struck it soundly.

Once more the air was filled with the sounds of agony. As quickly as he could, he sprinted back around, facing his lover. He winced at the tears that streamed down the battered features. Reaching out, he stroked a hand tenderly over that beaten face. "'M sorry, Cowboy. . . so sorry. . ."

"Don't, Vin. . . just finish. . . finish i-it. . . please."

Nodding, Tanner pressed his hand against the blond's fingers, unable to avoid watching the blood welling up and dripping from around the ugly wound. Holding the man's hand tight against the post, he instructed, "Take a deep breath." Before Larabee could do more than that, he slipped the claw side of the hammer between the nail and the raw flesh, and yanked as quickly as he could.

Chris' head crashed hard against the corral fence, his body going rigid. The only sound was a strangled cry this time, followed by a pitiful whimper.

Carefully the Texan lowered the savaged limb before moving to the other side. Leaving the rope tied to help steady Larabee's arm; he said softly, "Last one, Pard."

As the second nail was released, Chris could do little more than moan. Then as the rope was cut away, he fell into Tanner's arms. Unprepared, Vin could do nothing but fumble to hold the suddenly dead weight, making the trip to the ground as easy for his lover as possible.

Larabee lay against the other man, his body nearly convulsing from shock and pain. Useless limbs hanging at his sides, his head resting on Vin's shoulder, he vented the agony in pitiful, pain-filled sobs.

When the injured man calmed a little, Tanner took hold of him more firmly and started to rise, bringing the other man up with him. He could feel Chris trying to help; feel him straining as he surpassed the end of his strength. "Lean on me, pard, I'm gonna git ya into the shack, then I'm gonna take care of ya."

Half carrying, half dragging the blond, Vin got him to the cabin. He frowned when he saw the bullet holes sprayed across the front of the little dwelling. "Looks like ya put up a helluva fight."

"Did. . . my. . . best," Chris managed through gritted teeth.

"Ya always do," was the soft response. "Ya shouldn't 'a stayed here. . . not alone. . ."

"Not. . . not now. . ."

Recognizing suddenly what he was doing, the Texan said, "Yeah, okay. I'll wait 'til you're feelin' better."

"A... ppreciate that. . ."

Entering the little dwelling, Vin quickly recognized just how much damage the Nichols clan had done. Glass and wood chips were sprayed across the little bed the two of them had spent more than one night curled up together on. Carefully he steered the other man toward the little table that still held the remnants of the dinner Chris and his father-in-law had shared. Guiding the blond to one of the straightback chairs, he settled him onto the seat.

"Vin. . ."

"Know yer hurtin', Cowboy, but I've gotta git the bed cleaned up. . . gotta git you cleaned up. . . before I git ya ta bed." His only response was a soft groan. Vin moved to the bed, carefully gathering the blanket and pillow into a bundle and setting them aside. Going to the metal chest at the foot of the bed, he removed another blanket and pillow - brought out there because he did spend nights with the gunslinger - and tossed them on the foot of the bed.

Going to the stove, he found that the fire inside was banked but still warm. Quickly getting a new fire going, he filled a pan with water and setting it atop the stove.

"Vin. . ."

Hurrying back to the table, Tanner steadied his partner, the injured man nearly toppling from the chair. "Take it easy, Cowboy, let's get ya cleaned up."

The sharpshooter carefully removed the tattered remains of Larabee's gray shirt. "Damn, always liked this shirt on ya, too." By the time the shreds of bloody material were littered on the floor, the water was warm. Checking to make certain Chris was steady on the chair; he hurriedly retrieved the water and all of the clean cloths he could find. Returning to the table, he spread a cloth over one side of the table. As gently as possible, he lifted first one hand and then the other, placing the savaged limbs on the covered surface.

"Oh, God. . . don't," Chris pleaded, the pain flaring through his hands and up his arms like the flames of a wild prairie fire.

Trying to harden his heart against the cries of pain, Vin began to meticulously clean the ragged wounds. Finishing with one hand, he moved to the other, repeating the painful procedure. By the time both hands were as clean as he could get them, he reluctantly moved to one of the cabinets. Opening a door, he found an unopened bottle of whiskey. Opening it, he carried it back to the table. Gently he lifted the perspiration soaked head and braced it against his hip. Tilting Larabee's head, he carefully dribbled the liquid into his mouth, feeding him as much of the alcohol as he could manage.

"Take a deep breath," He instructed, rubbing his thumb over the man's ja. When the blond did, he poured more of the fiery liquid on the open wounds.

The screams that echoed in the little room threatened to tear Tanner's heart from his chest, as Chris lurched, bucking against him. Blinking back guilty tears, he leaned down and kissed his lover on the temple. "God, Chris, I am so sorry."

Giving in to the long hours of excruciating pain, Larabee fell bonelessly against his partner. Vin held him carefully, settling him back against the chair. Making certain the unconscious man didn't topple over, he quickly bound the injured hands. That done, he bathed the battered face and chest, dabbing more of the alcohol on several open cuts. He took special care to clean the long groove along one side of Chris' head, guessing that it had been caused by a bullet, and was probably the only reason the Nichols had overtaken the gunslinger.

"Okay, let's git ya to bed." Managing to lift the unconscious man into his arms, he staggered under the dead weight but got Larabee to the narrow bed. Lowering Chris to the mattress, he managed to straighten the long limbs, working to make him as comfortable as possible. Spreading the blanket over the prone figure, he leaned down and tenderly placed a kiss on his lover's forehead. In a whisper, he said, "Love ya, Cowboy, and I'm gonna take good care of ya."

~@~

Chris slept fitfully for the next several hours, coming to a state of near consciousness from time to time. Each time he did, Vin fed him as much medicinal tea as he could coax the man to drink.

Tanner frowned as the afternoon came and went without any sign of Buck or any of the others. Wilmington wasn't always the most reliable man, in his opinion, but he would have come looking for them, just like he'd promised, if he could. That could only mean that either the Nichols brothers had caught up with him and Mister Connolly, or there was trouble in town. Neither were situations he wanted to contemplate right now. Nor could he do anything about those possibilities. There was no way he could leave Chris right now.

He folded a couple of towels and was using them to elevate the blond's hands. Both were swollen; fingers stiff and colorless. He carefully massaged each one, trying to coax blood back into the distorted digits. Chris responded with soft groans, but didn't wake. He found that it helped to talk to the gunman, even if there was no response.

"Saw that mustang we've been lookin' for, on the way back here. Bastard must 'a known I couldn't take the time ta chase 'im. He jist stood there on the hill we seen 'im on the first time. Reckon he'll be waitin' fer us when you're fit ta ride again. . ."

On and on he rambled, about anything and everything. He wasn't certain if any of it worked its way through the dark void of unconsciousness. It didn't matter, he supposed. He was talking more for himself, anyway.

But, perhaps, on some level, Chris was hearing him. Listening to him. In some way, perhaps the words he spoke would bring the blond some comfort. With that thought in mind, he continued talking until he couldn't finish a sentence for yawning. Finally, giving in, he spread his blankets on the floor beside Larabee's bed and stretched out on them. He meant only to rest; to doze at best, but drifted off as soon as he lay down.

~@~

::THUMP::

Blue eyes flashing open, Vin grunted as a bare foot landed in his stomach. Grasping the offending leg, he sat up, careful not to move too quickly. Peering over the edge of the bed, he found Chris struggling to get up. "Hey, Cowboy, where ya goin'?"

"What?"

Lifting the black-clad leg back onto the narrow bed, Tanner rose to his knees and leaned toward the man. Pressing his lover back to the mattress, he repeated, "Where ya goin'?"

"Priv. . . Privy. . ."

With a sigh, the Texan shook his head. "Don't think you've got the strength ta get there quite yet, and don't think I can carry ya that far. Reckon the edge of the porch might be the best we can manage."

"What?"

Huffing out a breath, and shaking his head as he smiled ruefully, Vin didn't respond. Standing, he reached down and helped the blond to first sit up, then stand. Being careful to keep the man's hands as still as possible, he led the weak and disoriented man to the front door. Shouldering it open, he guided Larabee to the edge of the night cloaked porch. He felt the hands he held moving, as if to reach his jeans. "Hold on, you ain't gonna be able ta do this on yer own."

"What?"

"Lordy, we have got ta work on yer vocabulary. Think ya can stand still here?" Getting no response, he persevered, getting the man's jeans unfastened. Taking a shuddering breath, he released Larabee from those tight jeans and pretended to be somewhere else while his lover relieved himself.

A few minutes later, feeling only slightly less uncomfortable, Tanner got the older man settled back in bed. The blond blinked up at him, confusion cutting through the haze. "Vin?"

"Hm?"

"What's. . . what's wrong. . . what happened?"

"What do ya remember?" Tanner hedged.

Chris continued to stare up at him, confusion replacing the pain that had been plastered on the handsome face for hours. Rather than answering, though, he simply stared for another moment, then his eyes drifted closed. He was asleep once more.

~@~

Morning found Vin tending the horses in the corral, having left a sleeping Chris in the cabin. Just as he closed the gate, he heard the sound of an approaching horse. Striding toward the path leading to the homestead, he greeted Buck as the man rode up. "You okay?"

"That's what I came to find out from you. Where's Chris?"

"Inside. Bastards busted 'im up. Y'all seen 'em?"

Nodding, Wilmington said, "They came back into town; reportin' what they knew to that crazy bitch mother of theirs. How bad is he?"

"Caught a bullet along side the head, must 'a been how they got 'im. . ."

"Vin?" Buck saw the pain on the younger man's face.

"They nailed his fuckin' hands ta the corral, Buck."

Tasting bile, the bigger man could only manage, "Son of a bitch."

As Wilmington dismounted and tied his horse to the corral fence, the Texan answered the unasked question with, "they're bad. Where's Nathan?"

Tending to the wounded back in town," Buck replied as he started toward the house.

"Wounded?" Vin was quick on his heels, "what happened?"

"Nichols happened." Dropping to the chair beside the narrow bed, the bigger man looked over his old friend. "Damn it, Stud. I shouldn't have left you here. Look at you. . ."

"Buck," Tanner tried to get the other man's attention. "What happened? Who got hurt?"

"Bastards beat the hell out of JD. Clipped me and Josiah," he paused, unconsciously pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder. "Several of them caught lead, too. Three of 'em's dead, the others are wounded and one of them might die. We've got 'em in jail, includin' that crazy mother of theirs. Nathan was tendin' to them when I left. And. . ."

"And?" Tanner echoed when his friend didn't finish.

"They shot Hank. Gut shot. Josiah was sittin' with him when I left. It's just a matter of time."

"What was he doin' there? I thought you were gonna send 'im ta Mexico."

Nodding, his attention still on Chris, Buck said, "I did. He doubled back. . . he's crazy, Vin. Plumb loco. Ezra tried to tell the old lady that, but she wouldn't hear any of it. Set her boys to shootin'. Wasn't a thing we could do but trade lead with 'em."

"Mister Connolly?"

Shaking his head, Wilmington said, "Nathan reckons he won't live more than another day at the most. Hell, he could be dead right now. You know how belly wounds are, Pard."

"Going. . . going to s-see him. . ."

The two men looked in shock at the third.

"Chris, you cain't. . ."

"Vin, it's not like we've got a lot of time here," Buck reminded him, softly. "He wants to say goodbye to his father-in-law. . . better be soon."

"Damn it, Bucklin - "

"Going." Chris looked up at the two men, sorrow and pain mixing in dulled eyes. There was something else, as well. Determination.

Running long fingers through brown locks, Tanner said softly, "I'll go git a horse saddled."

~@~

He saddled Peso, deciding that the younger horse would give him less trouble riding double. While the big black was typically more cantankerous, he had no doubt he'd be able to keep the animal in line.

It took both men to get Larabee up, out of bed, out of the shack, and onto the horse. Between the bullet crease making him dizzy and unable to focus for more than a few seconds, and not being able to use his hands, it was difficult at best to get him ready to ride. Opting to drape his serape over him, rather than trying to get his injured arms into sleeves, they took care to bind both limbs to his chest first. There was little else to do, to protect them from further injury.

While Buck held the blond in the saddle, Vin quickly mounted behind him, taking the reins. He could see that Wilmington was hurting worse than he let on, but didn't say anything. Once the big brunet mounted, they headed both animals toward town.

Vin kept his arms around Larabee, holding him snuggly. It had been one of the biggest indicators that the third man wasn't feeling up to snuff, when he didn't argue about riding with Chris. Any other time, Wilmington would have been the better bet to keep the blond in the saddle, but he didn't argue when Vin mounted behind him.

While he worried just how badly Buck was feeling, Tanner couldn't help but be happy to be the one holding Chris. He had to keep his mind above his belt, though, or just how much he enjoyed it would be obvious when they got to town.

"Where. . . where we goin'?" The blond slurred, his head rolling on Tanner's shoulder as he tried to figure out where they were.

"Goin' into town, Pard. Remember?"

"Town? Hank. . . damn it. . . Hank." There were tears in his voice as he said, "Sarah. . . I'm s-sorry. Didn't want him to. . . die."

While Vin sat mutely behind him, it was Buck who spoke reassuringly. "Sarah's not gonna be angry with you, Stud. She knows it wasn't your fault."

"Stu. . . Stubborn old. . . m-man."

With a chuckle, the bigger man said, "He is that. Now, you go on back to sleep, okay? We've got a ways to go yet."

"Sleep? Sleeping?"

"Yeah, you've been sleepin', Cowboy," Vin said softly. "Go on now, we've got yer back."

"'Kay," Larabee slipped back into unconsciousness.

Hearing a soft chuckle, Tanner looked over at the brunet beside him. "Somethin' funny, Bucklin?"

"Just admirin' how well he minds you, is all."

"Shit, he's jist outta his head's all," Vin remarked. He found himself worried about the twinkle he saw in the other man's dark blue eyes though. Did Wilmington have a clue?

~@~

The ride seemed to take forever, as the muscles of his back let him know in no uncertain terms. He kept his mind off his own pain as much as possible, though, focusing on Chris. The blond hadn't fully regained consciousness, mumbling from time to time, swollen eyes opening to a slit, head tossing back and forth. At times it took everything Tanner had to keep him in the saddle.

"You wanna spell off?" Buck asked a little over half way.

Noting the pale features and the tense way Wilmington held himself in the saddle, Vin shook his head. "I've got 'im."

The sight of the little collection of buildings had never looked to good to Vin Tanner as it did that day. He couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief when they came abreast of the first buildings. They rode straight for the clinic, stopping only when they neared the bottom of the stairway. Yosemite met them there, accepting the reins for both horses.

Dismounting, Buck moved around to help Vin get Chris out of the saddle. He was even paler than he had been, but there was a determined look in his eye. The two men wrangled the limp body off the horse, holding him upright once they got him to the ground.

Dropping the reins to the ground, trusting the two well trained horses to stay put, the big livery man moved in and swooped the injured blond up. Without a word, he headed for the staircase, leaving the other two men to follow behind.

Nathan looked up from where he had been tending Chris' father-in-law, at the sound of the door opening. Vin pushed it all the way open, ushering in Yosemite, carrying the injured Larabee.

"Shit, what happened?" He moved quickly, setting up the old Army cot to accept the slender blond.

"Nichols boys," Vin replied as he helped settle the blond on the canvas surface, and nodding his thanks to the livery man before Yosemite went back to his stable.

"How's Hank?" Buck asked; the last to enter.

"Ain't gonna be long. Wounds soured, and ain't no way to get the bullet out." Jackson replied in a hushed tone.

"Ha. . . Hank?" The voice was weak and barely more than a whisper, but still easily recognized. Suddenly the man who couldn't lift his head was struggling to sit up.

"Take it easy there, pard." Vin pressed a hand against one shoulder.

"No. . . gotta. . . gotta talk to him. . . please. . ."

"Yeah, all right." Resigned, Tanner moved to help his lover get back up.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Nathan scolded.

"It's the reason we rode in, Nathan, don't see stoppin' now." Getting Chris up, he found Buck at the blond's other side. Together they lifted him to his feet and guided him to Connolly's bedside. Jackson was there, steadying the chair while they settled Larabee on its seat.

The blond managed to focus on the figure lying on the bed. Hank was panting heavily, his bloodless face contorted in pain. One hand was clenched around the knotted cloth he carried. The one he'd explained mysteriously as his way of never forgetting. "Nathan?" Chris breathed.

"I've given him enough morphine to bring down a horse. The pain's just too much for anything to take it away."

"Damn." Leaning forward, he managed, "Hank?"

The older man's head shifted from side to side and he moaned again. At the third repetition of his name, pale eyes blinked open. "Chr. . . Chris?"

"I'm here."

Rallying, Sarah's father stared up at his son-in-law. A look of relief brushed away the pain as he said in a breathless whisper, "Remember... not to forget, Chris Larabee."

As he watched the old man breath his last, the blond promised, "I'll never forget."

The other three men exchanged looks behind the pair. Shaking his head, Nathan said softly, "It's like he was holdin' on 'til he saw Chris."

~@~

The Undertaker had come and gone, taking Hank's body away. Buck had retired to his room, looking worn out and in pain from his own injury. They had settled Chris back on the cot, Nathan checking over the wounds on his hands and head. Feeding the blond enough Laudanum to take away the pain, he had Vin hold him down, while he cleaned the wounds with carbolic. Despite the pain reliever, Chris moaned and fought to get away from the assault on his injuries.

Having done what he could, and reassuring Vin that he'd done an excellent job at caring for him, Nathan said, "Reckon he'll rest better over in the bed."

"N. . . no. . ." Larabee protested.

"I've changed the linen," Jackson informed the protesting man.

"No," Chris repeated.

As if reading the other man's mind, Vin said, "Nathan, he ain't keen on the idea of layin' where Mister Connolly jist died."

"My. . . room." The gunslinger stated.

"Chris, you need rest, not waltzing around town."

With a grin, Tanner said, "Help me git 'im over there, and I'll sit on 'im, Nathan. It'll be easier to keep him down if we give in, you know that."

Heaving a frustrated sigh, the healer said, "Fine."

~@~

The two men managed to get Larabee from the clinic to his room in the boarding house. Chris insisted on walking although, truth be told, the men on either side of him carried most of his weight.

Jackson helped settle him into his bed, set up the supplies he'd carried in his rucksack on the dresser, then checked Larabee over one more time. "You come for me if he shows sign of fever, or those wounds get infected."

"You've got my word, Doc," Vin promised. He was unconscious of the fact that he was rubbing his back.

"Back's bothering you, ain't it?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, right. Well, I brought some of that liniment you use. Strip down and I'll rub some in."

"I'm fine, Nathan," the sharpshooter argued.

"Take off them clothes," Jackson repeated sternly.

Heaving a sigh, Tanner complied. Grunting as he swung a leg over the straight back chair, he crossed his forearms across the top and leaned forward. He couldn't help but groan softly as the former slave began rubbing the liniment into the knotted muscles of his back.

Only satisfied when he felt all of the knots relax, Nathan said, "That ought to hold you for a while."

"Thanks, Nathan. Ain't felt this good in a while."

"I'm gonna go check on our prisoners. You sure you'll be okay here alone?"

"Managed most of yesterday and last night," The Texan favored the other man with a sly grin. "Reckon I can handle 'im here in the middle of town."

With a deep chuckle, the dark-skinned man said, "Point taken. I'll check back in this evening."

"Knock, I'm gonna lock the door."

Nodding, the healer left the room. Walking behind him, Vin locked the door as promised. To the others it might only be a precaution from bounty hunters or men looking to make a name for themselves. That was part of it, but there was another reason as well.

Still naked to the waist, Vin moved to the bed. Chris lay on his back, arms still bound to keep him from moving them. Pulling his boots off, Vin slipped into bed beside his lover, stretching out on his side. Careful of the blond's injuries, he draped one arm over the other man, while he lay on the other arm.

"Vin?" The call was so soft that it was barely audible.

"Yep. Right here, Cowboy."

"'Kay." With a contented sigh, Larabee drifted off to sleep.

Smiling a tired smile, Vin followed close behind.

~@~

"DAMN IT! Stop, just. . . stop it!" Chris Larabee glared up at Nathan Jackson, anger flashing in his green-hazel eyes. "I said stop it!" The angry man jerked his hands away from the healer, crying out when the injured limbs made hard contact with his chest. "GET OUT!"

"Go ahead, Nathan. I'll take care of things here." Vin said softly from where he stood in the doorway.

Irritation flaring in his face, the former slave rose from the chair, which slid back a foot as if trying to escape his ire. "You're more than welcome to. Maybe you can pull his fangs while you're at it."

As Jackson pushed past him, the Texan smiled. "I ain't gittin' that close to 'is mouth. Not much work for a hunter missin' a hand." Closing and locking the door behind the bigger man, he turned to face the blond. Chris lay on the bed, his body rigid with anger.

"Just wipe that damn smile off your face." Larabee was staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles pulsed beneath his pale flesh.

"Yer losin' friends right an' left, Cowboy. Sure ya wanna piss me off, too?" Unfazed by the glare turned his way, Vin moved to the chair Nathan had just vacated and dropped onto it. Sliding back into a slouch, he crossed his arms across his chest. "It's only been a couple days, Chris. It's gonna take a while 'fore ya git feelin' better."

"I don't need a lecture."

"Well that's good, 'cause I ain't interested in givin' ya one." With that he moved from the chair to the edge of the mattress. With a predatory grin, he leaned forward and delivered a soft, but insistent kiss to his lover. Then, just as quickly, he felt teeth digging into the soft flesh of his lower lip. Yelping in protest, he tried to pull back, but the teeth pressed in a little harder. Finally, surrendering to the inevitable, he simply sat there until the pressure lessened. Carefully extracting his lip, he protested, "What the hell was that fer?"

"You told Nathan you weren't going to get close to my mouth. Thought I'd prove you wrong."

"Yeah, and I'm real certain they'd be fine with me kissin' ya."

"The way you're pissing me off right now, you won't have to worry about that happening any time soon."

"Yer so damn sexy when ya get angry," Vin retorted, unfazed by the other man's bad mood.

Glaring impotently for several moments, Chris finally gave up, admitting defeat. He never had been able to intimidate the Texan.

Reaching out, Vin gently took one of Larabee's hands in his. The swelling had decreased significantly in the ravaged appendages. "They're lookin' better."

The only response Larabee had for that was a grunt. Then he asked, "What about the Nichols?"

"Well the one died last night, so he's joined his brothers over at the Undertaker's."

"The rest of them?"

"Still in jail."

"They gonna live?"

"Fer the moment."

"There gonna be a trial?"

Nodding, Tanner broke the abrupt rhythm of their conversation. "Judge's gonna be here in a few days ta try 'em."

"I'll be ready." Chris nodded in return. Nothing more was said about the trial, but his mind was already spinning with thoughts. The Nichols clan had nearly killed him, shot Josiah and Buck, beat JD, and caused Hank's death. Despite the fact that his father-in-law's insanity had created the entire thing (he had learned from Ezra), he would say his piece to the bastards and their domineering bitch of a mother.

"Chris?"

Looking up, Larabee realized that the other man was talking to him. "Yeah?"

"I asked if yer hungry. I'll go get'cha some dinner if ya are."

Heaving a sigh, the blond nodded shortly. Eating was just another thing that made it abundantly clear just how helpless he was.

"Allrighty then, I'll see what they've got at the restaurant." Vin turned to leave.

"Wait," When Tanner turned back he said, "I've got a taste for some of Inez's cooking. Would you mind?"

The sharpshooter smiled, glad to hear that Chris' appetite was returning. "Sure, I'll see what she's got. It's gonna take a bit longer, want me to see if Josiah can come over?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'm just gonna lay here anyway."

"Be back's quick as I can," Tanner said as he headed for the door.

Chris counted to ten before he struggled to push himself up. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he pushed his feet into the moccasins that Vin had brought up for him. he'd managed to shuffle to the privy with the other man's help since yesterday morning. In his mind he rationalized that if he could manage that, then he could get himself over to the jail. His biggest obstacles, he decided, would be the closed doors between here and there.

Dressed in his jeans, the soft slippers, and an undershirt they had put on him, he stood, rocking like a willow in a storm. With a few, deep breaths, he steadied himself and scuffed the few steps to the door. There was his first obstacle; the door. Although Vin had left it unlocked, he still needed to turn the knob.

Leaning against the wall, he studied the situation. His wrists were bandaged and sore from the ropes used to bind him to the fence. They weren't as painful as his palms, but still tender. Taking a deep breath, he knelt and began to work on the knob, hissing at the pain when he pressed his wrists against the metal and began to turn. Slowly the knob began to twist and he heard the click of the latch unfastening. Pulling, he eased the door open, an inch at a time. When it opened enough, he pushed through the gap and out into the hall. He was already drenched in perspiration, but ignored it. He would not be stopped.

Managing to get to the end of the hall, he stopped, dropping back against the wall, to give himself time to catch his breath. After a moment, he pushed himself up, and moved to the stairs. Keeping one shoulder against the wall, he slid one foot at a time, one step at a time. He worried that Vin would return at any second, scolding him as he forced him back up the steps. He wasn't going to go, though, he refused to return to his room until he'd faced each of the demons who had forced their ugliness on himself, his family, and his town.

He was vaguely aware of several pairs of eyes on him during his trip, but he ignored them. He staggered across the parlor, onto the boardwalk. There, he stood until his eyes adjusted and he fixed them on the jailhouse. Managing another deep breath, he continued his journey.

The eyes continued to follow him, but no one came closer, so he knew that none of his friends had yet to see him. From time to time a whispered comment reached his loudly ringing ears, but he ignored them. He concentrated on keeping his feet beneath him, and on moving them, one at a time, a few inches closer to the jailhouse door.

He barely registered that he had reached that goal, until he was faced, once more, with a doorknob.

It took more fumbling this time, his strength failing him now, but eventually the door was open and once more he moved forward. Step after step, he moved back into the dim interior of the jail. Stopping at one of the uprights, he leaned against it as he stared toward the trio of cells that made up half the building.

He registered various black, shapeless blobs taking up two of the cells, while a single shape sat in the cell in the middle. Somewhere in the depths of his spinning mind, he decided that the one in the middle must be the mother of the hellspawn on either side. Then she spoke, taking away any doubt.

"What do you want? Are you here to twist the knife in my heart?"

"I'm here. . . to let you. . . all. . . know that. . . you didn't. . . kill. . . me. . ." Chris wheezed out between pants. "I'm here to. . . let you know. . . that your ba. . . your bastard. . . sons didn't. . . finish the. . . the job."

The words Mrs. Nichols replied with, socked Larabee. "I'm. . . I'm glad that they didn't kill you."

The other black shapes moved forward, pressing against the iron bars. One of them spoke, the words soft and hollow. "You wanted to protect Connolly. . . the preacher told us he was your father-in-law. Well, Mister Larabee, we were only looking to revenge what that old man did to our brother. Can you stand there and tell us that you wouldn't have done the same? That you haven't done the same. . . maybe worse?"

Taken aback, Chris wanted to respond, but couldn't make the words come. He started to move forward, but stopped when he felt someone leaning close behind him. Without looking, he knew it was Vin.

"What she done. . . what she forced her boys ta do. . . it took everything from her, Chris. She ain't nothin' but broke now."

"I. . . I'm. . ." Chris stammered before the darkness tried to drag him back into its arms. He slumped back against his lover, trusting that the younger man would hold him safe.

~@~

The gunfighter had only a vague knowledge of the trip back to his room. Ezra had met them at the door and, between the two men; they guided him back to the boarding house. He vaguely recalled being helped up the stairs, Vin behind him and Ezra beside him. They made their way back to his room, helped him into bed, and covered his shivering body with blankets.

"Do you require my assistance any farther?" That was Ezra.

"Nah, we'll be okay from here. Thanks, Ezra."

After the door closed, he managed to peel open his eyes. Vin was standing over him, his face unreadable. "I'm. . . sorry."

"Jist stop right there, Cowboy, okay? Ya used me, got me ta get'cha somethin' ta eat, and ya snuck out on yer own. Ya could 'a broke yer neck fallin' down the steps, or got run over by a freight wagon, or gunned down by someone lookin' ta make a name. Ya could 'a dropped dead jist from walkin' that far. So, right now, sorry ain't what I wanna hear, okay?"

Chris nodded, turning his face from his lover. He heard the other man scuffing around the room, and, finally, heard him drop to the chair beside his bed. He refused to look at him, feeling the pain he'd caused the other man, as if it were another entity in the room.

"If yer still hungry, I've got yer food."

Larabee turned, opening his eyes. Vin sat beside him, having pulled the nightstand away from the wall and placing a covered plate on it. He sighed and nodded, suddenly too weary to speak.

Vin took the cover off the plate and spread it over Chris' chest. Taking up a fork and a cloth napkin, he cut away a piece of the beef and bean stuffed tortilla and, keeping the napkin beneath it to catch the drippings, carried it to Larabee's mouth. When those broad lips parted, he slipped the food inside, letting those sensuous lips close over the tines before he slowly drew the emptied fork from his lover's mouth.

Chris had to admit that the bar manager's cooking was as exquisite as ever. Chewing and swallowing, he managed a small smile. "Tastes good."

"Reckon so." Vin offered up another bite, not speaking until his partner had taken it. "Was it worth takin' that long walk?"

Finishing the bite, Chris asked, "How long are you going to be angry at me?"

"Ain't for certain."

"Would it help to say I was a fool?"

"Maybe."

"How about if I said I was an idiot?"

"Yer gettin' close."

Without meaning to, Larabee smiled at that. "Well, what about if I said that this was one of the stupidest things I've ever done?"

Rather than respond, Vin offered another bite of food. Watching those beautiful lips close over the fork once more, he smiled. "Doubt that, but reckon it'll do."

The anger disappeared from the room, the two men settling back into the easy affection they shared. Vin continued to feed Chris the food, stopping only when the blond drifted off, his hunger sated.

Returning the nightstand to its place and removing the gingham cover from the broad chest, Tanner dropped carefully onto the bed beside his lover. Taking the napkin, he tenderly stroked it over the beautiful, lax lips. Then, just as tenderly, he leaned down and ran his tongue over them, tracing the curve of the bottom lip before kissing that sensual mouth. As he sat back, Chris sighed in his sleep, burrowing into the blankets, relaxed and content.

~@~

It was dark. Quiet. The town had gone to sleep. Chris sighed as he shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. It had been a long day, the Judge arriving to try the Nichols clan. He had attended, helped over by Vin to sit in a chair near the front. The proceedings didn't take that long, but he felt exhausted by the time they were over, both physically and emotionally. He had testified as to their attack on him, each detail seeming to drain even more energy than the last. The verdict was delivered, and the remaining Nichols family members were sentenced to prison for their crimes. The deceased brothers had been laid to rest in the cemetery, simple markers gracing their graves.

Orin had come over after the trial, asking after Chris' injuries. He managed to speak to the man, barely able to do more than mumble. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed. After a few minutes, Travis suggested that very thing, and he smiled as he was helped to stand. Scuffing from the room, he managed to keep his feet under him as Vin helped him to the boarding house, up the stairs, and into his room. There he felt himself being undressed and settled onto the cool sheets. With a sigh he had drifted off to sleep.

His eyes drifted open at the sound of someone moving in the room. He felt no threat in the movements, and something told him that it was Vin. The lantern had been turned low, and his lover appeared as little more than a shadow. He signed contentedly, stretched, and whispered, "Come to bed."

"Well. . . reckon I'd best sleep on the floor."

"Lock the door. Come to bed," Larabee said with quiet insistence.

"You need yer rest," Vin argued.

"Had my rest. Come to bed."

"Chris - "

"Vin. Come to bed."

Recognizing that tone only too well, Tanner locked the door and began to undress, slipping into bed wearing nothing but his longjohns. Larabee snuggled up beside him, and he gently wrapped an arm around the blond's waist. His lips brushed over one exposed shoulder, kissing his lover gently.

"Mm. Vin. . ." Chris pleaded without words.

"Ya ain't up to it."

"Vin. . ."

"Jesus, Larabee. . . ya make my hair hurt. Go back ta sleep." The blond snuggled closer, resting his head against Tanner's chest. Vin groaned as he felt a tongue slid across the hollow of his throat. "Chris. . ."

"Please. . ." The words were whispered, and reverberated against the Texan's chest, dancing over his heart.

Vin pushed the other man back enough to look into those hooded, hungry eyes. "Chris, if we do anything. . . and I mean anything. Yer gonna lay right there and let me do all the work."

"Mm," Larabee murmured, reaching out to take one of Tanner's fingers in his mouth. Sucking it for a few seconds he released it and whispered, "You're in charge."

With a snort, the younger man said, "C'yuh, right. I'm tellin' ya this though, right now. You overdo it, I ain't gonna take the blame."

Tongue brushing over the stubbled chin, Chris muttered, "Of course."

With a groan, Tanner rolled over, leaning over the other man's broad chest, while he began kissing that lecherous mouth. While he supported himself on one arm, the other hand began to tenderly caress the warm, hard-muscled chest.

Nothing else existed while the two men made love. Vin's hand slipped down, seeking out his lover's cock. Finding it straining hard against his drawers, he freed it and began to lazily stroke it. His mouth was pressed against Larabee's, muffling the moans of pleasure his movements elicited.

After a while, Vin dropped to the bed, wrapping his arm, instead, around his lover. Carefully he pulled the man closer, still stroking the hard cock, while his lips and teeth kept their place, sucking and lapping at that sumptuous mouth.

Chris' breath was coming in pants, his heart pounding as he neared climax. He buried his head in the curve where Vin's neck joined his shoulder, sucking and pulling at the skin there. Then he arched back, pleasure escaping in a hiss of breath and a convulsion of muscles. Tanner held him close while he shivered with pleasure then settled him back on the bed.

Larabee smiled lazily, the sated expression not leaving his face even as he teetered on the edge of sleep. He watched while Vin moved to the washstand, grabbed a cloth, and wet it in the basin. The other man then returned, pulled back the covers, and began to bathe him. He could see that Vin, too, needed cleaned up; the front of his longjohns attesting to that. His smile broadened briefly, but he didn't say anything.

Getting them both cleaned up, Vin returned the cloth to the basin, then returned to the bed. Climbing onto the mattress, he stretched out beside the other man. Kissing a temple, he settled in, once more wrapping his arm over Chris' chest. "Now. . . go to sleep."

"Mm. . ." was Larabee's only answer.

THE END

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January, 2007