Mattie's pitiful cries echoed throughout the makeshift courtroom. "I don't wanna hang. Kate! Don't let 'em do it!"
The men watching appeared unmoved by the display, but Chris couldn't hide his discomfort as he was forced to pry Mattie from her sister Kate and drag her to jail. Kate, a free woman thanks to Judge Travis, tried to calm her sister, but to no avail. Buck had grabbed Kate to keep her from interfering with Mattie's transfer to the jail. His jaw was clenched so tightly he bore little resemblance to the easygoing, affable man of a few days ago. In fact, no one had ever seen Buck look like this. The events of the past 24 hours had burned away a part of that Buck, the part that took things at face value, trusted before good sense or skepticism took over; the part that laughed easily and freely, secure in the knowledge that everything will somehow work out. But things might not work out this time, in fact, they may very well go terribly wrong. Wrong in a way that Buck just couldn't face right now and it showed in his face, his posture and mostly in his eyes.
Kate looked into those eyes now and saw her own guilt reflected there. Maybe if she had done something about Mattie a long time ago, none of this would have happened. Maybe she should have tried to leave Del and let him kill her. Then no one would have gotten hurt, not Judge Travis' friend on the stagecoach, not J.D., not Buck, not Casey, hell, not the whole damn town.
Buck broke the eye contact and turned away. Kate wondered, ever briefly, if she saw something other than contempt and hate burning in his eyes.
Once he got out of the stifling grain exchange building, Buck stopped and took a deep breath. There were a few people milling about; those who couldn't fit into the makeshift courtroom; waiting to find out what would happen to the two female bounty hunters. There was a strong undercurrent of tension in the postures and whisperings of the town's people. They had seen their fair share of violence before and after the arrival of the seven peacekeepers, but something about this event had unnerved even the most jaded resident. It wasn't just that one of the seven men had been shot and seriously wounded; it was more the way it had happened. Mattie Stokes hadn't shot J.D. in the heat of battle, trying to get away or trying to save her own life, no, she had cold bloodedly turned her gun towards him and pulled the trigger, looking clear through J.D. while she did it.
For his part, Judge Travis had never passed a death sentence on a woman before and the news would spread like wildfire in a few minutes. Buck didn't care one bit about what the people of the town thought. He knew she was a murderer and she had intended to kill J.D., that was a fact. And she just may succeed. For that, Buck believed, she deserved to die.
"Hey Buck," the soft voice of Vin Tanner interrupted Buck's thoughts.
"Vin." Buck barely acknowledged the other man's approach.
It had turned into a beautiful day, sun shining, a slight breeze. The kind of day for a fishing trip or a picnic under a big shady tree on the outskirts of town. But it was lost on the two men standing there. Vin hadn't known Buck long, but he had never seen him this quiet, this contained. Not even when Chris had gone missing from that putrid backwater town. It was unsettling to see the normally outgoing man so sullen. But Vin had to admit, even to himself, that all of the men seemed more than a little unbalanced by the events that had occurred. It was as if a strong gust of wind had thrown them all up against a wall, leaving them breathless and disoriented.
Vin shifted slightly, not knowing whether to say something else or to just walk on. He finally decided on the former.
"Buy you a drink?" he asked.
"No thanks, there's somewhere I gotta be." And with that, Buck strode away, not looking back.
Vin leaned against the back wall. "I hear ya pard," he whispered.
The crowd was dispersing; Chris had escorted Mattie to the jail, literally
having to drag her there as she moaned and pleaded not to hang. He emerged into
the sunshine and paused, uncertain what to do next. Nathan was still in his
room, playing the waiting game with J.D. Casey had finally succumbed to sleep in
the room next to Nathan's. Chris knew Spivak would probably come for the money
or even for the girls and it would most likely be that night, under the cover of
darkness. There was time to prepare. But for now, that was hours away and with
the hearing over, Chris wasn't sure what he would do with those hours. Hell, what's the matter with me? I should go see the kid. Chris mentally shook himself and headed for Nathan's.
He spotted Vin leaning against the wall outside the grain exchange.
"Hey cowboy," said Vin, not even turning to see who it was. He knew it was Chris, recognizing the familiar clang of the other man's spurs. But the friendly teasing of the greeting sounded hollow this time. Vin supposed he did it more out of habit than anything else.
Chris settled against the wall next to Vin, not answering the greeting. The silence was normal for the two men, not uncomfortable or awkward, but somehow comforting.
Finally Vin spoke again, "Just saw Buck, he went back to J.D.'s room."
Chris squinted into the now harsh midday sun. "Figured that's where he'd be."
"You think Spivak and his gang will try for the money?" asked Vin.
"Yeah, maybe you should take a look around outside town, see if you can spot 'em," answered Chris, looking over at Vin finally.
"Sure, I'll take Ezra with me, he's been awful restless since this happened. Where will you be?"
Chris pushed away from the wall. "I'll be with Buck," he said over his shoulder as he walked down the sidewalk.
Chris' destination was Nathan's room, which also served as the closest thing the town had for a doctor's office. Sometimes the healer was forced to bring in more beds or even to expand to rooms next to his own. But today, the only patient was the youngest member of the group of peacekeepers. It had been almost 24 hours since Buck had ridden into town like a man on fire, leading J.D.'s horse behind him, the young man draped limply in the saddle. Buck's frantic cries for Nathan could be heard all over town.
The next few hours after riding into town with J.D. were still a blur to Buck. He couldn't really recall details, only bits and pieces, like getting chased out of Nathan's room, only to have to pace and sit restlessly outside the door. He could remember the door opening the next morning and Nathan emerging, exhausted and sweaty, wiping his hands on a cloth. The look on his face told Buck everything he needed to know. Nathan's words only confirmed it,"Got the bullet out...but he lost a lot of blood. I...I just don't know." Buck had thrown his coffee cup against the wall and stormed away, fully intending to exact his revenge on the two responsible. But he had been intercepted by Josiah halfway to the jail.
The grip on his shoulder was firm, with a hint of steel underneath. It said 'I can stop you if you really want me to.' Buck considered challenging that grip, but wisely decided not to.
"I ain't in the mood right now Josiah," said Buck, curtly.
"For what?" remarked the other man, his hand still firmly gripping Buck's shoulder.
Buck was still intent on going to the jail and although he didn't want to have to force Josiah to let him go, he was seriously considering trying.
"One of your talks or sermons or whatever you call 'em, I ain't in the mood right now," Buck answered. He had stopped struggling against Josiah's firm grip, but the tenseness remained.
Josiah finally let go of Buck's shoulder and stepped aside to let him pass. "What do you plan to do at the jail Buck?" Josiah's kept his voice low, not wanting to anger his friend any further.
Buck bristled with pent-up energy and anger. He wasn't even able to stop moving, his arms and feet both moving slightly without any real purpose. His voice shook as he answered, "I don't know, I just gotta do something."
"There ain't nothin' for you or anybody to do at the jail now. Mattie's locked up, alone with her demons. You don't need to be there, but I think you know where you do need to be." Josiah's voice had remained calm and soothing, as if the ex-preacher thought he could defuse Buck's anger with it alone. A few tense seconds went by and finally Josiah could see the fire dissipate from Buck's eyes and he watched as the younger man's shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
"I know," answered Buck, defeat and acceptance evident in his voice. The anger was gone, it no longer could mask what Buck didn't want to face, the feelings he wasn't ready to accept. It was almost overwhelming, those feelings of emptiness, sadness and worry. Buck prayed for the anger to return, anything was better than this darkness threatening to envelop him.
Josiah winced inwardly at the heartache he could plainly see on Buck's face. He squeezed the other man's shoulder slightly. "J.D. needs you now Buck, he needs all of us to pray for him to have the strength to get through this. That's the only thing you need worry about now."
With that, Buck had turned and headed back to Nathan's room.
Chris had left Vin on the boardwalk and headed to J.D.'s room. He wasn't sure what he would say to Buck when he got there, but he knew that he had to go. The sentencing hearing was over, the town was slowly settling down, but the seven men who had come together to protect this town and each other were far from settled. In fact, they were downright unsettled.
Chris approached J.D.'s room slowly, willing himself to enter. Opening the door quietly, he noticed that the thin curtains were closed, allowing only muted sunlight to seep through. The tableau that greeted him was not one that Chris Larabee ever wanted to lay eyes on.
Buck was seated next to J.D.'s bed in a straight backed chair. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, forehead resting in clasped hands, eyes cast at the floor. His whole body radiated fatigue, worry and fear. Chris winced inwardly; he knew that feeling and seeing his old friend like this made him decidedly uncomfortable. Maybe it was seeing his oldest friend bowed by these emotions or maybe it was the memory of what it felt like to feel like Buck did right now. Chris didn't know which it was and he wasn't one to think about it for long. Right now he knew that Buck didn't want to hear about the past, the present was tough enough.
Chris took a few steps into the room, being careful not to make any sudden noises. He knew Buck was aware of his entrance, but the atmosphere of the room seemed to forbid loud noises. It was like many sick rooms Chris had been in before - quiet, oppressive, and laden with uncertainty. Depending on the condition of the patient, that uncertainty could quickly turn to dread. Chris closed off his line of thought; not wanting to think too deeply about what could happen.
He kept his voice low, "Buck."
Buck raised his head and rested his hands on his knees. "Hey Chris." His voice was raspy, sounding unused and tired.
Chris stepped over to the bed and stood looking down at J.D.'s still form. "How's he doin'?' he asked.
"The same, still won't wake up," answered the other man. Chris wasn't looking at Buck, but he could hear the slight sighing sound in his friend's voice.
Looking down at J.D, Chris fought to rein in the thoughts that were trying to invade his head. Colliding images of Adam running through the house, laughing and yelling as Chris chased him, threatening a severe tickling if he caught him; Sarah shaking her head in annoyance as she sidestepped the noisy parade passing by in her kitchen; Buck hovering near Chris at the funeral, trying to offer reassurance and comfort, only to be either ignored or rebuked; the sight of Buck riding away for the last time, finally giving up on trying to salvage the Chris he knew.
Chris tried to dispel the images, but more took their place when he refocused
on the still form of the youngest member of the seven. "My name is J.D. Dunne and I can ride…..go home kid, you ain't the type….you wanna die young…stay…you can still change your mind….I think it's for the best."
Still listening only to the inner voices, Chris reached out and laid his hand on J.D.'s forehead. A slight warmth emanated from the damp skin, indicating the faint fever that coursed its way through the young man, working to heal the wounded body. Chris' hand moved softly across J.D.'s forehead and rested on his cheek. The room had grown so silent and still that when Buck spoke, the sound seemed much louder than it was.
"Hey Chris, you all right?"
Chris jerked his hand away as if burnt, coming back to the present with a sudden spasm.
"I'm fine," he answered roughly. He turned around and took a nearby chair, placing it near Buck's. He sat down heavily and ran his hand through his hair in a familiar nervous gesture. "He's tougher than he looks Buck, he'll make it."
"He sure don't look so tough right now," replied Buck, Chris' previous behavior forgotten for now.
Chris didn't respond, instead allowing silence to make its presence known. He and Buck had known each other long enough to be able to sit together and not speak, but somehow this time the silence felt uncomfortable.
"He'll make it Buck, he's too stubborn to do otherwise." Chris said, letting the hint of a smile enter his voice.
Buck looked up at Chris. "I wish I was as sure as you."
Chris didn't know how to respond and the men fell silent once again. After a few seconds, he glanced over at J.D. again, watching the slow rise and fall of the young man's chest. Sounds from outside filtered in through the window; horses and people making the sounds they always make on a normal day. Outside, normalcy was back at full strength, however, inside this room, it hadn't made an appearance yet.
"It's not your fault Buck." Chris' voice broke the silence.
Buck looked over at his friend. "Shoot Chris, whose fault is it then? I told him to go back and watch the girls, I shoulda let him come with me to help you and Josiah out, like he wanted to." The words came out in a rush, as if he had been thinking them for hours and Chris' statement had triggered the outpour. He had even snapped at Casey earlier when she worried aloud that it had been her fault for wishing J.D. harm. Buck couldn't stand the way her voice had sounded when she said it; how could she think it was her fault when it was so clearly his?
"Buck, you couldn't have known that Mattie would shoot him," Chris answered.
"I couldn't?" Buck shook his head roughly. "You're wrong Chris, it was because I trusted those girls, I couldn't see 'em as killers. You didn't trust 'em, you wouldn't have sent J.D. back there alone."
Chris thought back to that day in the woods. After the gunfire had died down and the rest of Spivak's gang had taken off, he had seen Buck come running up. The first thing to pop into Chris' head had been 'where's J.D.' and he hadn't kept it to himself; he had asked Buck immediately. When the other man had answered 'he's back with the girls', Chris had felt a sense of sudden urgency. He knew they had to get back to where J.D. was; he didn't know why, he just knew something wasn't right. Maybe it was the instinct he had developed from years of being wary of strangers and always making a point of knowing who to trust and more importantly, who not to trust. Buck may be a hired gun, but he hadn't tried to climb into a bottle for three years; gotten into senseless gun fights, and made countless enemies along the way that even he couldn't remember through the haze of alcohol. Not like the detached, cold as ice gunfighter Chris Larabee. And now that hard won instinct served him well. He hadn't trusted those women, not for a minute, and he knew that Buck would never consider that they could be cold blooded killers. But something born of experience told Chris that something had gone terribly wrong.
Coming back to the present, Chris responded in the only way he could think of.
"No, I wouldn't have, but you can't change what happened." Sometimes the truth hurts.
Buck shot a look at Chris, wincing slightly at the other man's bluntness. Leave it up to Chris to always shoot straight, thought Buck. Never was one to mollycoddle anyone.
"Yeah, like I said, you would have known better. I guess that just makes me an old fool, uh?" Buck's tone was bitter, yet underneath it was a hint of shame. He knew Chris was right; the gunman would never have sent J.D. back there alone. Buck didn't know why he knew that, he just did.
"You're not that old," said Chris.
Buck chuckled softly. "Shoot Chris, don't bother sugar-coatin' it."
"Come on Buck, you ain't no fool either and you know it. You were just doing what you thought needed to be done, no sense beatin' yourself up over it now."
"Yeah, well, what I thought needed to be done was the wrong thing, wasn't it? I just got no judgment when it comes to women." Buck ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly.
"Well, you never did have any judgment when it came to women, but I know you would never do anything to hurt that kid." Chris hoped that he could convince Buck that the shooting hadn't been his fault, but he was afraid he was failing miserably. Buck just wouldn't give up the notion that anything that happened to J.D. was somehow his fault, his responsibility….his business. And right now, his decision had gotten the kid shot. Nothing save J.D.'s complete recovery would temper Buck's feelings of guilt. Even after that, Chris knew that Buck would shutter those feelings deep inside, keeping them close enough for him to draw upon whenever something else happened to J.D
Chris' gaze returned to J.D. He was still unconscious, but the small lines of pain on his forehead revealed the discomfort and fight going on within. Chris was tired, so damn tired. He let his eyes close briefly, not sure if it was from the exhaustion or because he couldn't stand to look at J.D. lying there.
"You remember the old days Chris?
Chris started slightly at the sound of Buck's voice. It took him a few more seconds to take in the question. "What?"
Buck leaned back in his chair, stretching his back in the process. "You know, the old days, before you met Sarah?"
"That was a long time ago Buck."
"I know, but do you remember all them good times?" Buck was warming to the subject, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
Chris rubbed his eyes. "Good times...you mean the drinking, the fighting, the women…"
"Yeah, you do remember," answered Buck, slapping Chris lightly on the shoulder. "It was great, wasn't it? No worries, except maybe where our next meal was comin' from or maybe avoidin' them shotgun weddings." Buck chuckled softly.
"What are you getting' at Buck?"
"Nothin'. I was just going down memory lane, is all. Man's gotta a right to do that, don't he?" Buck sounded irritated all of a sudden, like he resented Chris' refusal to reminisce with him.
"Calm down Buck, I ain't saying you can't walk down memory lane, I'm just wondering what brought it on now."
Buck stood up quickly and started pacing in front of Chris. "Hell, I don't know, I was just thinkin' about it is all." Buck stopped in front of the bed, looking down at J.D. and reached out to feel the boy's forehead. Still warm. J.D. stirred slightly at the touch, but didn’t wake up.
"You wish you were still livin' like that Buck?" Chris asked.
"No," he answered, his voice barely a whisper.
"Sure you do Buck, that's why you brought it up." Chris said flatly.
Buck turned and looked at his old friend, trying to gauge how much Chris knew about what was going on in Buck's head. He had an eerie feeling that Chris was walking around in there, picking through his thoughts and uncovering the truth. Buck sighed inwardly in disappointment; Larabee's face was unreadable, as stoic as ever, but for an almost imperceptible rippling of his jaw muscles. That slight movement only told Buck how tightly wound the man was, due mostly to the events of the past few days.
Buck walked over and sat back down in the chair next to Chris'. He didn't know what Chris was thinking at that moment, but he was too tired to dance around it.
"Yeah, I guess I do wish I was still back there in the old days…sometimes."
"Like now," Chris' words were a statement rather than a question.
"Like now," Buck whispered the two words, seemingly afraid to utter it out loud for fear that J.D. would hear.
"You can't turn back the clock Buck."
Buck felt a twinge of guilt for admitting what he just did. After all, if anyone should want to turn back time, it was Chris. How many times had Buck wished he could return to that night in Mexico and take back what he had said. 'Come on pard, just one more night, what'll it hurt?'. What'll it hurt. Buck had spent the intervening years punishing himself for that impulsive and selfish act. He knew that there was no guarantee that if he and Chris had returned when Chris wanted that Sarah and Adam would still be alive; but there was a good chance of it. And that was what tore at Buck's soul.
Now here he was, wishing he could go back to the days before Chris had even met Sarah. Why? Because it also meant that it was before Buck had met J.D. Another selfish act. He knew that Sarah's and Adam's deaths had damaged Chris, perhaps beyond repair, but he also knew that Chris wouldn't trade his time with them for anything. Now here was Buck, wishing it all away just so he wouldn't have to face what he was feeling now; fear of losing something that had become very important to him and in the process losing a part of himself.
Maybe he was overreacting; after all, Chris seemed convinced that J.D. would be all right. But Buck wasn't sure and the fact that he felt responsible for what happened didn't help either.
" I know Chris, I didn’t really mean that, I'm just runnin' at the mouth is all," Buck finally answered, exhaustion evident in his voice. "Worryin' about the kid and all…"
Buck's voice trailed off. He knew that Chris wasn't the type to pick apart a subject, so he thought it best to just let it drop. So, Chris' next question took him by surprise.
"Do you wish you had never met J.D.?"
Buck turned and looked at Chris; his face a mixture of surprise and indecision. He couldn’t tell whether he was more caught off guard by Chris delving into his previous statement or the fact that he hadn't answered 'no' right away.
What the hell is wrong with me? How could I not answer right away. Of course I don't wish I hadn't met J.D. Sure, things are a bit rough right now, but hell, that don't mean I wish I didn't know him.
Buck knew his old friend was waiting for an answer; his eyes hadn't wavered from Buck's face.
"No, I don't wish I hadn't met him." Buck was a bit shocked that he finally managed to say something aloud.
"Then what do you wish Buck?"
"I don't know Chris," Buck swiped a hand across his face, "I guess I wish this whole day had never happened, how's that, or maybe that those two girls had never rode into town."
"Looks like we're back to turning back the clock."
Buck smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, I guess we are, except this time we won't go back so far." The guilt he had felt earlier was gone. Buck would never wish away Sarah and Adam from Chris' life, even with all the accompanying pain, and Chris knew that. He had grown used to Buck's habit of talking before thinking; it was just the way Buck was and a man can't be faulted for sticking to his nature.
Both men settled into the silence, lost in their own thoughts. Chris glanced over at J.D. once more, seemingly unable to avoid making the action every few minutes. It was almost as if he wanted to reassure himself that the kid was still there…and breathing. He didn't know why he was doing it exactly; even he had told Buck that J.D. would be okay, he'd recover and everything would be back to normal, or at least what passed for normal in this town. But now his own words sounded hollow - 'He's tougher than he looks, he'll make it.". What kind of thing was that to say? No one knew for sure if the kid would live or die, what right did Chris have to say that he would make it. Sometimes he thought he was taking this role as unofficial leader too seriously. The word of Chris Larabee didn’t necessarily make it true. And what right did he have to raise Buck's hopes? As if just by speaking it, he would by sheer force of will make it come true. Maybe Chris was starting to believe that himself. J.D. wouldn't dare die on him, not if he didn't allow it.
"Well, I'm glad I met him," Chris said into the silence that had once again descended on the room. 'Hell, think of all the laughs we woulda missed."
Buck turned and looked at Chris with surprise. The other man was smiling slightly and Buck couldn't help but smile back. He was grateful for Chris' attempt to lighten the mood. Too much thinking and worrying wears a man down and right now Buck thought he was about as worn down as they come.
He chuckled,"Yeah,things would be downright borin' around here without that boy. Remember that time Ezra tried to teach him those shufflin' tricks with the cards? I thought I'd die laughin' when all them cards went flyin' around the saloon! I still laugh when I think of that poor kid crawlin' around on that dirty floor, pickin' up cards." Buck's laughter died down as he remembered the scene. It had been funny, J.D. cursing Ezra and his own lack of ability, all the while so embarrassed that a saloon full of people had witnessed the event. Of course, in retrospect, Buck now realized that many of the amusing moments the other men recalled were at the expense of J.D.'s pride. It just seemed to be the price he paid for being young and somewhat inexperienced in the ways out here. But the kid never gave up; he just processed the lesson and went on to try something new. He was tough all right, some would say stubborn, but sometimes that was the only way to learn.
All of these thoughts had run through Buck's mind in a few seconds. He didn't feel like laughing anymore, instead he was suddenly filled with admiration for his young friend. There's just no quit in that boy, even if he ends up hurt or embarrassed, he just don't know the meaning of givin' up.
"I hope you remember that now kid," Buck whispered, answering his own thoughts aloud.
"Remember what?" Chris asked. "The cards?"
Buck shook himself slightly to get out of his own thoughts. "Nuthin', just thinkin' out loud is all."
Chris had a feeling he knew what Buck had really meant. Ironically his
thoughts had mirrored Buck's in a lot of ways. He was often amazed at the amount
of embarrassment and teasing J.D. could take and still come back for more. Not
that the kid was stupid, far from it, he knew that the only way to get good at
things was to fail at them first and learn from that. Pretty smart for a city
kid from back east, thought Chris, smiling slightly. Damn if I ain't proud of the kid. When the hell did that happen?
Chris was still smiling when Buck spoke again.
"What are you smilin' at Chris?"
Chris was looking at J.D., trying to will the kid to wake up, for both he and Buck's sake. He didn't think he could stand it much longer, this not knowing, this damn waiting.
"I was just thinkin' about them cards," he answered, looking away from J.D. to Buck. "It was pretty funny."
"Yeah, it sure was." Buck's voice trailed off. The mood had shifted back to gloom, both men refusing to acknowledge it out loud.
Suddenly Buck couldn't keep up the front any longer. His voice was no more than a whisper when he spoke, not looking at his old friend, but instead staring at the sleeping form of J.D.
"I just ain't ready to lose that boy Chris. I just don't know what I'll do if he don't make it" There was a strange combination of fear and determination in Buck's voice, as if it had cost him something to admit that, but at the same time, he was relieved to finally give voice to what was lying heavy on his heart. He hadn't wanted to admit it because to his own ears it sounded like a selfish admission; like he was only concerned about himself, not the fact that J.D. would lose so much more. But how could he think anything else? Just the mere thought of the kid dying made Buck's stomach twist into knots.
Buck's tone wasn't lost on Chris. He knew that it had taken a lot for Buck to admit that. His old friend actually believed that he kept his feelings pretty hidden concerning J.D. Chris shook his head in silent wonderment; good ole Buck, he had a heart as big as the whole outdoors, but sometimes his brain lagged a bit behind. He thought that all the fussing and teasing that he directed at J.D. would be perceived as just that by the other men. Oh, maybe some of it would be interpreted as concern, but the sort that said 'yeah, I don't want anything to happen to the boy cause I don’t wanna waste all that good learnin' I been givin' him'.But surely not the kind of concern that went beyond interest in the boy's welfare - not the kind of concern that was easily readable as a deeply felt brotherly love. Of course, Buck hadn't been able to see his own face or hear the tone of his voice when he had told Chris to get the girls, 'gun 'em down if you have to', after J.D. had been shot. The vehemence of Buck's voice had frightened Chris and he quickly abandoned any thought of going after Spivak. He would come back to town with Kate and Mattie if it was the last thing he did.
Yet here Buck was, thinking he was opening a vein in front of Chris by admitting that he couldn't deal with the thought of losing J.D. and that J.D. meant more to him than he had even admitted to himself, when Chris and every one of the other men already knew it.
Chris couldn't keep a small chuckle from escaping his lips and instantly regretted it. The other man's head snapped up in irritation. "Just what the hell is so funny Chris?" Buck asked, trying not to yell, but not succeeding very well.
Chris backed up a bit in his chair, the squeak of the wooden legs sounding very loud in the room. "Whoa, Buck, take it easy," he said, holding his hands up slightly in surrender. "I didn't mean nothin' by it, I was just thinkin' is all."
"Thinkin'! About what? What could you be thinkin' about now that's funny?"
"Nothin' Buck, just settle down, Nathan'll come runnin' in here and tan both our hides."
"I ain't gonna settle down til you tell me what you were thinkin' about that you think is funny." The volume of Buck's voice had dropped, but there was steel in it and Chris respected Buck too much to not be honest with him.
"Buck, none of us wants to lose J.D., I wasn't makin' light of that."
Buck's posture relaxed a little bit, some of his anger dissipating.
"Shoot, I know that Chris," Buck's tone had softened somewhat, but he was still waiting for an answer to his question. "So you gonna tell me what was so funny?"
Chris took a deep breath to buy some time; he wasn't sure how to put this without embarrassing Buck.
"Buck, I know it took a lot for you to admit what you said earlier, about not being ready to lose J.D., but….it wasn't exactly news, if you know what I mean."
Buck remained silent for a beat, looking over at J.D. once more; once more assuring himself that the kid was still breathing, was still here, was still alive.
"Hell, Buck, you don't do a very good job of hidin' your feelings when it comes to that kid. All that yellin' and fussin' that you do ain't foolin' nobody. The more pissed off you get at him the more obvious it is."
"The more obvious what is?"
"Come on Buck, we all know how you feel about him. To be honest with you, I guess I feel pretty much the same. Hate to speak for the others, but it's probably safe to say they do too."
Buck was surprised that Chris would admit it, but he wasn't surprised at what
he said. Hell, I ain't the only one hidin' things around here. We just got different ways of doin' it.
"Oh I bet that hurt, didn't it Chris?" Buck's tone had lightened considerably; merely the thought of his oldest friend feeling some of what he himself was feeling was enough to make him feel much less alone and a bit less afraid.
Chris looked over at Buck with a pale imitation of his patented evil eye look, which only made Buck laugh out loud. The laugh stopped abruptly when Buck realized what he was doing. He felt guilty for feeling good, even if it was only for a few seconds.
Chris felt good about hearing Buck laugh, even though he knew the lighter mood wouldn't last. The object of all this discussion was still lying a few feet away, unconscious and showing no signs of waking up.
"Yeah, well, I'm glad you think I'm so funny." There was no anger in Chris' voice. He had decided that trying to be threatening right now wasn't going to work.
"I just knew that kid would get to you old buddy, just didn't think you'd ever admit it," said Buck.
"Yeah well…" answered Chris, pausing to consider his words. "Let's keep it between you and me. Don't go tellin' everybody."
"What's the matter Chris, afraid your reputation will suffer?"
Chris peered at Buck, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Yeah, something like that."
Buck leaned over and patted Chris on the knee. "Don't worry pard, your secret is safe with me…well, safe with me and J.D. that is."
"Buck…" threatened Chris. "You say one word to that kid and I'll…"
"Ah hell Chris, he already knows. J.D. may be a lot of things, but dumb ain't one of 'em."
Chris was struck speechless and his face reflected his shock. It would have been funny under other circumstances, but suddenly Chris didn't feel like laughing, instead he felt a surge of relief. Oh, he still had a reputation to uphold and he would do that as always, but perhaps he could let it slip occasionally from now on, especially in front of the kid and Buck.
Chris stood up slowly, trying to work out the stiffness that had settled in with a vengeance. He stepped over to J.D.'s bed and stopped, looking down at the young man. Buck was watching, wondering how the two old friends could have just been joking around a few seconds earlier. J.D. was still unconscious and they still weren't sure if the kid would make it. How could we have been laughing? Buck shook his head and rubbed his hand over his eyes; they felt gritty with the lack of sleep and suddenly all the worry and fear flooded back. He wondered what time it was. He couldn't remember if he had eaten lately. The small bubble of unawareness that he and Chris had constructed had burst and the reality came rushing back.
Chris was still standing over by J.D., watching and waiting. He reached out and laid a hand on J.D.'s forehead, testing for fever again, or maybe he just wanted the contact. Maybe he thought that J.D. would wake up if he felt someone's hand on his forehead. Maybe he was confused and angry and impatient and just needed to do something. Chris Larabee was not used to being helpless in any situation; he didn't like it at all, in fact, one would be safe to say he hated it, and right now he felt helpless. He couldn't do anything to make J.D. wake up, to make him be all right, to make that wounded look disappear from Buck's eyes, to make everything bad go away and make everything all right again. And that pissed him off.
Buck put his hand on Chris' shoulder, making the other man jump slightly. Buck could feel the tenseness in the shoulder, the pent up anger making the muscles coil into tight springs.
"Sorry pard, didn't mean to sneak up on ya," said Buck.
"Didn't hear you," answered Chris.
"Wool gatherin' uh?" asked Buck.
Chris turned away from the bed. "Yeah, something like that." He stepped over towards the door and put his hand on the doorknob. He knew he had to get out of the room before he revealed even more of what he was thinking and feeling. The past several hours had taken a toll on him that even he didn’t want to admit. Buck might feel comfortable with all this revelation, but it was still hard for Chris to let down the wall he had built around himself after his family's death. He had fought hard to keep that wall intact, it was his own memorial to Sarah and Adam, and he wasn't ready to forgo it just yet. A part of him realized that caring about other people didn’t take away from how much he had cared about Sarah and Adam, but that part was mostly buried under a sea of irrationality that stubbornly insisted the opposite. Logic was never a strong point when it came to emotions and memories and it sure wasn't playing a role here.
Chris opened the door and turned towards Buck. "Buy you a drink?"
Buck paused, turned to look at J.D. and considered his answer. He was torn; he really needed a drink, he wanted to get out of this room, if only for a few minutes, anything to escape the suffocating feelings of dread and uncertainty. But he also couldn't stand the thought of not being here if, no, when J.D. woke up. He didn't want the kid to think no one cared enough to be sitting here keeping a vigil.
Still not being able to decide what to do, Buck turned back towards Chris,
whose face was outlined eerily in the wane light coming from the turned down
lamp. Slight lines along his mouth and on his forehead and a smudge of black
under each eye all testified to the strain Chris was under. Hell, Chris, I don't know which one of us is looking worse. You look like I feel right about now. Guess J.D. would be right proud of himself for causin' all this.
Buck took a deep breath and answered, "Don't mind if I do." Something told Buck that perhaps Chris needed that drink even more than Buck did. He could come right back, it would only take a few minutes, he could stretch his legs, wet his whistle, and be right back before too long.
Chris was relieved that Buck had agreed to the drink. He would have left
without him, just to get out of there for a while, but he was glad that he would
have company now. I think Buck needs this drink more than I do. At least I can get his mind off things for a while. We can get someone else to sit with J.D. for a few minutes and then Buck can come right back, ready to sit out the night if need be.I think Casey is still asleep in the next room, I know she's been itching to come in here and sit with the kid.
"You comin'?" Chris was halfway out the door.
"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute, you think you could ask Casey to come sit with J.D. until I get back?"
"Sure," answered Chris, smiling faintly to himself at the coincidence of both of them thinking of Casey.
Chris turned and started down the stairs outside of Nathan's room. Buck stepped away from the door and headed back towards the bed. Once there, he gently laid his hand on J.D.'s chest. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. "I'll be right back, kid." Buck turned to walk away, but stopped and turned back as if he had forgotten something. Placing his hand on J.D.'s cheek, Buck sighed,"I ain't givin' up on ya son, don't you go givin' up on yourself, ya hear me?" Buck's hand lingered on the young man's cheek for a second and then it was gone. Buck was at the door when he turned around and added, "You best wake up soon J.D. or else Chris is gonna climb right outta his skin and you know how impossible he is to be around when he's like that." Buck coughed slightly to cover the sudden thickness in his voice. "Don't die on me kid, we got too much to do yet."
The End
