Bruises on the Soul

Vin Tanner stared over the rim of his beer mug at the drunk man loudly "entertaining" a bunch of ranch hands in one corner of the saloon. He set the mug down and suppressed a sigh. Hidden by the shadows hanging over his corner seat, the tracker's normally stoic expression morphed into a mixture of concern, exasperation, and sympathy.

Dammit, Josiah, why d'ya do this to yerself?

Vin never asked that question out loud because he knew it could too easily be turned back on him. But he'd hoped that the preacher had found some kind of peace after what'd happened the last time he'd visited his past. Josiah'd been right then, though, when he'd claimed he'd never be free of it – or the misery that the trip inevitably caused. His current drunken state was testament to that.

Glancing over at his tablemate, the tracker noticed that he wasn't the only one watching the preacher. His best friend and the leader of their band of peacekeepers also seemed disturbed by Josiah's drinking binge. The signs wouldn't be obvious to most people, but Vin knew Chris Larabee well enough to know when he wasn't happy about something, even when he was trying to hide it. And Chris definitely wasn't happy about this, though so far he hadn't made a move to do anything about it.

Vin understood the motive behind his lack of action. If you started butting in on other people's problems, it gave them the right to do the same to you, and neither he nor Chris encouraged that. But as he watched a man he called friend deteriorate before his eyes, the former bounty hunter decided to at least attempt to slow down the decline.

Quickly draining the last of his beer, Vin stood up and headed towards the bar for another. On his way back to his table, he swung by Josiah's. It wasn't easy to get the preacher's attention through the crowd that surrounded him, but the tracker finally managed to draw the larger man a short distance away from the rowdy bunch.

Staring up into the whiskey-dulled eyes, Vin said bluntly, "Think ya had enough fer one night, Josiah."

The preacher stared down at the younger man a moment then smiled a decidedly unfriendly smile. "That so?"

"That's so."

Josiah took a step closer to the tracker, crowding him back against the wall. "And 'r you gonna be the one to make me stop?" he sneered drunkenly.

Vin never once flinched from the large man's intimidating bulk. Instead, he met the other man's gaze sadly and, with a shake of his head, said quietly, "No. No one c'n do that fer ya but yerself, Josiah."

Watching the full import of the words hit the preacher, Vin was the only one who saw the pain and self-disgust reflected in the pale blue eyes. But there was also a stubbornness there that would not allow the older man the luxury of stopping his self- destructive course. With a frustrated shake of his head, the tracker easily slipped from between him and the wall and started back to his table. At the last minute, he stopped and rested a hand briefly on Josiah's arm. "If ya need someone ta talk ta, ya know where I am."

He sensed more than saw the slight nod Josiah gave him and forced himself to be satisfied with that. Ya can't help a man who don't wanta be helped, Tanner, he reminded himself harshly as he wove his way through the crowded room back to where Chris sat waiting for him. But damn, it sure ain't easy watching him killin' himself neither.

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Chris watched silently as Vin tried to talk some sense into Josiah and failed miserably. He could have told the tracker that his chances of success were pretty poor. He'd had a lot of experience being in the place Josiah was now, and though Buck had been pretty damned persistent, he had rarely succeeded, either. There were just some times when a man hurt so bad that he needed to forget his problems, and whiskey was as good a way as any and better than some.

He had tensed up into battle readiness, though, ready to leap to Vin's defense, when Josiah had pinned the smaller man against the wall. There had been too many times in the past when he'd lashed out at the person trying to help him, and Vin didn't deserve the same treatment he'd heaped on Buck. Hell, Buck had never deserved that kind of treatment, but at least Buck had the size and strength to take it. Vin wasn't even half of Josiah. Fortunately, Josiah either had better control than he did, or he just wasn't as blindly cruel. Whatever the reason, the preacher had let the tracker go without so much as raising his hand to him, and Chris breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet even after Vin was safely sitting beside him once again, the gunslinger found that he still couldn't take his eyes off Josiah, and it had nothing to do with being afraid for the other patrons' safety. It wasn't even the sympathetic ache he felt for the other man. It was something else all together, a kind of almost . . . hurt anger, and Chris didn't know what the hell to do about it.

Why hadn't Josiah come to him?

Ever since that afternoon two months ago, Chris had taken to spending more time in the preacher's presence. He still didn't venture into the chapel on Sundays – he hadn't yet forgiven God for the loss of his family – but it wasn't unusual to find him on top of the building's roof during the weekdays, helping Josiah nail down loose shingles or replacing rotten ones. And when they weren't working on the church, it became a matter of course for Josiah to head out to Chris' place and help him with whatever repair work the gunslinger had designated for completion that day.

Chris had come to treasure those times spent together. While Josiah appreciated silence, he also liked to talk more than Chris did, but Chris found that what he had to say was usually worth listening to. To his amazement, the gunslinger had found himself talking more, too, and the two of them had shared a great deal of information about themselves and their pasts with each other, even more so than he had with Vin. It was mostly "getting to know you" kind of stuff, nothing really serious or deep, but still, Chris had felt like they were getting closer and thought that Josiah had felt the same way.

So why hadn't the preacher come to him? The man had said that Chris could come to him anytime with any problem. Chris had thought that Josiah understood that it extended both ways. The gunslinger frowned as he considered this. How could Josiah expect that? Chris had never said the words out loud, and the only one of the Seven who seemed able to read his mind was Vin. Despite all the time they'd spent together recently, Chris suspected he was still as much a puzzle to Josiah as the big man was to him.

Standing abruptly, the gunslinger resolved to remedy that misconception. Unlike Vin, Chris didn't have any trouble getting close to Josiah. The crowd that surrounded the preacher parted before his ominous presence like the Red Sea before Moses, and he was at Josiah's side before the older man even knew he was there. He laid a hand on one broad shoulder and squeezed briefly, getting the big man's attention.

Their gazes collided. Chris almost flinched at the raw emotions clearly visible in those ice-blue eyes. Grief. Rage. Despair. He'd seen them all, felt them all, in exactly the same proportions as the man before him. He knew then that he had to get Josiah out of here, had to get him to talk to him like he'd done for Chris all those weeks ago. His friend was about to self-destruct, and there was no way he was going to let that happen on his watch.

And Chris was probably the only one the preacher could talk to about whatever was tearing him apart inside. Everyone else saw Josiah as stalwart and unshakeable, the tower of strength upon which they could lean when times were tough. Well, maybe not everyone, Chris amended his assessment, remembering Vin's troubled expression when he'd come back to their table after trying to talk to Josiah himself.

A sharp stab of jealousy caught the gunfighter off guard. Jealous?! Of Vin and Josiah? Chris nearly laughed out loud at the notion. Knowing what he did about both men, he knew that it wasn't even a remote possibility. Yet there was still a part of him, a possessive streak that couldn't be denied, that wondered. Giving himself a mental shake, Chris firmly pushed such doubts out of his mind and concentrated on the here and now.

Leaning in a bit closer to the preacher, the gunslinger held his gaze and said for Josiah's ears only, "I'm gonna be at my place tonight."

He didn't say anything else, but he saw the comprehension in the other man's pale eyes. With another brief tightening of his hand on the preacher's shoulder and a confirming nod, Chris straightened and headed out the batwing doors of the saloon without a backwards glance. He went immediately to the livery and saddled up his horse. He didn't know whether Josiah would accept his invitation or not, but there were a few things he needed to get ready if he did. Chris was determined to be there in whatever fashion Josiah needed him tonight.

+ + + + + + +

Vin watched in narrow-eyed fascination as Chris strode purposefully towards their drunken friend. He saw how everyone got out of his way and how all Chris had to do was lay a hand on Josiah's shoulder to get his attention. The tracker didn't know what Chris had said to the older man, but it seemed to have at least some kind of calming effect. He was surprised, then, when the gunslinger turned away from the crowded table and left the saloon alone.

Vin got to his feet and silently trailed after his best friend. He stopped by the jail when he realized that Chris' destination was the livery and waited until he saw the direction the other man was headed. Chris pointed Pony down the road to his small cabin and kicked the big horse into a gallop.

Even with his sharp eyes, the tracker soon lost sight of the darkly dressed man in the black of late evening but he continued to stare thoughtfully after him for a long while. He had wondered about the new closeness between the gunslinger and the preacher for some time now. They hadn't been real obvious about it at first, but as the pair gradually began spending more and more time together, it had gotten harder for Vin to ignore.

Vin knew he wasn't the only one who'd noticed, either. He had caught each of the others looking at the two of them with a startled or appraising look in their eyes at one time or another. Especially Ezra. Nothing escaped the conman's sharp eyes, and when it concerned Josiah, he was particularly vigilant. But no one had approached either of the men in question, and neither Chris nor Josiah had volunteered anything.

The tracker had a pretty good idea what was going on and wished his two friends all the happiness that they could find. Both men had known more than their fair share of heartache in their lives, and if they could find a way between them to ease any of that pain then it was all right by him. Not that it was any of his business, anyway.

Sighing, Vin turned and, despite the lateness of the hour, headed back to the saloon. With Chris gone, someone needed to help Ezra watch the preacher's back.

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Some hours later, Josiah sat alone at his table, staring into the half-empty whiskey bottle as if it held the answers to all of life's mysteries. He had fallen quiet after Chris' exit and soon lost the attention of the drovers who did not find his silence as amusing as his earlier antics. He had even lost the watchful eye of Vin Tanner sometime earlier in the hour, but he still felt Ezra's protective presence behind him at the gambler's usual table. A small part of him was grateful for the show of support, but the rest of him just couldn't find the strength to acknowledge the care aimed at him. He was too busy trying to figure out whether to accept Chris' invitation or not.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. He just didn't know if he deserved to accept the haven the blond offered. Josiah knew that of all the Seven, Chris would probably understand what he was feeling better than any of them, even Vin, bless the boy, with his inside knowledge of what was wrong. Though there was no realistic way that Chris could have saved his family, he, too, was consumed with the guilt of not being there when they needed him.

The ex-preacher scowled as he reminded himself of the vital difference between him and Chris. Their leader could console himself with the knowledge that he hadn't known what was going to happen. He could combat the horrible memories of his wife and son's deaths with thoughts of the good times that had come before. Josiah didn't have that comfort. He had willfully abandoned his sister to their father's harsh treatment, thinking only of his own selfish desires instead of reaching out to the one who needed his strength more. He had to face the results of his selfishness every time he visited the shell of what Hannah had become. He wasn't worthy of having someone share the burden of his shame. This was the price he had to pay, the penance his sins demanded, and though it hurt horribly, a part of him reveled in the deserved agony.

Face twisting in a grimace of disgusted self-pity, the big man poured himself a shot, downed it quickly, then poured another one and tossed it back. He stared at the bottle, waiting for the numbing effects to wash over him. Nothing. He took another shot. Again nothing. It wasn't enough anymore. A low moan of despair escaped from deep inside his chest, and his head fell forward onto the arms folded across the table.

A few moments later, he felt a warm hand on the back of his head. Looking up, Josiah found he was not really surprised to see Ezra standing beside him. What did surprise him was the look of undisguised concern on the young gambler's face. Ezra hardly ever let anyone know what he was truly feeling at any given time; he had to be deeply troubled to allow them to show so freely now. The faint gratitude Josiah had felt earlier towards the younger man blossomed now into a warmer, inexplicable feeling that melted some of the cold, hard pain he was trying to drown in alcohol. An insidious voice murmured that the conman probably wouldn't be so concerned if he knew the true reason for the ex-preacher's inebriated state, but Josiah for once ruthlessly thrust that thought aside and basked in the obvious regard the gambler felt for him. He didn't know how badly he'd needed that regard until Ezra joined him.

The hand on the back of his head dropped to one broad shoulder. "I would wager that it's time for both of us to retire for the evening, Josiah. Wouldn't you agree?" Ezra asked softly.

A small smile ghosted across Josiah's face at the use of his first name even as he nodded his agreement. The smile faded away at the prospect of facing the rest of the night alone. He couldn't do it. There were too many bad memories waiting to ambush him tonight, and he just didn't have the strength to take them on by himself. Chris' words came back to him in a rush, and the decision to join the gunslinger at his home suddenly became an easy one to make.

"Would you like an escort to Mr. Larabee's abode, Josiah?" The ex-preacher's blue eyes widened at the gambler's quiet question. Ezra's expression remained serious, though there was a suspicious twinkle in his eyes. "I assume that is what the exchange between the two of you was about earlier. However, it has begun to storm since our esteemed leader issued his invitation, and I have no desire to incur Mr. Larabee's wrath by failing to see you arrive safely to your destination. If you would give me just a moment to procure appropriate attire for such weather, I will be more than happy to accompany you."

Josiah's jaw dropped at this little speech, flabbergasted by the invitation and the obvious knowledge behind it. Ezra grinned down at him as he reached out to close his gaping mouth. "Come now, sir, did you truly believe you and Mr. Larabee could hide something of such great significance to me?"

"To you?" the older man asked, the alcohol and the shock of the question only adding to his befuddlement.

Ezra nodded, and his entire face softened with affection. "Anything that makes you happy is of great significance to me, Josiah." His green gaze hardened briefly. "Of course, if Mr. Larabee ever does anything to make you unhappy, I shall be forced to take drastic measures."

"Ezra . . ."

The gambler ignored the warning implicit in that one word and patted the broad shoulder amiably. "I shall return momentarily, my friend." So saying, the young man swiftly ascended the stairs to his room and disappeared behind the door.

True to his word, Ezra reemerged from the upstairs room in less than a minute and swiftly regained his position at the preacher's side. After helping the older man into his coat, the gambler pulled one of Josiah's arms over his shoulders then slid one of his own arms around his waist. Together, they stumbled out of the saloon and out into the stormy night.

+ + + + + + +

Chris paused in his pacing and stared out the darkened window for the hundredth time. Three hours had passed since he first reached the cabin, and still, there was no sign of Josiah. It had started to storm a little while ago, and combined with the darkness, the road to his place would be a treacherous mess by now. Chris found himself torn between wanting the preacher here and hoping Josiah – or one of the boys for him – had had the sense to keep in town.

Glancing around the room, Chris found nothing left to occupy his restless mind and hands. He'd already gotten a fire going in the stove and a pot of coffee made the way Josiah liked it sat atop it. He'd also made a simple meal of biscuits and beans, though he didn't figure Josiah would be in any shape to eat it. Lord knew, food had never been high on his list of priorities after a drunken binge.

The sound of horses approaching broke through Chris' preoccupation. He jerked open the cabin door and squinted into the icy, needlelike rain. A moment later, he was off the porch and at Josiah's side before the horses came to a complete halt. It proved to be a fortunate move as the inebriated man started to slide sideways in the saddle, and Ezra wasn't quick enough to grab him. Chris caught Josiah against his chest, wrapping him tightly in strong arms until the gambler scrambled off his mount and untangled Josiah's foot from the stirrup. Once he'd accomplished that, Ezra came around to Prophet's other side and helped Chris get the preacher into the cabin.

Together, they eased Josiah into a sitting position on the bed. Ezra stepped back as Chris bent to undo the buttons on the swaying man's coat. The worried, determined look on Chris' face and the gentle familiarity with which he removed the coat and started on the shirt underneath affirmed that he had made the right decision. This was where Josiah needed to be tonight, and with whom he needed to be as well. It was time for him to make a strategic withdrawal. Ezra cleared his throat noisily and had to suppress a smile at the distracted look Chris shot him.

"Now that Josiah is safely in your care, Mr. Larabee, I'll just see that Prophet is properly stabled then be on my way."

Chris nodded absently and went back to stripping Josiah of his cold, wet clothing. Sparing a final look over the man he loved like a father, Ezra silently slipped out the door. The sound of Chaucer's retreating hooves carried inside a few moments later. The two men were now completely alone.

It took more effort than Chris thought it should to get the rest of Josiah's clothes off. The shirt had been easy enough, but the belt resisted his every effort to unbuckle it and one boot stuck halfway over the heel. Having to support Josiah's mostly dead weight while peeling off the soaked layers made it that much more difficult, and Christ, how did Buck manage this night after night for those three years? Eventually, with a bit of creative maneuvering and even more creative swearing, Chris got the other man undressed and bundled warmly in the blankets. He gently pushed Josiah down onto his side then sat back on his heels and just watched him for a few minutes. Josiah mumbled something unintelligible and shifted against the constricting blankets once before settling deeper into sleep. Satisfied, Chris rose to his feet and pondered his next move.

One thing was for certain, he wasn't going to find out what was bothering his friend tonight. But at least Josiah was here, and tomorrow would be soon enough for them to talk. Chris felt a smile tugging at his mouth at the idea of *wanting* to talk through a problem. The boys would probably all fall over in shock from the very thought. Chuckling softly to himself, Chris began to clear off the stove and shut everything down for the night.

Moving the lamp to the bedside, Chris saw that Josiah had rolled over onto his back. He immediately set the lamp down and reached over to pull him back onto his side. As drunk as the man was, Chris knew he couldn't let him stay lying flat. Past experience had taught him how dangerous it could be. He had nearly choked on his own vomit once when he was less drunk that Josiah was now. If Buck hadn't been there that night, watching over him like his own personal guardian angel as always, Chris would have died.

Chris watched the restless man for several long moments, debating with himself, before expelling a loud breath as he made his decision. He checked the fire one last time to make sure that it was properly banked for the evening before crossing over to where his guest restlessly slept. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he yanked off his boots and socks then pulled his shirt over his head. Peeling back the blankets, the gunslinger gently pushed at the older man until he was on his side facing the wall. Then he climbed under the covers and spooned up behind him, ensuring that Josiah would not be turning over again any time soon.

Chris shook his head in self-mockery as he pulled the blankets snugly around them both. Admit it, Larabee. You're not doing it to keep him from choking on anything. You're doing it because you want to hold him.

And so what if I do? he argued back at the mental voice. Why would it be so wrong to want this?

A sarcastic mental snort cut short his tirade. You want the long list or the short one?

Oh shut the hell up! Chris snarled silently. The voice obeyed the command, but the snickering that replaced the chatter angered him more. Damn! His subconscious was worse than Ezra at his most irritating

Determined to ignore his doubts and confusion, Chris rolled a little closer into the back of the slumbering form he held. He nuzzled into the short red-grey hair at the base of Josiah's neck and breathed in deeply. Anchored to the present with the feel and scent of the other man, Chris let everything else go and followed his bedmate into sleep.

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Josiah woke up the next morning to an agonizing throbbing in his head and an ominous roiling in his gut. And no clear idea of where he was or who was pressed so warmly against his back. For one foggy moment, he could only hope that whatever they'd done the night before had been worth this punishment.

Then the reason for last night's bender filtered through the hangover, and any though of fun and carousing vanished. The old, familiar pain swallowed up his soul, completely eclipsing any physical discomfort. A low, heartbroken moan slipped from his throat as he hid his face in his hands. Hannah . . .

The sound of someone in pain roused Chris from a surprisingly dreamless sleep. A jerky movement by the body next to his brought him to full alertness, and he automatically tightened his arms around the distress man. Josiah stiffened and pulled away slightly. Chris wanted to pull him back, but some instinct warned him that now was not the time to push. So instead, he got out of the bed and wordlessly built the fire back up. While the blaze chased away the chill dampness of the room, Chris made a fresh pot of coffee. He spiked a cupful with a liberal amount of whiskey then carried it over to the bed. Placing a hand on one trembling shoulder, Chris pretended not to notice the tears streaking the haggard face. For now. He handed him the coffee.

Josiah stared uncomprehendingly at the cup for a moment then took it with hands that shook slightly. He grimaced at the first taste but forced himself to choke down the rest of it and held out the cup for a second dose. Chris obligingly got it for him and waited patiently for him to finish it before he did something that completely shocked the older man. He climbed back into the bed and arranged Josiah comfortably against him, his head pillowed carefully on one thigh and the rest of his long body curled around Chris's side. A warm hand smoothed up and down his arm in comforting strokes while the other rested softly just above his brow, holding him in place.

Josiah had long suspected that Chris had a gently, nurturing side, had even glimpsed it on occasion while watching Chris interact with Billy or JD, but he'd never had it directed so openly at himself. It was . . . nice, even if he normally would have rejected such comfort. But this was Chris offering the comfort this time, and Josiah found that he actually wanted it. He wanted to abandon his self-imposed misery, if only for a little while, and allow himself to accept what Chris so willingly gave. This was the reason he'd ridden all the way out here in the first place. Chris understood, even if he didn't know what the problem was. Josiah hesitantly stretched one arm over Chris' legs and was rewarded with a brief kiss to the top of his head. With a quiet sigh, he settled more comfortably against the younger man and let his soothing touches ease him back towards sleep.

Chris had other ideas. He quietly stroked his fingers over the short, silver-red hair for a time, lulling some of Josiah's pain away with each caressing touch. Once the blond thought he had the big man sufficiently relaxed, he broke the silence with the question that had been plaguing him all night. "What's got ya to this sorry state, Preacher?"

Josiah started. He'd nearly fallen back into welcome, oblivious sleep under Chris' ministrations. He certainly didn't want to be kept awake by remembering why he was hurting so bad now. "I don't want to talk about it, Chris."

The gentle, callused fingers paused a moment then resumed their soothing motion when Chris asked, "Then why are you here?"

Josiah pushed up and said angrily, "I can leave."

"You can," Chris agreed quietly, "but what good would that do? We both know it only hurts more when ya keep it all locked in." He traced the tense line of Josiah's jaw and turned his head to look directly into a stormy blue gaze. "You helped me, Josiah, more than anyone else ever could. All I want to do is return the favor. Please tell me what's wrong."

Josiah searched Chris' face with wide, anguished eyes, and Chris prayed that whatever he saw would convince him to open up. Seeing Josiah like this was too much like what looking the mirror had felt like a few months ago. It hurt, and Chris was prepared to do anything the other man needed him to do to make that hurt disappear for them both. If Josiah would just let him in . . .

As if in answer to Chris' silent plea, Josiah closed his eyes and leaned into Chris' hand. Then he nodded and scrunched back down into Chris' lap. With words that got more ragged and torn as he went on, he told Chris his story. By the time he came to a halting stop, he was shaking with harsh, tearless sobs and his grip on Chris' legs would have been excruciating if Chris hadn't been so focused on the man under his hands.

Curling over Josiah as best he could, Chris did his damnedest to let the big man know that he wasn't alone, that he understood this pain only too well, that he wasn't going to leave him. Josiah's response surprised him a little. The preacher reared up suddenly and pinned him to the headboard with hungry, demanding kisses. Chris yielded to the onslaught at once. He had sworn to do anything to help Josiah, and if this was what he needed, he'd get it.

But the almost brutal assault ended as quickly as it started as Josiah's kisses turned soft, and Chris nearly wept at the devastating sadness the simple caresses conveyed. He wound his arms around the broad chest and held Josiah as close as he could while he tried to heal the wounded soul with his own gentle kisses.

After a time, Josiah pulled away, lines of exhaustion cutting across the already deep lines of grief. Chris kissed him one last time then lowered them both back down into the blankets. He stretched out flat and smiled slightly when Josiah automatically laid on his side with his head on Chris' chest. The blond man rested his hand on the curve of Josiah's neck and was heartened when the pulse under his fingertips slowed to a sleep- normal beat.

He was on the verge of falling back asleep himself when he heard a softly whispered, "I love you."

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The Seven's tracker and sharpshooter greeted the morning at his customary early hour despite how late he'd turned in the night before. As he climbed out of his wagon into the cold rain, his gaze fell on the church and he wondered how Josiah was doing. The preacher had still been drinking in his corner when he'd finally given up watching him and left. But before he'd left, Vin had caught Ezra's attention over his card game, and the gambler had silently given his assurance that he had the situation under control. The tracker had felt a little better about leaving then. The two men never made a big deal out of it, but Vin knew there was a unique, almost father/son kind of bond between the conman and the preacher. Ezra wouldn't let anything bad happen to the other man.

Still, Vin felt the need to see for himself how Josiah was doing. He didn't know if there was anything he could really do to help, but he at least wanted to offer. He headed first to the church, hoping that the preacher had either made it there under his own power or with Ezra's help. He wasn't happy when he discovered that the bed hadn't been slept in. He then headed over to the saloon. Inez was already there, cleaning up before the night brought in more customers. When he asked, she told him that Josiah had left with Ezra sometime during the night, but she wasn't sure when or where they went to.

Becoming a bit concerned, the tracker searched the entire small town for the missing man. Neither Nathan, JD, or Buck had seen him nor had Mary. Ezra didn't answer the knock on his door or Vin's loudly voiced demands. The door was locked, too, and Vin didn't waste the time necessary to open it. Josiah wasn't at the store, the telegraph office, or the jail, either.

Vin finally struck gold when he searched the livery. Josiah's horse wasn't in its stall, and the tracker suddenly remembered that it was his turn for patrol that morning. Vin shook his head. He admired the man's dedication to his job, but he imagined that Josiah had one hell of a hangover after all the whiskey he'd consumed last night. He didn't know how vigilant he'd be, and Vin didn't want his friend getting himself ambushed due to a bad headache – or bad memories. He decided to ride out and see how the other man was faring.

He'd covered half of the circuit Josiah usually took around the town before he finally came across a horse and rider. Vin's eyes widened a notch when he recognized the hunched figure. "Hey, Ez, what're ya doin' out here? It ain't yer turn for patrol."

"Of that I am most certainly aware, Mr. Tanner," the drenched gambler retorted sourly as he vainly attempted to wipe the freezing rain out of his eyes. "However, as dear Brother Sanchez drank himself into a rarified state of inebriation last night, I thought it prudent for someone else to take his patrol." He shook his head, sending a small spray of water flying in all directions. He grimaced as several fat drops snuck under his collar. "I shall, of course, exact proper remuneration from him for keeping me from my nice warm bed on such an infernally cold and wet morning."

"A'course," Vin responded neutrally, trying hard to keep the grin out of his voice. He'd always known Ezra had a caring heart to go with that biting tongue and sharp mind, and this just proved it once again. The humor faded as he remembered why he himself was out in the foul elements. "If yer out here, where's Josiah?"

Ezra gave him an odd look. "I escorted Mr. Sanchez to Mr. Larabee's humble abode around three o'clock this morning. I assume he is still there."

Vin nodded thoughtfully as he gazed at the hills and trees that hid Chris' place from view. When he turned back, Ezra was still looking at him strangely. "You know what ails Josiah, don't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Man's past is his own business," the tracker replied evasively.

"That it is, Mr. Tanner, that it is," Ezra murmured, his vivid green eyes growing dull as he stared at something only he could see. He snapped himself out of his introspection with a small shake and briefly gazed in the same direction Vin had earlier. "Well, I wish them both the best of luck. Defeating demons isn't ever easy."

"No," Vin agreed quietly. "But it does gets easier when ya share 'em."

+ + + + + + +

Chris stared into the dim interior of the cabin, unable to sleep after that softly spoken declaration. His emotions were all in a tangle and a tumult of questions whirled around his mind. Did he love Josiah? Could he love him?

They hadn't repeated the intimacy of that day, even with all the ample opportunity they'd had recently to do so. The need for it simply hadn't been there. Though both had enjoyed it at the time – and Chris had certainly needed it then – neither man seemed in any hurry to pick up where they'd left off. But Chris sometimes wondered if that was merely his own perception. He knew that Josiah had the infinite patience of a mountain, and he wouldn't push until he was certain that it was something that Chris really wanted. Since Chris hadn't figured it out for himself yet, he was glad for that patience, but saddened at the same time. Josiah shouldn't have to wait for him to make up his mind.

A small shifting of the body beside his drew Chris' attention back to the man in his arms. He looked down at the familiar face, resting so trustingly above his heart, and felt a surprised sense of peace well up in his soul. He hadn't been this content in . . . quite a while, and he knew it had everything to do with Josiah and his gentle, scarred spirit. He asked himself another question. Could he refuse Josiah the one thing that might bring them both some peace?

Before Chris could even begin to answer that, a soft, distress-tinged whimper escaped the sleeping man, and his movements became more restless. Without any conscious thought, Chris smoothed one hand over the silvering hair and drew small, comforting circles on the broad back with the other. Leaning down a bit, he whispered soothing words of reassurance and tenderness directly into Josiah's ear.

The man in his arms responded instantly to his actions. The preacher settled himself more securely in Chris' embrace with a contented sigh, and his breathing evened out into a deep, and hopefully dreamless, sleep.

Chris stared at the slumbering man in awed fascination. Not since Sarah and Adam had anyone trusted him enough to let him chase away the night demons with just the touch of his hand and a few whispered words. Or, he realized with a start, loved him enough to do the same in return.

Well, I guess that answers that question.

Smiling with the first genuine happiness he'd felt since his family had been taken from him, Chris pressed a gentle kiss on the sleeping man's temple and whispered, "I love you, too, Josiah."

His heart satisfied for now with the admission, Chris settled himself more securely against the larger body and followed Josiah into peaceful slumber.

The End