Tell Me

"Chris?"

"Yup," Larabee answered his cell phone lazily, it was only eight in the morning and it was Sunday, he was sitting on the deck outside his ranch house sipping coffee, enjoying the morning sun, breathing it the scent of the freshly washed earth after the nights thunderstorms.

"Um Chris, I think you need to come down here," it was JD's voice.

"Come where?" Chris was suddenly alert, JD sounded worried, he wouldn't ring him on Sunday without good reason.

"Errr the cemetery, he's just sitting there, he's been there all night." Chris didn't need to ask which cemetery, who it was or where they were sitting, he knew.

"I'm on my way."

+ + + + + + +

Chris fought the normal churning in the pit of his stomach as he approached his family's grave, a feeling of sick unease made worse by the sight that greeted him. Buck Wilmington sat on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest, head laying on them, turned to the side so he could see the grave.

"Hey pal," he greeted softly, kneeling in front of the hunched figure. There was no response, so he reached out a hand and placed it on the damp, jean-clad knee.

This time the lean man did move, his head slid over his knees so that now it wasn't even looking at the grave, now he buried his face in his knees, not looking at anyone or anything.

"Buck what's wrong?" Chris asked, fighting the urge to get angry. Anger and aggression were his usual responses when faced with a situation he didn't understand.

"Damn it Buck!" he growled in exasperation, "let me in so I can help, you're scaring the kid half to death here."

Buck heard him. He hadn't intended to worry JD.

+ + + + + + +

Three days ago Nathan had insisted he be sent home from work with a nasty case of flu. He had lain in bed, thinking, dark thoughts to accompany his aching body and pounding head, and as he lay there the thoughts only got darker. Finally he had made a decision, and felt compelled to act on it.

+ + + + + + +

Finally as Chris watched, his old friend's head came up; he didn't look at Chris, but over at the gate were JD stood next to his truck.

"Buck," Chris called softly, after Wilmington had stared at JD for a good ten minutes without moving.

Slowly, those deep blue eyes turned to him, he could see a world of pain in them, pain that had nothing to do with being hunched up beside a grave all night in a thunder storm.

"Let's get you some place warm and dry, come on." He didn't wait for a response; he just stood and put a hand under Buck's arm, pulling him to his feet. The tall man didn't resist but he didn't help either. At first he thought Buck was doing it on purpose, then as he snaked his arm around Buck's thin waist to take a stronger hold on his friend, he felt Buck tremble, he felt the heat radiating through the wet shirt.

"Come on, let's go." Buck took one step away from the graveside, then turned back. For a moment it looked as if he would not come, but finally he turned back and let Chris guide him away.

"JD, I'm gonna take Buck back to the ranch, okay?" Chris explained.

"Sure I can put the bike on the truck. Buck?" Wilmington looked up. "You feel better soon, okay?" Buck nodded once before his head went down again.

"I'll call you," Chris assured a clearly worried Dunne.

+ + + + + + +

Buck rested his cheek against the cool glass of Chris' air-
conditioned Dodge as he let Chris drive him out to the ranch. He didn't want to go there, it was the last place he wanted to be but he just didn't have the energy to argue. He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew they were outside the ranch and Chris was opening the door beside him. He let Larabee guide him inside and with his arm around Buck's waist, all but propel Buck toward the bathroom. He was only vaguely aware that Larabee was speaking to him.

"Buck? Buck can you hear me?"

"Mmmm." It was the first thing he had said.

"Take a hot shower, here . . . " Chris handed him a robe from the back of the door. " . . . put this on when you're finished."

The next fifteen minutes passed in a haze as he finally shuffled out of the bathroom, only to be intercepted by Chris.

"No pal, in here." He turned Buck into his own room, the only one with a double bed. "You'll be more comfortable in here."

Buck looked at Chris and frowned.

"Don't say it, I ain't backin' down, on this," he stated firmly as he all but pushed Wilmington through the door.

God but that huge bed with its dark check quilt did look inviting. He unselfconsciously let the robe fall off his shoulders and all but crawled into the covers. As Chris pull the quilt up over him, he secretly delighting in the feel of Chris' hand as it brushed over his shoulder.

"Don't go to sleep yet," Chris instructed.

No time at all seemed to pass before Chris was beck with a thermometer, 2 Tylenol and some water.

"Open," he instructed holding out the old-fashioned glass tube.

Buck considered explaining that he was alright now, his flu had been all but over when he set out for the cemetery, he had got a bit cold in the rain, that was all, he just needed to warm up - but he didn't, he just did as he was told and relished the slightest touch on his lips by Chris' finger. Two minutes later Chris pulled out the thermometer and handed him the tablets while he held the instrument up to the light and squinted at it. When Chris turned back to the man in his bed, he was already asleep.

+ + + + + + +

The next thing Buck was aware of was a cool hand on his forehead - but not Chris', this hand was female. He opened bleary eyes to see Dr. Rain Jackson sitting on the side of the bed, smiling down at him.

"He's got bronchitis," she explained when came out of the bedroom some 20 minutes later. She went on to explain what needed to be done and to give Chris enough penicillin for that day, Nathan would get Buck's prescription filled and bring it over. "Try to get him to drink as much as possible." She smiled at Chris. "Don't look so worried, it's not the plague, he'll be better in no time once the medication kicks in - trust me."

+ + + + + + +

Buck slept most of Sunday, by the time he woke on Monday he was a little more clear headed. And then it hit him, not only how dumb he was, to have let himself get so sick he couldn't look after himself but also to have allowed Chris to bring him to the ranch, to his bed! That was the last and yet the only thing he wanted. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed, picked up the robe, pulled it on and swung his legs over the side. Sitting up made his head swim, but he forced himself to stand up and shuffled toward the bathroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Larabee's voice sounded behind him. Buck stopped; his shoulders that had been hunched forward to relive the ache in his chest, squared up as he stood tall.

"'M gonna pee, that okay with you?" he asked tersely.

"You okay, you need help?"

"Been doing it since I was a kid, ain't gonna forget how now."

"I'll be out here just in case."

Buck wanted to say he was fine and he didn't need to bother worrying about him, but he just didn't have the energy for the argument. When he returned Chris was indeed there, he hovered beside Buck as he shuffled back to bed, then made him take some medication and drink a glass of water. Buck had some vague, dream like memories of being woken up and handed medication, but it was all a bit fuzzy. He handed the empty glass back to Chris.

"Thanks."

"No need for thanks, glad to do it. I tell you though, it's a lot easier to do when you're actually awake. Buck?"

Buck had rested his head back on the pillow, he hadn't meant to but he just didn't seem to be able to do anything else.

"You awake?" Chris asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah."

"What were you doing? Damn it you could have died, you could have got pneumonia or hypothermia or, or, oh hell I don't know?" Fear, a deep fear that had seized Chris the moment he had heard JD's voice was only now being released.

Buck let the tirade pass and waited until he heard Chris' breathing slow down. "Was saying goodbye," he finally admitted.

That surprised Chris, he thought Buck had made peace with all that had happened years ago, it was Buck who had shown him how to finally say goodbye and move on, was Buck saying that in all this time, six years, he had never really done what he had preached so persistently and sincerely to Larabee?

"Pal we did that, a long time ago - remember - we did it together, you did it for me, remember?"

Buck rolled over in bed so he could look up at his oldest friend more easily. He didn't want to do this now; but he was going to have to stay with Chris for a while, the man at least needed to know what was going on. And if he did kick him out -as seemed likely - he would just have to hope JD wouldn't hate him when he found out why he was back so soon.

"I'm leaving, I'm gonna hand in my resignation."

The words just hung in the air, then Chris exploded. "The hell you are!" he shouted standing up and glaring down at his stricken friend. "No way, no way in hell do you just say that - no explanation, nothing! If you got a problem you come see me, I'm your friend, I'm your boss, you talk to me!" he ranted.

Buck, as ever waited the tirade out. How could he go to Chris and explain the problem? Chris was the problem.

"Why, tell me why?" Chris pleaded.

"I can't, just let it drop Chris, please, just let it drop, this is the only way."

"Are you in trouble? What - you got some girl pregnant, you're doing drugs . . . "

"No way!" Buck exclaimed indignantly.

"I know you're not, I just want you to know what ever it is we can work it out, just give us a chance, give me a chance to help you."

"I can't, there's nothing anyone can do, it's just my problem."

A sudden and terrible though occurred to Chris and he dropped back down to sit on the edge of the bed. "Pal are you okay, are you sick? I mean not this bronchitis, I mean real sick - cancer or some shit like that?"

Buck saw and heard the real concern and fear in his friend's face and voice. "No, no I'm fine, it ain't that kinda problem," he assured.

"Then what? Please let me in, at least give me a shot at it, you never know what we can sort out if you don't give it at go. You're not a runner Buck, you never run, you never surrender - how often have you told me that? Don't do it now."

Buck stared up at him, well if he really wanted to know he only had himself to blame if he didn't like it.

"I fell in love," he finally admitted.

"That's great, so what? She doesn't live in Denver, you're gonna move to be with her?"

"No Chris - if you want me to tell you what's going on you're gonna have to just listen till I'm done - okay?"

"Sure pal, carry on."

"I fell in love with this person, someone I have known for years, a friend, I don't know when friendship turned to love on my part, but it did. The thing is, my love can never be returned, this person can never know how I feel. I see them everyday and it's killing me inside, a little piece of me is being stripped off every time I see this person and I can't do it any more . . . " tears well up in his already red rimmed eyes and he turned his head away so as to avoid Chris' puzzled gaze.

Chris had never heard Buck speak of being in love, he ached to hear the pain in his friend's voice. And he sympathized with the situation, probably more than Buck knew.

"Who is she pal, Inez?"

"No, no it's worse than that," Buck admitted.

Well now Chris was confused, there was precious few women Buck saw regularly who hadn't fallen for his charms, in fact the saloonkeeper was the only one he knew of.

"Tell me then who is it, who is making your life so intolerable?"

Buck looked up at him again. "Someone strong, someone brave and honorable, someone who is gentle =96 though they hide it well, someone with the sexiest body I have ever seen, the most beautiful eyes, the most inviting lips, someone who can be tender one moment and a tiger the next, the most totally perfect . . . " There he stopped as a coughing fit over took him.

On instinct, Chris reached down and took his shaking shoulders and pulled him up right to rest against his own chest, strong hands rubbing firm but gentle circles on his back until the coughing finished. When it was over Chris didn't let Buck go, holding him up against his chest, still tracing circles on his back, feeling the heat that still radiated from the fever heated skin.

"Who is it Buck? Please tell me," he whispered.

"Don't you know?"

"No."

"It's you, don't you realize it's you I love."

Chris froze where he was, Buck's fevered body held close to his chest, trying to rationalize what he had just heard. His first reaction was that Buck was joking, but the man was too sick and too distressed to make a joke like that. Could it really be true? Could the great womanizer have fallen for a man, and not just any man - him?

"You gonna let me go?" asked Buck.

"Ummm, why?" Chris asked vaguely.

"So I can find m' clothes and get out of here."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Well I thought, now you know, I thought you wouldn't want me here, I thought . . . "

"Stop thinking for me okay, I can do my own thinking."

"Okay."

Chris eased him back down on to the mattress.

"Me? You love me?" Chris asked seeking clarification.

"Yes, I don't know when it happened but it did, so now you see why I have to leave - don't you?"

"No I don't."

"But Chris I can't go on like this, I can't see you everyday, it's killing me."

"No one kills you but me, I earned that right long ago."

"Please Chris this is hard enough, please don't make it any worse."

"You are sure about this, you love me?"

"I told you yes, with all my heart, with my very soul, please Chris, just let me go," Buck pleaded.

"No I don't think so, in fact no way in hell am I gonna let you go."

"But Chr . . . " He got no further as Chris bent down and kissed his forehead, a hand lovingly stroked his stubble covered cheek, a thumb brushed away the tears.

"You really do love me?" Chris asked one more time, very softly.

Buck just nodded, struck dumb by Chris' display of affection. Then Chris threw caution to the wind and captured his lips, to hell with bronchitis, he needed to show Buck how his love would be returned, now and forever.

The End