Disclaimer: No infringement of anyone's rights is intended. Just wantedto write a story.
Warnings: This story was inspired by reading Kim and Mady's wonderfulstories. Thanks guys. I hope you don't mind too much. Anyway, this storywill be dealing with the issue of m/m rape and its aftereffects. I don'tplan on getting real graphic, but there will be some description.Probably in the next chapter. I would really appreciate feedback on thisone since I have no idea which direction I want to take it in. And I'd liketo do justice to this story, if at all possible. And I really hate writingthese long stories, but I couldn't figure out how to tell this in a shortone. <G>
ONE
"Dammit, Chris! What about Sarah? Adam? How can you even think about doin' something like this to their memory?" Buck Wilmington whirled around to stare accusingly at the blonde gunslinger."This has nothing to do with Sarah and Adam, Buck. You, of all people, should know how I felt about them. But life went on. It took a lot of years and a lot of whiskey before I was willing to go on with it. Without them. But I finally think I can. I finally want to." Chris Larabee's voice came as close to beseeching as pride would allow.
"Under any other circumstances, I'd be more than happy for ya, Chris. Hell, I'd put on my best pair of boots and dance at your weddin'. But this just aint right. Not for you. It aint natural." There was a touch of regret in the stony countenance, but the voice was unyielding.
"Don't you think I know that, Buck? Why do you think I'm here, talking about this with you, instead of with" The gunslinger fell silent, unwilling to bring up the name both men had been carefully avoiding the mention of since its first utterance.
The quiet anguish in Chris Larabee's tone caused Buck to raise his hand instinctively, as if to offer a sympathetic touch. But he hesitated, hand hovering near the gunslinger's shoulder, before finally lowering it. He raised eyes that were half shamed and half defiant to meet the cool green gaze of his friend.
"It isn't a disease, Buck. You won't catch it from touching someone." Chris spoke scathingly, hiding the hurt he'd felt at his friend's action.
"Chris." The tall man spoke pleadingly. "Let's get out of town for a few days. Just me and you. It'll be like old times. We can get away from"
"Away from him?" The gunslinger's voice was cold as ice and hard as stone as he asked the question.
"Yes, dammit! Away from him. It's hard to get a notion out of your head when it's ridin' right there next to ya. Or sittin' next to ya in the saloon." Buck's voice had become louder and louder as he spoke.
Chris shook his blonde head, causing the few rays of light seeping in around the cracks in the shack walls to catch the strands, making them shine in the gloomy interior.
"It isn't that simple. I wish to God it were."
"It can be that simple." Buck insisted.
"This was a mistake. I should have known better than to talk to you about something like this. Just go." Chris turned away, frustrated. He just wanted to be left alone now, to sort out the godawful tangle of emotion that felt near to choking him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buck retorted hotly. "I'm just tryin' to talk some sense into ya. Doin' what a real pard would do. Not like" He stopped suddenly as the green eyes began to blaze with fury. He found himself just the tiniest bit afraid of his oldest friend. And he knew that to say anything further might precipitate something he wasn't prepared to deal with.
"You leave him out of this. If I find out you've said one word, or even looked cross eyed in his direction because of this" The gunslinger broke off at this point, but the threat was clear.
"Don't worry, Chris." Buck sneered, hiding his hurt at the threat made by the man who was his oldest friend. "I aint gonna go near Vin Tanner." Turning on his heel, Buck stalked towards the door. He needed to get the hell out before either he or Chris said something else they'd regret.
+ + + + + + +
"Nice going, Buck." JD Dunne was lying in wait for his friend just around the curve of the path leading to Chris Larabee's house.
"What the hell are ya talkin' about, JD?" Buck spoke curtly, still upset over his encounter with Chris.
"I'm talking about the darn fool way you acted in there." JD waved a hand in the direction of the house. "Treatin' your oldest friend like he was dirt. Hell, Buck. He don't need your approval. But he might've needed your support." The young man's voice held more than a touch of disappointment. He'd never thought the older man could be so lacking in compassion.
"You don't know what you're talkin' about, Kid." Buck said firmly. "And what were ya doin' listenin' in on a private conversation, anyway?" He demanded with a touch of resentment. He hadn't liked seeing the disappointment on that young face. Especially not when it was directed at him.
JD snorted in disgust. "I aint lived a sheltered life, no matter what you might think. And quit tryin' to change the subject. It doesn't matter how I heard. The important thing is what you're gonna do now."
"What do ya mean, what am I gonna do now? I'm gonna go back to the saloon, maybe play a friendly game or two with Ezra and then I'm furtherin' my acquaintance with the delightful Miss Suzy."
Buck knew he was behaving badly, but the gunslinger's flat statement that he loved Vin and what the hell should he do about it, had shaken Buck to the depths of his soul. Chris had been married for Chrissakes. He'd been happy bein' married. Deliriously so. How the hell could you go from there to lovin' a man. It was an insult to Sarah and Adam. He didn't realize he'd spoken his last few thoughts aloud until he heard his companion reply.
"There aint nothing insulting about love, Buck." JD's voice was quiet, almost wistful. "And it aint important that we understand it. We aint the ones that got to do it." he pointed out. "Seems to me, that ya'll taught me friends stick together, no matter what."
Buck sighed, his anger draining out of him as the young man's words hit home. He and Chris had rarely ever seen eye to eye during the course of their friendship. But they hadn't let it come between them before. Why should things be any different now? The kid was right.
"Wait for me at the saloon, JD." Buck gave the young man an affectionate cuff. "I got me some fences to mend. Lend my support to, so to speak."
The young sheriff grinned in response to his friend's words. And now there was a gleam of pride in those dark eyes that was aimed towards the older man. He'd just known Buck would do the right thing. JD didn't pretend to understand the gunslinger's feelings for the quiet tracker. Heck! He wasn't sure he wanted to. But Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner were two of the finest men he'd ever known. And if they made each other happy, that was good enough for JD. They both deserved a little happiness. A lot of happiness, actually. He watched Buck ride back towards the house with a blessed feeling of relief. Everything would be alright now. He turned his horse and headed back towards town.
+ + + + + + +
"Shit." Chris Larabee cursed aloud as he paced the floor of his small dwelling. He didn't know why in hell he'd thought it might help to talk about this. Especially to Buck, of all people. Chris should have realized how personally the other man would take something like this, since he'd cared for Sarah and Adam, almost as much as the gunslinger. Except, who else could he have talked to? The only other one was Vin. And since the tracker was the problem
Chris stopped pacing and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. He hadn't asked for these feelings and he wasn't certain what to do about them. The only thing he was certain of, was that he couldn't bear for the sharpshooter to leave. And Chris was horribly afraid that one day he would leave. And not take the gunslinger with him. He'd find another Charlotte. Or decide town life wasn't for him. Orwell, the reason wouldn't really matter. The end result would be the same. Why couldn't he have these feelings for Mary Travis instead of Vin Tanner? Buck had asked him that same question and Chris had been unable to give him an answer for it. God, he wished like hell he could explain it. He cared about Mary. He was even attracted to her. But not enough. She didn't make his soul sing like a certain quiet, blue eyed young tracker.
"Damn." Chris cursed again. He needed to get out of here. Go for a ride and clear his head. He yanked open the door and walked outside. He swung up into the saddle and began riding in the direction opposite town. He didn't want to chance running into anyone.
+ + + + + + +
"Awwww hell." Buck contemplated going in search of his friend, as he stood looking around the empty shack. Maybe he should let Chris cool off a bit first, he decided. There would be plenty of time to set things straight afterwards. And who knew? Maybe matters would resolve themselves in the gunslinger's head and Buck would be relieved of doing anything except apologizing. He headed back towards town. He really could use a drink.
+ + + + + + +
The blackclad figure sat slumped in the saddle, not really paying attention to where his mount was going. He had more important things to worry about. A part of his mind told him how foolish that was. Not paying attention to things like that could get a man killed. But a bigger part of him was too busy wrestling with his turbulent emotions to care.
Maybe he should just talk to Vin. Find out how the tracker felt. But what if his friend didn't feel the same way? What if Chris had completely misinterpreted the events of the other day? He'd be as good as throwing away the most important friendship in his life, if he were wrong. Not to mention the humiliation he'd suffer. But what if Vin did want the same thing? To be able to touch the sharpshooter, not just in his dreams, but in the actual fleshSurely that was worth taking a chance for? He'd faced down vicious outlaws, stampeding cattle and various other assorted dangers without a qualm. Why did the thought of facing one slightly built ex-bounty hunter have him quaking in his boots?
Chris knew the answer to that question. Now he had something worth losing. It made all the difference in the world. Which brought him back to his original question. Should he tell the tracker how he felt, or not? What would he do if Vin rejected him? He didn't think he'd be able to look his friend in the eye, again. How could he stay in town and do his job in that situation? But then, how could he just abandon the town and his responsibilities? There were so many questions and so few answers.
Then there was the other side of the coin to consider. What if Vin wanted a relationship? Chris wasn't fool enough to think he could keep something like that a secret. At least not from the other members of their little group. And given Buck's reaction when he'd told him how he feltWell, Chris wasn't holding out much hope that the others would condone it, much less understand it. Hell, he didn't even understand it. His old friend's reaction had hurt. More than he'd thought it would. Chris Larabee usually went his own way and the rest of the world be damned. But the opinions of his friends mattered to him. He didn't think he would care to see the disgust in Buck's eyes mirrored in those of the rest. He and Vin would have to leave the town. Make a new life somewhere else. That wasn't what he wanted either.
The gunslinger sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He had to do something. He couldn't stay in this morass of indecision. He thought of the tracker again. His steady presence. That slender, muscled body. The sly humor that few people got to see. And he knew what he had to do. Didn't matter if he wasn't sure it was what he wanted to do. For the sake of his own self-respect, not to mention his sanity, he needed to tell his friend the truth. He'd worry about dealing with the fallout later. Right now, he just needed to know. Needed to know if there was any possibility for the two of them.
He turned his horse around and was heading back in the direction of town when he was startled to hear the sharp report of gunfire. He was even more startled to feel the sudden pain blossoming in his side. Then there was no time for further thought as the world began to go black. He could feel himself falling and then there was nothing but silence and darkness.
TWO
"Anyone seen Chris this mornin'?" Vin Tanner walked into the saloon and greeted the three men seated at their usual table.Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne exchanged glances. "Uh...not since late afternoon, yesterday." the older man finally replied.
Josiah Sanchez shook his head and took another sip of scalding coffee. "Can't say that I've seen him either, Vin."
The tracker frowned. "Well, I got to ride out and talk to some of the ranchers about livestock that's gone missin' this last month. They think it's a rogue mountain lion. Gonna see if I can pick up a trail."
"I'll be happy to ride along with you, brother." Josiah offered, putting down his cup with a grimace of distaste. The brew was too strong and bitter for even his liking.
"Thanks, pard. I'd appreciate the help." Vin turned to Buck and JD, still frowning. "Tell Chris I was lookin' for him?" he asked intently.
"Uh...sure thing, Vin." JD replied with a nervous laugh.
Buck glanced uncomfortably up at the tracker and then quickly looked back down at the table. "Sure, Vin. We'll tell him." he replied after a slight pause.
Vin eyed the pair closely but decided not to comment on their strange behavior. He was more concerned about dealin' with the ranchers. He was glad Josiah was comin' along. He could do the talkin' and Vin would do the trackin'. The rangy young man tried to shrug off his disappointment at not findin' Chris in the saloon. He'd see the gunslinger when he returned. At that thought, a strange icy sensation crept up his spine. He told himself firmly that it was nothin'. He was just feelin' nervy about their blonde leader ever since yesterday mornin' and what had been said. Or what hadn't been said.
"Let's get going, then." Josiah said, getting to his feet and heading towards the saloon doors with a brief nod in the direction of Buck and JD.
The tracker followed his companion, still determinedly ignoring his persistent feeling of unease.
Buck breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the two men go. He might not be angry anymore, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with the idea of his two friends bein' together in that fashion. He wondered if Chris had talked to the tracker yet. Probably not, he decided. Or Vin would have been lookin' a whole lot happier this morning. And likely wouldn't a been needing to ask about the gunslinger's whereabouts.
Guiltily, Buck hoped that Chris had changed his mind. Decided to try workin' things out with Mary Travis or something. Then everything could go back to normal. He sighed again. He still needed to find Chris and apologize. He owed him that, no matter what his friend had decided. Chris should be cooled off by now. Buck would ride out to his place this afternoon, if the gunslinger hadn't put in an appearance by then.
"Be a little more obvious next time, why dontcha?" JD rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, jerking his friend out of the reverie he fallen into.
"What in tarnation are ya talkin' about this time, JD?" Buck asked, a bit defensively.
"You couldn't even look Vin in the eye just now." JD accused. "He aint stupid. He's gonna know something's wrong. And then what are you gonna say?"
"Take it easy on me, willya kid? I'm tryin'!" Buck snapped. "It aint every day your oldest friend looks ya in the eye and tells ya he loves another man." He lowered his voice. "I just need some time to get used to the idea."
"Sorry, Buck." JD relented. "I know it's gonna take some gettin' used to for the rest of us. But just think how much harder it must be for them."
"I know, kid. I know."
"You think he's told Vin, yet? How he feels, I mean?" JD asked hesitantly, breaking the brief silence that had fallen between the two men.
"No. I reckon he hasn't." Buck explained his earlier reasoning to the young man.
"You think Vin feels the same way, don't you?" JD sounded a bit anxious at the thought that it might be otherwise.
Buck was slightly startled by the question. He'd never stopped to consider that Vin might not return the gunslinger's affections. After a few moments thought, he dismissed the idea. He knew love when he saw it. He'd stake his reputation as a ladies man that the quiet, steady tracker more than returned Chris' feelings. The special smile the two of them reserved for each other. The sometimes spooky way they had of communicatin' without words. Yep. It was all there. Plain as day. The only wonder was that he'd never noticed it before. He hadn't wanted to, Buck concluded with a slight feeling of shame. Part of him still protested the notion of his two friends havin' a relationship of that sort. But if the alternative was to lose the friendship of both men, as well as the respect of JD, then he'd just have to find a way to live with it.
"I'd bet my last dollar on it, JD." Buck finally responded.
"Yeah. I thought so, too." The young sheriff sounded relieved.
"Hell. When was the last time anyone said no to Chris Larabee's face?" The corners of Buck's lips began to twitch. And after one shocked glance at his friend, JD had collapsed into a fit of helpless laughter, causing the older man to start chuckling as well.
"Isn't it a little early for such unbecoming levity, my friends?" Ezra Standish was his usual 'God, I detest mornings' self.
The irritable question only made the two men laugh harder. With a martyred sigh, the gambler sank down into one of the chairs across from the giggling duo. He simply did not get paid enough for this, he thought, for at least the thousandth time since first meeting up with the other six men.
+ + + + + + +
It was midafternoon before Vin and Josiah were able to wrap things up with the ranchers and head back towards town. The tracker was practically chomping at the bit by that time. The nagging sense that something was wrong had only grown stronger over the course of the day, until Vin was ready to tear his hair out in frustration.
"I'm gonna go check and see if Chris is out at his house." Vin abruptly reined in his horse as he and Josiah were riding along the trail. Maybe if the tracker could see his friend, see that he was alright, this damned twitchy feelin' would go away and stop plaguing the life outta him.
The ex preacher raised his eyebrows. "See you back in town then." The big man waved as Vin turned his horse and started riding in the direction of the gunslinger's bit of land.
Vin called out Chris' name as he approached the house. More of a shack, really. The gunslinger never seemed to have the time to fix it up properly. Not in a town as lively as theirs, anyway. There was no answer from the house, so Vin dismounted and walked up to the door. It was unlocked.
"Chris?" he called again, easing the door open. With as many enemies as the gunslinger seemed to have, it wasn't a good idea to try sneakin' up on him. Vin could relate to that. He'd spent most of his life sleepin' with one eye open.
The gunslinger wasn't in the house. And his horse wasn't out in the corral neither. Vin wandered around the house aimlessly for a few minutes, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. He liked bein' here, surrounded by Chris' things. He picked up a shirt that was tossed carelessly over a chair. Vin recognized it as bein' one of his friend's favorites. The soft black cotton felt almost like silk to the tracker's calloused fingers. He held it up to his face, breathing in the scent. The slightly sweet, smoky smell of the cheroots Chris occasionally indulged in, mixed with the smell of whiskey and the indescribable but unmistakable scent of the man himself. Vin would recognize that scent anywhere.
Shit. What the hell did he think he was doin'? Moonin' over the man in his own house. Smellin' his shirt for god's sake. Vin threw himself onto the chair with a groan, still absently holding the shirt in his hands. Chris would be mortified if he knew what his friend had just done. Then he'd probably beat him half to death. Or shoot him.
Vin wondered if the gunslinger was purposely avoiding him. He hadn't seen him since yesterday mornin'. Since that damned stupid conversation that had seemed like such a good idea at the time. /Give him a little hint, Tanner. Don't scare him off. Ya know how he likes bein' in control. Just plant the idea in his head/ He should've just kept his damn fool mouth shut.
He and Chris had been watchin' Buck and JD horse around, smilin' at their antics.
"They're as close as any brothers I've ever seen." Chris had said softly.
"I reckon." Vin had replied, looking at his companion out of the corner of his eye. Did he see a glimpse of longing on that still face?
"It's good for them, having each other." Vin couldn't quite place the faint emotion he heard running through the gunslinger's voice.
"Yep." Then, gathering his courage, he'd added. "There's all sorts of ways for two people, two men to get close."
It was the gunslinger's turn to give a sidelong glance. "You don't think they're...?"
"Naw. Not them. But there might be others who maybe think about it sometimes. About what it would be like." The tracker held his breath. Had he been too obvious? Not obvious enough? Well, he'd left the reins in Chris Larabee's hands. The next move was up to him.
Chris had said nothing further. Just got to his feet rather abruptly several minutes later and went over to say a few words in Buck's ear. The slightly taller man had nodded and said something about seein' the gunslinger that afternoon. That had been the last time he'd seen his friend.
Dammit. Vin got to his feet. It wasn't like the gunslinger to hide out from trouble. Either he hadn't gotten Vin's meanin' yesterday, in which case he'd have no reason to avoid him, or he had understood what the tracker was sayin'. In which case he would've told him to go to hell or shot him dead on the spot or strung him up from the nearest tree, or...Vin didn't allow himself to think about the other possibility. The one where Chris came to him and whispered his own need into the tracker's ear. Where he ran those long, capable fingers through Vin's hair and offered up that lean, muscled body for the tracker to touch. NO. He'd go crazy if he thought about that too much. And the disappointment when it didn't happen that way was liable to kill him. Hell, it was killin' him now.
Anyway, the whole point was that the gunslinger would've done something. Vin was gonna head back to town and if Chris wasn't there then he was gonna round up a search party and go find him. Because that would mean Chris was in trouble. Big trouble. He'd never go off without tellin' anyone. Especially not after that whole Jericho ordeal. Vin still had nightmares about seein' their proud leader in that hellhole. He could only imagine what it must've been like for Chris.
+ + + + + + +
Buck tried to practice what he was gonna say to Chris as he rode towards the gunslinger's house.
"Sorry, pard.?" No. That sounded like he'd stepped on his foot or something.
"You have my blessing." Geez. Chris wasn't some beloved daughter he was givin' away in marriage.
"Do what ya need to. I won't interfere." That one was liable to get him shot. Chris didn't take too kindly to the notion that people could interfere in his business, even at the best of times.
Oh well. He'd just have to wing it. He was about halfway there when the sound of hoofbeats made him pull up on the reins. Whoever it was, they sounded like they were in a mighty big hurry. And in Buck's experience, that always meant trouble.
"Buck!" It was Vin, slowing down and coming to a stop just up ahead on the trail.
"You seen Chris in town today?" the tracker questioned tersely, looking worried.
Buck shook his head slowly. Now he was getting worried.
"I was just ridin' out to his place to see if he was there." Buck explained.
"Don't bother. He aint there." The normally unflappable tracker looked about ready to come apart at the seams.
"Maybe he just went for a ride." Buck suggested hopefully.
Vin shook his head. "I got a bad feelin'."
Buck jerked his head in the direction of town. He wasn't gonna argue with his friend. Not when he had this sick feelin' in the pit of his stomach. "Let's go get the others."
The two men began galloping back towards town.
+ + + + + + +
God. He fucking hurt. He hated waking up like this. Disoriented, hurt, helpless. It was his worst nightmare, not being in control. He cracked his eyes open, trying not to let his captors know he was aware. He didn't hear anything, so he risked moving his head a bit in order to get a better look around. Damn but that had hurt to move his head even that little bit. He must've hit it on something when he fell off his horse.
He appeared to be in some sort of one room lean to type dwelling. Laying face down on a cot of some sort, covered with a filthy blanket. His side had been crudely bandaged so that it no longer bled. But it burned and ached like it was on fire. He would just bet that his captors, whoever they were, hadn't washed their hands either. Nathan would've had something to say about that, he thought with a grim sort of amusement.
He tried to ignore the pang he felt at the thought of the healer. If only he hadn't been such a damn fool, riding out like that. Then he wouldn't be in this situation. His friends probably hadn't even realized he was missing yet. Shit. He'd have to depend on himself to get out of this mess.
He focused his attention on the ropes that bound him hand and foot to the iron frame of the bed. Nice and tight. Ok. Next order of business, find out who the hell was holding him here. He could hear the sound of voices approaching. Two rough, unkempt looking cowboy types walked in the door of the dwelling. A wide grin split the first one's face, revealing a mouthful of yellowish teeth.
"Well, lookee who's awake." He nudged his brown haired, slightly younger looking companion, with an elbow. "Our very own pretty boy, Chris Larabee. Whaddya think about that?"
"A bit long in the tooth to be called boy. But he's pretty enough." The lean, brown haired man walked over to stand next to the bed and then knelt down so that his face was on a level with the gunslinger's. The stench of sour whiskey assailed his nostrils. Chris tried to turn his head, but the man grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing him to stay still.
"Not so tough anymore. But still mighty nice to look at it." The man's words sent shudders down Chris Larabee's spine. Why was the man looking at him like that? Like Chris was a plump, juicy rabbit and he was some ravenous beast.
"Should I know you?" Chris drawled, controlling his fear for the moment. Men like these fed off of fear. The longer you could keep from showing it, the better.
"The name Stuart James mean anything to you?" The first man had come to join his companion, kneeling on the floor. His greasy blonde hair was pulled back and tied with a leather thong. Chris was suddenly reminded of Vin. An ache for the reassurance of the tracker's company sprang up in the gunslinger. The ache was so fierce he had to grit his teeth against the pain of it. He couldn't think about that now.
"What if it does? You aint him." Chris tried to concentrate on finding out as much information as possible. Like what the hell they wanted with him. He just knew he should have killed James like the low down, no good bastard he was.
"No. But we used to work for him. Lucas was a pal of ours." The brown haired one spoke angrily. Well, that explained how they knew his name. And why they might not be too fond of him.
"Lucas was a crazy son of a bitch. He wasn't anyone's friend." Chris said in disgust. God, he hated fools like these.
The hand still gripping his hair tightened its hold. "You think you're real tough, don't you." The tone was sneering. "Well, maybe you are and maybe you aren't. But we aint gonna hurt ya just yet. We want you lookin' nice while we have our fun with you. And we want you to be able to enjoy every bit of it, too. That's why we bandaged you up all proper like. Aint that right Cal?"
"That's right, Ed." his partner affirmed. "Plenty of time to kill him afterwards."
"What do you want." Chris ground out. He didn't like the way they were talking. The gunslinger could stand pain, if he had to. He'd had quite a bit of practice. But they weren't talking about ordinary pain here.
The two men didn't answer. Instead, Cal reached under the gunslinger's body and began fumbling with the buttons on his pants. Then he started sliding the loosened pants down the guslinger's hips. Chris gave an involuntary shriek of fear. Oh God. They couldn't mean to...
The gunslinger began to flail around, but since the ropes held him effectively spreadeagled, he only succeeded in knocking his injured side against his captor's hand. His face was pushed down into the bed.
"Relax and enjoy it." advised one of them. Ed, he thought. "We'll show you a better time than those friends of yours. Think you're all so high and mighty. I bet the big one makes you scream real good when he gives it to one of ya."
Chris felt like he was going to be sick. That awful, ugly voice went on and on, detailing all the things he supposedly did with the other men. Things he'd been thinkin' he'd like to do with Vin, lately. But not like this. Not like that voice was making it sound.
He could feel the cool air on his bare skin as his pants were slid down to pool around his ankles. With his face being held down, he couldn't see anything and he was trying not to hear anything. Didn't want to hear. He flinched as he felt something hard and hot poke him. He felt the bile rise up in his throat. Then there was pain like he'd never known. He felt as if his entire body was being torn apart from the inside. As if some giant, vile thing were inside him, violating his very being. Destroying everything it touched. He felt the hysteria bubble up inside him. That was because there was some obscene thing invading his body. Oh god.
The pain went on and on. The men never seemed to grow tired of their sport, trading off til he'd lost track of how many times his body had been used by them. The worst part wasn't the pain, though. The worst part was the voices. The filthy things they uttered. The delight they took in listening to his cries of pain. He'd even broken down once and begged them to stop. They'd only laughed and told him that it was his own fault for being such a good piece of ass. Now he just lay there, waiting for it to be over.
The two finally got tired and began passing around a bottle of whiskey. They left him laying on the bed, still bound hand and foot in the same position while they sat at the room's rough table. They would glance at him occasionally and laugh, promising that they wanted to have just a little more fun and then they would kill him.
The blonde eventually began snoring in his chair, after drinking nearly a full bottle of the stuff and the other man wasn't far behind him. This was what Chris had been waiting for. He was going to kill those sons of bitches if it was the last thing he did. Grimly he began sawing the rope binding his wrist on a jagged piece of metal sticking out of the bedframe.
Chris felt the rope finally give after what seemed like hours. Reaching over he began feverishly untying the knot holding his other wrist. He ignored the blood dripping down his hand and onto the blanket. He had to be free before those two woke up. He couldn't go through that again. He wouldn't.
The two men were still in a drunken stupor when Chris Larabee got to his feet, swaying woozily as the pain of his various injuries threatened to overwhelm him. He fought back the pain. He had something he needed to do first.
"Lookee who's awake." Chris' voice was a vicious parody of his captor's. The blonde man opened his eyes in shock to see his former captive standing over him, aiming a gun straight at his heart.
He had time for one inarticulate scream of fear before Chris pulled the trigger.
The brown haired man woke up, his drunken haze disappearing rapidly as fear set in at the sight of Chris standing over the body of his dead partner.
"Get up." Chris ordered in a voice none of his friends would have recognized.
The man got slowly to his feet and stood there silently.
"Draw." Chris ordered.
"But...you'll kill me." the man protested shrilly.
"I'm going to kill you, anyway." Chris' voice was deadly.
The man gave a shriek of rage and reached for the gun lying on the table. He was dead before his fingers even touched it.
By mid afternoon Chris was mounted on his horse, heading back in the direction of home. He wasn't certain he'd make it that far. The wound on his side had reopened and sitting in the saddle was pure agony. He hurt inside and out from the tops of his head to the bottom of his feet. He'd spent the last several hours digging a hole big enough to put the bodies in. He'd almost passed out several times while doing it. But he was determined. No one would ever find out what had happened here today. He couldn't bear to have anyone know. The shame he felt made his stomach tighten in nausea. He was like a wounded animal going back to its den to lick its wounds and maybe die. Acting on instinct alone. He was going home if it killed him. At this point he didn't much care if it did.