Love Ruins Everything

Hey, Hey, Hey Look at me now I'm unrecognizable. My trademark frown Has grown Into the strangest easy smile. And oh my, my Where did I go wrong? Ask all my drunken friends. Who's gonna carry us home? Who's gonna drink 'til the morning? Who's gonna carry us home? Love ruined everything. As the ladies line their eyes And the gents make their excuses And the talk is going cheap I'll be smiling in my sleep -Lloyd Cole, "Love Ruins Everything"

Chris Larabee opened his eyes and stretched languidly. A pool of moonlight slanted across his bed, illuminating the bedroom with an ethereal glow. He carefully folded his arms behind his head, a smile crossing his face as he thought back on the harrowing events of the past month.

Flashback

Chris squinted against the harsh sun and allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Shifting his arms around Billy Travis, who sat asleep in front of him in the saddle, Chris glanced around at his seven companions. He knew they were all as anxious as he was to return to Four Corners.

They had left the wagon train settlers almost four days ago and had ridden nearly straight through, stopping only to sleep and when Billy begged for a break. Vin had been quieter than usual, reflecting, Chris imagined, on his involvement with Charlotte. Billy had tripped and skinned his knee and Buck had teased J. D. mercilessly about his letter to Casey, but the trip had been otherwise uneventful and rather quiet.

It could have been quieter, Chris reminded himself silently. He turned to the woman who rode on his left, staring at her for what must have been the thousandth time since they'd left the settlement. It was almost as if he were making sure she was still there, reassuring himself that she had chosen to leave with the seven men and not stay with Gerard.

"But she could have," a voice in his head reminded him. "She told you she was going to accept his proposal." But she didn't, he reminded himself stubbornly. She was returning with them, and everything would go back to the way it had been. Everything would be fine.

"Will it?" the voice in his head mocked once more. "What about the next suitor? Mary's a beautiful woman, it's not like there won't be others. And why shouldn't there be? It's not like you're brave enough to tell her how you feel."

How did he feel? Chris asked himself. He wasn't entirely sure what these emotions were that Mary Travis evoked. All he knew was that when he had seen her with Gerard, Katie, and Billy, looking like such a perfect family, he had felt a sharp pain deep in his chest. And when Mary had told him about Gerard's proposal a deep, hollow ache had begun inside of him, and had remained there until Mary had come to him with the news that she wasn't marrying Gerard and she and Billy were traveling back to Four Corners with the seven men. It had been all he could do to keep from grinning and hugging her tight.

But he still didn't know what these feelings meant. He couldn't really be allowing himself to open his heart to someone again, could he? He knew the dangers that involved. But he also knew he really couldn't help what he was feeling. When he had thought he was going to lose Mary forever to another man, a part of him that he hadn't had contact with in years had flared up in him and demanded that he fight for her. He had managed to battle it down with some difficulty, but now that Mary was coming back with them, unattached, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back his feelings.

+ + + + + + +

An hour later the nine weary travelers rode into Four Corners. Chris, Mary, and Billy rode up to the sheriff's office where Judge Travis was waiting for them on the porch.

"How was the trip?" Judge Travis asked. "Have any trouble?"

Chris and Mary exchanged a look and Mary quickly dismounted. "Let me get Billy home and I'll tell you all about it." Chris gently lowered Billy down into Mary's waiting arms then leaned over and took the reins of her horse. He nodded to the judge, then rode to the livery to take care of their horses.

+ + + + + + +

Orin sat back in his chair and stared at Mary for a moment. "Well, it sounds like you had quite a trip," he said finally. The two were having an early dinner together in the hotel and Mary had just finished relating the events of their trip. "Are you and Billy all right?"

"I'm fine," Mary assured him. "But I am a little worried about Billy. So much happened on the trip and I think he was pretty frightened by some of what happened out there. I think he could really use a break from all of this for a little while."

"Well, I'm leaving on the early stage tomorrow," Orin said. "Maybe a visit with me and Evie would be good for him. I know we'd both love to have him."

Mary thought a moment then nodded slowly. "I really think a visit would be a good idea right now."

+ + + + + + +

The next afternoon Mary was trying to get things in order in The Clarion when Chris walked in. "Hello, Chris," she said with a warm smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were getting resettled all right," he told her, silently thanking God for the thousandth time she had decided not to marry Gerard.

She nodded. "Thank you again for everything," Mary said. "I hate to think how the settlers probably would have lost that beautiful land if you hadn't been there."

Chris smiled. "You sorry you didn't stay?" he asked, half-afraid of what her answer would be.

Mary shook her head slowly. "No. I know I made the right decision."

Chris looked at her, a little surprised. "But what about the land and Gerard?"

She closed her eyes and looked at the floor a moment, gathering her courage. Then she looked up at him, trembling inside. "Chris-"

She was cut off by the sound of gunfire from the street. She rushed to the window beside Chris to see what was happening outside. "Stay back," Chris told her, gently but firmly moving her away from the window. Then he pulled his gun and turned to go.

"Chris, wait!" she cried. "There must be a dozen men out there. Wait for the others."

"No time," he said tersely.

"Chris, please, don't be foolish. You'll be killed!"

"I'll be fine."

He turned to go again and Mary grabbed his arm desperately. "Chris, please don't! I love you!"

Chris froze and Mary gasped, releasing his arm and stepping back, her hand over her mouth. She couldn't believe what she had just revealed and how she had done it!

Chris turned slowly to face her and Mary was surprised to see a fine sheen of tears in his eyes. She was positive she'd said the wrong thing and backed away from him, stopping only when she backed into her desk. Chris moved slowly towards her, his eyes never leaving her face. "Chris, I-"

She stopped as he brought a trembling hand up to gently brush her cheek. "Mary." His voice was a low ragged whisper and Mary felt her breath catch as he leaned his head down towards hers. His warm lips closed over hers tentatively and Mary felt her entire body respond to the gentle pressure of his lips on hers. Chris's arms encircled her as his tongue gently teased Mary's lips, begging for better access. She parted her lips and moaned low in her throat as Chris deepened the kiss, thankful his arms were there to support her trembling limbs.

Every one of Mary's nerve endings sizzled as they continued their kiss, both far too caught up in the feelings coursing through them to think about anything else. Suddenly a bullet exploded through The Clarion's front window, shattering their embrace. Chris threw Mary to the floor, covering her body with his own.

When no other bullets entered the newspaper office Chris eased himself off of Mary. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head and he once again turned to go. "Chris." He turned to face her. "Please be careful."

He nodded, a small smile crossing his lips. "You, too," he murmured, dropping a short, sweet kiss on her lips. "Please stay here so I'll know you're safe." She grudgingly nodded and he smiled again, squeezing her hand before joining the battle in the street.

Mary crouched beside her desk, trying not to flinch at every gunshot she heard, repeatedly telling herself the seven men would be all right. After what seemed like an eternity to her, the gunfire in the street stopped. Mary slowly made her way to the door and cautiously peered out.

To her left she saw Ezra and Josiah rounding up five of the bandits and escorting them to the jail. Vin and J. D. were checking the status of the other bandits and Mary turned to her right, anxiously searching for a familiar black-clad figure. She saw Nathan and Buck kneeling around something. Then Buck shifted slightly and Mary's heart jumped into her throat at what she saw.

"CHRIS!" The cry seemed to come from the bottom of her very soul as she raced towards him. "Chris, oh my God. Please no," she murmured, dropping to her knees beside him. His right upper arm was bleeding freely and there was blood in his hair as well.

She anxiously watched Nathan as he examined Chris. Finally he looked up at Buck and Mary. "He's gonna be all right," the healer told them. "Bullet passed right through his arm. It's gonna be sore for a little while, but it's jest a flesh wound."

"But, but what about the blood on his hair?" Mary asked shakily, scarcely daring to believe Chris had been so lucky.

Nathan shook his head. "It's only a scratch," he told them. "Bullet barely clipped him. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot."

Chris's eyelids fluttered and he groaned as he fully opened his eyes. "What happened?" he asked groggily.

"Bullet went through your arm and you've got a scratch on the side of your head, but it don't look to bad," Nathan told him. "Let's get you to my room and clean you up."

"Chris, you old dog," Buck said, helping him to his feet. "You had us worried for a second there. You gotta be the luckiest son of a gun I've ever met."

It was then that Chris saw that Mary was by his side. "Mary." He reached over and touched her hand. "Are you all right?" Smiling, she nodded, not yet trusting her voice. He smiled back. "Good." Then Nathan came up on Chris's other side and the two men helped him up to Nathan's room.

+ + + + + + +

Chris and Mary rode out to Chris's ranch in companionable silence. They led their horses into the small barn, untacked them, and settled them in for the night. Then they headed for the house. Mary stopped and studied the small cabin. The sun was beginning to set and cast a golden hue over the small building. It was simple, but Mary could tell that it had been built by a man who was very good at working with his hands. It was sturdy and strong, and almost homey looking, Mary decided.

Chris stopped and looked behind him, watching Mary's appraisal of his work. He felt suddenly shy. "What do you think?" he asked her softly.

Mary turned her attention to Chris and had to force herself not to stare, as the rays of the setting sun turned this beautiful man before her into an ethereal being. "It's wonderful, Chris," she told him honestly.

He smiled. "Well, it keeps out the rain anyway." By now they were on the cabin's porch and he opened the door for her. She stepped inside, carrying her small valise in both of her hands out in front of her. The room they entered was obviously the kitchen, with its wood burning stove and small wooden table with chairs sitting in the corner.

Chris walked over to a door on their right and opened it, motioning to her. "This is the bedroom," he told her.

Trying to fight the heat climbing up her neck, Mary walked over to the door and stepped inside. The room was sparsely decorated with only a medium sized bed in the middle of the room, a bureau next to the window, and a chair in one corner of the room.

Mary placed her bag on the floor and nervously looked up at Chris. He stared down at her a moment, wondering for the hundredth time that day if he had not imagined what Mary had said to him in The Clarion. He scarcely dared to believe he could be that lucky again in his life. "Mary." He placed his hand on her arm gently. They both looked down at his hand and then back up at each other. There was so much Chris wanted to say, but staring into Mary's big green eyes, he found that the power of speech seemed to have deserted him.

Mary stared up into Chris's eyes, unable to speak, to move, unable almost to breathe. They stood that way a few moments until Mary finally was able to breathe out one word. "Yes?"

Chris wanted to kiss her. He really did. But standing there with Mary, Chris felt an emotion that he had begun to feel only since he had come to Four Corners. And even then he only felt it occasionally, usually when someone he cared about was in trouble. He didn't feel it when he was facing down a notorious gunman or being shot at or threatened. But standing in that doorway with the beautiful widow, Chris Larabee, quite simply, was scared to death.

Finally, he managed to regain the power of speech. "Thank you for coming with me," he said softly. Mentally he kicked himself. "Thank you?" he thought to himself. That wasn't what he had wanted to say at all!

He could have sworn he saw a momentary answering flash of disappointment in Mary's eyes, but all she said was, "You're welcome."

Chris cleared his throat awkwardly and tore his gaze away from Mary's. "Are you hungry?" he asked her. "I don't have much here, but I'm sure I can find something for dinner."

Mary shook her head. "You are not making any dinner, Chris Larabee. You need to get into bed right now and rest. You promised me you would when you got to your cabin."

Chris stared at her a moment, surprised at the mothering, almost tender, tone of her voice. Then he grinned. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

She smiled back. "Now go get in bed and I will find something for dinner."

Chris walked into the bedroom and then stopped. "Mary, wait, I can't take the bed. Where will you sleep? I can sleep on the floor." He began to pull a blanket off of the bed when he felt Mary's hand on his arm.

"You will do no such thing," she said sternly. "You need to be recuperating comfortably. That does not mean sleeping on the floor. Now get into that bed. I can sleep on the floor. I have done it before on the cold, wet ground," she told him when he opened his mouth to protest. "Or I can sleep in a chair. I have plenty of experience doing that every time that Billy gets sick."

Chris wanted to argue, but the set of Mary's chin made him reconsider. He shrugged and took off his hat, hanging it and his gunbelt on the bedpost. "All right," he said. She nodded, satisfied, and headed out to the kitchen. Chris then took off his jacket and stuck it over the other bedpost. He sat down on the bed and pulled off his boots quickly. Then he stood and unbuttoned his shirt. He walked over to the corner of the room where the chair sat, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Mary was standing silently in the doorway.

Mary had been putting wood into the stove when she remembered that Chris's shirt was bloody from his earlier wound and would need to be washed and probably sewn back up. She had thought she might do it for him while he rested, but when she went back into the bedroom to collect his shirt she froze. Chris had been standing by the bed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, and she had just stopped and stared, watching that strong, finely sculpted bronzed chest being slowly, tantalizingly revealed to her. Thoughts of what that beautiful expanse of muscle would feel like under her curious fingers had been running through her head when Chris had turned and caught her. She flushed scarlet when he called her name.

"Mary?" He saw her skin turning pink and there was a decidedly guilty look in her eyes when he stepped closer to her. "Mary, are you all right?" he asked in concern. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I, I'm fine," she told him, regaining the power of speech as she tried to move her eyes away from him as he moved closer and closer to her. "I just wanted to see if I could wash your shirt for you, try to get that blood out before it sets in too well. Maybe sew up that arm where the bullet hit it, see if there was anything else I could do."

Chris stared at Mary as she babbled nervously in front of him. "Mary." She stopped talking and looked up at him. "Thank you," he said, handing her his shirt. "But I don't know how much luck you'll have getting it clean."

"Yes, well, we'll see," she said. "I'm going to see to dinner. You need to get into bed." And she turned abruptly and hurried from the room.

Chris watched her retreating figure a moment, then turned back to his bed. "Right, bed," he said to himself. Completely of its own accord his mind immediately conjured up a picture of Mary lying in his bed next to him, her long blonde hair trailing over his bare chest, her body pressed close to his1/4 He felt the heat spreading through his body like fire and he quickly shook his head, trying to dispel the image. He quickly stripped off his pants and, wearing only a pair of cut off long johns, climbed into his bed. He pulled his covers up to halfway cover his chest, while silently praying it hadn't been a mistake to bring Mary to his cabin.

His mind kept replaying the scene that had occurred earlier in The Clarion. He could still feel the touch of Mary's lips on his, how she had felt in his arms. For the first time since he had lost Sarah, he had felt so right. He had felt complete once more. But he still didn't know how to handle the situation. Should he continue acting as if nothing had happened? He just wanted Mary to be safe, but would she be if she were with him? He had thought that maybe Gerard could give her the safe, happy life that she deserved. But that hadn't seemed to be what Mary wanted at all.

He knew that she didn't love Gerard, she had all but admitted it to him by not answering him when he had asked. And she'd told him that not marrying Gerard was the right thing for her. He knew she had wanted to give Billy a father, but he also knew she couldn't be happy if she didn't marry for love. But where did that leave him? He didn't know whether he should say anything to her or not. The real question was still what was best for Mary.

+ + + + + + +

Mary was preparing a small dinner for Chris in the kitchen from the chicken Inez had packed from the saloon to bring out to Chris's cabin, but her mind was not on the meal. She couldn't stop thinking about what had transpired between her and Chris that afternoon at The Clarion. Apparently, though, Chris could, Mary thought to herself with a sigh. He hadn't said a thing about it since he had left her in the building.

Since he had kissed her. She touched her lips gently, remembering the exquisite sensations Chris's kiss had caused to run through her body. But had it meant nothing to him? She wondered. He hadn't seemed to be acting any differently. Of course, he had invited her out to the cabin, but that was just to have someone watch over him while he recuperated, wasn't it? She could have sworn her was going to say something earlier when they were standing so close together and she had even wondered if he might kiss her again, but all he had done was thank her for coming with him. She sighed, looking down at the chicken when she smelled that it was beginning to burn. Silently reprimanding herself, she yanked it form the stove, resolving to say nothing to Chris unless he brought the issue up himself.

She put the food onto a plate and, with the plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other, carefully walked back towards the bedroom. She stopped right before the door and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Just play it by ear and see if he says anything," she told herself firmly. Then she walked into the room.

"Here you go," she said, carrying the plate over to him while keeping her eyes focused on his face, not daring to allow herself to look down at his bare chest again. "I fixed up the chicken Inez sent out with us. I'm not sure how good it'll be, but at least it's warm food and that's what you need right now."

"I'm sure it's just what I need," he said, staring into her eyes as he took the plate from her hand.

Flustered, she placed the glass on the floor next to the bed. "Well, I'm going to go see to that shirt," she said, turning to go.

"Mary-," Chris started.

She turned to him, hoping that he would finally talk about what had happened between them earlier. "Yes?" she whispered breathlessly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but once again he found he just couldn't make the words come out. Instead, he repeated his earlier words. "Thank you," he said lamely. She nodded quickly to him, then walked out of the room. "Why did I say that?" he asked himself. Shaking his head in disgust at his own actions, he turned his attention to his dinner.

An hour later Chris had long finished his dinner, leaving the plate and cup on the floor. He could hear Mary moving around in the next room and a smile crossed his face. He didn't want to call her in to get his plate and he knew she would just reprimand him again if he tried to get out of bed and tell him he needed his rest. He didn't feel like sleeping, though, so, carefully folding his arms behind his head and settling back on his bed, he closed his eyes and let his mind mull over what had happened between him and Mary recently. He knew he should address what had happened between them earlier, but he was afraid to bring it up. He knew he couldn't just keep pretending like it hadn't happened, but what if they talked about it? Then he would have to confess to his own feelings and where would that leave them?

It wasn't like he had anything to offer her, did he? He was just a hired gunslinger who spent most of his time drinking in saloons and dealing with dangerous people. Mary was the type of woman who should be in a parlor in Boston, away from the dust and danger of a town like Four Corners. What could he ever offer Mary? As Hank Connolly had put it, he was just a no-good, hot-headed, beer-guzzling carouser. He paused a moment in his thoughts. Was he really, though? Hadn't he changed a lot since Hank had said that? Deep down, he knew he had, and he knew Mary was at least partly responsible for that.

Before Sarah, he had just been a wild kid, tamed by Sarah's love. After he had lost Sarah and Adam, he had reverted back to his old ways, spending most of his days in a whiskey bottle, engaging in behavior that could easily get him killed without a second thought as to the consequences. What was the point in living? He had thought to himself. If I die, so much the better. But he didn't feel that way anymore. His time in Four Corners with these people he had come to care about had changed all of that.

He didn't want to lose any of these people he had come to regard as being his family. But he almost had a week ago, he thought as his thoughts reverted to his earlier train of thought. He didn't know what he would have done if Mary had decided to marry Gerard. He had tried so hard to convince himself that Mary and Billy would be better off with Gerard, away from the dangers of Four Corners, in a place Mary obviously would like to live. He had been fighting down jealousy and many other feelings since he first saw Mary standing with Gerard in Four Corners, convinced that the revelation of those feelings to Mary would only hurt her.

But when he had seen that she didn't love Gerard, that she was only considering marrying him to give Billy a father, he had known she wouldn't marry him and he had felt a huge weight being lifted from his shoulders. He wasn't going to lose her. She was coming back to Four Corners with them. "And now what?" he asked himself again. "Are you going to do something about your feelings finally?" With thoughts of Mary weighing heavily on his mind, Chris finally drifted off to sleep.

+ + + + + + +

Chris lifted Adam into his arms and hugged him. Then he placed him back on the ground and kissed Sarah. "I'll miss you," she told him. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said. "I'll be back soon." Then he climbed on his horse and headed off with Buck.

Chris shifted restlessly in his sleep. No, he needed to stay behind with his wife and child. Something was wrong. Suddenly, the scene changed, and he was riding back towards his ranch alone. This time, though, instead of the apprehension and fear he normally felt at this point of the dream, he felt only a sense of peace within. He rode up and dismounted Cinco, then turned at the sound of a childish voice coming towards him.

"Daddy! Daddy!" The little girl with flowing blonde hair so much like her mother's and the keen green eyes of her father ran across the yard to where Chris was dismounting his horse.

"Hey sweetheart," he said, scooping his daughter up into his arms and kissing her cheek. "Did you miss me?" He looked down at his daughter adoringly. Rebecca Elizabeth Larabee, or Becca as only Chris called her, was daddy's little girl in every way. Chris found it very hard to say no to his little girl, and he knew he was very lucky that she was too sweet of a child to take advantage of him.

"Every day." Her five-year-old face looked so forlorn Chris had to laugh.

"I was only gone overnight, Becca," he reminded her with a smile.

"I know," she said. "But I missed you. Billy was teasing me before. He told me he could talk to the horses and Patches told him I ride him wrong. But mama said it wasn't true and he should stop teasing me."

Chris couldn't help but laugh again. "And where is your mama?" he asked her.

"She's in the house," said Becca. "I was helping her make biscuits, but I wanted to watch for you so I came outside."

"Well why don't you let me untack Cinco and we can go up and surprise her?" Chris asked his daughter. She nodded happily and he lowered her to the ground. She followed him to the barn, talking the entire way about everything that had happened since he had left the day before.

Chris quickly untacked Cinco, rubbed him down, and placed him in his stall in the barn. Then, picking Becca up once more, they headed up to the house. Chris opened the door and just stood a moment, watching Mary making biscuits by the stove with her back to them. Several wayward strands of hair had escaped her ponytail and were hanging down around her face. Chris placed Becca gently on the ground and put his finger to his lips. Smiling back at her daddy, Becca mimicked his gesture. Chris snuck up behind Mary and whispered in her ear. "Did you miss me, Mrs. Larabee?"

"Chris!" Mary spun around into Chris's waiting arms. He looked at his wife of six years for a moment, before leaning down and kissing her tenderly. "I missed you," she murmured.

"I missed you, too," he said, kissing her again. "I love you."

She beamed at him. "I love you, too."

"Pa!" Billy Travis Larabee came running into the kitchen and Chris turned to give his 12-year-old son a quick hug. "I took care of the ranch just like you asked me to, and I helped out ma and watched over Rebecca, too."

"I heard you were teasing Becca, too," Chris reminded him with a grin.

Billy looked at the ground. "It was just a joke," he said. "You know I was only kidding, right, Rebecca?"

She looked at him witheringly. "Of course I knew that," she said. "You can't talk to animals. Only animals can talk to other animals."

Chris and Mary shared a smile over their children's antics. "All right, it's time for supper," Mary said. "Billy, I need you and Rebecca to set the table while your daddy goes to wash up, okay?"

"Yes, ma," Billy said obediently, turning to collect the plates with his little sister close on his heels.

It was several hours later before Chris and Mary were able to put their children to bed and get into bed themselves. "It's good to be back in my own bed," Chris said as Mary curled up next to him.

"It's good to have you back in it," Mary replied. "This bed is far too big without you in it."

"I think I know how to make this bed the right size again," Chris said with a wicked grin.

"Oh you do?" Mary asked, raising an eyebrow. "And how is that?"

Chris leaned his head down and kissed her softly. Then his lips dropped to her chin, then to her throat, and then lower as he began untying the laces on the top of her nightgown. "Like this, and this, and this," he murmured between each kiss.

Mary closed her eyes and smiled contentedly. Soon they had both removed their clothing and they made love with the same combination of passion and tenderness as they had when they were first married six years ago.

When they had finished, Chris lay with Mary in his arms. "I love you so much, Mary," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Chris," she murmured against his neck.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, leaning down and kissing the top of her head.

"We both did," Mary reminded him quietly.

Chris was quiet a moment and Mary propped her head on her hand and gazed down at him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked finally.

He rolled onto his side to face her. "I was thinking about the first time I saw you," he confessed, reaching a hand out to gently brush back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. "I hadn't even been in town for 24 hours before it was getting shot up. I was annoyed 'cause they broke my whiskey bottle." Mary smiled. "I didn't have any intention of getting involved, not even when I went outside. Then I saw you. Standing out in the middle of that street, facing down those drunks, trying to save Nathan.

"You made me think, realize sometimes you have to fight for what you know is right." He grabbed her suddenly, flipping her onto her back. "Of course, I also thought you were a crazy fool to be taking such a risk," he added with a grin.

Mary hit his shoulder as he grinned down at her, unable to keep an answering smile off of her face. Then she leaned up and kissed him. "Some things are worth fighting for," she said seriously. She took his hand, twining her fingers with his. "And some risks are worth taking," she reminded him meaningfully, looking up into his eyes.

"They certainly are," Chris said softly. Then he settled back down next to his wife and kissed her tenderly. "Some risks are worth everything."

+ + + + + + +

"Some risks are worth everything." Chris's own words echoed in his mind as he turned onto his side and reached across the bed for Mary. But his hands grasped only his pillow. "Mary?"

"Chris? I'm right here. Are you all right?"

Chris turned in confusion. Mary's voice came not from their bed, but from a chair next to the bed he was now lying in. A bed, he quickly realized, that was not the bed he had been sleeping in only moments ago. He sat up and looked over at Mary sitting in the chair. Why was she in a chair? Why was he not in his own bed? What on earth was going on? Then, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, the reality of the situation came back to him. He was in his own bed - in his cabin, recuperating from a gunshot wound, and Mary was there to take care of him, nothing more.

His farmhouse, his life with Mary as his wife and Billy as his son, his daughter Becca. Chris felt disappointment more powerful than he'd ever felt before wash over him as he realized that it had all been a dream. But it had all felt so real, Chris thought as he continued to stare at Mary. He could still see Becca's smile, feel Mary's body next to his, hear himself tell Mary how much he loved her.

"Chris, are you all right?" Mary asked again worriedly as Chris continued to stare silently at her.

Chris shook his head slightly as he came out of his reverie at the sound of Mary's voice. "I, I'm fine," he lied. "I was just... thinking about something."

"Anything you'd like to talk about?" Mary asked gently.

Chris started to nod, but stopped himself. "No, no it's nothing," he told her lamely, avoiding her gaze. Inwardly, he berated himself. Why was he being such a coward about this? No wonder Mary had responded so eagerly to Gerard's affections. At least he could tell Mary honestly how he felt about her. Chris knew Gerard had seen that there was more to his relationship with Mary from the way he had questioned Chris when they were on the wagon train, but for all Chris's talk about how he saw Mary's charms, he had done nothing about it and had practically let Gerard steal the woman he loved from right under his nose. The woman he loved? Chris felt a jolt at that last thought that crossed his mind, but without even bothering to question it, he knew it was the truth.

Mary nodded, trying to hide her disappointment in his refusal to confide in her. "If you're all right I'm just going to go back into the kitchen," she told him, beginning to stand. "I'd like to check your shirt, see if the stain has begun to come out."

Still not looking at her, Chris nodded and Mary turned to leave. She had almost made it to the door when Chris spoke. "Mary." He said her name softly, but she heard him and paused. "I," he hesitated. "I'd like to talk about it."

She came back to his bedside and, without a word, sat down on the edge of his bed next to him. "I, well I was actually thinking about the past few weeks and how hard they've been on everyone. The wagon train, well that was pretty rough on everyone involved, in more ways than one."

Mary nodded. "It was a very emotional time for everyone," she said. Then she raised her head and looked into Chris's eyes. "You know I'm so very grateful to you men for accompanying the train and protecting everyone. You don't-" She cut herself off and looked away again.

"I don't what?" Chris asked.

"Well, I know the trip was very hard on everyone. You don't, well, regret agreeing to come on it and help out, do you?" she asked. "I mean, I know you only came because Orin asked you to, but it doesn't exactly fall under the job description that you men agreed to."

Chris smiled. "Mary, I probably would have come on that trip even if Orin hadn't asked us to," he admitted. "I wasn't about to let you and Billy go out there, unprotected, into a potentially dangerous situation. Besides," he added, tilting her chin up and forcing her to look at him, "I'm glad I went. It was a very educational experience for me."

Mary's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I had a conversation with Gerard that helped me see things a lot more clearly. It was about you, in fact."

Mary's face flushed crimson. "You and Gerard discussed me?" she asked, her eyes widening in embarrassment.

Chris smiled again. "Don't worry, it wasn't anything bad or embarrassing, I promise," he said. "Gerard asked me if our friendship went beyond friendship. Before I could answer him, he apologized and told me he tended to be overly competitive, but a man would have to be blind not to see your charms."

Mary gasped, clearly distressed at the conversation that had occurred. "What did you say?" she finally managed to ask, not at all sure she wanted to know.

"I told him I wasn't blind and then rode off to catch up with you. That pretty much ended that conversation." The smile disappeared from Chris's face. "I may have told Gerard I wasn't blind, but that certainly wasn't for lack of trying. For so long I had tried to make myself blind to your charms, and everything else about you. Gerard's words and actions on the journey made me admit something to myself that I had desperately been trying to fight for so long. Gerard's proposal to you made me realize something."

"What?" Mary whispered.

"That I've been a damn fool for far too long when it comes to you," he said, reaching up a hand to gently stroke the side of her face. His eyes met hers and Mary felt her limbs go weak at the tenderness she saw in the clear green depths. "I love you," he whispered.

Mary's eyes filled with tears at the sound of the three most powerful words in the English language coming from Chris Larabee's mouth and directed at her. "Wh- what did you say?" she asked shakily, scarcely daring to believe her own ears.

"I love you," Chris repeated. "I tried not to for so long. I told myself I had to stay away from you because I would only put you in danger, but I couldn't stay away." He ran his thumb gently over her lips and Mary closed her eyes at his tender touch. "You brought me back to life, Mary. I thought my soul had died with Sarah and Adam. After the fire, I never thought I'd be whole again, until I met you. You've shown me how to live again, how to love again. You've shown me that if you know deep in your heart that something is right, then it is worth whatever risk may be involved." He took her hand in his and placed it over his heart. "And this is right." He paused and took her hand in his. "But it won't be easy," he told her, running his thumb over her knuckles. "And I don't want to force you to take any risks you don't feel comfortable taking."

Mary smiled shakily. "Some risks are worth everything," she said softly. "I love you, too."

At the sound of his own words coming from Mary's lips, Chris smiled and leaned forward, capturing Mary's lips with his own. And as the two wounded souls, each healed by the love of the other, kissed each other with all of the pent up longing and desire they had had to repress for so long, each was filled with a feeling of completeness they had not known in years. They knew what they were doing was right. They knew without a doubt, this was a risk that had to be taken.

This risk was worth everything.

The End