Disclaimer: All characters from "The Magnificent Seven" series are the property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide, and CBS. I have borrowed them for my own selfish pleasure but have returned them slightly the worse for wear but generally intact. No profit has been made by this venture.

Note: This story takes place shortly after "Witness."

It was a miserable, wet afternoon in the Four Corners saloon, and Chris Larabee skulked in his dark corner near the back, a bottle of Red Eye whiskey atop the worn table. No one sat with him; no one dared today, for a black mood enveloped the gunslinger.

The rest of the saloon continued to bustle about him. Since the day was overcast with occasional bursts of rain, it drove most everyone indoors. That irked Chris. It was hard to maintain a good brood with so many distractions. He cupped a hand around the shot glass and lifted the amber liquid to his lips. It slipped past, a slow, steady burn every inch of the way. He barely felt it, and yet he wanted to. He was desperate to drown out one pain with another.

Buck Wilmington burst through the saloon's swinging doors, his buckskin coat dark with the remnants of a soaking. He had been caught in one of the passing downpours. Exasperated, he removed his hat and shook off the excess water like a massive dog. The huge droplets struck the dirt and the sawdust on the floor and were immediately absorbed.

Out of habit, he glanced around, taking in the establishment's patrons. He immediately spotted Chris. The man's dark garb stood out in the dim saloon like a shadowy specter in paradise. Buck immediately recognized the mood his old friend was in and cursed silently. Over the last three years, these moods developed steadily, and Buck knew all too well what they meant. Regardless, he met Chris' ever observant gaze and grinned at him. The gunslinger merely responded with a curt nod, then leaned further back into the shadows, away from curious scrutiny.

Buck frowned. He knew this wasn't good, not only for everyone in the town, but for Chris himself. The man couldn't keep this up without destroying what was left of his soul. Chris had always been moody. It was his nature. But there was a time when Chris Larabee had been more inclined towards life, when he had enjoyed those things that life could offer. A home, a family. It was the loss of those things that had made Chris half the man he once was. It was such a steady, downward spiral and god help him when the man hit bottom. Again. It pained Buck to watch his friend slip further and further away from the light into the dark persona now before them. Chris never seemed able to claw his way free of his grief.

For a time, Buck had almost believed that Chris had a chance to recover. This jaunt in town almost seemed like it was helping Chris. Buck had even witnessed glimpses of the old Chris from long ago, and though Chris had a long way to travel before Buck called him even close to the same man, it had been a start, a sense of hope.

But something had suddenly catapulted the gunfighter back into his self-destructive state. It wasn't hard to figure what. The Travis boy had become infatuated with the sullen gunfighter. After saving the boy's life, Chris had seemed to relax around him a bit. They even went fishing together a few days back and everything seemed fine. So what the hell had happened?

Just then JD Dunne rushed into the saloon. He quickly looked about the room and spied Chris in the back. A huge grin split his features and he made his way towards him. Suddenly Buck was in his way. "Hey, Buck," the young man greeted in distraction, trying to get around the scoundrel . . .

"How ya doin', kid?" Buck eased an arm around JD and coaxed him towards the bar.

JD tried to turn back around, intent on his original reason for coming into the saloon. "I need to tell Chris somethin'."

Buck's arm remained firm. "Is it business?"

JD's grin faded and he looked in surprise at Buck. "Well, no. Not really. Just that Billy Travis is lookin' for him."

Buck drew in a tired breath. "It might be best if you just forgot you found Chris here." He released the young kid and nodded to the bartender, who quickly slid a foaming beer towards him.

"But why?"

Buck rubbed a throbbing muscle above his eye. Sometimes JD was just a tad slow on the uptake. "Remember back in Wickestown when we found Chris and he was . . . preoccupied?" JD nodded. "Well, it's sort of like that, if you get my drift."

JD looked over at the gunslinger sitting alone at his table. Perplexed, JD said, "But there's no one with him."

Buck exhaled in exasperation. "Trust me on this, JD. He doesn't want to be disturbed. Not by you, not by me and not by Billy Travis."

"How can you tell?"

"Damn it, kid! Just listen to me for a change. I know. I've seen him this way before. He needs some space."

JD tried to study Chris, to see what Buck was talking about, but he could barely see the gunfighter's face, much less the rest of him. He seemed to blend into the shadows as if he belonged there. Now that Buck had said something, JD could sense the menace that practically exuded from the gunfighter. Even those whose tables and chairs were nearest had been pushed as far away from Chris Larabee as they could get.

JD turned back to Buck, resting his forearms on the oaken bar. "What's the matter with him?"

"You ask too many damn questions," Buck said softly.

Annoyed at Buck's usual vague quips, JD made to leave, pushing himself off the bar in frustration. "Fine," he conceded. "I never saw him in here. Okay?"

"You're learning."

JD shook his head angrily and headed back out, only to find Vin Tanner's tall form appearing suddenly over the swinging doors. "Riders comin' in," he announced dryly, and then walked slowly down the sidewalk with his long-legged stride. Excited, JD followed close behind him.

Buck stole a glance at Chris, who didn't look as if he was gonna move, regardless of the news. It's worse than I thought, Buck mentally noted, but he gave up and went outside. To Buck's amazement, ten grimy men rode down the muddy street towards the saloon in a weary double line. He recognized US Cavalry horses when he saw them. Buck's jaw dropped the minute he spied the lead rider sitting tall and straight on a huge dun. "I don't believe it," he whispered.

Nathan Jackson walked up to stand beside him. "Believe what?" he asked, catching Buck's quiet words. He was on his way back to his room with more medical supplies. The last few weeks had drained him of the necessities. He made a mental note to check Chris' arm one more time. The man had given up the sling far sooner than Nathan liked.

Suddenly Buck's face lit up like the sun. He ran forward, leaving a puzzled Nathan in his wake. "Major Brickhaven!"

The major pulled up his horse sharply at Buck's approach and glanced down; the elderly man's eyes creased with curiosity. "Do I know you?" The major's voice was low and quiet.

Buck's smile almost faded. He stood up a tad straighter. "Buck Wilmington, sir," he announced. "Fort Sumner, 7th Regiment, B Company."

Recognition flared in the old major, and he returned Buck's grin. "Sergeant Wilmington," he exclaimed. "This is a surprise!" The major looked momentarily towards his lieutenant. "Take care of the horses and set up camp. We'll billet a mile out of town. See to it, lieutenant."

A young lieutenant with dark hair and dark eyes glanced at Buck and then responded to his superior. "Yes, sir." His voice was clipped and sharp. He signaled to the men as the major dismounted and handed his reins to the lieutenant. Brickhaven walked up to Buck, offering his gloved hand.

Buck shook it warmly. "You could have brushed me over with a feather when I saw you riding down the street."

Major Brickhaven chuckled, rubbing a hand over his silver, bearded chin. "I'm surprised you recognized me, sergeant."

Buck grinned at the major's use of his old rank. "I've been out of the army a long time, major. I'm just a civilian now."

The major nodded. "Of course, but in my book you'll always be the best damn sergeant I ever had. You saved my life time and again. A man doesn't forget that."

Nathan, though curious, continued on to his room with his armload of supplies. It didn't appear there was going to be trouble. Vin and JD walked up beside Buck. The major watched them warily, and then relaxed when Buck made the introductions.

Vin, always curious, asked, "What brings you to Four Corners, major?" His eyes swept the officer up and down, and then focused for a moment on the major's men behind him as they rode past. They were caked with mud and their uniforms were worn thin.

The major observed the drifter for a moment, noticing the man's attention. "Business," he intoned. "Could you direct me to the Sheriff's office?"

JD's eyes widened. He stepped forward. After all, he was still Sheriff, in a way, until the Judge returned. "I guess that'd be . . ."

Vin cut him off. "Judge Travis is the circuit judge in town, but he's not here. We've been left in charge, so to speak, till he returns." JD frowned, but stepped back. Vin had his reasons, he supposed.

The major's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is that so?"

Buck laughed and tried to put the man at ease. "Actually, it is, and we've got the documentation to prove it, too. The Judge signed it before he left. We're sort of cleaning up the place, expelling the undesirable element, making sure none take up permanent residence till he returns."

The major took in the current state of the town. "I see." It didn't look like much to him.

"You should have seen Four Corners before we came," JD commented, with a little pride.

The major glanced irritably at the kid and then back to Vin. "So which of you is officially in charge, or do you do this democratically?"

Vin was about to answer, but Buck interrupted. "I'll go get him. He's in the saloon." He turned back to his friends and winked. "Why don't you escort the major to the Sheriff's office. I'll be there directly." Out of sight of the major, he showed the rest a quieting finger to his lips, then just about ran for the saloon.

Puzzled, JD stared after him. "What the heck is that about?"

Vin was silent for a moment, but then answered softly, "We'll see." The two men escorted the major to the Sheriff's office.

Buck reentered the dim saloon, which quieted momentarily at the new arrival, then resumed its business. The gunfighter was still where Buck had left him. For a minute, Buck balked. Maybe this surprise wasn't such a good idea. He was about to change his mind when Chris suddenly leaned into the light, concern creasing his face as he stood.

"Trouble?" Chris asked. Buck's breathless countenance might mean something was up.

Buck came to the table, rubbing the edge of his hand across his mouth, trying quickly to decide on a course of action. "No, no. No trouble." Chris frowned and sank back down in his chair, which elicited a smile from Buck. Chris almost seemed to want some excitement. He was a man who liked to be kept busy. That's why ranching had always suited him. There had been plenty of work.

Buck's mirth slipped a little. He chastised himself for contemplating the past, but he knew how to extract himself out of it easier than Chris. Still, it was a bad habit. "We need you over at the Sheriff's office. Some business came up."

"The new people in town?"

"Yeah, someone's at the office now." Buck's lean frame sidled from side to side as he shifted his weight nervously.

"Handle it, Buck," Chris ordered, not wanting to be bothered with petty things today. He poured another shot of whiskey, his head already down and examining the cluttered table.

Buck bit his lip. His friend had been turning more and more to the bottle of late. He had hoped Chris had gotten beyond that crutch. He remembered that when Sarah and Adam had perished, Chris had gone insane and crawled into the bottle to escape his agony. When Buck had found his old friend in Four Corners again he was pleased to see a glimmer of the man he knew existed. Chris was harder, colder, and deadlier, but he seemed to be more stable. It couldn't have been an easy battle, but Chris had done it. He had gone on with life such as it was. Yet now suddenly Chris was trying to dull a new pain, and Buck was saddened to see Chris fall so easily back into old habits.

Buck knew this wasn't the time to deal with it, so he refrained from commenting. He tried a different tactic. He leaned forward, intent on spiking Chris' curiosity instead. "Chris, you really have to see this to believe it. Trust me." He grinned deviously at the gunslinger.

Chris scowled, anger slowly seeping in, his voice tight. "Buck, I'm not in the mood for games."

"This needs your attention, Chris. I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important. You know that."

Chris sighed and pushed the glass away as he stood. "You better be right."

Buck nodded, still smiling, though internally he was praying that he was right, 'cause the sparks were gonna fly if he was wrong.

Minutes later, they walked together into the Sheriff's office. It took Chris only a second to recognize the man standing at the Sheriff's desk. Genuine surprise swept through Chris.

The major spotted the gunslinger instantly and had the same reaction. "Well, this is a day of miracles," he murmured. He quickly stepped towards Chris. "I should have known," he said more loudly. "You and the sergeant were always inseparable, Captain Larabee."

They shook hands, and Chris noted the old man's shoulder. The man had not risen in rank. He respectfully inclined his head. "Major Robert Brickhaven. It's been a long time."

"Yes it has," the old man stated. "What is it? Fifteen years?"

"Close enough, major."

Major Brickhaven took in Chris' outfit. Last he remembered, Chris Larabee had talked about starting a ranch. His old captain certainly wasn't dressed for such at present. He dismissed it for the time being. "I gather you're the man Judge Travis left in charge of this town?"

Chris slowly took in Buck and the others and then nodded slowly. "Close enough. The Judge was shot a few weeks back and he asked us to stay and take care of things till he mends. I expect him back within a week or so." Chris gestured for the major to take a seat as the others took up positions around them.

The major positioned his saber to one side and took a seat opposite Chris. "I don't expect to be in town that long. I'm here on business."

"What kind of business?" Chris noticed the major's hesitation. "I'll vouch for them, major," he reassured the man. "They work with me."

Major Brickhaven scrutinized the official paperwork from Judge Travis once more and then laid it carefully on the desk. He made his decision. "We're here to meet up with the army payroll wagon and escort it back to the fort."

That took Chris by surprise. "We haven't heard of any payroll wagon scheduled to stop at Four Corners."

The major leaned back in his chair. It creaked in protest at the redistributed weight. "It's a special payroll, not one of the usual. We've lost the last four regular payrolls. Lost the money and some good men. We're not taking a chance with this one. It hasn't been announced, nor its route revealed. I'd like it to stay that way. The less that know the better."

"Only seven men here need know."

The major shifted uncomfortably. "To be honest, that's seven too many, captain."

Chris winced slightly at the use of his old rank. "I'm not a captain anymore, major."

Major Brickhaven smiled thinly. "No one ever really leaves the army. It's in the blood to stay, no matter where you go or when you leave. Those habits die hard."

Chris glanced at Buck and the corner of his own mouth tugged upright. "Some less than others, though," he commented, remembering Buck's unencumbered individuality. It was something that never sat well with the rules and regulations of the army. Buck grinned back at him. The scoundrel knew exactly to what Chris was referring. Chris turned his attention back to Brickhaven. "The bottom line, major, is if the payroll wagon comes through Four Corners, and if trouble's expected, then my men will be informed."

The major rubbed a gnarled hand across his silver beard, contemplating the turn of events. His gaze traveled around the men in the room. Three of which were currently missing, but the ones that were here he felt weren't the type of men, excluding Chris and Buck, that he would choose to leave in defense of a town; one was just a boy, and the other an apparent buffalo hunter. Of course, even Chris and Buck had changed from when the major had last known them, which was a sad fact of life. People changed; sometimes not for the better. He had no way of knowing which way his old subordinates had gone, but right now he had little choice in the matter. Besides, he knew Judge Travis to be a reputable man. If he trusted these men enough to put the entire town in their keeping, who was he to argue? He nodded at Chris. "If you vouch for these men, then I'll accept that." He got down to business. "The wagon arrives the day after tomorrow, early in the morning. We shall meet up with it near here and escort it back to Fort Sumner."

That evening Chris sat at his usual table with Buck and the major. It was not something he relished, for he knew eventually the conversation would turn to the past. That was someplace he was not willing to go. He knew Buck would not offer up any details concerning Chris' past. The two had come to an understanding about that.

A small part of Chris felt bad about what happened with Buck that day, but Chris' anger had been all-consuming after Mary Travis had confronted him in the mercantile. It had hit him like a knife in the heart. She had taken him unawares and struck him where he was the most vulnerable. He had been lucky it had been only her and not someone else. It gave his enemies a power over him that he hated, and swore it would never happen again, and that meant stopping it at its source. At least Buck understood now. It would not happen again. Regardless, it still was uncomfortable to even look into the distant past. His time with the major happened long before Sarah and Adam. With that thought Chris swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. Buck's sudden laughter was grating, and Chris winced. This evening was going to be hell.

The scoundrel turned to Chris. "Remember, Chris?"

Chris turned his attention back to the conversation. Thankfully, Buck continued on without expecting an answer.

"When Private Cooper and I tried to sneak Jenny Two Feathers back out of the post?"

Chris was almost tempted to smile. He did remember that incident. "I found you out behind the corral," he recalled quietly. "Cooper had gotten stuck crawling through the hole you dug under the wall."

Buck laughed heartily, his breath coming in loud gulps. "Oh, man, I thought we were done for. When you showed up, Jenny started insisting that she was being kidnapped by us."

The major snickered. "That's why her arms were full of army supplies."

This time Chris' frown did tug upwards, though he was surprised that Brickhaven found the incident amusing, for he sure hadn't at the time. Buck had spent two weeks in the brig for that, and Chris had wound up pulling double duty. It was only Chris' quick thinking that saved Buck and Cooper from instant dismissal. The commander of the fort had a soft spot for the problems plaguing the Indians, and agreed to allow Jenny Two Feathers to take the supplies to her people. Brickhaven, on the other hand, had been ready to execute the lot of them. He had been a man of bluster and regulations then, a man completely devoted to the rudimentary duties of a fort.

Brickhaven wiped the tears from his eyes. "I remember it as if it were yesterday."

"Well, major, you've certainly mellowed with age," Buck commented. "I thought I was done for back then."

"You were in the army, Buck. That makes all the difference in the world. You had to obey the regulations; otherwise you couldn't become a good soldier."

"Well, you and Chris certainly kept me in line. The man I am today, I owe to the two of you."

Chris cringed at Buck's blatant hero worship. Buck had always admired Brickhaven; he had been always willing to help the man out of whatever situation the major found himself, which was often. Brickhaven never had a head for strategy. He left that to Chris and Buck, his subordinates. Chris had found it annoying, while Buck had taken pride in the major's trust. Chris sighed. That was all part of the past now. "Looks like you made the army a career, major," Chris noted.

Brickhaven's elation faded slightly and then recovered. "Yes, yes, I certainly did. The army has been like a mother to me."

Chris scrutinized the major for a second, then nodded. "It's not an easy path, but I'm sure it's had its rewards."

The major tossed back a shot of whiskey and hissed through his teeth. "Yes, she's been very rewarding."

Just then Brickhaven's young lieutenant arrived. His perpetual scowl only darkened his complexion even more. He snapped off an abrupt salute, never taking his eyes off Chris, but as soon as the major turned towards him, the lieutenant regarded his superior. "The men are billeted and the horses cared for, major."

"Excellent. Lieutenant Adam Silverstone, I'd like to introduce Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington. We served together back in Fort Sumner a long time ago."

Silverstone nodded curtly to each of them, his eyes lingering last on Chris, who met the young man's cold gaze with one of his own. "Pleasure," the lieutenant offered gruffly.

Buck noticed where the brusque lieutenant's concentration was aimed and curiously attempted to distract him. "So, how long you been with the major, son?"

A furious fire swept through the lieutenant, a fire Chris had seen many times before on dusty streets in backwater towns from upstarts with something to prove. Buck was playing a dangerous game.

"I'm not your son," Silverstone retorted curtly.

Brickhaven quickly intervened. "The lieutenant's been with me for three years now. Been a godsend. Some days, I'm not sure if I even have my head on straight."

Buck grinned, lounging further back in his chair to show how little the man's bravado affected him. "He sounds like a mighty handy fellah to have around."

Silverstone continued to glare at Buck, but was forced to address the major when he ordered the man to post two guards at either end of town. Silverstone snapped off a "Yes, sir!" and turned to leave.

Chris caught him before he left. "Lieutenant! I have two men already on watch. Be sure your men are aware of them."

The major and Silverstone exchanged glances. The major pursed his lips. "Chris, this is army business. Perhaps it would be best to let my men take care of the town while we're here."

Chris' voice lost none of its edge. "Major, Four Corners is my responsibility. What happens in this town, I'm accountable for. It stays that way whether or not the army is here. My men are more than capable of handling any situation that arises."

Silverstone sneered at Chris. "Larabee, your men are nothing more than children and drifters. Hired guns with no loyalty but to their own pockets. I wouldn't trust them with helping a old widow across the street, much less an army payroll."

Buck winced in anticipation of Chris' reaction, but Brickhaven moved in to defuse the matter, though in Buck's opinion, he did a damn poor job of it.

"Gentlemen," he interrupted, putting his hand on Silverstone's arm. As soon as the lieutenant backed down, Brickhaven regarded Chris. "Pardon my bluntness, Chris, but even I have to admit the men you've chosen are a rather . . . diverse . . . lot. A con man, an ex-slave, a buffalo hunter, an ex-priest and a child. Hardly a group that instills confidence."

Chris blew out a slow, steady breath to calm himself, straightening in his chair. "Regardless of what you think, major, my judgment on this matter stands. You can take it up with the Judge when he returns. Until then my men have jurisdiction here. If you want to make this solely army business, then I suggest you officially do so right now."

Brickhaven and Chris locked steel gazes. Chris had laid his challenge on the table, and the major weighed his options carefully, watching the unflinching stare of a man he had once known and had respected.

Finally, Brickhaven gave in. "No, of course not. I was merely surprised at your choices, but I'm sure your men are quite capable." He turned to Silverstone. "Lieutenant, you will comply and cooperate with Mr. Larabee's men whenever possible."

In Buck's opinion, Silverstone was not a happy man. In fact, he looked downright irate. The angry soldier drew a deep breath in as if to make a retort to his superior, but with a Herculean effort refrained in time. He spun on his heel and left without so much as a "Yes, sir." Buck cast a glance at Chris, who raised an eyebrow at Silverstone's blatant insubordination, but what disturbed the gunfighter even more was the fact that Brickhaven didn't call his lieutenant on it. Fifteen years ago, he would have.

The major shrugged sheepishly, downing the rest of his whiskey. "You have to excuse the lieutenant. He lost a close friend in the last raid."

"Seems like he should be more angry at the raiders than at us," Buck noted.

Pouring himself another drink, Brickhaven remarked, "The man is a stickler to duty. He trusts no one and would rather do the job himself than delegate."

"Sounds like a man who shouldn't be in the army," Chris stated matter-of-factly. It hadn't taken Silverstone long to get under Chris' skin. The gunslinger's early impression of the man was already poor, and Chris' hunches were rarely wrong.

Brickhaven raised his head and met Chris' intense scrutiny. "I've found him to be indispensable."

"That's what matters, I suppose," the gunfighter replied tightly.

With a nervous swallow, Brickhaven quickly, almost purposely, changed the subject. "So how did your ranching venture pan out? As I remember, you and Buck had big plans."

Chris' face hardened abruptly into stone. Even though he knew it was coming, he found he was still horribly unprepared to discuss the past. The muscles in his jaw clenched till they ached. He couldn't bring himself to answer. Thankfully, Buck attracted the major's attention, and Chris closed his eyes in relief.

"We gave it a try for a time and then moved on to other things," Buck explained cryptically, then quietly deflected the conversation. "I was a lawman for a time."

"That suits you, Buck. It would give you a little bit more independence than the rules of the army."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, major. I enjoyed my time in the army. Steady meals, regular pay and the uniform. I always found that the women loved a man in uniform." Buck waggled his eyebrows.

Brickhaven laughed. "Ah yes, you and the ladies. You smuggled more women onto that fort than there were soldiers."

"You should be grateful they weren't all at one time, major."

With a shake of his head, Brickhaven leaned back. "I swear, I don't know how Chris kept you in line."

Buck smiled gently at his partner. Chris had regained his composure slightly, though tension still oozed from the gunslinger. "Chris has his ways," he said. Chris shifted towards Buck, and though there was no returning smile, Buck could see a glimmer of humor crease his old Captain's eyes.

Brickhaven stood tiredly. "Well, it's been a long day. I best be getting on to the camp and check on things. Goodnight, Buck, Chris."

The two men offered their farewells and watched as the old man shuffled out the door. After he was gone, Buck clunked his boots down heavily on the table, rattling the glasses and the almost empty bottle. "Damn, if that don't beat all, eh, Chris? Major Brickhaven! Who would have thought to see him way out here after all this time?"

Chris frowned. "Yeah. What a surprise." His voice was toneless.

"Come on, Chris," Buck said, trying to lighten up the other man's mood. "This is old times, back when we were young and stupid. The army wasn't so bad. As I remember it, you liked all those rules and regulations. You were practically made for the army. Now me, on the other hand," Buck grinned wryly, "Brickhaven and me never saw eye to eye on anything."

"Then why are you so happy to see him?"

"Because, ol' pard, I'm no longer a soldier. No more yielding to the brass for me. Besides, I liked old Brickhaven. He was fun to torment." Buck grew a tad melancholy. "Also, I owe him. He saved my bacon that time you got laid up after that Indian shot your horse out from under you."

That memory wasn't a particularly good one, and it irritated Chris. "You shouldn't have followed that old fool out there. He was wrong, and you knew it. You're lucky you both made it back alive."

Buck frowned. "You know, Chris, sometimes you're an old stick in the mud." He rose abruptly. "I think Brickhaven was an okay commander under very trying circumstances. Hell, we all made mistakes back then. Give the old man a break." Buck drained his glass and left, tired of lectures.

Chris shook his head wearily and poured himself another shot. "Yeah, Brickhaven's such a fine commander. That's why he's still just a major," the gunslinger mumbled.