Setting: Old West
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
A voice hovered far above, just out of his reach. Someone was calling him. He wrinkled his brow and muttered under his breath, turning the other way. He didn't want to wake up. Then the voice changed and became urgent. A hand gripped his arm, his wounded arm, and that did cause his eyes to jolt.
"Buck, you awake?"
"Ow! J.D.?" He coughed, mildly at first, then more violent. The congestion was clinging to him, like a cheap whore at two a.m. He felt movement as the youth drew him up and held a towel under his mouth. The congestion came up, along with some of his last meal.
"Sorry ... "
"Hold on," Dunne took the soiled towel and went to get a mug of water.
Buck was sitting up and eased his back against the short bedframe. He wheezed for several seconds, blinking as a body came into view. It was a bruised face, battered and discolored, above a mauled slim body glistening with a fine sheen of fever. There was no movement and for a scary scattering of seconds, he thought the tracker was dead. The word left his lips almost reverently, as one trembling hand reached out.
"Vin?"
"He's alive," a croaking, painful voice took the pale fear from his face, chasing it from his tense features. He wanted to turn back at the voice, but he couldn't take his eyes from Tanner. He was raised slightly, allowing his damaged lungs to breathe better. One arm was wrapped in bandages, rested across those that covered his chest. An angry, jagged cut on the top side of his head was oozing yellowish, clear fluid. But it was that miserable cloak of wetness that covered the Texan that worried the rogue. It gave his cheeks and forehead a strange, ruddy tone, while causing his hair to form a wet cap.
"Vin," Buck pleaded, hand falling back. He'd have given anything to see those blue eyes blink back at him, or hear that raspy drawl. He fell back against the bed then, finally ripping his gaze away. He closed his eyes, coughed painfully again, and felt a cold tin mug pressed to his palm. The bed depressed as a body sat on the bed next to him.
"Thanks, Kid," he peeled an eye open and to his surprise, saw a bandage over a bronzed, lean chest. As he drank, he took his eyes upward, until they saw the tense, pale face of Chris Larabee. He saw the new stitches above the eye and a sling. "You okay, Chris?"
"Yeah," Larabee sighed, using his good hand to take the empty cup. "We got in a couple hours ago."
"What the hell happened?" Buck pressed, patting the side of the worn black pants in a sign of friendship. He left the hand grip the knee for a few seconds, sighing in relief.
"Hell is the right word," the gunslinger relaxed, watching J.D. exit the kitchen. "Is there coffee back there, J.D.?"
"Yeah, I'll get you some. Hey, you're not supposed to be up. Nathan said ... "
"Bring Buck a cup too," he cut off the protest and like Buck, found it hard to take his eyes from the stilled and too silent form of his best friend. "Vin got jumped out there, Garrett whipped him."
"Shit!" Buck hissed, raking a hand through his damp, dark hair. "Is that fuckin' bastard dead?"
"Yeah, this morning ... "
"You take care of it?"
"No, Major Kelly did," Chris paused, "When I found them, Vin was all painted up, used his own blood for warpaint. He took a bullet in the upper thigh. He wasn't ... he was back in time, at the village where his sister got killed. Just a kid ... "
"Aw, hell ... " the tender-hearted rogue's shoulder's slumped. "I bet that shit's been rippin' him apart for years. It ain't right ... "
"He jumped me, took a knife to me," Chris continued, nodding to Josiah, who was helping Ezra into the room. Nathan followed them, making them complete once more. J.D. approached, handing Chris and Buck coffee. He took his eyes to each face, studying them carefully with hooded eyes. Then the turned back to Vin Tanner. With a slow flow of emotionless words, slipping past his tense lips, Chris Larabee told them of his ordeal in the desert . Of the valiant young boy who fought for his dead family, despite the severity of his own wounds. His voice caught only once, causing them each to turn their gaze towards the slim man lying so still in the bed.
"He thought I was his br..brother ... " Chris's voice cracked and he had to stop to catch his breath. He felt Buck's hand again, tapping his knee gently and nodded. "Teheno ... from what I could figure out, was married to his sister or fathered the dead baby. Vin was heartbroken, I think, somehow, in his eyes, he felt he failed him. That while they were away, he was supposed to protect her. He was shattered, wouldn't look at me ... " Chris lost his voice then and felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Nathan there.
"Yuh don't have to do this," the healer offered, seeing how upset the leader was becoming.
"Yeah, I do," The injured gunslinger took a deep steadying breath and nodded his gratefulness. His pale eyes shifted to Tanner then, as Nathan moved past with a basin of rubbing alchohol to work on the fevered body. "I don't know which Vin is gonna wake up ... you need to know, all of you, in case you're here. He doesn't trust white men, he got violent ... "
"But he was okay this morning ... " J.D. managed."He wouldn't hurt us ... "
"He'd do it and wouldn't think twice," Chris countered, "He came damn close to killing me ... you saw him earlier J.D., he didn't know you, you were the enemy. He'd have shot you with that gun you waved in his face. You need to know ... to be careful."
"Chris is right," Nathan peeled the blanket away and began to sponge Vin's tortured body. "His head wound is infected. It was a bad wound to begin with, between that, his fever and thinkin' on his sister, well, it's possible."
"Somehow, we got through the night." Chris paused then, recalling the mischief in the blue eyes. "This Teheno was important to him, Vin really felt something for him."
"I bet he was a handful," J.D. mused, "Pulling pranks and stuff ... "
"Yeah," Chris smiled then, "Before Garrett took his childhood away that night, he was happy. He had a family who loved him. A lot of what they gave him, made him what he is today. Then in one drunken, violent act, that bastard Garrett broke his heart and shattered his soul." He gripped bedpost in a deathgrip, white knuckles screaming. "He died too quick."
"By your hand?" Ezra paused, watching the white, hot unbridled rage on Larabee's face.
"No, " he paused, scowling, "dammit ... J.D. found us just before daybreak, I sent him back for a wagon. A little while later, Garrett reappeared. He shoved a gun in Vin's mouth."
"Good Lord!" the southerner repelled.
"You're not so far off, Ezra," Chris sighed, rubbing his throbbing face. The headache had only gotten worse since they arrived in town. He felt like shit. "I think the Lord's hand did move this morning. I threw myself at them, but missed, I hit Vin's chest. I heard a shot, felt blood hitting my face ... " He sighed deeply, expelling a long air of remembrance. "For a moment, I thought I was wearing Vin's brains. Somehow, God's hand? I don't know, it didn't happen."
"Major Kelly?" Josiah shook his head, "Helluva thing to bear."
"That son-of-a-bitch was gonna blow Vin's head off ... " Buck riled, upset that Josiah defended the army man's action.
"Buck," Chris caught his hot eyes, "Garrett was his son."
"What?" Buck winced, "You sure?"
"Yeah," Chris slumped, rubbed his aching eyes again and sipped his coffee.
"He told us last night, that's why he went with Chris." Josiah noted, "The boy and his mother were attacked by Appaches many years ago. He was the only survivor, he watched her die. It wasn't pretty. He never forgave the Major, blaming his job for his mother's death. Then the war came and he found a vehicle for his pent up rage. God forgive him, he's at peace now."
"God might, but I won't." Buck spat out, still hearing that cold voice describe what vile acts he performed on Vin's helpless sister.
"If you forgive men their trespasses," Sanchez began, only to be cut off by two pair of moltent hot eyes. One shooting green lava, the other dark blue fire.
"Don't you preach at me, Josiah, you weren't there," Buck coughed, fisting the bedclothes in anger. "You didn't hear his voice when he talked about her ... what he did to her ... " his face curled up in revulsion. "Christ, it was like he got hard again just thinking about it. You didn't see what it did to Vin. You ... "
"Easy now," Nate moved to Buck's side, when the short burst of anger caused him to cough up his coffee and more sputnum. "Yuh gettin' all worked up, yuh'll bring back that fever. Settle down, he's dead. It's over."
"Is it?" Chris managed, raising an eyebrow over Buck's huddled body at Nathan. He gripped Buck's shoulder hard in a show of support.
"It sounds like you had quite a trevail in the desert." Ezra walked stiffly to Vin's bedside, breaking the silence. He winced at the nearly concave chest that barely rose. "Will he recover?"
"I don't know," Nate sighed, nodding to Ezra who sat down gingerly. He watched as the southerner's hands gently wiped Vin's fine features. He tossed Buck's spit cloth in the can and motioned to the youngest "J.D. get over here and hold him down. I have to douse that head wound."
"Hey," Dunne noted standing behind Vin and putting all his weight against the injured man's shoulders. He eyed the battered bodies of the group and stuck his chest out. "With all of you laid up, I'm in charge." He beamed, jutting his chin out defiantely. He frowned at the chorus of groans, snorts of derisiveness and catcalls. "What?" he defended, "It's true ... "
"Hah!" Ezra shifted, moving away to let Nathan sit by Vin. "It would appear your travels have left your brain sun-addled."
"Don't get cocky, Kid," Chris smiled slightly.
"You don't even look good in black, J.D." Buck teased, grinning at the bold youth. "'course that damn hat of yours might cause a gang to choke on hysterical laughter."
"Ha ha ... you're all too funny!" the youth countered, pressing Vin's shoulders to the bed. "Nathan he's really hot."
"Is that right?" the healer said sarcastically. "Chris, can I ask yuh a favor?" He saw the blond tip his head. "Can yuh sit next to him, in case he wakes up. This is gonna hurt like hell and if he wakes up, I want yuh'r face to be the one he sees ."
"Okay," he walked gingerly around Buck's bed to Vin's, every step sending waves of pain though his side and head. He settled in, using his good hand to cup Vin's jaw, tilting the head towards him.
"J.D.?" Nate raised his eyes, "Yuh ready? He's gonna buck ... "
"I got him," the youth grunting, bearing down. His eyes shifted when he saw the gambler move in towards Vin's legs. It was only a split second, but enough for the quick eyes of the healer.
"Ezra get yuh'r ass outta there. Yuh ain't strong enough, that back is movin' on a wing and a prayer."
"Sorry," J.D. added, at the stern look Standish gave him.
"I got it," Josiah offered, using his good arm to press down on Vin's knees. "Go on, Nate, get it over with."
Nathan took the cloth soaking in carbolic out of the basin, wrung it out and pressed it to the open wound in one swift move. The scream split the air in time with the corpse-like body jerking back to life. The blue eyes shot wide open, the scream intensified, but Nate held firm. His right hand splayed across the Texan's chest, while the left hand held the cloth in place.
"Vin, calm down!" Chris hollered, watching both of the lost man's arms flailing away. Nathan's tools and bandages went flying from the bedside.
"He can't hear you Chris, he's not even here." Josiah shouted over the agonizing scream of pain. The large eyes were lost and unfocused, nearly black.
"Vin!" Chris tried again, as tears of pain rain from the tracker's muddled eyes. His grip on the square jaw was weakened by the flow of saliva that ran over his fingers. The razor-like screams of terror and pain ripped right through him. "Nathan get that fuckin' thing off his head now!"
"Chris, look out!"' Buck warned, too late. "Damn!" He lamented, watching Vin's fist pop up and catch Larabee square on the jaw. Josiah moved from his post to grab Chris as he toppled, sending both of them to the floor.
Finally, Vin slumped, falling sideways into Nathan's arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hoarsely, holding onto the fevered body for a moment longer. The hot breath from the uneven, labored breathing danced across his neck. Vin's head rested on his collarbone, under the strong hand. He brushed the wet, tangle of hair from the young man's face and sighed, feeling like he'd been gutshot by a elephant gun. Nobody was close enough to see. J.D. had moved away, kneeling over Chris's prone from. Josiah was unable to move, his bad arm was under Buck's bunk. So nobody saw the waves of unwarranted guilt wash over the healer. Vin was silent now, but the screams lingered in his head, mingling with the other one's. He stared in to space, seeing the bloody faces and dismembered bodies. The smell of roasting flesh roase over the train wreck.
"Well, that certainly went well," Ezra droned, eyeing the bodies all over floor.
"Ezra, you say one more word and you'll get Ipacac syrup on your pancakes!" Josiah warned. "J.D. what exactly are you doing up there. Get him off of me ... " he hissed, his shoulder throbbing.
"I'm trying!" the youth grunted, moving again, hooking his arms under Chris's and pulling. This worked for a few seconds, but then the youth lost his footing and landed on Chris.
"What the hell are you doing!" Josiah hollered, shaking the rafters. He froze then hearing another sound from above. "Keep it up Buck, I'm sure those three nurses that arrived today who you have lined up to bath you later, would love to hear about your wife and six kids ."
"Aw, hell, Josiah, you go no sense of humor. You okay, Kid?" Buck coughed.
"Is he okay!" Sanchez thundered.
"Nathan, I think ... " Buck paused, when he saw the strange look on Ezra's face. Both men watched Nathan for a moment, too stunned to speak. The large dark eyes were full of sorrow. The strong hands gently held the patient. The gambler seemed at a loss, looking at Buck for direction. The rogue shrugged and nudged J.D.
"Nathan what's wrong?" the sheriff blurted, tugging Chris upright. "Can you help with Chris? Is Vin okay?"
"Nathan?" Ezra moved in, gently prying Vin from the now startled ex-slave.
"Huh? Sorry ... I guess ... I musta ... "
"Completely understood, those screams of agony riddled all of us." He nodded to the floor, where the bodies still lingered. "I believe our youthful sheriff needs a hand. I'll see to Vin."
"Yeah," Nate's legs were shaky and he felt sick. He remained silent, still shaken over the horrid images he saw. Between the two of them, the got Chris to the empty bunk on the other side of Buck and covered him up. Instictively, he felt Chris's forehead. "He's a little warm. Maybe I should ... "
"After you get Josiah off the floor, maybe you should get some air, Nathan," Buck suggested. "You okay?"
"I don't know, Buck," the healer admitted honsetly, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I just don't know." He moved then, getting Josiah up and let the larger man lead him outside.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Ezra finished sponging Vin off and pulled a sheet up to his neck. J.D. got Buck two mugs of water and sat on the edge of Chris's bunk.
"What the hell was that?" Buck finally spoke, looking at Ezra.
"Nothing to be taken lightly. I think we need to watch him carefully. The trauma of what he was forced to witness may be too much to bear." The southerner noted, "I think I'll have a word with Doctor Smith."
"Ezra, hold off on that," Buck worried, "Let's keep in the family for awhile. It might not happen again and I don't like going behind his back. I know you mean well ... "
"Understood," the other agreed. "Speaking of the newly arrived First Aid Corp., I am overdo for my midday medicinal bath. Miss Abigail Bauer of the San Fransisco Branch of the American Red Cross is waiting for me."
"Which one is she?" Buck eyes darted back and forth. Then he saw the cheshire smile on the smug southerner as he moved slowly and stiffly towards the door. "Aw, hell, the brunette with the big chest?" He winced as the glint from the sun hitting the gold tooth nearly blinded him. "Ezra get back here ... Ezra ... aw, hell ... " he settled back in his pillows, his heavy eyes falling shut. J.D. waited until Buck was sleeping, before pulling the sheet up. He eyed the three slumbering patients and picked up the empty mugs and pitchers, placing them on a tray. Nathan left strict orders for lunch and he had to heat up the large kettle of soup that the woman from the boarding house dropped off. There was also fresh bread in the oven and he had to get more tea brewing. He moved silently into the kitchen, leaving the patients sleeping.
Finally he was alone. He was on fire, the flames licked at this back and arm, a horrid pain ripped through his hip but it was the agonizing explosion in his tender head that drove him to near madness. Through slitted eyes, he stole around the room, investigating every window and door. His hand slid down the mattress, tucking the small, funny knife underneath. After the one with dark skin put the fire on his head, the knife fell away. He saw the bluecoats outside, walking past the window. He saw them again in his mind's eye, laughing as they murdered his family. They would pay, all of them, for what they did.
"..tso'ape ... " he whispered, seeing the 'ghosts' of his family. They were troubling ... their spirits couldn't rest. His anger rose, hot and feral, stabbing at his broken heart. He eyed the sleeping enemy nearby, their pale faces burning in his brain. "Daiboo ... " he blinked of the white men, stabbing the mattress with knife. He blinked as sweat rolling into his eyes, stinging him and causing the blurry images to fade. He tucked his prize away, waiting for darkness, then he would have his revenge.
The streets of Fullerton were crowded, as the normal population swelled. Those injured in the train crash as well as their families and the army caused the stores, saloon and hotel to be dense with bodies. The ambled up and down the streets, enjoying the sunshine and their voices carried in the wind, blending into a dull buzzing sound. At least, that is what it sounded like to Nathan Jackson. His head was pounding; a throbbing red pulsation behind his eyes. He felt sick to the stomach and the bodies bumping into him, on the boardwalk, only made it worse. Sweat poured down his face, obscuring his vision. He blinked at the limbs strewn on the sidewalk. He walked faster, trying to find air, suddenly he couldn't breathe. The stench of the newly dead filled his hot lungs. He heard Josiah from far away, as his long strides left the other man behind. He couldn't find peace, they were everywhere. The eyes, be they pale or dark, burning into him. Words came from all directions, in hushed whispered tones. Words of accusation and failure, shooting out of the dense buzzing in his ears.
"Stop it," he hissed painfully. He shook his head, staggered to the left and if not for a steadying hand grabbing, he would have fallen.
"Are you alright?" Orrin Travis asked, seeing the ashen complexion on the healer. When he didn't get a response, he guided the shaken younger man into the shop they were in front of. It was a dry goods store. He moved the staggering body to a cool spot in the back and sat him down. "Nathan?"
"Judge?" the shaking man gasped, eyeing the strange room. The bodies were gone and the smell was too. His hands were trembling and his breath came in pants. "I'm sorry ... I think I'm okay now. Just got a little dizzy ... I guess."
"You've been under a terrific strain, it's no wonder you're not well. Would you like some water? Or perhaps something stronger?"
"Water'll be fine, thanks," he sighed, breathing hard. He leaned back against the wall, resting his head and shutting his eyes.
"Josiah, what's wrong with Nathan?" Orrin Travis inquired, nodding his appreciation to the store clerk. He held a mug of cold water and a cold, damp cloth.
"I'm not sure, Orrin," The other admitted, rubbing his injured shoulder. "I think, maybe, it's catching up to him. I know some doctor's in the war went through it ... hearing screams when no one was there, reliving the horrors." He paused, "Maybe he just needs some rest ... I don't know."
They walked back to where Nate was sitting and Josiah rested a hand on the tan cloth covering the slumped shoulder.
"Thought for sure Rain was at the end of the street, the way you took off." the preacher's deep voice chased the dazed man's eyes open.
Nathan opened his eyes and sat forward, taking the water and sipping it slowly. He took the cloth then, wiping his face and neck. "Thanks, Judge, I don't know what happened."
"Why don't you get some rest? I'll meeting with the others, except Vin and Buck, with the General and the President for dinner. You might feel better. Have you eaten?"
"I doubt if anything would stay put," Nate rose, "but I am tired. On the other hand, what if Vin needs me ... he's awful sick."
"You don't take care of what's ailing you, Brother and you'll be in the bunk next to him." Josiah's concerned voice added, " ... that won't do him any good. Me and J.D. can cover it, I'll get you if he gets worse, okay?"
"Yeah, okay, thanks." He gave Josiah's arm a pat and left for the room he was sharing with Ezra.
The other two watched him go, wondering if rest were the answer, or if what troubled the shaken man ran far deeper.
The sun shone warm on his face, the smell of dinner filled the air. He saw his grandfather and his uncles across the village. His brothers and sisters played nearby, laughing and chasing Nokeke's new puppy. He felt his grandmother hug him from behind, kissing his cheek and scolding him gently for daydreaming. He picked up his knife and continued skinning the rabbit. He never felt so happy. He took a deep breath, as the soft wind tickled his chin.
Something hurt, his chest filled with pain and he gasped, twisting his body to find air. The fire in his head roared to life, as did the one in his arm. So much pain, he thought, as his eyes flew open and his heart fell. No more sun in his heart, no more happy voices, the village was gone, they were all dead.
"Gai ... " he whispered, painfully, his throat tight and his eyes burning. He'd never feel his grandmother's kiss again, or his grandfather's strong hand. He'd never see the radiance of life beaming from his sister's face as she nursed her new son. Instead he saw he dead eyes, questioning him and smelled his family's flesh roasting. "Gai ... " He sat up, biting back a cry of pain as his upper leg pulsed in agony. It was so hard to see, the room was dark and strange. There was no blue sky or soft grass under his feet. Where was he? What had happened? He blinked at the blurry face a few feet away. A man with dark hair was sleeping. He blinked at the small peep of window across the room, and saw soldiers across the street. Then he remembered the viscious beating he'd received, trying to stop them. They laughed at him, tied him up and forced him to watch. He didn't remember how he got here. His fingers felt the knife nearby and he picked it up. Free. He would be free again, he would be no man's prisoner. He stood and gasped as a hot spear stabbed his thigh and back. His features were a mask of agony, as he stumbled forward. He gripped the edge of the table and eyed the dark room ahead. It was next to the room he was in and the only way out. He mouth was on fire, his thirst was that great. He was so hot ... like he was in the sweat lodge with his grandfather. He needed water and air ... water ... water. That was his goal, he staggered to the dark room, seeking relief.
A small bird peered in window, watching curiously as the human inside thrashed on the bed. The dark skin glistened and the tall body shook. The wet head tossed on the pillow, the tortured mouth moaned in pain. Another bird called to him and he flew off, leaving the tormented soul behind in the hotel room.
The smoke was thick and seared his lungs. He stepped over the broken bodies, feeling naked in the eyes of the dead he passed. He couldn't save them. The tangled, shredded ruins of the train lie in pieces, strewn like a discarded child's toy. He felt an arm tugging on his pants and looked down. A small child reached up to him, his cries of pain were breaking his heart. He bent to lift the boy, and the child's skin fell off in his hands. Bright pink patches peeked through the teeming blood. There was nothing but melted flesh and jagged bones where a face should have been.
"I'm sorry ... " Nathan staggered away, clapping his hands over his ears. It didn't help, the still called.
*"Help me ... please ... help me ... "*
"Vin! Ezra?" the tormented man paused, hearing them calling. He pushed his way into the burning car, trying to track the weak voices. He pulled the wreckage apart, digging on ... hoping he was in time.
"My dear, I intend to write to the head of your branch office. Your talented hands have taken a great burden from my aching body." Ezra moaned, lying flat on his belly on a hard, slim table. The medicinal oils and herbs in the piping hot water had given him relief. Now, fresh from the tub, he was wrapped from the hips to the ankles in a cotton blanket.
"Don't move now, let me do all the work." The pretty nurse oozed, eyeing the handsome patient. She made up her mind when she lowered him into the tub, that she wanted more.
"Words to live by," the gambler purred, inhaling the soothing scent of sandlewood, nutmeg, clove, wild berries, ginger and other exotic spices. "Ahhh ... ." he groaned in near unholy pleasure as her silken fingers rubbed the hot herbal mixture gently onto the bruised flesh on his lower back.
"Am I hurting you?" she baited, feeling the firm flesh move.
"Darlin', don't burden your sweet lips with such a thought," he clenched, feeling pressure where she couldn't see it. The combination of her own scent, mingled with the herbs, in a tempting aroma. Her touch was like fire. By the time the slow massage worked it's way up his back and her thumbs teased his neck and shoulders, he could barely talk. He groaned again and she paused, bending over to see his face. She wiped her hands and brushed the stray hair from his brow.
"Is it too hot?" She asked in a low sultry voice, letting her fingers cup his face.
"Hah!" he choked of the double-edged truth to the words. The heat he felt had nothing to do with the medical treatment. "I am a bit moist," he choked, "A drink perhaps?" Her pretty face seemed to swim for a moment and his face flushed. He felt her strong hands turn him gently and raise him up. He sagged a bit and found his cheek resting against her rather well appointed chest. The irony of it nearly choken him. His injured back prevented any thought of amourous activity. She felt so soft and he nestled in the curves; she smelled wonderful. His half-lidded gaze was interrupted, when a cold mug nudged his lips. He slurped in a most ungentlemenly fashion, as the pressure caused her to press into him close ... too close.
"Thank you, Miss Bauer, I'm fine now," he pulled away, sat up and gingerly eased off the table. The pain had diminished considerably and the lack of tension in the muscles on his back was a miracle. He sighed, relaxed and let his pent up breath out.
"I told you I could work magic with my fingers," she purred, moving in front of him, slipping her hands on his waist. Her fingers curled underneath resting on his damp hips. "and it's Abby. Let's get you dressed ... " she went to tug at the towel, but found her wrist grabbed.
"No!" Erza yelped, grateful for the thick folds of blanket covering his lower half. "I mean, that is to say, I can manage. Whatever monetary reward you are being paid by the Red Cross is not enough. I should like to thank you properly."
"Oh, I can think of several ways ... " she whispered, pressing against him and brushing his lips with her finger. "Maybe we can discuss them later?" She traced a lazy line up his jaw and around his ear, drawing a sharp hiss.
"It would be my pleasure," Ezra returned huskily, capturing the hand and kissing it. "There is a cafe down the street, not as crowded as the hotel. Seven perhaps?"
"I'll bring my blue velvet bag," she promised with a sigh and turned away.
" ... uh ... blue ... velvet ... bag ... " he gasped as she gave his backside a light pat.
"My own special herbal oils for all parts of the body. They work wonders ... " she paused, "You really should have another treatment before bed. It's much easier when you're already undressed and waiting." She offered, as she placed his neatly folded shirt, pants and other garments on the bench nearby. "Until seven, then," she smiled, picked up her things and left.
"My Dear," Ezra whispered, watching her image pass through the door. "I can think of no one that better suits the title 'angel of mercy'." He eased into his clothes slowly, not wishing to do anything to jeopardize his moonlight magic trip.
"Oh God," J.D. gasped in shock, when he peeked into the quiet room. He'd been preparing supper for Buck and Vin and decided to check on the injured men. Chris and Buck were sleeping still, but Vin's cot was empty. Where could he have gone? "Vin?" he called out, but heard nothing. He moved to Buck's bunk, shaking the congested man. "Buck, wake up ... Buck!"
"What?" the sick man growled, having been roused from a deep sleep. "J.D.? Where's the fire?"
"Vin's gone."
"Gone?" Buck groaned, "God, I didn't think he was that bad off. I mean I know there was a chance but ... "
"No! he's not dead, he's missing!" the youth corrected, pointing to the empty bed. "Did you hear anything?"
"Missing?" Buck sat up, coughed violently, spitting the residue and gazing at the spot where the Texan should be resting. "How the hell did that happen?"
"It's not my fault!" Dunne shot back, "I can't be everywhere. I was in the kitchen, making you guys dinner."
"Quit barkin' at me, I wasn't blamin' you," Buck rubbed his eyes. "He can't be far, hell he can't be walkin' ... between his leg and that fever ... " He paused when a series of moans and soft cries echoed through from the other room. "There he is ... " he nodded, as the younger man turned to go to the door. "What the hell is he doing in there?" He frowned in annoyance, as the near naked tracker staggered into view. He was soaking wet, his fevered face was accented by glazed eyes, much too bright.
"Godammit Vin, get back in bed," Buck ordered, "What do you think you ... " his words were cut off by strange look locked onto the sharpshooter's features.
Vin froze, when he heard the man's voice. The rage in his heart overpowered the heat in his body. He squinted and widened his eyes, trying to see through the blurry room. Everything looked like it did when he opened his eyes under the riverwater. He saw a body appear in front of him, white face, dark hair. The face of the enemy.
"Vin, you just about scared me to death!" J.D. chastised, reaching out to steady the dazed man. "Nathan's gonna kill you ... .you busted your stitches," he frowned, eyeing the scarlett staining the area on the falling long john's sliding down past Vin's slim hips. "Come on, I'll ... "
"Daiboo!" He screamed, raising the knife and slashing at the intruder.
"No!" Buck and J.D. cried out in unison. Buck watched in horror as the knife swung, narrowly missing J.D.'s neck. In order to avoid the blade, the youth moved sideways too quickly and without looking. He slammed his forehead into the doorframe, and slid to the ground.
"Vin, put that knife down ... Vin ... " Buck warned, unable to twist his body to see where Chris was. "Chris, get up ... Chr ... " his warning dissolved in a harsh, wet cough, nearly choking him. He fought to dislodge the offensive matter, which prevented his breath. No sooner than it passed his lips, when he was shoved back onto the bed. A nimble body, splayed over him, lips curled in molten rage. The eyes were blue fire and the flushed face hot with more than fever. Murder. Buck knew that look, he'd seen it before. Murder. Plain and simple. Vin Tanner wanted to kill him. One hand was clamped to his throat, choking him, the other was poised high, holding a scalpel. The glint on the metal matched the malicious intent in those angry eyes. "Chr ... is ... " he gasped weakly as the blade began to fall.
Ezra frowned as he unlocked the door to his room. He heard noises inside, loud noises, as if the room were being ransacked. A robbery? He pushed the door open a few inches, peeking inside. His eyes furrowed in confusion, when he saw Nathan Jackson pulling the drawers from the chest and throwing them to the floor.
"Nathan!" He shouted, moving inside and over to former slave. "What on earth on you doing?"
He was close, he could feel it. Somewhere in this smoldering pile of metal, were his two friends. They were hurt and they needed him. He saw Vin's face then, covered in blood. One hand reached out.
"Vin, I'm comin' hold on ... "
"What?" Ezra paused, then realized too late, the other man was not awake. He was lost in a dream, a violent one.
"Get away!" Nathan shoved the horridly disfigure body who tried to stop him from reaching Vin. He was about to turn back, when a scream of agony changed his mind. He turned and saw Ezra on the floor, writhing in pain. "Ezra?" he said in a small voice, confused and unsure. The southerner was here, yet far away. A heavy fog rolled into the car, covering all of them. He couldn't see Vin or Ezra.
"Ezra, where are yuh? I can't see yuh?"
From the spot between the bed and window, where he was thrown, the green-eyed conman was paralyzed in pain. It shot up his back and across his neck. He couldn't speak, not even to scream, for the agony locked his vocal chords. But when he saw Nathan's face and heard that voice, that frightened him more. How could Nathan not see him? He was a few feet away. Then he watched the wet brown face grow ashen. The tortured brown eyes roamed over the trashed room.
"What the hell?" Nathan choked hoarsly, seeing the damage. "Ezra!" He froze, as the sudden realization slapped in the face, hard and cold. His nightmares spilled over into reality and his friend has paid the price. "Oh God, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean ... Let me help yuh ... " he managed, pulling his shaky limbs together and bending down.
"No!" Ezra blurted out, fearful of anyone touching him. The pain left as long as he didn't move. He realized his mistake too late. Nathan misunderstood his hysterical scream. "Don't ... go ... " he gritted, trying not to move his head. "I need ... your ... help ... I'm sorry ... didn't ... mean ... Nathan ... . Nathan ... " he called, but the room was empty now. His fearful cry had driven the tortured man from the room. Where did he go? What if the nightmare returned? Someone needed to help him. But nobody knew, because he was trapped on the floor and couldn't tell them. He tried to lift his head and the pain exploded again, nearly sending him into blackness. "Wonderful ... " he sighed in frustration, as a large black bug crawled up his hand and onto his arm, making a path towards his face.
"Chr ... is ... " Buck called again, stronger. He got one arm free and managed to grip the slick wrist, just inches from his exposed throat. He clenched his teeth and fought back, but his damaged lungs were crying for relief. He began to wheeze, Vin's full weight was pressing on his chest. His arm began to shake and weaken, as his air diminished. Vin's black eyes were lost in another world, he turned, instead, to his oldest friend. How could Larabee be still sleeping? Was his head injury worse than they thought? Buck's hand slipped and he hissed as the blade nicked his ear. Vin was weakening too, but Buck knew he was dangerously close to passing out. All he could manage was short breaths and they were dwindling. The sweat pouring off Vin's face and hair dripped onto him. The tracker's grunts of rage mixed with sharp cries of pain. Buck flinched as his wrist slipped and the blade moved closer, the tip pressed to his budging vein. With his last ounce of strength, he took a deep breath.
"CHRIS ... WAKE UP ... CHRISSSSS ... ."
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