The same scenes kept replaying in his mind; soul-destroying images that drained the essence of who he was. He wanted them to stop yet needed them to continue. They had been playing over and over again since he had found Vin defenceless and unconscious in his wagon.

Chris’ hand shot out for the bottle, but it was pulled away just before his fingers encircled it. Glaring up at the person who had stolen his salvation, he swore.

Josiah studied the bottle. “Red Eye. Now, what sad bastard named it that? Someone with a sense of humour.” Josiah dropped into the chair opposite. “Your eyes are clear, that’s good.”

“What the hell do you want, preacher?”

“The same thing you do. For Vin to be okay. For equilibrium to return to our lives.”

Chris looked to the left. Buck was seated at the bar, watching.

“Saw a crow… first one in ages. It sent me to you. You aren’t ready to die, Chris. You don’t want that.”

“Me, and what I want, is none of you damn business.”

“Six months ago, you would have been right. Now, you’re wrong.”

Chris dragged his gaze back to Josiah.

“Brother, I understand…”

“You don’t understand a damn thing.”

“Wrong again. I understand that you have people who care - who are worried about you. I understand that half of your soul is lying up there in that clinic.” Sanchez slammed the bottle down on the table. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you give up on him or yourself… or let down those who care about you.”

The rage consuming Chris drained in that split second leaving him totally empty. Let down the people who care about you. That is exactly what he had done. He’d let Sarah down. He’d let Adam down. He’d let Fowler get away. He’d allowed the boys to be ambushed. He’d let Vin down.

He’d let Vin down.

He’d let Vin down.

Half of my soul. That was it exactly. Chris rose, looked across at Buck and dipped his chin in thanks to a friend who had never let him down, and headed back to the clinic to check on the other half of his soul.

********

Nathan and Alex watched Chris depart again. He’d only stayed about ten minutes this time. “Man of few words.”

“Ah, hell, Nathan. You know Chris don’t say more than three words in a day,” Jackson whispered.

“Huh?”

“Just something Vin once said.”

“This Vin, he’s an important man in this town.”

Nathan shrugged. “Not so much important just… he’s a good man.”

“Ezra Standish said the same thing about him.” Alex was staring at Vin, his expression one that showed he was less than impressed with what he saw.

Again, Nathan’s emotions began to grind. “Vin don’t judge people and he has a strong sense of justice. Six months ago…”

“He’s a dead shot. Never misses. He and Chris saved my life. I owe them a debt I will never be able to repay. They were outnumbered and outgunned that day, but it didn’t stop them saving a black man they didn’t know from hanging.”

********

Twenty minutes later, Chris returned, but this time he wasn’t alone.

Buck stood to one side while Chris moved to ‘his’ spot, sat down and pulled out his knife. Each slice was a recalled memory… a reminder of how badly he had failed those he cared about.

“We’re going to head to bed soon,” Buck stated softy. “It’s gonna be cold tonight. So, still no change.” This time it was a statement, not a question.

“No.”

“We need to get him to drink some water,” Brooks stated carefully, monitoring Buck’s reaction.

Nathan glared at the man.

“He can’t swallow,” Brooks continued, looking to Chris, who appeared to be oblivious to what he was saying, and then back to Buck. “But there may be a way.”

“No,” Nathan growled.

“You said I do not have a right to try this. Do you have the right to deny him a treatment that may save his life!” Alex Brooks demanded. The two medical men faced off.

Buck frowned.

Brooks swung around, dug into his bag, pulled out a tube and showed it to Buck. “The principle is simple. I guide this down his throat. The water bypasses his lungs and will go directly to his stomach where it is needed.”

Buck licked his lips. “Makes sense. Nathan?” he asked.

Nathan ground his jaw. “It could work, but...”

“But! Are you going to let your doubts get in the way? I am a doctor. You do not have the right to stop me trying to save this man.”

Brooks stepped forward. There was a resounding click. All froze. Chris Larabee, still looking down at the piece of wood in his left hand, had a revolver in his right fist and aimed at Brooks.

“Nathan?” Chris asked softly. “Your call.”

“In modern hospitals, conducted by doctors who know what they’re doing and who have done it before, forcing a tube down an unconscious man’s throat does work in a limited number of cases.” Jackson spat at Brooks. “We don’t have any equipment. Trying to shove a bit of hose down his neck here is bound to fail. Can’t you see that, Alex? It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Pack your tube away,” Buck ordered.

Brooks blinked once… twice and then hastily followed the order.

Larabee lowered the revolver. “Nathan will decide what treatment Vin needs. Is that clear?” His face remained down, his voice so soft all had to strain to hear it.

“Yes… yes, it’s clear.”

The revolver was returned to Larabee’s holster. The knife that had been placed on the bed beside him was picked up and whittling recommenced.

“You want me to remove him?” Buck asked, inclining his head to Brooks.

Nathan considered the question. While it appeared a good idea, the man was still a doctor and one with a lot of experience. “I hate to admit it, but I may need his help.”

Wilmington nodded. “You sure you can handle him? I could stay.”

“No.” Nathan looked at Brooks whose face was as white as a sheet. Staring down the barrel of gun had the effect on most people. “We’ll be fine. Reckon he understands now. Right?”

“Yes, I do believe I am beginning to understand.”

“You ready, Chris?” Buck asked.

Larabee pocketed his things, rose, nodded to Nathan and exited the room, Buck one step behind him.

Brooks watched the pair leave. “I only want to…”

“You want to prove all your doubters wrong. I get that. Honestly, I do. You want to do what the doctors in the city can do. This isn’t the city and that man there is not a lab animal. You do anything that endangers him and I promise you, Chris Larabee will be the least of your worries. Do WE understand each other?”

Brooks nodded. He had certainly misjudged the mild-mannered healer. “I only want to help.”

“Good, because your life depends on you doing nothing else.”

********

Nathan blinked. Something had roused him from his uneasy slumber. He straightened in the chair. The lantern across the room illuminated Brooks snoring lightly in one bed and Vin silent and still in the other.

Jackson shivered. Then he heard it; booted feet coming along the landing. The jingling of spurs.

The door opened. Chris Larabee stood in the doorway but didn’t enter.

“Chris?” Nathan couldn’t be sure, but it looked like there were tears on Chris’ cheeks. “You alright?”

Without a word, Chris closed the door.

“Chris,” Nathan called, following.

The flares interspaced along the street cast Four Corners in an eerie glow. Nathan watched from the landing as Chris reappeared below, efficiently blending into the darkness.

Jackson squinted, wrapping his arms around himself. Larabee strode, not toward the boarding house, but the saloon. There, Nathan could make out a familiar outline. Buck was waiting; watching over Chris.

With a long sigh, the healer returned to his patient’s bedside, staring down at a young man to whom he owed so much. Jackson bent over Tanner, placing his hand on the crown of Vin’s head. Dark circles had appeared under the injured man’s eyes. Nathan had kept telling the others there was no change, but the fact of the matter was, there was change; just not for the better. When they had first discovered Vin, he'd looked like he could wake up at any moment. That was no longer the case. Now, Vin looked ill.

“Come on, Vin. You can do this. Please.”

Aware Alex Brooks had got out of bed and was now standing beside him, Nathan straightened.

“Treating a friend isn’t easy.”

“No,” Nathan agreed.

“I owe you an apology. I know you think I’m a monster. Perhaps, I am. You’re right. You and I don’t see eye to eye, but I give you my word, I will do everything I can to help you save your friend.” Brooks’ voice echoed sincerity.

Silence engulfed the room for a long time, the two men standing side by side.

“He isn’t going to wake up, is he?” Nathan whispered.

“Probably not. And for the record, even if we were able to get water into his stomach, it is the head wound that is the problem, not his dehydration.”

“So, do you think today… tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure you will be that lucky. You said he’s a fighter. I’ve seen people linger up to two weeks.”

Nathan shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “He won’t give in. He’ll fight to the end.”

“I truly am sorry, Nathan.”

*********

In the following hours, by the light of a candle, Alex Brooks and Nathan Jackson talked... and North and South found common ground.

Alex spoke of his family and of how from the age of five when his sister had died of Consumption he had wanted to be a doctor. Nathan shared the loss of his father to the same condition.

Alex admitted that when he had first seen Vin, he had decided that the man was unlikely to live and that he could be ‘utilized’ to advance the doctor’s theories. Nathan explained that he could never see anyone as a means to an end. Every person had family… “perhaps one of those people you view as expendable have a five-year old brother who is desperate for them to be saved.” That comment hit the mark and Alex Brooks found himself reflecting on his own motivation and the repercussions of this determination to be the ‘hero’ doctor venerated by others for his innovative methods.

Over the course of the night, they had a regular visitor. Chris would open the door and stand there for a few seconds in the dark before closing it and retreating.

“Surely, he knows we would come and get him if there was a change.”

“He just wants to be close to him.”

“You invited him in.”

“Chris is dealing with his own demons.”

“But he isn’t responsible for your friend’s condition.”

“No, he isn’t.”

********

At 6am, Nettie Well descended the stairs. Vin looked worse. Forty-eight hours had elapsed since Chris, Josiah and Nathan had carried the injured man up to the clinic.

Nettie wasn’t stupid. She had seen the change in Nathan. The healer’s assurances were less assured.

The elderly farmer started down the street. Yesterday, when she’d visited, people had called out, inquiring about Vin’s progress. Now, they all looked at her with sadness and sympathy.

The atmosphere in Four Corners was sombre, despite the beautiful winter’s morning. Most had begun to discuss the fact that the mood was wrong for any celebration. The Sunday Picnic was now in doubt.

********

At 6:30am, Chris entered the clinic. Nathan intercepted him and guided him to the chair placed directly next to Vin’s bed; a deliberate attempt at bringing him closer to Tanner. Larabee sank onto the seat, leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. For several seconds he sat frozen and then the ever-present whittling knife reappeared and slid down a piece of wood.

At 8:00am, when Buck visited for the first time that day, Chris had not moved a muscle; apart from the hand moving back and forward rhythmically.

Wilmington, like Chris and Nathan, looked exhausted. He’d grabbed a few hours’ sleep after dawn, but it had hardly been restful.

“Anyone brought you breakfast yet?” Buck asked.

“Ezra was up at sunrise.”

“There’s a first,” Buck stated, but the jibe lacked mirth and did nothing to relieve the tension in the room. It was time to ask. “What are his chances?”

Nathan looked away, unable to hold his friend’s gaze or make the declaration he knew was true.

Brooks rose from the desk. He stepped up beside Nathan, prepared to take the burden from a man he was learning to both like and respect. “He’s badly dehydrated. Is getting weaker. His kidneys will begin to shut down shortly. The likelihood of him waking is diminishing. If he doesn’t regain consciousness in the next few hours, he is unlikely to wake up at all.”

Buck clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Are you saying he’s…”

“He’s dying,” Brooks clarified.

Nathan looked back to Buck and gave an indiscernible nod.

Buck’s chest tightened, his breathing becoming laboured. He dropped his gaze to the tragic figure in the chair and his heart twisted. He’d been dreading this. Somehow, he had to prepare Chris.

Nathan and Alex made their way outside to give Buck the privacy he needed.

Once alone, Wilmington tried to steel himself. Crouching in front of his oldest friend, he waited for words to form, but they refused. His mind moved in a vacuum. What the hell was he going to say?

The knife sliced the wood; Buck was about to slice the lifeline that had allowed Chris to find his way back to the world of the living. For three long years, Chris had done little more than exist; all the while longing to die. Then Vin Tanner had changed all of that by… by what? By simply being?

“Chris.” Buck’s horribly distorted voice shook.

The knife flashed.

“Chris.”

Another slice.

Buck gripped Chris’ hand, preventing the next pass of the blade.

Larabee’s attention remained on the piece of wood.

“You told me once, that you just wanted another few minutes with Sarah. That you had some things you wanted to say. You’ve got some time with him. Tell him what you want him to know.”

Buck released Chris’ hand, stood, and waited for some sign Chris had heard him, but there was none. Overwhelmed, Buck turned and escaped the claustrophobic room.

Only then, did Chris appear to rouse. What had he wanted to say to Sarah? That he’d loved her. That he was sorry for any grief he had ever caused her. That he’d have traded places with her if given the opportunity.

Hesitantly, Chris turned to look at Vin. It was the first time he had permitted himself to do so for over twenty-four hours. His friend’s face was a kaleidoscope of bruising. The swelling was gone, but had left Vin’s cheeks appearing hollow.

What did he want to say to Vin? To his surprise, it was no different to what he’d wanted to say to his family.

Larabee’s brow furrowed with confusion. At what point had Vin become more than a friend? Had it been when he’d raced out into a gun battle to stand over him at Ella Gains’ ranch with no thought for his own safety? When he’d led the boys to rescue him from the prison? When Vin had appeared out of nowhere when Don Pablo had attacked him? When they’d sat at dusk above a Seminole Village and Vin had revealed the weight of the bounty? When they’d stood shoulder to shoulder in the cemetery to save Nathan? When their eyes first met across the lawless street of Four Corners?

It no longer mattered at what point it had happened, Vin was kin and Chris was going to lose him. The realization of both facts sent tremors quaking through Chris’ body.

The soft murmurings of Nathan, Alex and Buck wafted from the landing.

Pocketing the knife and the wood, Chris laid his shaking hand over Vin’s callused fist; a fist Vin had offered Chris with no strings attached. He never should have ridden out that night. Not the night Sarah and Adam had died and not … If only he’d stayed; though Nathan had already said it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. If only… if only.

*********

Nathan and Buck stared down on the town. People had paused to look up at them, but today, no one called out. Perhaps it had been the look on Nettie’s face earlier, but they appeared to understand things had become serious.

Below, Ezra stepped out of the saloon, drawn out to investigate the lack of noise or movement on the street. Josiah and J.D., too, appeared from the church and jailhouse respectively.

Life in Four Corners literally stopped. In that moment, everyone in the town recognised that Vin Tanner was sliding away.

Alex, who was leaning up against the railing, watching Larabee, murmured something under his breath.

“He talking to him?” Buck asked.

“No. He’s just sitting there.”

Buck lowered his head. “He can’t face it. This is gonna kill him.”

Alex and Nathan exchanged a glance and then with determination, returned to their patient and began prodding, probing and shaking him. Chris, his hand stapled around Vin’s fist, didn’t move despite it being obvious he was in the way.

After several minutes, Alex straightened and glanced at Nathan. With a shake of the head and a muttered, “I’m sorry,” he backed away.

Nathan gave Vin one final shake. “Come on, Vin! You’re a fighter. You have to fight! I need you to wake up. I can only help you if you wake up.”

Nothing.

Chris lifted his gaze to Nathan and then dropped it to Vin. “Did you hear that? Nathan needs to you wake up.”

Tanner’s eyes moved under the lids.

---

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