“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Vin asked, watching his best friend curiously in the limited light of the silent and empty saloon. The single lamp produced just enough glow for the pair to see. Chris bent down, grunted with controlled pain and searched under the round table.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Vin repeated, rubbing his heavily stubbled chin.

“My hat,” Larabee replied, sitting up and supporting his badly bruised ribs as he did so. He grimaced with discomfort. “Where’s my hat?”

Vin squinted at his companion trying to force his vision to focus. He was drunk. As a matter of fact, he and Chris were both more than drunk. Nine days earlier they had been ambushed and both had been badly injured. Vin had been shot in the shoulder and side and then beaten and Chris, who had used his own body to protect his fallen companion, had taken a slug in the upper arm and then had been severely beaten also. If the rest of the boys hadn’t arrived when they had… nobody wanted to think beyond that.

For two days Nathan had struggled to keep the pair alive; and a struggle it had been. They’d come close to losing Vin at least once, but Tanner's determination to live had defeated all the odds. Of course, the true battle hadn't really begun for the healer until Tanner and Larabee had started to improve. Chris was a dreadful patient. He didn't like accepting help from others and his mood was less than convivial. His injuries were painful, his body was stiff and uncooperative and his worry for Vin had him hounding Nathan to do the impossible. Vin, while quiet and a little weak, was restless and stubborn and was drowning in Nathan’s smothering care. The tracker's first two escape attempts had been thwarted, but not his third.

Earlier in the evening, an exhausted Jackson had filled both of his patients with enough laudanum to stun an elephant and then had collapsed onto his own cot for some well-earned rest. Vin and Chris, still awake and bored, had taken it into their drugged minds to sneak out to the saloon for a drink. Unfortunately, the whisky reacted with the laudanum and before the pair knew it, they were severely intoxicated. However, while sore from the extra movement, weak and very tired, both were happy.

“Where’s my hat?”

“It’s on yer head, ain’t it?” Vin slurred, trying to make out Larabee’s blurred face. He blinked several times, but it didn't help.

Chris reached up and groped the top of his head with his fingers. “No it isn’t.”

“It ain’t?” Vin asked, perplexed. “You sure?”

Chris wove his fingers through his blond hair and lifted it up to show his friend.

Tanner burst into fits of giggles. "Like a porcupine."

Chris, despite being inebriated, found himself reflecting on the fact that this was the first time he had seen Vin totally relaxed. His heart lifted and he found himself grinning.

“Shhh. You’ll wake the nurse from hell?” Chris warned.

Vin smiled mischievously, content that he had escaped for a few wonderful hours from Nathan’s house of hell.

“So where’s my hat?” Chris asked, as if expecting Vin to know.

Tanner shrugged and began to search the floor around him. “Can’t see it.” He blinked. “Can’t see much of nothin’. Who put the sun out?”

“It’s night…isn’t it?” Chris asked, without certainty. His own speech wasn't quite as slurred as Vin‘s, and if the truth was known, he wasn't as drunk, but the combination of drugs and alcohol had left his mind dulled as well.

“Is it?”

Larabee lifted one heavy arm and pointed to the lamp. “Must be. I can’t find my hat.”

“Can’t ya?”

“Better find it,” Chris muttered, realizing the conversation was going in circles and that his companion wasn’t making any sense.

Vin nodded and tried to get to his feet to help. “My legs won’t move,” he stated, truly puzzled.

“That’s because you’re drunk.”

“I’s not. You’re the one who’s weavin’ all over the place,” Vin spat back, watching his friend lean heavily on the table and negotiate around it.

“Come on,” Chris ordered. He looped his hands under Vin’s armpits and helped to lift his partner out of the chair. Tanner groaned, his battered body protesting. Larabee held his friend on his feet for a few seconds until he was certain Vin was balanced. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t be long. You wait here. Gotta find my hat and then I‘ll take you back to bed.”

“I’ll help ya,” Vin offered. “Where’d you lose it?”

Chris shrugged. “Can’t remember.” The gunfighter, dressed only in a simple shirt over his Long Johns staggered off to the right, searching the room for his hat.

Vin began to shuffle in the opposite direction, his gaze on the wooden floor boards - one hand holding his pants up, the other supporting his throbbing side. He stopped. “Hell, my boots are missin’,” he cried, staring down at his bare feet.

Chris stopped and glanced over at the stationary man in the limited light. “We didn’t put shoes on when we snuck out.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” Vin murmured, still staring at his feet. “Chris.”

“Yeah?”

“One of my feet is bigger than the other.”

Chris grinned and then returned to looking for his hat. After about three minutes, he snorted with consternation and fatigue and headed back to the table which was littered with two half empty whisky bottles.

Vin remained in the middle of the room staring at his feet. He was now alternately opening and closing each eye. “Depends which eye I got open,” he muttered.

Chris smiled again. He was certain Vin had never been drunk like this before… or at least, not for a long time. Tanner was a happy drunk. In the past, Chris hadn’t been, but tonight, he felt relaxed. He had honestly thought he was going to lose his best friend. He had tried to protect him when the bounty hunters had rushed them but they had been outnumbered almost 5 to 1. With great effort, Chris pushed the memories of the attack out of his mind. He wanted to forget it and focus on the fact that Vin was going to be just fine.

Chris weaved over to the tracker and guided him back to his seat. “You better sit down.” It was a struggle to get the tracker from a standing to a sitting position without causing him too much discomfort. Vin had stiffened up badly after the beating, his entire body a patchwork of purple, greens and blues. Of course, Chris hadn’t faired much better. Up until now, all of their movement had been monitored and orchestrated with Nathan’s approval and assistance. Their trek across town from the clinic to the saloon had left both exhausted.

Tanner panted from the exertion of conforming his body to the shape of the chair. He nodded to his partner in crime once the pain eased. Satisfied Vin was okay, Chris released him. He leaned on the table as he walked back to his own chair and started to lower himself, but froze, the stitches in his shoulder pulling and every muscle in his body protesting. A string of curses exploded from him. He was tired of all of this. He hated feeling this helpless.

Vin struggled to his feet with determination, hobbled around, took Larabee’s arm and assisted him to sit. “Ya shoulda waited for me to help ya, cowboy,” Vin chastised, shuffling back to his own chair. He stared at it for a moment, frowned, glanced at Chris and realizing that if Chris helped him they'd be back to where they started, he fell into seat with a gasp of pain and tirade of curses.

Larabee shook his head. “You shouldn’t be movin’ around so much. Nathan‘ll have my guts for garters if you bust any of them stitches.”

“Did we find your hat?”

Chris reached up and felt the top of his head with great hope. His face fell when all he clutched was air. “Nope.”

“Ya reckon someone mighta pinched it?”

Chris’ face darkened. “Someone stole my hat?" For a couple of seconds he considered the statement in a sea of swirling drugs and alcohol. "Someone stole my hat,” he declared, now convinced.

The next few minutes were spent sitting in silence, the alcohol and laudanum combining to make both sleepy.

“I’m tired,” Vin announced, yawning.

“We better be getting you back to the clinic,” Chris agreed, straining to pull his sluggish body upright, before moving to Vin and gently pulling him to his feet. “Keep your voice down. If we wake Nathan, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

With one staggering and weaving and the other taking short shuffled steps, the injured pair headed out into the street with their lamp, the light bobbing along as they made their way toward the clinic.

Vin stopped. “You hear that?” he asked, one hand dropping to his where his mare’s leg was usually holstered, the other shooting out to hold Chris back. With nothing holding his trousers up, they dropped to his ankles.

“What?” Chris asked.

Nathan, having realized the pair was missing, had awoken Josiah to help him look for the missing men. Spotting the swaying duo weaving their way along the dark street, Jackson and Sanchez jogged across to them.

“What on earth are the two of you doing?” Josiah demanded.

“That you, Josiah?” Chris growled, instinctively stepping in front of Vin to protect him for the faceless voice out of the darkness.

Vin lifted his finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t wake Nathan.”

Sanchez smirked. They were a sight to see. The town‘s fearless gunfighter, who could reduce grown men to tears with a single glare, and the peacekeeper‘s deadly sharpshooter, were standing on the street in the middle of the night dressed in little more than their underclothes. Both were hunched slightly due to their injuries and both were unsteady on their feet thanks to the combination of alcohol and laudanum.

“You two been drinking a bit by the look of it.”

“Nope,” Vin corrected with pride, sliding his arm across Chris’ shoulders. “We’ve been drinkin’ A LOT.” Immediately, he lowered his voice and leaned close to Josiah. “Don’t tell Nathan.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, brother,” Sanchez chuckled.

Vin winked, took half a step, but staggered due to the trousers restricting his movement.

Nathan caught and righted him. “How much the hell did you drink? You shouldn’t have been drinkin’ whisky with all that laudanum in ya.“

Larabee’s eyes widened when he realized it was Nathan talking. He couldn’t see the healer in the darkness, but he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Vin,” he cried, nudging his companion before the younger man incriminated them any more.

“Stop pokin’ me, Larabee,” Vin muttered with annoyance, attempting to find the top of his trousers. With a beaming smile Josiah grabbed the pants and lifted them, but without a belt they weren’t going to stay up. The preacher thrust them into Vin’s still searching fingers.

“Nathan,“ Chris warned, elbowing Vin again.

“Where?“ Tanner asked, searching the night, his eyes wide like those of a child found with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Right here,“ Jackson snapped, stepping in the small circle of light cast by the lamp. “Now I told you two that you couldn’t leave the clinic for at least another couple of days. You‘re lucky one of you didn‘t fall down them stairs.”

“We was real careful. Helped each other,” Vin defended seriously, before beginning to giggle.

“This isn’t funny. You could have got a chill or opened up them stitches. You‘re too weak to be up and about.”

“Sorry,” Vin apologised. “I’m fine. Feel real good.”

Nathan turned his glare on Chris.

“I was lookin’ for my hat,” Larabee offered seriously as an excuse.

Vin nodded vigorously. “Some varmint has pinched it.”

“It’s gonna be a sorry day in hell for them when I find ‘em,” Chris added, stumbling into Josiah.

Sanchez and Jackson stared at the pair of drunk men in front of them and exchanged a glance. Both struggled to keep straight faces. Larabee and Tanner, two men who were so reserved and so careful to always be completely in control, were as drunk as skunks.

“Is that right?” Josiah asked.

“Yeah,” Vin agreed.

“Wait till I get my hands on him,” Larabee added.

Nathan turned to Josiah and chuckled. “Let’s get them up stairs. Pair of fools.”

***

Once the steps had been successfully negotiated, the group entered the small room that severed as Nathan’s clinic. “Bed, both of you,“ the healer ordered.

Chris pulled away from Josiah and took Vin by the elbow.

“Thanks, Chris,” Tanner mumbled, wearily.

Nathan stepped forward to assist, but Josiah held him back, the preacher’s smile getting wider by the minute. Never in all his life did he believe he would ever see these two apparently stern and responsible men like this.

“What on earth does he think he’s going to do?” Nathan muttered. “He can barely stand himself.”

“They got down those stairs together and they were headed back here together without our help, brother. Let them finish it.”

Vin and Chris struggled as one to get Tanner’s battered body down onto the bed. Vin sucked in a breath and held it, his eyes squeezing shut while he waited for the burning to ease.

“Okay?” Chris checked, tucking the blankets around Vin.

“Yeah, thanks. If Nathan finds out we took off, we‘ll be deader ‘an a beaver hat.”

Again, Josiah and Nathan exchanged a glance. Their companions were completely oblivious to their presence.

“I reckon we shouldn’t tell him.”

Chris nodded to Vin, put his finger to his mouth as a signal his lips were sealed and then staggered across to his own bed. Nathan started to move to offer assistance, but Josiah held him back, inclining his head to Vin. Tanner was already struggling back to his feet.

Nathan frowned. “What are you…“

“Shhh,“ Josiah ordered. “Let’ em do it.” With fascination, the healer and preacher watched Vin shuffle across to his best friend. Gripping Larabee's arms Tanner assisted Chris to lower himself onto the bed.

“Thanks,” Chris acknowledged.

Josiah slapped Nathan on the back. “They’re amazing.”

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Jackson murmured. “And how the hell is he going to get back into bed now?”

“Don’t worry, cowboy,” Vin assured Chris, pulling the blankets up over him. “I’ll track down that no good, hat stealin’ varmint for ya. We’ll get yer hat back.”

“Ain’t got many clues. We may have to hire a detective,” Chris mumbled.

“Nahh. I can be a detective. I’ll find yer hat, cowboy. I give ya my word.”

Their arms came together in a grip of brotherhood. Josiah clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing out aloud. It was the solemn and determined looks on the pair's ashen faces that made it all so funny... and yet, there was nothing at all funny about the motives behind their actions. They would do anything for each other - even use their own body to stop bullets if that was what it took. That, was nothing to laugh at.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, the Lord has blessed these two with each other,” Josiah preached softly.

“Come on, Vin. Let’s get you to bed,” Nathan ordered, quietly reflecting on Sanchez’s words.

“Someone took his hat, doc. It’s gone,” Vin explained, allowing the healer to manoeuvre him across the room.

The healer smirked as he helped his agitated patient to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Have ta find it for him, Doc,” Vin stated earnestly, his blinking increasing as sleep called to him. “He saved my life you know.”

Nathan crouched down in front of the tired man and checked his brow for fever. “Yeah, I know. I have no doubt that the mystery of Larabee’s missing hat will be solved,” he finished, his eyes lifting to the top of Tanner’s head.

“No one will believe us if we tell them,” Josiah laughed.

“Probably not,” Nathan agreed. The healer guided the drowsy tracker back onto the pillow, at the same time removing Larabee’s sacred and apparently missing headpiece from the top of Tanner’s head where it had been safely perched all evening.

Tossing the hat into the corner and covering Vin with several blankets, Nathan patted his exhausted friend‘s arm chuckling, “Your job‘s done tonight. The case of Larabee’s missing hat has been solved and the sacred headpiece is quite safe. Rest well, detective.”