RATING: PG13

WARNINGS: None, except if you don’t like J.D., Buck and Josiah angst and such you’re gonna be disappointed.

COMMENTS: This started out as a short little h/c story for Leslie’s birthday and it’s turned into a mini-epic, so in other words – it ain’t finished! <Yeah, yeah, like that’s a surprise.> It’s full of J.D. pain and angst, which soooooo goes against my writing grain, (I really sacrificed for ya, Les!) <ok, can you *hear* the sarcasm there?!>) Thanks as always to my extraordinary beta, Marla for her insight and encouragement (and the help with the title). HAPPY BIRTHDAY LESLIE! Hope you enjoy!

 

PART 1

Josiah studied the well-read telegram then crumpled it up and stuck it back into his pocket. He’d been drinking for three hours now trying to dull the impact of the words, but instead he felt a frenzy of violence stirring in his soul. Hell, maybe it was four or five hours. Hard to keep track of time so he just counted the whiskey bottles. Two of those, for sure.

Josiah had settled at the far table in the saloon, trying to send a definite message that he wanted to be left alone. Yet, the cheerful voices continued to follow him. Ezra’s condescending drawl rubbed in his brain like sandpaper on a rough board. J.D. and Buck’s raucous laughter only made it worse.

Maybe he should summon the three over and just knock all their heads together. That would keep them quiet for a while.

Nathan sat down in front of him, preaching to him about his drinking habits and the fury continued to build. He knew if he actually listened to the black man’s words he’d end up punching him back through the swinging doors faster than he’d come in them; so Josiah ignored him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was just Nathan’s way of showing concern. Nonetheless he found the worry smothering and he wanted no part of it; wanted them all to leave or shut up or both.

Josiah knew he was stinking drunk. Yep, no doubt about that and it was for that reason he was having a hard time controlling his impulse to smash this entire place to bits.

Four young gunmen filed into the saloon, strutting up to the bar and loudly demanding whiskey. The ex-preacher still heard Nathan buzzing in his ear, but his attention was drawn to the cocky young men trying to project a toughness he doubted had ever been properly tested. Josiah had been looking forward to using his fists since he’d taken his first sip, now the Lord had provided.

Josiah laughed to himself, who was he fooling, pretending whiskey would arrest his demons. Hell, he’d fed them until they were fat and sassy and ready to take on the whole town. Those strangers at the bar would make a fine start, he thought, as mouth spread into a toothy grin.

*******

"What does he think he’s doin’?"

J.D. heard Nathan’s soft voice and turned from his cards to follow the healer’s worried gaze.

Josiah leaned heavily against the bar as he talked with the strangers. At first glance the conversation looked friendly enough, until J.D. saw the man next to Josiah rest his hand on his sidearm and step back slightly.

"Uh, oh." Buck uttered, as he apparently didn’t like the looks of this either. "J.D., go get Chris."

"Uh, uh. I can’t leave, Buck."

He didn’t see his best friend because his eyes were riveted to the scene at the bar, but he knew the frustrated look that was plastered on Buck’s face. Knew it by heart and it made him grin in spite of himself.

"I’ll go." Nathan turned from their table and quickly made his way out the batwing doors.

J.D. heard the scraping of wood as Buck and Ezra both pushed their chairs back to stand. He jumped to his feet to join them as the fighting began. J.D. had no idea what could have been said, but Josiah didn’t even look mad as he knocked the first guy into the barstools. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the feral look on his friend’s face frightened the bejesus out of him as Josiah stood back and calmly motioned for the other three strangers to take him on.

J.D. was certainly glad he and the preacher were on the same side in all this. God help him if he wasn’t.

"Good Lord, he’s going to get us all killed." Ezra uttered as he followed Buck into the fray.

J.D. couldn’t get there fast enough. Ezra and Buck had successfully gotten in front of him and now he could barely move through the rush of bodies that blocked his path. He could make out Josiah clearly, his head still visible above the crowd.

"Josiah!" J.D. heard the twinge of panic in Buck’s voice and knew something bad was about to happen. He watched as one of the men stumbled to the floor, got up and rushed Josiah again, just as another of his friends flew past him on his way to the ground, over and over. Each time the men seemed madder, but Josiah, he looked…excited, like he was having the time of his life and J.D. felt a shudder run down his back. Something just wasn’t right.

J.D. could hear Buck shouting as he plunged into the middle of the fracas. Ezra, who he knew wasn’t about to get close to Josiah’s flailing fists, was doing what he could to get the strangers out of harm’s way. J.D. figured he’d have to be the one to stop Josiah. Not physically, hell no, but he knew he could talk him into calming down.

The crowd grew tighter, men were shoved, tempers fueled by alcohol and the air of excitement caused the spectators to become part of the show. Chaos broke out within minutes.

//Thanks, Josiah.// J.D. weaved his way through the stench of sweat-soaked bodies and spilled whiskey, avoiding the blows of drunken patrons that nearly knocked him on his butt twice. He finally found himself behind Josiah.

The noise in the saloon was deafening and he wondered if he should try and stop the fistfights or just join in.

"Josiah! Stop!" J.D. yelled, but apparently his friend didn’t hear him. "JOSIAH!"

Still no answer so J.D. pounded on the man’s broad back to get his attention. He started to call his name again, but he didn’t have the chance. Josiah drew back his left arm and struck like lightning. J.D. felt the sharp pain of the larger man’s elbow as it met with his cheekbone before he even realized what was coming at him. A brief, horrifying image of his eyeball popping out of its socket and trampled on the dusty floor, crossed his mind. His morose thoughts didn’t last long. A sickening thud rattled his teeth as he felt the back of his head connect with the edge of the bar and his whole world went black.

*******

Josiah felt invincible. His blows became stronger and he never felt such power as the men challenging him began to fall away. He heard the shouting and then the gunshot as Chris blew a new hole in the roof of the saloon to put an end to the little war. The sound of Vin cocking his mare’s leg finished sobering up the Saturday night brawlers and they quietly went their own way.

Sanchez straighten his jacket casually and grinned. "Hell of a fight, huh, boys?"

Only one of the four strangers was left standing, but all were bleeding and eager to have an excuse to call an end to butting their heads against a brick wall. Josiah smiled at them as they helped each other to their feet.

"Good Lord." Ezra’s concerned tone made Josiah turn to see what the conman was so upset about.

"J.D.?!" Buck pushed the remaining men out of his way and dropped to his knees beside J.D.’s unconscious form.

Nathan knelt on the other side of the youth and ran his large hand over the kid’s rapidly swelling eye. "J.D., wake up for me, son."

"Who hit him?" Buck’s voice was controlled, but the fury fueling his words was unmistakable as he scanned the faces of the strangers.

Ezra gripped the less injured of the four and shoved him closer toward Buck. "Answer the gentleman."

"I didn’t hit nobody but him!" The man pointed a shaky hand toward the ex-preacher, his voice squeaking in terror at the five men who looked like they’d finish what the first man had started.

"Lock ‘em up." Chris said, his eyes boring into the man in Ezra’s grasp and motioning toward the others with him. "Nathan’ll be by later."

"Josiah."

He heard his name and turned to look into Nathan’s face. "I need you to help me get him to my place."

Josiah nodded, his mind far away and his heart sunk as a flash of memory hit him. Of thrusting with all his might at someone attacking him from the back. He hadn’t looked to see who it was, didn’t care at the time, but now…as he lifted J.D.’s feet he stared at the boy’s bruised face and he knew. Oh, God, he knew it wasn’t one of the strangers who’d hurt J.D. Now he was going to have to live with this.

*******

"All right you can go now." Nathan had helped Josiah get J.D. settled on his cot, now he wanted the big man out of his way.

"I want to stay. Do something." Josiah stood in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on the pale form on top of the covers.

"You’ve done enough already." Nathan couldn’t control the sharpness of his tone. He was already mad at Josiah and seeing him stand there, gawking at the unconscious boy, just made the healer’s anger grow.

Josiah looked at him with wide eyes filled with remorse. He started to say something, but Nathan wanted none of it.

"You wanted to pick a fight with them fellers, well you got it didn’t you?"

"Nathan, this ain’t the time…" Buck whispered quietly as he sat on the bed next to J.D. "You two can argue after J.D.’s been taken care of."

Jackson filled a basin with cool water and snatched a rag from the overhead shelf.

"It was you they were aiming for, but it wasn’t you that got hurt was it?" The healer spat out the words as he brushed past Josiah and handed the basin and the cloth to Buck.

Nathan knew Josiah never meant for his actions to cause harm to any of his friends. Especially J.D. But Nathan refused to cover for him right now. If a man wanted to bury his troubles in a bottle he reckoned that was his business. Except Josiah usually proved to be a mean drunk that didn’t limit his destructive behavior to himself. Jackson had seen the storm brewing as his friend sat alone in the corner. He had tried to talk some sense into the stubborn fool, but he was too drunk to listen. Unfortunately for J.D., this might be the only thing that would make the ex-preacher think the next time he decided to start a drunken brawl to ease his own pain.

Buck wiped gingerly at the swollen flesh beneath the youth’s left eye, dabbing at the fresh blood oozing from the split on his cheekbone. Nathan’s heart sunk as he watched the older man flinch as he cleaned the wound, yet J.D. never stirred.

"Here, let me have a look." Nathan took the rag from Buck and wiped with a little more force, the gunslinger’s touch had been much too light to completely remove the dried blood clinging to J.D.’s face.

Nathan ran his thumb carefully over the bruises and let out a frustrated sigh.

"What?" Buck’s worried face peered up at him.

"Think his cheekbone’s broken." Sympathy and sadness flooded his heart, but he didn’t have time to dwell on what shouldn’t have happened. "Hang on to him."

Nathan put one hand under J.D.’s shoulder and the other under his head as he tenderly rolled the youth onto his right side. He probed under the thick hair, expert fingers finding the outline of the knot forming at the base of the kid’s skull. "Damn."

Bullet wounds and broken bones were things he knew. Head injuries were tricky and even real doctors sometimes couldn’t give much more than a guess as to the extent of damage from a blow like this.

"Nathan?" Wilmington’s voice piqued with fear and Nathan realized the expression plastered on his dark features mirrored his own worry. He lowered J.D. back onto the pillow and affectionately brushed the bangs from the boy’s closed eyelids.

"We just have to wait and see when he wakes up, Buck."

Wait and see. Wait and see. How useless was that? He hated the distraught look on Buck’s face; hated the fact he didn’t know enough to even offer the big man a small ray of hope.

"Head injuries are tough to figure. If he wakes up in the next day or so he should be all right."

"And if he doesn’t?"

Nathan averted his eyes, good Lord why did they always have that unerring trust when they asked him these things? "The longer he stays unconscious…" The healer’s voice trailed and he pulled in a deep breath before he continued. "Let’s just take it one day at a time, Buck. He might wake up in an hour."

"Or not at all. Is that what you’re trying to say?" Buck’s voice quivered and Nathan shook his head as he looked at the cracks in the floor. Anywhere but into his friend’s tortured eyes.

"What I’m saying is I don’t know!" The words came out more harshly than he’d meant and he glanced at Josiah. The man had stood there the whole time, not moving or speaking, just staring.

Nathan shuddered at the haunted look in the man’s light blue eyes that brimmed with incomprehensible grief and loss, still he found it impossible to extend any sympathy. Not yet. Not while J.D. lay hurting right in front of them. Not before he knew the boy was going to recover from Josiah’s mistake.

Suddenly the heat in the tiny room was stifling and Nathan had to get out. Escape. Get away from the moroseness and the uncertainty and put his thoughts back into some kind of order. He stood up from the bed, his knees nearly buckling from weakness, but he refused to give in. He stopped and briefly faced Josiah on his way to the door.

"Was it worth it?"

*******

A few hours earlier Josiah wouldn’t have believed the pain in his soul could have gotten any worse, yet in less than a half an hour it had tripled.

He remembered drinking, he remembered needing to teach some cowboys at the bar a lesson. He also remembered someone yelling his name, then hitting his back. Josiah thought one of the men had gotten behind him, but he realized now they wouldn’t have known who he was. Only someone he knew would have slapped him on the shoulder and called him by name.

The more he thought about it, the more sober he became and the more he remembered. Josiah stepped slowly up to the bed where J.D. lay, one side of his face a mass of swollen bruises that he had put there. That sweet, innocent boy might never wake up again because of him and right now he’d give anything to take back that split second that changed both their lives.

"Josiah." Buck’s concerned voice broke through his reverie and Josiah realized his tears were dripping onto J.D.’s blood splattered shirt.

"I’m sorry, John Dunne." Josiah placed a huge palm on the kid’s head and knelt down on one knee beside the bed. He heard Buck talking, unsure if the words were meant for him or the unconscious boy lying in front of them. Didn’t matter, he couldn’t really hear them anyway. He had his own words running through his head. Guilty as sin. Guilty as sin.

---

PART 2

Buck awoke to the growing daylight as it streamed through the minute cracks in the wood in Nathan’s shack. Have to remember to offer to help Nathan patch up the place, since I wake up here every other day. He quickly sat upright, recalling exactly why he was sitting in this dang chair again.

Despite the morning sun, the room remained dark and Buck quickly turned up the lamp beside the young man’s bed.

"Hey, son, time to rise and shine." Buck tried to sound jovial, but when J.D. failed to respond the tone faltered. He smoothed back the dark hair for his own comfort as much as for the sick boy. "Inez is making breakfast so you’d better make sure you get to them biscuits before I do."

Buck patted J.D.’s chest, shaking him slightly, careful not to jostle the kid’s injuries. "J.D., come on now, you need to wake up for me, boy. I’m gettin’ real tired of talking to myself here."

"How’s he doin’?" Nathan appeared from the shadows of the other chair in the corner, his eyes tired and Buck would bet as blood-shot as his were.

"Still out of it." Buck continued to stroke the top of J.D.’s head, hoping if nothing else the kid would get annoyed enough to wake up and tell him to cut it out.

Nathan pulled back the curtain to let in more light and sat on the bed next to the young man. He ran his fingers lightly along J.D.’s swollen cheek then examined the back of the boy’s head. Buck involuntarily ground his teeth together in empathy until the probing stopped. J.D. didn’t seem to feel anything, yet Wilmington felt the pain of each touch.

The healer pulled back the boy’s closed eyelids, studying the pupils, his face an unreadable mask. Buck didn’t interrupt, but inside he was dying for something more than wait and see.

Jackson got up, then quickly returned with one of his sewing needles, lifting up the covers and poking at J.D.’s bare foot.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh. See if he moves, his eyelids, anything at all when I do this." Nathan stuck the sharp instrument into the tender arch of the boy’s foot. J.D. jerked his leg slightly.

Buck looked up at Nathan’s smiling face. "What?"

The black man yanked up J.D.’s shirt and pricked the boy’s flat belly. J.D. let out a short grunt as his stomach muscles contracted, trying to pull away from the pain. Buck reached out and wrapped his fingers around Nathan’s wrist to stop him from hurting the boy again.

"What the hell are you doin’?" Buck could feel the heat of anger rising to his face, but Nathan looked practically giddy.

"He can feel that!"

"You’re stickin’ him in the gut with a needle, of course he feels that!"

"Which means he’s not in a coma, which means he’s prob’ly gonna wake up ‘fore too long." Nathan’s eyes twinkled and he grinned widely.

Buck felt as if a 40-pound saddle had been lifted off his back and he let go of the healer’s arm. "Really? He’s gonna be all right?"

"I can’t say for sure, Buck, but I think so." Nathan laughed, the relief clearly echoing in that glorious sound. "I’ll tell the others and get us somethin’ to eat."

Nathan left and still Buck couldn’t control the goofy grin from spreading across his own face. He tenderly tousled J.D.’s soft hair and whispered in the boy’s ear. "You’d better wake up soon ‘cause I’m gonna keep doing this ‘til you make me stop."

The older man raised his eyes to the heavens and said a silent ‘thank you’ that his best friend would be all right. Buck figured J.D. had just knocked another 10 years of ole big brother Buck’s life with this little stunt. "Fool kid, you keep scaring me like this and I won’t be around long enough to see you grow a real beard."

*******

Soft humming floated through his brain, lulling him upwards and out of his protective cocoon of sleep. J.D. resisted. He didn’t want to push through the surface of reality just yet. It was safe here. Safe and quiet and no pain could reach him in this place, yet the security his refuge provided was wearing away.

The humming grew into familiar words attached to a more familiar voice. J.D.’s head felt huge, his face hurt, his eyes hurt, hell, even his ears hurt. He could feel the raised lump on the back of his head throbbing, sending out tiny bolts of pain inside his skull with each beat of his heart. J.D. couldn’t help the moan that tore from his throat as he tried to twist his neck and relieve the pressure. The slight movement only succeeded in increasing the agony as his head rolled heavily back against the tender spot. He really wanted to cry, but he simply didn’t have the strength.

Buck’s soft cadence gave way to what should have been meaningful words, but damn it hurt too much to try and figure them out. He wanted to turn and go back to his haven, but it was too late. A hitching sob escaped from his chest and he gasped at the stabbing pressure in his left cheek. He weakly reached up to see if his face was still there; the deep throbbing ache that shot through him meant it had to be.

"Easy, son. Just relax." The words finally connected to his muddled brain and he tried to obey, but he couldn’t rest. The steadily increasing agony in his head and the nausea in his gut made sure of that. He felt Buck’s hand lightly cup the back of his head and J.D. cried out as more pain exploded through the confines of his skull.

"Sorry, kid." Buck shifted his grip to his neck and held him up slightly, just long enough to drink from the cup that was pressed against his lips. J.D. had hoped it would be water, but he knew better. Nathan’s swamp tea rolled warmly down his parched throat, the wetness soothing, yet the taste made him want to retch. J.D. tried to open his eyes but the mere act of trying to make his eyelids work proved too much so he kept them shut. Why am I so tired?

Buck eased him back down and helped him settle slightly on his right side, supporting his back with another pillow and relieving the pressure against the painful lump on his head.

"Thanks." It wasn’t much more than a breath and J.D. hoped Buck understood the gratitude he desperately wanted to put behind it. He sighed heavily and gathered enough strength to ask one more question. "What…happened?"

"Let’s just say you still ain’t learned the fine art of knowin’ when to duck."

Buck sounded way too happy and J.D. wished he could just tell the big man to shut up. Of course that would have been just for show. It didn’t matter what Wilmington was spouting, J.D. found solace simply in his best friend’s presence. The young man allowed his body to melt back into the warmth and safety of unconsciousness and let his pain drift away with Buck’s soothing timbre.

*******

Josiah leaned forward in his chair, observing from a distance the light banter between his friends. Nathan’s voice rose with excitement as the healer told Chris, Vin and Ezra that J.D. was probably going to wake up soon.

The ex-preacher lifted his head slightly toward the heavens and said a silent prayer of thanks at the news. He saw them look his way and he nodded his agreement with their excitement, but didn’t bother to leave the solitude he’d imposed on himself.

Again, Josiah occupied the same table in the corner, away from his friends, away from everyone. Only this time there were no bottles of whiskey, no mugs of beer, just a lone cup of cold coffee that he found himself staring into more than drinking.

Would they want him to be a part of their celebration if they knew what he’d done? Nathan had already made his feelings clear, God, what would he say if he knew it was Josiah’s elbow that literally cracked open the boy’s face? Probably they’d be kind and just run him out of town, of course he could hope they’d go ahead and string him up and release him from the hell he found himself wallowing in.

Thoughts of regret choked him. His whole life seemed to be full of bad choices and lamentation and it sickened him. He’d never found out what a true family was until he became a part of this group of misfits. He’d tried to purge his soul and now everyone he loved was paying for it. J.D. especially.

Josiah made up his mind. It was the least he could do for the only friends he’d ever really cared about.

As soon as J.D. was on his feet and well again, this good-for-nothing drunk would be gone.

*******

Friends shouting greetings to each other from the boardwalk, children laughing, the heavy thud of horses’ hooves and squeaky wagon wheels flooded through the open window.

J.D. lay quietly on Nathan’s cot and relied on visions to tell him what he could not see. He dared not open his eyes or move more muscles than it took to breathe. He’d already tried that and thought his head was going to explode. As long as he lay still and didn’t think too much about it, the intense pain could be lulled into merely an annoying ache.

He was tired of sleeping, tired of hurting and he hated being stuck here while the rest of the world went on about its business. More than that he hated thinking it would all continue on whether or not he was around to share it. Damn depressing. He’d better think on something else.

J.D. heard the door creak and the urge to open his eyes got the best of him. He still didn’t move, because all he needed to make his misery complete was to throw up on Nathan’s floor - again.

A light film of darkness covered every inch of the room and J.D. figured he’d slept through the whole day. Damn. A large shadow loomed over his bed and knew it had to be one of the guys, but in his fragile state it unnerved him just the same.

"Nathan?" He croaked out the name, surprised at the effort speaking took and how scratchy his throat still felt.

"J.D., you awake?"

J.D. thought about nodding, then thought better of it. "Turn up the lamp, I can’t see nothin’."

He heard Nathan move toward the nightstand, but apparently the healer had other plans because there was no glow from the kerosene lantern.

"How ya feelin’, son?"

"I’m fine. Long as I don’t move nothin’." J.D. felt his words echo through his head and threatened to bring back the pain he’d tried so hard to keep at bay. Still, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold it back much longer.

"Here, sit up and have some of this." Sitting up was the last thing in the world J.D. wanted to do, but before he had a chance to protest, a strong hand supported his head as he was lifted off the mattress. He let out a startled and painful cry as Nathan’s grip kept his head from flopping bonelessly back toward the bed. God, that hurt.

A cool cup was placed in his palms and J.D. strained to see. He felt disoriented enough without trying to drink in the dark, but sitting up had made him light headed and talking took too damn much effort.

"Turn up the lamp." J.D. knew his tone came out much too snappy, but he was too tired and frustrated to be polite.

"Ain’t no need, you’re goin’ right back to sleep." Nathan sounded worried all of a sudden and J.D. wasn’t up to arguing anyway. The throbbing agony in his swollen face let him know he’d already moved and talked too much for his poor battered body to take. He really hated feeling this awful.

Nathan continued to force the cup of cold tea down him until the contents were drained. He gingerly lay J.D. back onto the bed, positioning him off the lump on his head the same way Buck had done earlier.

"That oughta help you get back to sleep. Next time you wake up we’ll get some food in ya."

The medicine already began to take effect and J.D. let his body relax against the warm sheets. His lids slid closed and he tried to find the way back to that pain-free shelter of sleep.

*******

Nathan stood over the boy until he was sure the herbs were working their magic and J.D. had slipped into a quiet sleep. The healer’s hands shook as he pulled the thin blanket onto the kid’s shoulders and he fought to control the panic swelling in his chest.

Jackson turned to look at the sun streaming in the window, illuminating every corner of the room, then looked back at J.D.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his wildly thumping heart. Nathan knew he had let his guard down, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. What if he woke up next time and still couldn’t see? What was he going to tell J.D. then?

Nathan had seen a lot of head injuries during the war. The most amazing thing was how sometimes men with wounds Nathan had been positive would be fatal, had been up and around the next day. On the other hand the healer had seen men barely grazed by an enemy bullet who seemed fine then drop dead without warning. Head wounds were just too tricky and very hard for a real doctor to diagnose.

And J.D.’s injury just reminded himself exactly how far from being a real doctor he was.

He had no idea how to treat J.D., had no idea why the boy was blind or if he ever would see again. How do you tell a 19 year-old kid his life has changed forever and you can’t do a damn thing to help him?

Heavy footsteps on the landing signaled Buck’s return and Nathan quickly met him at the door. He stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him.

"What’s goin’ on? Is J.D. all right?" Buck’s expression turned anxious as he tilted his head in anticipation of the healer’s reply.

"He’s sleepin’, don’t wanna disturb ‘im." Nathan licked his lips nervously and moved near the railing. He wanted as much distance as he could manage between Buck’s voice and J.D.’s hearing range when he told him what he knew.

"Buck." Damn this was hard. One of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, in some ways more difficult than telling J.D. himself. "Buck, J.D. woke up a few minutes ago, talked to me a bit."

Wilmington’s face wore a mask of total confusion and Nathan stared out at the activity in the street below to escape the glare of the man’s dark blue eyes.

"He kept askin’ me to turn up the lamp, said he couldn’t see nothin’." He knew the worry in his voice was scaring Buck, but the pain in his own heart couldn’t be contained.

"Hell, Nathan, it can’t be that dark in there, all the sun streaming through them cracks and the window and…" Buck’s voice trailed as he began to understand what the black man was telling him.

Buck’s face turned a ghostly pale and he stepped closer to the door, as if he needed to go inside, but wasn’t sure he should. "Are you tellin’ me J.D. is blind?" The gunslinger’s voice shook as he whispered the question and Nathan turned to face him.

"That room’s nearly as bright as it is out here. He should have seen who I was, should have seen everything in front of him, but he didn’t."

"Oh, God, Nathan." Wilmington shook his head, his body trying to deny what his head was telling him. "I need to talk to him."

"He don’t know yet. He thought it was still nighttime and I didn’t tell him no different just yet."

"You think this is just temporary, I mean that he’ll get all right when he heals up?" Buck’s tone sounded of mock hope as he looked into Nathan’s face for confirmation. Nathan could hear the pleading between the lines, but he still had nothing reassuring to add.

Nathan shook his head. "I don’t know. I hope so, Buck. God, I hope so."

The gunslinger paced nervously from the railing toward the door and back again, unsure of exactly what it was he should do next. Buck shut his eyes, agony etched in his features as he slammed his hand hard against the wooden railing. "NO!"

Nathan grabbed Buck’s arm and whirled him around to face him. "Listen, we need to tell Chris and the others, leave the rest of the town out of this for now. Just give me some time to see if I can figure out what’s wrong and if there’s somethin’ I can do about it."

Buck’s eyes were rimmed in red and his bottom lip trembled as he looked toward the door to Nathan’s shack.

"He’s gonna sleep until nightfall, just leave him be for another hour or so then you can come sit with him." Jackson tried to put a bit of reassurance in his tone, but he wasn’t sure he had succeeded.

Buck nodded then took off down the steps as if the devil himself was hot on his heels.

Nathan quietly made his way back inside and scanned the row of medical books he’d collected throughout his life. Despite the knowledge housed in those pages, right now the black man felt totally helpless. He grabbed a large volume and spread the heavy book open, settling in at his desk. He would read every word of every book on that shelf if that’s what it took. Maybe by the time J.D. did wake up again, Nathan would have an answer.

---

PART 3

Vin leaned lazily back in his chair and gazed out the window, his feet propped up on the desk as he guarded the prisoners in their cells. Not that they really needed it. They were a quiet bunch, all still nursing wounds from the fight the night before.

Chris had hoped a night in jail would make one of them confess or have them turn on each other, but no such luck. Not yet anyway. All continued to deny attacking anyone but Josiah and that was merely in self-defense. Vin figured even if they had hit J.D., that it wasn’t done out of malice. They’d probably be free to go by that afternoon.

The wooden door burst open, slamming against the wall and rattling the hinges that held it to the frame.

The tracker sat upright quickly, his hand automatically going for the gun cradled in his arms. He lay the weapon on the desk when he recognized the tall form.

"Damn, Buck." The relief evident in Vin’s voice.

Buck didn’t acknowledge the words. He didn’t seem to notice Vin’s presence at all as he grabbed the set of keys off the wall and yanked open the outer cell door.

"What are you doin’?" Vin yelled as he righted his chair and leapt to his feet, reaching his friend in two long strides.

Buck shrugged off the tracker and thrust the key into the lock and stormed into the cell. One man lay silently on his cot, too hurt or too scared to move. The other backed up against the wall, his eyes wide as Wilmington placed a large palm around his friend’s tender throat.

"Buck!" Vin grabbed the gunslinger’s arm, but couldn’t stop the assault. Tanner saw the rage eating away at Buck’s soul and a flash of dread gripped his heart. <J.D.’s dead.> If that were true Vin decided he didn’t care what his friend did to the prisoners. He’d probably stop Wilmington before he actually killed anybody, of course, but for now a little aggression just might get them what they needed.

"Which one of you hit that boy?" Buck’s tone was soft, but the deadly threat underneath was crystal clear.

"I don’t know, but it weren’t any of us. Honest, mister." The man croaked out the words from his constricted windpipe, the fear in his face giving way as he neared unconsciousness.

Buck let out a growl of frustration and tossed the prisoner onto the empty cot.

"Buck." Vin’s voice was quiet and he hesitated asking the question he wasn’t at all sure he wanted an answer to. "Is J.D. …?" Vin couldn’t make himself finish the question, as if actually hearing the dreaded word out loud would make it so.

Buck turned on his heel and left the cell and Vin closed his eyes. <No, God, please no.> He shut the heavy door behind him and followed. Wilmington leaned on the front of the sheriff’s desk, his long arms supporting him, his head tucked into his chest.

"He can’t see."

Vin felt like a hot knife had been shoved into his gut. At least J.D. wasn’t dead, he repeated to himself, yet to the kid, this might be worse. He was so independent, so eager for adventure, how the hell would he get along without his sight?

"Why…" Vin couldn’t find the words, his thoughts a string of jumbled images, none of which would translate into understandable speech.

"Nathan doesn’t know why, not yet anyway. He just said head injuries were tricky and that J.D. couldn’t see him well enough to recognize him with the curtains wide open."

Buck stumbled toward the door and Vin sensed the the grief ready to overtake him. "Can you tell Chris?" Buck’s words trembled as he turned glazed eyes toward Tanner.

"Yeah, I’ll tell him."

Buck nodded his thanks and disappeared into the brightness outside. Vin couldn’t count the number of times he’d been shot, beaten and left for dead. He’d thought about dying plenty. He’d spent a lot of pain-filled and sleepless nights wondering if it would be his last on this earth, but he’d never considered anything in-between life and death. Never worried about what it would be like to lose an arm or a leg, or not be able to walk - or see.

Vin closed his eyes and tried to imagine being told he’d have to make do without his sight. He’d be about as worthless as a glass nail. Tanner felt a cold prickling against his neck and he knew he couldn’t live like that.

Neither could J.D.

He looked at the subdued men in the cell, knowing it wasn’t their fault, but still understanding Buck’s rage. Vin raked a trembling hand across his face and fought back his own sorrow. This would kill the kid as surely as a bullet to the heart, except in a painful and drawn out ordeal that lasted the rest of his life, instead of being over in a tragic instant.

*******

Ezra leaned forward in the wooden chair and set his eyes toward the street below. The view had to be better than looking at the misshapen array of bruises that covered the left side of J.D.’s youthful face or the intermittent spasms of pain that contorted his features even more. Ezra had merely come by to inquire about the boy’s health, but had reluctantly stayed while Nathan grabbed a quick meal and ran some necessary errands.

Normally sitting with a fallen comrade didn’t bother him. It made him feel more like a part of them because they were putting him in a position of sacred trust. Ezra especially never minded watching over J.D., but now, Nathan’s words continued to echo in his head. Standish couldn’t stand the thought of J.D.’s life forever altered and he felt utterly powerless. Lord, he hated that emotion more than anything, and knowing that helpless feeling would now be a major part of J.D.’s life made seeing him all the more unbearable.

Ezra absently shuffled his cards between his fingers, wondering what J.D. would do when he realized. Blindness would have to be the worst thing that could happen to a man out here and the gambler tried to imagine himself in his place, yet he couldn’t fathom the idea. His brain refused to acknowledge the possibility beyond what it would do to J.D. and his heart ached for the youth.

J.D. was too young, too innocent and too full of grandeur and promise for this to be happening. It just wasn’t fair. Ezra found himself trying to refute the permanence of Nathan’s diagnosis. After all, the boy’s left eye was almost totally swollen shut, and such a severe blow to the head could cause anyone to be too dizzy to see straight. That was probably it exactly. He just needed time to heal properly.

Ezra grinned at his own self-indulgent revelation and turned to look at J.D. The young man twitched in a restless sleep, but Ezra held fast to his beliefs. He had to because he wasn’t about to confront the alternative.

J.D. moaned and shifted slightly, his hand rising from the covers and reaching for his wounded cheek.

Standish pushed back the chair and grabbed J.D.’s arm before the boy’s groping made the damage worse. J.D. curled forward, his eyes shut tight and a low groan echoed deep within his throat.

"What’s wrong, son?" Ezra wasn’t sure what to do so he held J.D.’s arm away from his face and cupped his other hand on the boy’s damp hair. "It’s all right, J.D." Standish whispered softly. "Do you want me to bring you something?"

J.D.’s features contorted into a grimace and he cried out softly before pressing the uninjured side of his face in the pillow. Ezra clenched his jaw in sympathy as his hand slid down the back of J.D.’s head and he felt the muscles in the boy’s neck tense against his palm. J.D. curled in tighter, his hand desperately trying to pull free of Ezra’s grip as he heaved in mouthfuls of air between gritted teeth.

Ezra didn’t exactly pride himself on his comforting abilities, Nathan and Buck were much more competent when it came to that aspect. Especially when it came to J.D. Except right now neither of them were here. He was it.

Standish felt his heart pound out an unnatural rhythm in his chest. He knew he might soon have a distraught youth on his hands if J.D. actually woke up and realized he could no longer see. Helping J.D. through the pain was one thing, but dealing with his emotional despair was not something Ezra wanted to handle alone. He gently squeezed the knotted muscles at the base of J.D.’s neck as he turned to stare at the door, hoping Nathan would appear from sheer force of will.

It didn’t work.

Ezra continued to knead the corded tendons as the kid strained to control the obviously excruciating pain. Then just as suddenly, J.D.’s entire body seemed to melt into the mattress and his panting evened out into rapid, but easy breaths.

"J.D.?" Ezra continued to rub the kid’s neck as he leaned in closer. "Are you all right?"

J.D. nodded weakly and tried to smile. "Yeah."

Ezra released J.D.’s arm and patted his shoulder. "Yes, I can see that." Ezra let the sarcasm roll off his tongue, although he doubted J.D. was up to deciphering much of anything in his present state.

"What just happened then?"

J.D. gingerly rested his now free hand on his swollen face and rolled onto his back. His good eye opened and Ezra almost gasped in panic as J.D. blinked rapidly, trying to focus.

"Felt like my head was bein’ crushed under a wagon wheel, then it just went away."

Standish watched closely. J.D. seemed calm, but that was probably more from weakness than peace of mind. Ezra was perplexed about his symptoms and his nonchalance at not being able to see him. Yes, maybe Nathan had been wrong and the boy could see just fine after all.

"Why does Nathan keep it so dark in here?"

His elation fell so hard Ezra thought he had actually heard it hit the floor. Terror quickly filled up the space it had occupied and words tumbled inside Ezra’s brain as he searched for the right ones to use.

"Perhaps he feels the light might be more damaging to your fragile skull." Ezra heard the traitorous words slip past his lips and he cursed to himself.

"Oh, ok." J.D. mumbled softly and let out a heavy sigh and settled back into the pillow.

Damn coward. Ezra figured he might as well hop on the railing outside and crow like the gutless fowl that he was. He had done a lot of uncouth and deceitful things in his day, but none had ever made guilt sit in his chest like a stone this way. J.D. didn’t deserve to be lied to, but Ezra knew the boy would be much better off learning of his loss in the presence of Buck or Nathan. Anyone but him.

*******

J.D. knew he would never be as good as Ezra when it came to spotting a con, but something about the gambler’s voice made him suspicious. The high-pitched falter at the end of his sentence, the long pause between J.D.’s question and his friend’s answer made him think there was definitely something going on he wasn’t privileged to know.

Then again it hurt too much to think about anything more strenuous than breathing. His smashed cheek felt like it was cracking open again when he talked, so he decided not to do that anymore, unless he had to. J.D. fought through the darkness, straining to make out the outline of a shadow that had to be Ezra.

Time had become a mystery to him. He couldn’t be sure if this was still the same night he talked to Nathan or if he had slept through another day and into another night. His head began to throb with the confusion and he closed his eyes. Well, one eye. The left one was shut tight from the swelling in his cheekbone, making him feel lopsided and hideous.

Ezra got up from the bed and JD watched the muted image walk toward the door. At least he thought it was the direction of the door. Damn, when would this pounding in the back of his head stop? Maybe he should just go back to sleep, but that eluded him too. He’d slept so long his bones ached and he longed to just stretch his legs even if it was just to the door and back.

"Ezra?" J.D. said the name without moving his jaw, which helped somewhat.

The shadow moved and stood above him. "Yes, Mr. Dunne?"

"Help me up." J.D. mumbled as he threw the thin blanket off his body and tried to push himself into a sitting position.

"Now, J.D., Nathan will not forgive me if I let you…"

"’lease." The word slurred on his tongue and hurt a hell of a lot more than it should have.

Ezra took one arm and steadied him against his shoulder as he stood. J.D. suddenly felt weak and dizzy and his knees buckled beneath him.

"Whoa, there." Ezra grunted from the strain as J.D. felt the gambler catch him with both hands to prevent him from kissing the dusty floor. He tried to help as Ezra heaved him back onto the small bed, but it was all he could do to sit upright. "I think that will be quite enough exercise, for the both of us."

J.D.’s body conceded even though his mind very much wanted to pretend he was at least capable of walking across the room. He was exhausted already and the pain intensified from the effort. Damn, he hated fumbling around in the dark, trying to force his eyes to make out something more than shapes was frustrating as hell and probably the reason his head hurt so bad.

Ezra tried to force J.D. to lie down, but that’s not what he wanted. J.D. wanted to sit up, wanted to get back a little bit of what he’d been missing for the last day, or was it two?

"Water." J.D. managed to pronounce without moving his lips and he felt Ezra pat him on the shoulder before he turned away.

J.D. had had just about enough of straining his eyes in this murkiness. He ignored the pounding in his skull as he stretched his hand to the nightstand and reached for the lamp he knew sat at the far corner. If Nathan or Ezra wouldn’t turn up the damn lamp, then he’d do it himself.

His clumsy fingers fumbled with the knob, but he could only see a faint glow. That wasn’t right. He’d turned on enough lamps in his time to know the room should be bright as the mid-day sky by now. Something must be wrong with the wick.

J.D. grabbed the glass cover and screamed in surprise as searing pain branded his palm. He heard the lamp shatter as it hit the hard floor and a crackling noise at the edge of his bed.

"J.D.!"

Ezra’s cry of alarm reached him just before the scalding heat slapped at his face. Panic fueled by a rush of adrenaline gave J.D. enough strength to push off the other side of the bed and put some distance between himself and the impending danger. His brain swirled with confusion as brightness flooded his vision, making splashes of color dance in his line of sight, but nothing else. Smoke flooded his nostrils and he gagged as he pulled in a deep breath.

Fire.

He heard Ezra smothering the flames with a blanket, cursing softly to himself. He heard Nathan’s heavy footsteps and the door as it banged open, but he still couldn’t make out anything more than shadows.

"J.D.!"

It was Nathan this time. The brightness faded, the sickening smell of burnt cloth and kerosene hung like a suffocating cloud, forcing him to cough again. His heart pounded in his ears, beating out an irregular cadence in his already throbbing head. Hands gripped his shoulders, cupped his face and ran along the side of his head.

"You all right, son?" Nathan’s voice mingled in the air with the smoke and the despair J.D. felt invading his soul. "What on earth did you think you were doing?"

Realization teetered on the edge of his mind, but he didn’t want to fall yet.

"I’m sorry." J.D. coughed and stared toward the voice he heard in front of him. "I couldn’t see it, Nathan. I…" J.D.’s heart swelled with panic. He couldn’t think, didn’t want to think and most of all he didn’t want to admit what his mind told him already. That the darkness blocking out the world was his alone.

His quiet voice shook uncontrollably as he tried to grasp the truth. "I…I can’t see."

*******

Nathan felt his eyes mist over at J.D.’s sudden realization and automatically wrapped his arm around the trembling youth. He knew the boy’s nerves were frazzled and the revelation of being unable to see, well, he just couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t wanted J.D. to find out this way. Of course, Nathan wasn’t at all sure what way might have made the reality any easier on him, but certainly not setting his bed on fire trying to turn up the lamp.

"Ezra, open up them windows, get some fresh air in here." Nathan looked up at the gambler but he stood rooted to the floor, the scorched remains of J.D.’s blanket still clutched tightly in his hands. "Ezra!"

Standish blinked hard then nodded and slowly backed toward the window.

"Are you all right, son?" Nathan felt the boy’s breaths grow more ragged, but he didn’t answer. J.D. cradled his right hand against his chest as he leaned forward, dark hair hanging over his face and hiding the despair Nathan knew was written in the kid’s sightless eyes.

The healer reached out and examined his young friend’s burned hand. It wasn’t too bad, but he knew J.D. needed to get back to bed. He was probably numb from fear and confusion, but he needed to rest, absorb the overwhelming information he’d just been slapped in the face with. It was probably the only thing that could help him right now. Lord knows Nathan didn’t have a better idea.

Nathan was going to ask Ezra to put clean linens on the mattress, but saw he had already begun to strip off the singed bedcovers.

"Sheets are in there." Nathan tilted his head toward the worn trunk and smiled to convey his gratitude. He would have helped, but he didn’t want to leave J.D.’s side. Not yet.

Ezra worked quickly then helped Nathan lift J.D. to his feet long enough to get him settled back into bed.

"I’ll get Mr. Wilmington." Ezra smiled nervously and almost made it out the open door before J.D. spoke up.

"No." The word was barely audible, but the desperation in his tone tore at Nathan’s heart. Ezra stopped and looked at the healer, his eyes creased in confusion.

"Buck’s probably on his way over here anyway." Nathan stated as he smoothed salve into J.D.’s blistered palm.

"No, I don’t want nobody to see me like this." J.D. pulled his hand from Nathan’s grasp, his voice lowering to barely a whisper. "Not ‘til I’m well."

Nathan swallowed hard and nodded for Ezra to go on. He knew the gambler would tell Buck that J.D. needed him. 'And for whatever fight J.D. might try to put up, Nathan wasn’t about to indulge his petty attempts at bravado. Not when the kid needed the paternal gunslinger’s support more than ever.

"You can tell ‘im yourself, cause I’d rather shove my arm down a rabid grizzly’s throat than tell Buck he can’t get to you." Nathan winked, then felt his cheeks flush as he remembered J.D. was oblivious to anything but the sound of his voice.

J.D. let out a sigh of resignation, too weak to continue the argument. "Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

"When am I gonna be able to see?"

The healer leaned in and pulled the clean blanket up to the youth’s broad shoulders. "I don’t know, J.D. We’ll just have to wait."

"I *am* gonna be able to see again, right?" J.D.’s voice piqued with a hint of dread and a cold chill ran the length of Nathan’s spine.

He wanted to shout ‘YES’, tell J.D. not to worry, of course his sight would come back. But that would instill a hope he honestly didn’t feel and that wouldn’t be fair. Then again there was not a damn thing fair about any of this.

Nathan smoothed J.D.’s hair from his face gently, wishing he could take away some of the pain and confusion he knew twisted around the young man’s heart.

"I don’t know that either, son."

*******

Continued in Part 4

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