Nathan leaned on the railing outside his clinic, sipping lukewarm coffee and watching the town below. To anyone passing by he seemed to be just enjoying the evening breeze, getting away from the stuffy confines of his room, but he knew better. Now that Buck seemed to be out of immediate danger, Nathan let his worry switch back to his other friends. His eyes searched every rider, hoping to see all five figures returning in one piece.

Nathan had sent Dr. Matthews to the hotel for a meal and a quiet room with a soft bed. Lord knows nobody ever got any sleep around here unless they were doped up on laudanum and the aftereffects of morphine. He cast an eye through the open door to make sure Buck hadn't proven him wrong. Nathan yawned, not even the strong brew in his mug capable of curing his exhaustion.

Two familiar riders emerged from the shadows, their horses blowing hard as they stopped at the livery below. Nathan's heart beat wildly in his chest as he recognized the pair.

*******

Fear hammered in J.D.'s temples as he dropped from the saddle, his legs so weak he doubted their ability to even hold him upright. The truth that he'd ridden so hard to find out was about to be thrown in his face and he didn't know if he had the courage to confront it. He just wanted to know that Buck was all right. That his best friend would still have all his limbs and his sense of humor and the sparkle in his eyes again. He wanted to hear that so bad, because if Buck were dead, then no amount of denial or wishing would ever bring him back. Not knowing was the only thing that had keep his hopes alive. He held back slightly, watching as Larabee dismounted and started toward the staircase. The older man paused, looking at him. Through him and into his very soul it seemed. For the first time he realized Chris was afraid too.

J.D. took in a deep breath, forcing his body to move. His boots felt as if they were lined with lead shot as he dragged them up each step, but Chris's presence behind him urged him on.

Nathan appeared at the top of the landing, his face creased with worry that changed to utter shock. J.D. stopped, trying to read the healer's expression before he heard the words. No. Please God, no. Please don't tell me he's dead. Please, Nathan. His heart seemed to catch in the confines of his throat and he felt his knees try to buckle. He wanted to turn around. Just leave before reality shattered his illusions, but he refused to give in to his fears. Buck wouldn't leave him and by damn he wouldn't run out on his best friend again. Not ever.

*******

"Oh, God, please, he can't be..." J.D. whispered as a dusty trail of tears streaked his face.

Nathan glanced at Chris, the same look of dread in the older man's eyes and he realized they'd both misunderstood his concern. "No, oh no, J.D., Buck's alive."

J.D. let out a relieved cry as the words spilled off his tongue. "I gotta see him, Nathan. Please."

The kid didn't look a whole lot better than Buck right now, but he couldn't deny him this chance to see his best friend. Anyway, he needed to get J.D. checked out before the stubborn fool keeled over and the sooner he appeased him the sooner he could get him into a bed of his own. Nathan shook his head in resignation as he helped J.D. stumble up the last few steps. Chris remained silent, not moving to offer physical support, but Nathan noticed the man stuck close and watched, prepared to catch the boy if he faltered again.

Once inside Chris slid the wooden chair at Buck's side behind J.D. as Nathan guided him into the seat. J.D. seemed oblivious to everything else as he leaned forward and lay a shaky palm over Buck's hand. "Can he hear me?"

"I suspect he knows you're here." The question threatened to break Nathan's heart and he swallowed back his own surfacing emotions and determinedly poured water into a shallow basin and soaked a clean rag from the nightstand. He leaned down in front of J.D., and began to wipe away the dried grime.

"Not now, Nathan." J.D. said sharply as he pushed away his hand.

Nathan considered letting it go, but he just couldn't. "Yes, now. I don't want Buck wakin' up and seeing you lookin' like death warmed over."

J.D. stared at him with weary eyes and acquiesced either from agreement or because he was just too tired to fight. The young man watched Buck quietly as Nathan cleaned out the wound on his temple and prodded his upper body for broken bones. J.D. flinched a few times, but overall remained stoic and focused on Buck.

Nathan finished quickly and backed away suddenly feeling as if he were intruding. He motioned for Chris to join him outside and softly closed the door behind them. "Where's ever'body?"

"They should be back in another coupla hours. Ezra took a hit, but I think he'll be all right. He needed to travel a lot slower than J.D. was willing."

Nathan let out an exasperated sigh, his tone sharp as his shifting emotions finally settled on anger. "Can't you pigheaded fools at least have the decency to try and get hurt one at a time? You must think I don't have enough to do without ya'll gettin' shot up and beat up..."

He pushed past Larabee and gripped the railing in frustration, letting his gaze wander back toward the street below. The last few days had frayed his nerves and he fought the urge to ignore them all and sleep until things returned to normal. Exhaustion sure could put strange thoughts in a man's head and he pushed them aside before he did something he'd eventually regret.

"Nathan." Chris's voice was quiet, yet sent chills down his spine. "Is he gonna lose his leg?"

Nathan hesitated. He wished he could say no. Say it with a certainty that he knew Chris wanted to hear, but he didn't know yet. "Dr. Matthews did ever'thing he could. He said the leg looks good, but we'd know for sure in a few days." The words physically hurt as they reached Nathan's ears. Thinking it was one thing, saying it out loud was quite another.

*******

J.D. released the breath he was holding as the two men stepped out of the room. This was awkward enough without his friends watching over his shoulder. Now he could let down his guard a little. Let his mind unravel itself long enough to make some sense out of all of this, except there didn't seem to be any sense to it at all.

"I'm so sorry, Buck." He stared into the unconscious man's face through a haze of unshed tears. A part of him hoped Buck would wake up and assure him that the friend he knew was still resided there; another part of him hoped Buck would sleep a little longer, let him have time to pull himself together. The dark mustache stood barren against his friend's pale and bruised features. The closed eyes and the slackness of that solid jaw made J.D.'s heart ache. Buck was the strongest person he knew and to see him lying broken and so utterly helpless made him queasy. It reminded him of his own vulnerability, his own weaknesses and it reminded him of just how much he needed this man.

J.D. angrily wiped at his eyes and slowly gathered the courage to look at Buck's mangled limb. He'd been so focused on whether or not Buck was still alive that he'd forgotten to ask if he still had his leg. His heart thumped in his ears as he moved aside the bed sheet, gasping in a mixture of relief and horror at the sight of it swathed in thick bandages stained various shades of brown from the seeping blood.

A soft laugh of pent up anticipation and worry broke from his throat and he closed his eyes as he silently thanked God that Buck still had his leg. Pain slowly crept through his weary body and J.D. let his head fall into his hands, too exhausted and too afraid to move from his place beside his best friend. As if his mere presence would keep Buck from slipping away.

He focused on the soothing sound of Buck's breathing, letting the steady cadence lull him toward desperately needed sleep. A break in the rhythm startled him and he held his breath as he slowly peered over his hands and locked eyes with Buck.

He struggled for the right words as he felt the rush of tears escape. A wide smile split J.D.'s face as he recognized the dazed, but obvious, glint in Wilmington's eyes. The sparkle lay hidden beneath a layer of strong drugs and exhaustion, but J.D. could still see it. The look that welcomed him back and chastised his absence all at the same time. That expression of brotherly warmth and genuine affection that most people couldn't communicate with a whole dictionary of words.

Buck struggled against the confines of his sheets, his hand rising and weakly brushing J.D.'s swollen cheek. J.D. flinched slightly at the touch and grasped Buck's hand.

"I'm fine." J.D.'s lip trembled. After everything Buck had been through himself, he still thought of everyone else first. Typical. The trust and care he showed his friends, watching their backs, being there when they needed him; that was the reason the man had so many friends in the first place. And it was the reason JD and the others counted themselves lucky to have Buck's friendship.

J.D. had been praying almost non-stop since yesterday for this moment, for a chance to tell Buck how much he meant to him. Promised himself that if Buck wasn't dead that he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to tell him that he'd been the only father figure he'd ever had or would ever want. Except the tears were too close to the surface. He was too tired, too hampered with worry then relief…and too damn exhausted and hurting to follow through now. Of course it wasn't like Buck would remember even if he had spilled his guts.

By the time J.D. had decided to just let it be, the sound of soft snores drifted through the confines of the small room. Buck seemed to be resting easier now. J.D. hoped it was because of him. That his presence had eased his friend's worry just a little.

"J.D. get some sleep – I'll sit with him a while."

Chris's voice sounded far away despite the fact he could feel the gentle weight of the man's hand on the back of his neck. Chris was right and God knows he needed the rest. J.D. just couldn't seem to pull himself away. He'd managed to force his own pain aside and do what had to be done, but now his strength waned and he realized he wouldn't be under his own power much longer. He nodded and gently placed Buck's arm back under the coverlet.

"I'll be right over there." J.D. whispered. The irony of being the one uttering those words instead of the one hearing them gave him a renewed sense of worth. That maybe he could find the strength to repay Buck for all those times he'd been the one to pull him through.

He could do this. He wanted to do it.

J.D. allowed himself to be led to the cot across the room. He unhooked his gunbelt more out of habit than actual rationale and vaguely wondered why he never heard it hit the floor. He shut his eyes as aching bones met cool sheets. Let himself drift as Chris removed his boots and spread a quilt across his body.

"Thanks." J.D. could only manage to utter the one word, despite the enormous gratitude swelling inside his heart. Not just for helping him now or for riding after him, but for always being where he was needed. For all of them. He could sleep now. Safe in the company of his friends and safe in the knowledge that he'd made it. That Buck had made it. And that he would be capable of being his best friend's strength later on.

EPILOGUE

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