Disclaimer: Nope, don't own 'm. I've argued that I should... that I've paid my dues... but nobody listens. What a surprise.

Warnings: Nothin' much. Blood, cussin' and a little angst, that's about it.

Notes: No, this story has nothing to do with Mr. Biehn's movie of the same name. This is written as a replacement fic for Aiyanna. Sorry about the other plot bunny hon, hope this makes up for it.

Two riders shared the quiet morning, their horses' hooves crunching across the frosted prairie grass. One rider was hunkered down inside a long black duster, a brightly colored serape draped over it. Beside him, his companion wore buckskin, his blanket wrapped around him for extra warmth. The cold spell had caught the men off-guard, just over a day's ride from the comforts of home.

"Reckon we'll make home by tomorrow evening," Chris Larabee commented, his breath frosting the air around him.

Nodding, Vin Tanner said, "could cut off a couple hours, but it's rougher goin'."

Frowning at his friend, the blond said, "you know a quicker way to get me back to a warm bed, a warmer woman, and a bottle of whiskey, and you weren't gonna say anything?"

Shrugging the ex-bounty hunter said, "wasn't fer certain yer ol' bones c'd take 't."

Glaring at the grinning Texan, Larabee said, "you're a smart ass looking for a bullet between the eyes, you know it?"

With a chuckle, Vin said, "figger yer eyesight's as old as yer bones, Lar'bee, reckon I c'n stay far 'nuff ahead a y' t' keep m' hide 'n one piece."

"Wanna lay money on that?"

Pondering the question for a minute, Tanner frowned and shook his head. "Don't reckon so. Hell, Ezra's holdin' most a m' money as 'tis."

With a chuff of laughter, the gunman said, "hell, he sees more of our money than any of us ever get a chance to. I say when we get back into town we get it back. I think Buck and Josiah..." he stopped when he realized that the other man wasn't listening to him. Looking sidelong toward the younger man, he saw that Vin's attention was focused on some point in the distance. "What is it?"

Shaking his head, the sharpshooter loosened the thong on the hammer of his hogleg. "Ain't fer certain, but somethin's causin' m' hackles t' raise."

Grinning as he loosened his Colt in its holster, the gunslinger said, "hackles? You have been spending too much time with Standish."

"Reckon. Think y' c'n stay in th' saddle long 'nuff t' git t' them trees, ol' man?"

Fixing his sight on a stand of trees half a mile away, Larabee smiled grimly and said, "reckon."

They slapped reins and spurred the two black horses to a dead run, aiming for the trees. Neither of them understood why they heard no shots throughout the ride, but their curiosity was answered when, just as they found themselves in the shadow of the grove, a single shot rang out. Vin cursed as Chris slumped forward over Pony's neck. Catching the gelding's halter, he slowed the animal, and guided both horses quickly to shelter behind the closely spaced trunks. Leaping from the saddle, he reached up to help the injured man down, only to have Larabee slide limply into his arms. Stumbling backwards a step, the rangy hunter recovered and carried his friend a few steps, lowering him to the ground beneath a big tree. He turned toward the direction they had come, scanning with sharp eyes for signs of their attackers.

They were much closer than he expected.

Staring into the faces of three large, mean looking men, Vin growled low in his throat. The men were wearing the rough woven clothes of prisoners, escapees from Fort Laramie maybe, or more likely one of the nearby work camps. Only one carried a gun, the others making do with clubs made of heavy tree limbs, and the chains that had shackled them together.

"Howdy, boys," Tanner said evenly, stepping between his injured friend and the trio.

"We'll take yer guns, boy," the man with the gun said.

"Reckon I'm gonna have t' say no t' that," Vin drawled. "I'm kind 'a partial t' carryin' it m'self, an' m' friend here? He even beds a woman with 't on."

"Boy, I got no time ner in'erest t' know yer life story, but I'm more 'n willin' t' put th' period at th' end of 't fer y'. Now, hand over them guns."

With a small grin, the tracker lifted his hogleg out of its holster. However, rather than handing it over, he flipped it up quickly, shooting one of the three outlaws before the others could blink. He felt agonizing pain rip through his side as he felled a second man. A sharp report from a lighter weapon announced the death of the armed man, who collapsed with a third eye drilled into his forehead by a Colt bullet.

Vin surveyed the damage, satisfied that their attackers wouldn't be causing them any more trouble. Just to make certain, he kicked the clubs, chains, and shotgun away from outstretched arms and limp hands. Moving as if he were trapped in quicksand, the young man turned toward his friend. Smiling when he saw cool hazel eyes regarding him dazedly, he stepped over and dropped wearily to his knees beside his friend.

"How y' feelin', pard?"

"Been better," the blond said, his voice rough with pain. "How about... you?"

Glancing down at his side, somewhat surprised to see a spreading crimson stain on his coat, he said, "reckon I been better m'self. Looks like we got... us a... a helluva mess h-here."

"Think you're ri-right. So... you wanna patch me up... first... or want me to p-patch up your sorry... sorry hide?"

"You've been bleedin' longer... let's git you tended... tended to first." He struggled to his feet and shuffled across to where their horses stood. Reaching Peso first, he spoke softly to the big animal, managing to pull the saddlebags from the broad back. He repeated the process with Chris' gelding, calling to Pony quietly as he retrieved the 'bags as well as Larabee's bedroll. His own had slipped from around his shoulders, and was somewhere on their back trail. Dropping the things near Larabee's prone form, he returned for the canteens and wrapped the horses' reins around a low branch. He knew he could neither untack the animals nor could they afford to lose them right now.

Going back to where Larabee lay, Tanner dropped to his knees once more, doubting that he would be able to stand again anytime soon. He pulled the serape back, then struggled to undo the black duster. A groan told him that the blond was still conscious. Not sparing the energy to speak, he worked to open the layers of clothing and expose the man's upper body. It seemed to take hours before he found the wound. It was just below the man's left collarbone, in his back. There was no second hole, meaning the bullet was still inside the broad chest. He knew he should try and get the piece of metal out of Larabee's body, but knew, too, that he didn't have the strength at the moment. Managing to find the bandages they never failed to find amongst their belongings, he thanked Nathan's diligence once again. Finding a small bottle of carbolic acid, he poured it over the wound, apologizing to the older man as soon as Chris finished cursing him through clenched teeth. Making a pad from one strip and wrapping the boiled cloth around the broad chest, he managed to bandage his friend's wound. By the time he sat back, he was seeing stars, and darkness framed the edges of his vision.

Larabee managed to clear his own sight of pained tears, blinking them away as he looked up into his friend's ashen face. "Time to get you... patched up."

"I'm... I'm fine," Tanner rasped, dropping forward to lean on one arm, while the other wrapped around his middle.

"The h-hell you are. Sit down... and let's get... get you patched up."

"You need t' take a few minutes... Chris... git.. git yer bearin's. I'll... I'll keep."

"Sit down...Tanner."

"Yer awful bossy fer a... man carryin' a... a hunk a lead in 'm."

"And you're a pain in the... ass... no-count buff' h-hunter. Now shut up... and sit down."

Rather than sitting down, the Texan pitched face first to the ground. The blond sighed, the sound turning into a moan as he forced his pain-wracked body to move. Pushing himself up, he pulled and tugged at the unconscious man until he had him in a better position. Then, his left arm numb and useless, he struggled to open the multiple layers of clothing Tanner insisted on wearing winter and summer. Finally he found the well-honed chest, and located a long, deep gash in the lean side. Just as Vin had done for him, Chris fought his own weakness and managed to clean and dress the ragged wound. Finishing, he managed to close the layers of cloth back over Tanner's chest and struggled to move the thin man closer to where he had been propped up against the tree trunk. Groaning as he settled his friend on the ground and spread his bedroll over him, Larabee dropped to the grass beside him. He pulled his serape close around him, then breathed a sigh as he fell unconscious.

A frightening silence fell over the little glade of trees.

"Hey, Buck," JD Dunne called across the street.

"Hey, Kid," Wilmington said distractedly.

"What's the matter?"

"Huh? Oh... uh, nothin' JD. Just thinkin'."

"About what?" JD asked as he leaned against an upright, studying his friend's pensive face.

"Just thinkin' about askin' Miss Katie t' go out t' Chris' shack with me later... t' check on 'is stock a course. It's a nice day for a buggy ride, y' know."

Rolling his eyes, the young sheriff groaned. "Yeah, right."

Laughing, the big ladies man slapped his friend on the shoulder as he walked past him to head for the livery. As he strode along the street, he called over his shoulder, "tell Josiah an' Nathan I'll be back t' take my watch at sundown!"

Vin struggled to open his eyes as someone nearby moaned in pain. He couldn't figure out what was going on or where he was, but knew that he needed to respond to the sounds of pain. His blue eyes slanted open, staring unfocused toward the brilliant, cloudless, sky. Chris. He suddenly remembered that the person in pain was his best friend. "Chr... Chris?"

Beside the young sharpshooter, the blond groaned again. The world was on fire... it had to be. The air burned his throat as he breathed in, and burned his nostrils even more as he breathed out. He struggled to open his eyes, to find a way out of the inferno that surrounded him. Finally managing to open his eyes to slits, he looked up, amazed to see no flames in front of his face. He heard his name called in a raspy voice, and managed to whisper, "Vin?"

"Chris... you... you 'kay?"

"No," he admitted quietly. "You?"

"No. We... we gotta... gotta go, pard. We gotta... git... he...help."

"Go? Wh-where?"

"Town... gotta git t' town. Nathan... gotta git t' Nath... Nathan."

"Nathan. Nath'n... help," the fire threatened to consume him, forcing the thoughts from his feverish mind. He moaned, lifting a weak hand up to wipe at his damp forehead.

Tanner struggled to push himself upright, crying out as his injured side screamed in protest. Hunching over in pain, he struggled to catch his breath. Slowly the world righted itself and stopped spinning around him, allowing him to focus on his friend. He pulled himself around, reaching out to touch the pale man. He bit back a curse as he felt the fever building in the other man. "Chris... Ch-Chris... wake up, p-pard... y' gotta wake... up."

"Vin?" It was nothing more than a breathless whisper.

"C'mon... gotta... gotta go."

"Go?"

"Home, Ch... Chris. We g-gotta.. gotta... home," he mumbled as he struggled to remain conscious. Deciding he was wasting time talking, he pushed himself to his knees, pausing to gasp for breath for precious moments. Finally willing himself onward, he made it to his feet and stumbled to where the horses stood waiting. Loosening the reins, he led the horses back to where Larabee waited. Nearly falling once more, he managed to put the saddlebags, blanket and canteens back on the horses backs, then turned to where the blond lay, unconscious once more. Slumping to his knees once again beside the other man, he slapped at the heated cheeks. "C'mon... Chris... gotta go."

"Lemme be," the older man said, muttering a curse. "Go 'way."

"Chris... c'mon. I... I cain't... get'cha... y' gotta... gotta help me."

Something in the Texan's tone managed to get through to the delirious mind, and Larabee blinked his eyes open. "Vin?"

"C'mon, Ch-Chris... we got... gotta go. Git help."

"Help." The blond turned the word over in his mind, finally nodding. "Help."

Together the two injured men managed to get to their feet. Vin got Chris to his horse, pushing him upward as the blond attempted to mount the gelding with one arm. Then he shuffled to his own horse, managing to climb into the saddle after three unsuccessful tries. He put Pony's reins into Larabee's hand, then took Peso's into his own. Clucking, he coaxed the big black forward, watching to make certain that Chris was with him.

The two men rode slowly through the empty prairie, both of them clinging gamely to their saddles. Morning moved toward afternoon and afternoon toward evening. Amazingly neither Larabee nor Tanner fell from their horses. Finally Tanner registered the fact that evening was approaching. He managed to find shelter in the form of a clump of trees beside a small stream. Once there, he dismounted and helped Chris from his horse as well. They both dropped wearily to the ground, lying unmoving for nearly an hour.

Finally Tanner managed to pull himself back toward consciousness, and pushed himself upward. Finding Larabee beside him, he reached out to reassure himself that his friend was still breathing. With a sigh, he looked around for their horses. Finding them standing at the nearby stream, he stumbled to them, stripping the canteens and saddlebags from the black backs. It seemed to take hours to return to where Chris lay, but he managed to shuffle the few yards to the trees. Dropping his cargo, he fell to the ground as well, barely managing to catch himself before he re-injured his side. Slowly he worked at checking Chris' injury and giving the man a drink. Only then did he check his side, deciding that it could wait, and take a few swallows himself. Capping the container, he laid it aside, looking longingly at the blanket. He was cold, bone-deep tendrils of ice seemed to be consuming him, turning him to a frigid mass. Denying himself the comfort it could provide, he draped it over his friend.

Larabee felt the additional heat pour through him, moaning softly as he struggled to move away from the cloying warmth. He struggled to open his eyes once more, managing to focus on the world around him after some time. He pushed the blanket away, only to find it returned. Three attempts to rid himself of the added heat met with no success, leaving him angry and frustrated. Finally he managed to croak, "no."

"Chris... got... y' gotta keep... keep warm," the younger man argued.

"Am warm," he grated out. Even talking caused waves of pain to course through him.

"Y' are?"

"I can't... can't take any more... too hot."

Reaching out a trembling hand, Vin touched the man's flushed cheek, the warmth even more pronounced beneath his chilled touch. "Damn... y' are." He pulled the blanket away and fumbled with it until he wrapped it around his own shivering form, content that Larabee would be more comfortable without the added warmth.

Chris watched his friend, frowning as he noted how the lean body shook. "Vin... you're... what's... what's wrong?"

"C-cold," the sharpshooter managed the stutter.

"C'mere," Larabee reached for his friend, and began pulling at the layers of clothes. Finally he found the rough bandage he'd wrapped around the man earlier. He noted the red stain. "You're st-still bleeding."

Frowning, the man looked down only then actually seeing the bright crimson mixing with darker, drier stains. "Ah hell." He looked around, locating the stream, and slowly processed what he needed to do next. Pushing himself shakily to his feet, Tanner stumbled to the water, dropping to the ground again. He dug at the stream's edge, gathering a mixture of mud and water grasses. Unable to push himself up, he crawled one handed back to where Larabee lay.

"Chris?"

Pain-glazed eyes fluttered open, finally focusing on the other man.

"Need... need yer help."

The blond frowned as he slowly recognized what the sharpshooter was holding. "Help?"

Nodding, the Texan said, "push... push this int'... int' th' wound. It'll st... it'll stop th' b...b... bleeding."

It took three times as long as it normally might, but the older man managed to press the natural mixture into the long gash, replacing the soiled bandage. By the time he finished, both men were trembling with exertion and pain. Vin collapsed to the ground, wheezing as he tried to get his breathing back under control. He slanted a weary look up as he felt something, and found the wounded gunslinger covering him with the blanket. "Sure y'... don' need... this?"

"I'm hotter... than Hades in... Ju... July," Larabee countered.

"Sound like... Buck," Vin grumbled. He knew he should stay awake to get the other man settled, that Chris was burning with fever and needed his attention. But the siren song of sleep lulled him into unconsciousness.

Beside him, Larabee watched his friend settle beneath the blanket with a winded sigh. Scrubbing a hand across his face, he struggled to clear his mind. He heard a sound behind him, and slowly registered the fact that there was a stream nearby. Slowly pushing himself up, he staggered toward the sound, his fading vision unable to focus on the water until he was right beside it. Dropping to his knees, he cried out as pain shot through him. Slumping sideways, he lay beside the water, one arm reaching into it, moaning as the cold bit into his heated flesh. He managed to lift his arm once more, slinging the water across his face as the wooden limb fell across his eyes. Sliding the sodden sleeve along his face, he let his arm fall to his side. He thought about repeating the process, but couldn't manage the feat. With a tired groan, he slipped into unconsciousness as well.

Buck smiled as his mind wandered back across the day. He and the lovely, dark-haired Kate had taken a leisurely buggy ride out to his old friend's little homestead. She had watched as he worked quickly to see that the little herd the gunman was slowly gathering and breaking had food and water. Then, they had retired to the one room shack for an afternoon's pleasure. He knew Chris would notice the change of bedding on his bed, but he also knew the gunman wouldn't say anything. And if he did? It would be more than worth the blond's ire to have those hours forever in his memory.

"What'cha smilin' at, Buck?"

Turning to the man beside him, he frowned. JD had insisted on riding along on the night rounds, despite his assurance that he would be fine. The young sheriff had received a telegram alerting him that three hardened criminals had escaped from the prison camp in Calerton, and were thought to be heading south toward Mexico. Pointing out that the route they took on their rounds was in a direct line between Calerton and the border, he had argued that the big ladies man needed someone to watch his back. Worn down by the shear length of the young man's speech, Wilmington had finally given in. It was easier than fighting the headache he felt coming on as JD continued his spiel.

"Buck? What were you smiling about?" The Easterner repeated.

With a sigh, the bigger man said, "nothin', JD, nothin'."

Shaking his head and frowning, Dunne tried to puzzle through Wilmington's uncharacteristic silence. Finally shrugging off those thoughts, he turned his mind to more important things. "What do you think I ought to get Casey for her birthday?"

He frowned up into the night sky, trying hard to remember when he had bedded down, and why he hadn't built a fire. He shivered hard as the night air stole through the wool blanket. Then things returned to him with crystal clarity. Running his tongue across dry lips, he croaked, "Chris?"

Pushing himself up, Tanner scanned the area around him, searching for his friend. Sleep blurred vision made it more difficult than it should be, but he finally spotted a vague outline beside the little stream. Holding one arm tight against his wounded side, he managed to push himself to his feet after only two tries. Stumbling to where Larabee lay, he dropped to the ground beside him, reaching out a hand to touch the long neck. Sighing with relief when he felt a faint heartbeat, he called softly, "Chris?"

Somewhere in the darkness of deep unconsciousness, the blond heard his name called. He fought the weakness and searing heat, fighting to reach the sharpshooter. After several tries, he managed a hoarse whisper, "Vin?"

Smiling, the younger man absently brushed back errant, sweat-soaked, blond locks. Managing to loosen his bandana, he dipped it in the cold water, hissing as it threatened to freeze him on contact. Squeezing the soaked cloth, he wiped it across the pale features. He watched the furrowed brow relax as the cold water eased a little of the fever. He knew it wouldn't last, though. He needed to get the injured man back to town. His tracker's instincts had kept them heading for town, and some part of him knew they were only a few hours from Four Corners.

"You should go... get... get help," the blond whispered hoarsely. Not even fever and pain could block out the bond he shared with the other man, and he could read the man's thoughts as easily as if he had spoken them.

"Don't wanna le... leave y' here 'lone... pard," Tanner argued.

"I don't have... have it in me to... get back on... back... back on my... horse."

"I'll help y'."

"Vin... ain't argue...arguing."

"Good... it's settled then. Soon 's I git m'... wind, I'll... git th' horses."

"Damn... damn it," Chris protested. Then he couldn't help but relax as Vin pressed the bandana against his lips, helping him slake his terrible thirst as the cold water dribbled down his throat. The cloth dampened his face and neck, holding the heat at bay for a few minutes.

Tanner continued to brush the wet cloth across the ashen features, forcing himself to stay awake as he fought to figure out their next move. He found it uncharacteristically difficult to keep his usually nimble mind focused on the present situation. He had to get them both back on horseback and on the trail to the place they had come to call home. Once there he could turn everything over to their five friends. But first he had to work out the logistics of getting the two of them into the saddle.

"Vin."

"Thought y' was... wasn't arguin'."

"You can make better... time... alone."

Using the frustration he felt at the blond's return to their argument to fuel him, Tanner fought to get to his feet, then fought harder to stay there. Swaying dangerously, he managed to retrieve their canteens, saddlebags and the blanket from where they had been left. Filling the canteens with fresh water, he readied the horses, then coaxed them over to where Chris still lay.

"At least wait... 'til morning," Larabee tried to reason with the stubborn man.

"We c'n be.. there... by... by mornin'," Tanner said breathlessly. He dropped to the ground beside his friend and resumed his bid to cool the man down. It was nearly half an hour before he recovered enough to consider standing again. Straightening, he instructed, "gonna git y' sit... sittin' up, then we'll... go from there."

Sighing when he realized he wasn't going to change the man's mind, Chris allowed himself to be pulled up to a sitting position. He groaned as his injured shoulder protested the movement, but managed to stay as Vin left him. He could only watch as the younger man climbed to his feet and coaxed Pony a few steps closer.

Reaching down, the sharpshooter said, "c'mon ol... man. Time t'... go."

Biting off a pained cry, Chris pushed himself to his feet with Vin's help. The two men leaned against one another as the exertion nearly sent them both back to the ground. Finally recovering, Vin guided the blond to the saddle, and pushed him onto the broad back. Getting Larabee mounted, he slumped against the gelding's side, his forehead pressed against the gunslinger's black clad leg.

"Vin?" The concern far outweighed the pain in the older man's voice.

"'M...'kay," Tanner managed. "Jist... gimme a min... minute."

Gathering the last of his strength, the former bounty hunter struggled to get onto his own horse, the big animal seeming even bigger in the face of his failing strength. Finally managing to climb into the saddle, he caught up his reins. Looking to see that Larabee was slumped forward, laying against Pony's thick neck, he retrieved the other set of reins as well. Straightening with a groan, he coaxed the two animals forward, pointing them toward home.

The moon was balancing itself on the horizon, sending its silver light across the broad, open prairie. On one side two riders were engaged in a comfortable banter. Buck had finally reconciled himself to spending the night in the young Easterner's company, while JD had realized that Buck was in a rare, thoughtful mood. On the other side of the broad expanse two horses carried limp figures, barely maintaining their balance on the broad backs.

"Hey, Buck, what's that?"

Looking in the direction the smaller man indicated, Wilmington squinted at the vague outline of two riders coming toward them. "Riders. Somethin's wrong, though. Keep on your guard, Kid."

They rode cautiously forward, loosening their side arms as they did. The pale moon hid the identity of the other two riders until they were only yards away. Then Dunne's keen eyes focused on familiar figures, one draped across his horse's neck, the other slumped forward, barely managing to guide the horses.

"It's Chris and Vin!"

"Ah, hell," Buck growled as he rode beside his companion to intercept their friends. He reached out to halt Peso, only to have the semi-conscious bounty hunter try to fight him off.

"Le' go... gotta... git t'... town."

Easily deflecting a weak punch, Wilmington said in a calm but firm voice, "damn it Vin, it's Buck an' JD. Settle down and let us take care a y'!"

"Buck? JD?" Unfocused blue eyes blinked in the bigger man's direction.

"Yeah, stud, it's us. Now, let us take care a you an' Chris, all right?"

Nodding, Tanner slumped forward, barely maintaining his seat. He felt the reins taken from his hands and then they were on the move again. With a tired sigh, he let his head drop forward to rest on his chest.

The two peacekeepers led their friends along the trail, stopping at a familiar pond. Bringing the horses to a halt, Buck and JD dismounted and turned to their friends. While Dunne helped the semi-conscious tracker to the ground, Wilmington lifted an unconscious Larabee from the saddle and settled him beside the other injured man. He could feel the heat pouring from the lean body, and laid a big hand over the pale forehead.

"He's burnin' up," he commented to the sheriff.

"Vin's like ice," JD replied.

Little more was said as the two men investigated, seeking to find out what had happened to their friends. Finding the wounds, they elected to leave them alone and concentrate on getting both men help. Deciding that their best bet would be to get Chris and Vin to Larabee's cabin, then send JD on into town for Nathan, they got them on horseback once more. Wilmington held the blond in the saddle before him, while Tanner lay against Dunne's back from where he shared the saddle with him.

They rode as quickly as possible, given the injuries of the two men, and got to the little shack just as the first hints of dawn touched the sky. Buck dismounted, pulling the limp gunslinger into his arms, and strode to the cabin's door. Behind him, JD helped Vin from the saddle, guiding him as Tanner shuffled to the little home.

Inside, Wilmington settled his old friend on his narrow bunk, then turned to help JD. Using clean straw from outside the corral and several blankets they made a decent bed for Tanner, as close to the stove as possible. Making both men comfortable, the big man turned to his smaller companion.

"I'll take care of 'm now, Kid. You get into town quick 's y' can an' get Nathan out here."

Nodding, taking one last look at his two injured friends, Dunne hurried from the little one room home. A few minutes later found him once more on the road, driving his little chestnut as fast as possible.

"Bu... Buck?"

The ladies man turned toward the sound of his name, managing a smile when he saw a pair of hazel eyes blinking up at him. "Hey, stud, how y' feelin'?"

"Hot... th-thirsty," Larabee managed to whisper hoarsely.

"I'll get y' somethin'," Wilmington retrieved a canteen, bringing it in and kneeling beside the blond's bed. Slipping a hand beneath the sweat-soaked head, he lifted it slightly and helped him take a few sips of water. Judging that his friend had had enough, he took away the canteen and lowered Chris' head back to the pillow. "Better?"

Nodding weakly, Chris let his eyes shut, but didn't return completely to the darkness. "Vin?"

"Sleepin' over by th' stove. Looks like th' two a you found a peck a trouble."

"Yeah," Larabee whispered. "Buck... hot... too hot."

Carefully, Wilmington removed the gunman's serape and coat, leaving him to lay atop the covers. Going to the well outside, he filled a bucket with cool water, and returned to sit beside his long-time friend. Using a cloth from the gunman's cabinet, he gently bathed the pale face. Leaving it draped across the broad forehead, he unbuttoned the man's dark shirt, opening it to brush the cool cloth over his neck and chest. From time to time Chris moaned softly but, otherwise, he lay listlessly on the mattress.

Buck's dark blue eyes ran across the blond's face, watching for any sign of consciousness. Softly he began to pray. After a time the man's dark eyes opened, then closed again without any indication that he'd seen anything. A soft moan, and then nothing more as Larabee remained unconscious.

"Chr... Chris."

Turning to the thick pallet across the room, the former lawman said softly, "he's okay, Vin. You just go on back to sleep."

"Buck?" The single word was accompanied by the rustle of straw and cloth, indicating that the tracker was trying to rise.

With a huff of a sigh, Wilmington placed the rag across Larabee's forehead once more and stepped across in time to stop the lean man from rising. "Now, you lay still, y' hard-headed Texan. You get back under them covers 'fore you shake your bones loose. Chris 's sleepin' and JD's gone t' get Nathan, so you just rest."

With a sigh, the injured man slumped back onto the blankets. He didn't argue as Buck adjusted the blankets over him. He heard the big man moving around, then felt Wilmington's hand slip beneath his head and lift it up. The mouth of a canteen was pressed against his lips, and he managed a few drinks of the cool liquid. As his head was lowered back to the blankets, he managed to mutter, "thanks," before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

"You're welcome," the big ladies man whispered as he watched the younger man slip back into unconsciousness. Sitting back on his heels, he stretched his back, rubbing a hand across his face. He just hoped that Nathan got to them soon.

The big man smiled with relief a couple of hours later as he heard the sound of horses approaching the little house. Moving from where he had been working to cool the blond down, he strode to the door. Opening it, he blinked into the morning sun as he watched JD ride up, accompanied by not only Nathan Jackson, but Josiah Sanchez.

"Howdy boys," he called out, his cheerful tone unable to completely disguise the relief in his voice.

"How they doin'?" Nathan asked as he stepped down from his horse, pulling his medical kit with him.

"Still breathin'," Buck responded. "Chris 's burnin' up, and Vin's teeth 'r still chatterin', he's so cold," he explained as he led the men back into the house.

While Josiah went to check on Vin, Nathan knelt beside Chris' low bunk, checking the feverish man over. For several minutes the world seemed to hold its breath while the two injured men were looked over by their friends. Buck relinquished the care of the two men and dropped to a chair beside the little table at the other side of the cabin. He looked up wearily as something came into his line of sight. Taking the bottle of red-eye with a cheeky grin, he nodded his thanks to the young sheriff. "Thanks."

Nodding, Dunne returned to where he had been helping Josiah. The former preacher had stripped Vin to the waist, removing the soiled bandage. He frowned at the amount of dried blood on the young man's clothes. "Looks like he bled for quite a while."

"Probably why he's so cold," Nathan responded from where he was working on Chris. "He's probably in shock. Is the wound bad?"

"It's gonna have to be cleaned out, he's got some sort of concoction of mud and grass packed into it."

"Kept him from bleedin' to death. Right now, just bind it up again and wrap him up in as many blankets as you can. JD, heat some water and I'll mix up somethin' for him to drink in a bit. I'm gonna need plenty of water to take care of Chris, too. The bullet's still in there, and it's infected. Between that, the fever, and the hard time both of these men have had, they're gonna have a rough road ahead."

Three sets of eyes turned toward the dark healer. Each pair held a look of grim determination. They weren't about to let their two friends travel that road alone.

Buck mused that he hadn't really had to change the bedding on Chris' bunk after all. Not only did they have to change the bedding, but turn the mattress. And when the blond was better, they'd more than likely have to burn the thing to get rid of the smell of blood.

Larabee barely made a sound while they turned him to his belly and Nathan dug the bullet out. He cleaned out the infection as well, pressing on the wound until the blood welled up without a hint of pus. Packing the wound with an herbal concoction, he left it open for the time being to make certain the infection was gone. With Buck's help, he lifted the unconscious man and bandaged his wound. They bound Chris' arm to his side to keep him from moving it too much. That done, they changed the bedding and settled their friend back onto the bed once more. Leaving the mustached man to continue bathing the listless man with cool water, Jackson moved to where Josiah sat with Vin.

The big man had fed the tracker a mug of hot, herbal tea, followed by another in an effort to still the shivering. Despite his best efforts, however, the young man continued to tremble, although it was slowly decreasing. Jackson removed the bandage on his side, carefully cleaned out the dried mass pressed along the jagged tear, and bathed it with carbolic acid. Vin moaned, his head tossing back and forth as he struggled to get away from the source of pain. He pushed at restraining hands weakly, muttering for them to leave him alone.

Cleansing the wound as best he could, Nathan carefully began to stitch the flesh closed, trusting that Sanchez would be able to keep Tanner still while he did. Finishing, he bound the wound while Josiah held Vin up to rest against him. Finally, he fed the injured man another mug of hot tea.

Both men settled into a deep sleep, their bodies finally relaxing as they sensed, even without waking, that they had friends to watch over them.

Weary, pained eyes blinked open, frowning as weak light filled the air around him. Vin turned his head, moaning softly as nausea welled up at the movement. He frowned as he struggled to decipher what had happened and where he was. Then a pale face entered his line of sight, and he looked into the wide hazel eyes of JD Dunne. In a weak rasp, he said, "hey, Kid."

"Hey Vin," Dunne responded, uncharacteristically subdued. The young sheriff gently lifted the tousled head, feeding him more hot tea. Smiling as the tracker slanted a glare in his direction and wrinkled his nose, he said only, "Nathan's orders. We've been trying to get you warmed up."

"How is he, JD?"

Turning toward where the healer sat with the others, surrounding Chris' bed, he said, "seems to be better, he ain't shiverin' as bad as earlier."

"I c'n talk, y' know," Tanner managed to grate out as he tried unsuccessfully to pull himself up.

"You lay still, Vin," Nathan said without turning. "JD, you sit on him if y' have to, but he ain't ready to get up."

"You got it, Doc," Dunne replied, looking meaningfully down into the tracker's slowly drooping eyes. To Tanner he said, "I don't think you could take me right now, Vin, so lay still.

"How's Chris?" The sharpshooter asked, content to lie still for the moment.

Eyes flitting from the Texan to where the others were, JD said vaguely, "Nathan's taking care of him."

Hearing the concern in the young man's voice, Tanner's eyes opened once more. "JD?"

Fighting the urge to just ignore the question his friend didn't ask, Dunne said, "he's got a bad fever, Vin. Nathan, Buck and Josiah are doing everything they can to get it down."

The injured man groaned, lifting a hand to rub at the ache between his eyes. He wanted reassurance that the other man would be all right, but was afraid to ask for it. He was afraid that none of them would be able to say the words he wanted to hear. Afraid that he would get an answer that he didn't want... that Chris was going to die. Dropping his hand, he looked up at Dunne and managed a nod before closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

Across the room, life and death were battling to claim Chris Larabee.

They had placed a canvas tarp beneath him, leaving him to lay nude atop it while they soaked him down with cool water. Buck and Josiah had kept busy for nearly an hour, filling the nearly empty rain barrel with fresh water from the nearby stream. Now it was half empty once again. The two men soaked a sheet in the barrel, squeezing it out just enough that they didn't lose much water, and draped it over the fevered man. They barely had time to soak another sheet before the heat began to dry the one covering Chris. While Wilmington and Sanchez were doing that, Nathan bathed the blond's face and neck, running water through the man's thick hair as well. Every few minutes, he lifted the gunman's head and fed him a little water in an effort to stave of dehydration.

"Nathan?"

"I don't know Buck. I just don't know. All we can do is keep coolin' him down. I'll go fix him something to drink, why don't you and Josiah go fetch some fresh water. Take JD with you, I'll watch over these two." He sent the men off to the stream, fearful that it was a fool's errand. He could barely count the beats of the blond's heart, they were so fast and light. The fever continued to rage, burning him inside and out as it coursed through him. Time was running out, and Chris Larabee was running out of strength. The time for miracles was drawing near.

Shaking his head, the healer placed a fresh cloth over the gunman's forehead and stepped across the room to the table, retrieving a pot of water from the stove as he did. Rummaging around in his kit, he crushed herbs and dropped them into a mug, found others and crushed them into a second mug. Pouring hot water over the medicinal mix, he stirred both brews carefully before letting them steep. His mind was filled with visions of the past, watching as two men stood up to an entire gang, risking their lives to keep him from dying. And now, when he was called upon to return the favor, he feared he would only be able to save one of them.

Turning back, he started to cross back to the bed, only to stop and stare. Vin Tanner had managed to pull himself up from his bed on the floor, and walk across to where Larabee lay. Now he sat on the edge of the narrow cot, one hand clasped gently around one of the other man's limp ones.

"Vin - " he began, and then stopped, hearing the Texan speaking softly.

"All right, cowboy, y' need t' git somethin'... straight here. I ain't about t' sit here 'n let'cha go... go ridin' off like this. Now... y' best be fixin' t' wake up directly, pard... hear me? There's been sev... seven of us fer some time now... an' I'll be damned if I'm gonna... let'cha take off 'n make it six." He paused, drawing a deep, shuddering breath before he continued. "Y' cain't leave us Chris... 'cos if y' do, it won't be six... it'll be none."

Somewhere far away in the darkness, Chris Larabee heard his best friend's words. With a sigh, he moved away from the peace of nothingness, toward the faint pinpoint of light. It meant a return to pain as well as the everyday struggle to survive in the harsh life he had been weighed down with for so long. It also meant a return to the joy and companionship of his six friends. His brothers. It meant a return to one friend who had come to be his other self. Vin.

Nathan felt his own breath catch at the mournful tone of the young man's voice. He knew that Tanner was right, if Chris died, it would be the end of their brotherhood. Then his dark eyes widened as he saw the blond stir, his eyes fluttering open half way as he stared up at the other man. He grinned, shaking his head, as he padded softly across the room, almost afraid to break the spell their friendship had cast.

"Vin."

The Texan chocked back the tears that threatened to spill over, and managed to smile down at his friend. "'Bout time y' woke up."

One corner of his mouth turning up, Larabee simply said, "thirsty."

"Here, you need to drink this." Jackson knelt beside the bed, slipping in beside Tanner. Handing the tracker the second mug, he said, "you drink, too."

Chris' smile widened as he watched Tanner grimace, a soft growl escaping as he gingerly sipped at the bitter brew. He was so intent on watching his friend that he barely noticed when Nathan lifted his head from the pillow and pressed a warm mug to his lips. Taking a drink, he coughed, the action sending a wave of pain through him. When the dizziness passed, he found himself still cradled in the crook of Jackson's arm. The healer was wiping his face with a cool towel.

"Sorry, guess I should a warned you," the dark healer said.

"I'm okay," he muttered softly. He sipped carefully at the brew when the former slave held it to his lips once more. Finishing the drink, he sighed as his head was placed back on the pillow. Opening his eyes once more, he locked eyes with Vin. He felt the man's hand still wrapped around his, and managed to squeeze it weakly. Looking up into the finely chiseled face, he repeated even as he drifted back to sleep, "I'm okay."

Nathan looked from the gunslinger to where the tracker sat. He saw the relief that filled the younger man's pale face and knew that those two words had set his mind to rest. Then he watched as the lean body swayed, nearly toppling to the floor. He placed his arm on the injured man's arm. "Come on, Vin, let's get you back to bed."

"He's gon...gonna make 't... Nath...an," Tanner said in a raspy whisper. He let go of the other man's hand and looked up at the healer. He managed a smile, even as his eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward into Jackson's arms.

Shaking his head at the stubbornness of both men, the ex-slave said quietly, "yeah, Vin, he's gonna make it. Both of you are, I reckon."

The other three peacekeepers entered the little shack just as the big man stood, lifted Tanner into his arms and carried the limp body back to his makeshift bed. They stared from Larabee to Tanner and back again, trying to decipher what had occurred in their absence. Finally Josiah broke the silence.

"Nathan?"

Turning to his friends with an incredulous expression on his broad, handsome face, the healer said, "it's okay, Josiah... they're okay. I think they're both gonna make it."

The next two days sorely tested the former slave's prediction. While Vin slowly began to show signs of improvement, Chris drifted in and out of consciousness as his body continued to fight the infection. Finally, as their third morning at the little shack dawned, the fever burned itself out with a final burst that seemed to heat the entire cabin. As his body slowly cooled, the other men bathed and dressed him. While Buck held the limp body in his arms, Josiah and Nathan carried out the bloodied mattress and replaced it with one JD had brought in from town the night before.

Buck looked over the freshly washed blond head and locked eyes with Tanner. The younger man sat on the other side of the table, nursing yet another cup of 'horsepiss'. He smiled at the tracker, shaking his head at the miracle that had been sent their way. He would never understand it, nor would he question it. He was only thankful for it.

They were still seven.

Chris stifled a groan as he eased himself down onto the chair sitting on his porch. It had been three weeks since he had been shot, the first week a blur of memories mixed with dreams and nightmares. The second week he had been content to lay in his bed, just thankful that he was still alive. By the end of the third week, however, he had tested the patience of every one of his friends.

With one possible exception.

He smiled as Vin strolled around the side of the house, whistling off-tune as he carried a bucket of water for the horses. His friend had been up and around for over a week now, and hardly showed any signs of having been injured other than the occasional grimace when something pulled at the still healing wound. "You're awfully cheerful today."

"Ain't no reason not t' be," came the reply as the lanky man passed by, going to the trough and dumping the water out of the bucket. "It's a purty nice day."

"It is that," Larabee agreed, looking up into the brilliant blue sky. The fading memory of being wrapped in darkness caused him to sigh. It had been too damn close this time.

"Y' all right?"

Chris looked up to see Vin staring down at him, brows furrowed in concern. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

Nodding, Tanner started back to the stream. As he moved away he called over his shoulder, "well, don't think too hard... y' might hurt somethin'."

With a chuff of laughter, the blond watched as the cocky Texan walked out of sight. As he did, he couldn't help but remember hearing that same raspy drawl as he floated through the darkness. It had been that voice that had called him back. And that cocky Texan who had brought him back from the brink of death.

"Yeah," he said softly, struggling with the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. "Well, if I do hurt something, I reckon you'll be there to put me back together again."

The End