Content:
Gen
Ezra, Chris
Old West Universe
No Sexual Situations
No Violence

This story follows the episode "Obsession." For Lucy, who lured me through the door into the world of Four Corners, and to Judy S. and another good friend who loves Vin, both of whom welcomed me when I stepped through ... thanks, friends.

Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid ... all right?
Just make us be brave
Make us play nice
Let us be together tonight

DON'T LET US GET SICK ~ Warren Zevon

~~~

Chris Larabee hated ties. He'd always hated them. Sarah Larabee had loved it when he wore a tie, and Chris had done it to please her, although his loathing of the things sprang from the same source as her enjoyment: they both thought that Chris in a tie looked like a little boy ready for Sunday school.

Ella Gaines had loved him in a tie too, but not because he looked like a little boy. Ella had always said she liked knotting ties around Chris's neck almost as much as she liked removing them. Ella had knotted a tie around his neck that night only months ago, and then Ella had....

"Chris?"

Before his name was spoken, even as the shadow appeared in the doorframe, Chris reflexively clutched at his naked hip. Vin Tanner threw up both hands, palms out.

"Door was open, pardner."

Chris dropped his head and brought his hand up to his eyes. "Sorry...."

"S'okay." Vin was silent for a moment as he regarded his friend, a dark shadow in the fading light of the small rented room, slumped in a desolate posture that spoke volumes.

"You ready?" he asked softly.

"No. But I'll be along."

"Chris, it's Thanksgivin'. Come on along to Mary's with me ... it ain't right to keep her waitin'. Or Billy."

"You fight dirty, Vin."

"If I have to."

"I'll be along," Chris repeated.

But Tanner lingered in the doorway, his thin shoulder pressed against the wooden doorframe, reluctant to leave. Chris looked up in annoyance. Their eyes met, and Chris dropped his first. The younger man cleared his throat and shuffled the toe of one boot over the threshold.

"You been a long time alone, Chris," he said quietly. "Ella brought happier days to mind. You were reachin' for somethin' that felt good ... can't blame you for that. Nobody does. It ain't like ..." His eyes disappeared behind his hat brim. He didn't have to say the words.

Chris absolved Vin's guilt as he spoke it out loud. "No, it ain't like what you did with Charlotte, Vin," he said bitterly. "I hurt a hell of a lot more people."

"Chris--"

"Vin, get on out of here," he said wearily. "I told you, I'll be along." He returned his attention to the tie around his neck.

The younger man lifted his head to reveal blue eyes bright with remorse, but Larabee said nothing further. The hatbrim dropped once more, and the sound of Vin's boots receded as he went down the stairs, his footfalls silenced when he stepped out into the dust of the street.

But the setting sun had burned the afterimage of his silhouette into Chris's eyes; a shimmering ghost of Vin hung accusingly between Larabee and the dim reflection of his own face in the battered mirror on the bare wall. The gunslinger closed his eyes and watched as the glowing form faded in the darkness there, then stretched one long arm out for the black leather gunbelt on the dresser top. The new skin over the bullet wound in his shoulder pulled painfully, but Chris gritted his teeth and followed through with the motion, buckling the belt around his hips and bending to fasten the holster string around his thigh.

He peered into the foggy silver of the mirror and straightened the tie one last time. Chris had made his peace with wearing ties, at least before Ella Gaines had come back into his life. The things that had happened after Ella had coaxed him into wearing a tie were never to be made peace with. But it really didn't matter ... Chris Larabee figured himself a fool for ever having thought his heart might recapture an echo of peace with her.

~~~

Light spilled out through the windows of the Clarion office and lay in warm yellow squares on the boardwalk. Vin stood with one hand on the doorknob, looking back the way he had come, searching for a black shadow in the darkness. But Chris Larabee was nowhere to be seen. Bitter regret seized the tracker's gut and he surrendered to it, leaning heavily against the door as if he were taken by a physical pain.

His own damn fault as much as Chris's ... everything that had happened. He'd failed to watch his friend's back. Vin had found out Ella Gaines for what she was, and tried to warn Chris, and given up far too easily when his friend had refused to listen. It had been the memory of his own fall from grace that had caused him to back off as Chris had once backed off from him, letting him find his own way. Vin had returned that courtesy, reluctantly and against his gut instincts, and his friend ... all of his friends ... had paid dearly. Ella had taken Chris, misled and wounded him, body and soul, and damn near killed him. Now Larabee was a man down, bleeding and slowly dying from a wound that would not heal.

The door swung open suddenly and Vin stepped back in reflexive defensiveness, his hand dropping to his gun. Mary Travis froze, as startled as the tracker she'd inadvertantly spooked.

"Vin?" she said uncertainly. He saw her blue eyes dart over his shoulder and swiftly search the darkness of the street behind him, then close briefly in disappointment before lifting again to his face. Then Mary smiled, and if it hadn't been for that quick questing gaze, Vin would never have known the pain hidden behind her welcome.

"Vin Tanner, come in out of the cold!" she scolded softly as she drew him into the warm room with one small hand upon his arm and closed the door on the empty street behind him. She did not ask where Chris was; she didn't have to. The small boy who slipped from Ezra's lap and dashed eagerly to the door voiced the question for her.

"Hi, Vin! You're late! Where's Chris?"

Vin winced visibly, and across the room Josiah and Nathan noticed and exchanged glances. "Damn," Nathan breathed, and Ezra heard the whispered oath and frowned. On the other side of the room, Nettie Wells did not hear Nathan but breathed her own damnation. Arm in arm, JD and Casey looked at her in astonishment, while Buck simply nodded sadly to himself and dropped his head.

"Billy...."

The gentle admonishment drew the child's face to his mother's. Whatever he saw there caused the heart of every adult in the room to break as the boy visibly mustered a too-old expression of understanding, tinged with apology. Equally naked was Billy's reasoning on how to make things right. He looked up at Vin with a blinding smile and took the tracker's callused hand in his own. "Dinner's not ready, but Gramma sent some oranges," he said brightly. "Do you want one? I can peel it for you ... Ezra showed me how."

Vin swallowed hard. "I'd like that, Billy." He allowed himself to be led to Mary's desk, which was draped in a lace tablecloth and held the promised bowl of oranges. An invisible wake of sadness trailed behind the two as they made their way across the room.

Mary clutched her apron in one hand and offered her guests a wan smile. "I'd best get back to the kitchen," she said, and disappeared through the door to the living quarters. Vin glanced across the room and caught Nettie Wells' eye; he raised an eyebrow, and she nodded.

"I think I'll lend a hand," she said, following Mary.

Those left behind looked at each other, and Buck sighed. "I reckon I'd best go fetch him."

But Josiah reached out and put a big hand on Wilmington's arm. "Mr. Larabee will be here," he murmured.

"Yeah, Buck," JD affirmed with only a slight undercurrent of worry in his voice. "He'll be here. He will."

Vin looked up from watching Billy peel his orange, and Ezra could see the misery filming the tracker's blue eyes. The gambler frowned again, but said nothing.

~~~

Harbinger of winter, the chilly November wind blew off the plains and eddied through the darkened streets of Four Corners unchallenged until it reached a dark figure standing statue-like outside the offices of the Clarion. Unconcerned, the harsh draft moved over and around the man, whipping his black duster around his legs and leaving a scattering of detritus piled around his boots.

Chris Larabee paid as little heed to the wind as the wind did to him. The cold crept into his bones and left them chilled to the marrow, yet far warmer than his heart. Within the small clapboard building that spilled inviting light out into the darkness were gathered the people he cared about most in the world. They were waiting for him, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to step up onto the boardwalk, couldn't force himself to take the doorknob in hand and go inside to join them. What they had forgiven, Chris Larabee could not. He turned his face away from the warm glow of the lace-curtained windows, fighting down another shiver that shuddered through him. Chris knew it wasn't the cold that made him tremble, but his own revulsion at himself. One by one, his mind inventoried his sins.

Mary. Billy. The men he rode with. Vin....

Arrogant bastard, Larabee.

"I need to know I can count on you," he'd said to the man who he'd known instinctively from the moment they had met that he could count on for anything. He'd pushed Vin away after that, for a time; pushed him back beyond the line where he kept the others. Where he'd pushed Buck years ago, after the fire. Where he'd pushed Josiah after the seamstress had been murdered. Where he'd kept JD because of his youth, and Nathan because of his empathy. Where he'd isolated Ezra since day one.

Vin had allowed it, enduring his exile without comment or complaint and holding his ground at Chris's back. Eventually the rift had healed and Vin had been allowed back in ... until he'd gone to Chris and tried to open his eyes to what Ella Gaines really was, and Chris had banished him again.

Vin had shrugged and walked away when told to. Then Chris had gone down in the dust of Ella's dooryard and Vin had been there, standing over him, his gun in one hand and the other on his friend as he lay bleeding into the dry grass. And there hadn't been a moment since then that Vin had held back from him. Still, the chasm lay between them, unacknowledged but as real and painful as the slowly healing bullet hole in Chris's shoulder. And in the months that lay between the moment that Vin had hunched protectively over Chris's wounded body and this night, Chris had seen the dark pain lacing his friend's eyes whenever Vin looked at him.

And then there was Mary. The look on her face when she'd seen the photograph of him and Ella had cut Chris to the quick. But she'd asked no questions, and with one cold, bitter glance Chris had erased the friendship that had grown between them and shut her out of his life again. The pain in her blue eyes was as vivid as that in Vin's, but like Vin, she'd let what was between them blow away in the wind, because Chris had seemed to want it that way.

It hadn't stopped there. Chris had managed to wound every one of the men who'd been his partners. He'd been ready to desert them, as he'd once been so angry at Ezra for doing. He'd fought with Buck ... well, that wasn't so new, but this time it had sat hard with his friend. He'd abused JD. He'd turned a cold shoulder to both Josiah and Nathan.

Damn. He'd wanted Ella, or thought he did. And even though it was foolish and destructive and painful, only Vin had stood between Chris and what he wanted, and Vin had backed off in the end. They all had, because they wanted him to have her ... because she was what Chris had wanted. And when it had gone wrong, disasterously wrong, they'd spared him the condemnation he so richly deserved and welcomed him back among them in spite of the dead space that he'd wrapped around himself to shut them out.

Another biting gust of wind lashed Chris's black duster against his lean body. It was harder than anything he'd done since burying his family, but finally Chris stepped up on the boardwalk and put his hand on the doorknob of the Clarion office. He owed them. And Chris Larabee paid his debts, even when the only coin he had left to his name was dross.

~~~

The room was warm and bright, and everyone pretended not to notice the cold that entered with Chris and lingered long after the outside chill had been burned away by the cheerful fire in the potbellied stove. He stood quietly in the corner, sipping on a glass of sherry and nibbling on an orange that Billy had peeled for him. The child had been as aware as the adults of the darkness that clung like smoke to the gunfighter and had tried, as he had with his mother and with Vin, to ease a strain he could not understand. His determined cheerfulness gave the adults a safe place to focus their words and their thoughts, and the small party began to seem warm and festive. Stories and jokes and food and drink were shared, and after a time the giving of thanks seemed more natural again.

Nettie and Casey joined Mary in the kitchen. Many hands made short work, especially once the women got the men and the boy out of the way. Soon the wild turkey that Vin had presented to Mary sat majestically in the center of the table, surrounded by potatoes and corn and apples and warm bread, and all the small bounties that the women had been able to gather together for this feast. Everyone took their places, and Mary smiled at Josiah.

"Mr. Sanchez, would you say grace?" she asked.

"I'd be pleased to," the preacher replied. But before he could begin, Ezra cleared his throat and caught the big man's eye, lifting a finger in a gesture that said, Wait a moment. Josiah had watched Ezra watching the others all evening and hesitated, wondering what the gambler had in mind.

Ezra's green eyes flicked quickly around the table and his lips moved slightly. Then he smiled broadly, in a way that made Josiah shift uncomfortably in his chair. He'd seen that smile before ... generally across a battlefield of green baize. What the devil is he up to? the big man wondered.

"If I might suggest, Josiah," said the southerner, "we used to have a custom of sayin' the Lord's Prayer at Thanksgivin'. Everyone around the table speaks a line."

"That sounds charming, Ezra," said Mary. "Josiah, would you begin?"

"And perhaps Miss Casey would continue?" prompted Standish. He looked at the preacher, who looked back at him with suspicion evident in his eyes, but he cleared his throat and began the prayer.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name."

"Thy kingdom come," recited Casey.

"Thy will be done," JD quoted.

Buck smiled broadly. "On Earth as it is in Heaven."

"Give us this day our daily bread," Mary said. She looked over Billy's blond head at Chris. Silence fell.

"Chris, it's your turn!" prompted the little boy. "It goes, 'And forgive us--'"

"Hush, Billy!" his mother whispered.

Chris looked at her and then at the child, a wounded shadow behind his eyes.

"And forgive us our trespasses," he said slowly, turning his dark stare on Vin.

"As we forgive those who trespass against us," Vin murmured in reply.

Silence fell again as those around the table watched the two men stare at each other as if there were no one else in the room.

And then Chris broke the gaze, returning his eyes to Billy. He laid a gentle hand on the boy's head. "Thanks, son," he said.

Suddenly Ezra laughed. The others looked at him in surprise, but the southerner made no apology, simply smiled broadly and spoke the next line. "And lead us not into temptation."

Nathan grinned, humor dancing in his eyes as he regarded the gambler sitting next to him. "But deliver us from evil," he said.

"For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory," Nettie Wells' firm voice declared.

"For ever and ever, Amen," Billy finished.

There was silence around the table once more as reflection and reminiscence settled over the company. Then Mary cleared her throat and looked at Chris, a tentative smile on her face, and indicated the turkey with a nod of her head. "Would you mind carving?" she asked.

A sharp memory of his life with Sarah lanced through him, but he stood and took the knife in hand. In the quiet, Billy's whisper was clearly heard by all.

"Chris?" whispered the boy.

"Yes, Billy?"

"Daddy always gave me a drumstick."

"He did?"

Billy nodded solemnly, then looked around the table as if assessing his competition for the coveted portion. "I wish turkeys had ten legs."

JD chuckled. "I can just see Vin chasin' after a ten-legged turkey!"

Everyone joined in the laughter, Buck loudest of all. "He could always get Ezra to talk it to death," he chortled.

Ezra rolled his eyes, inspiring another round of mirth. Chris smiled ... a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. He set the knife to the bird and began to carve, and soon the first drumstick lay on Billy's plate. The boy grinned up at him and suddenly, at least for this moment on this night, all was well with his world again.

~~~

After the pie had been eaten and the dishes had been cleared, after Ezra had handed a sleeping Billy into Chris's arms and he and Mary had put the boy to bed, after the others had departed and Mary had locked the door behind them, Chris and Vin stood together on the boardwalk outside the Clarion. Chris struck a match to light his cheroot, but the the tiny blaze flickered and died. He struck another and Vin moved between the small flame and the wind, giving it a chance to flare into life. Chris touched it to the tobacco and it grabbed hold and began to smolder.

"Thanks," he said.

Vin nodded, and looked up at the moon.

"Goin' fishin' tomorrow. Want to come along?"

Chris glanced sideways at his friend. The moonlight illuminated the tracker's blue eyes, and they were clear, touched with humor and other things too long missing from the solemn face. Security. Certainty. Peace....

Friendship.

"Don't know. You plan on fishin' fair, or usin' them willow-stick traps of yours?"

Vin smiled. "Traps are fair. But we can use your poles, if you're dead set on comin' home empty handed."

Chris snorted, but it was a gentle sound. "Sure, I'll come along." He pulled hard on the small cigar, and blew the smoke into the wind. The two men watched as it was pulled up and away, disappearing into the dark. "Vin--"

The tracker's hand dropped onto Chris's shoulder, cutting off the words. But the thought lay between them, burning bright as the small embers at the tip of the cigar. Chris could feel the warmth of his friend's palm through his duster and leaned into it. Vin squeezed hard, then let his hand fall away.

"Night, pardner," he said.

"Night, pardner," Chris answered.

~~~

The moon has a face
And it smiles on the lake
And it causes the ripples in time
I'm lucky to be here
With someone I like
Who maketh my spirit to shine

Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid ... all right?
Just make us be brave
Make us play nice
Let us be together tonight

~ 30 ~

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