Bonner had brought Kitty back two days ago, and Matt had gotten back into town later that night. He was already gone again, out to get himself killed, the damn fool. Half of the town was gone with him – with him or after him, the main thing was their support for him.
There was not a soul to be seen as Doc shuffled down the boardwalk back to his office in the twilight of an early morning. In some remote area of thought, he was grateful no one was there to witness his trek down the road. He had aged a decade in the last week, and his face, his posture, his gait, they all suffered for it. He'd barely eaten in that time as well, and not at all since Kitty had been returned to them, despite his recent trip to Delmonico's. Ma Smalley had all but pushed him down the stairs from his office half an hour ago in an attempt to "give him a breather." Joe had brought him a plate of steak and eggs, but Doc barely chocked down a cup of coffee while he agitatedly glanced back and forth between the plate of untouched food and the entrance to the restaurant.
Feeling he had wasted enough time, Doc was now headed back to his office. But his nervous tension had suddenly deserted him, and he couldn't bring himself to feel his previous urgency. He had been loath to leave Kitty alone with Ma, but now he had to practically drag himself back to her side and it was killing him.
On the one hand, Doc didn't trust her with anyone other than himself right now – not Kitty, not his girl. He was the only doctor in town, and no one knew how to care for her better than he did. There was no room for false humility while Kitty's life was on the line. Furthermore, while she had only briefly regained consciousness once so far, there was a chance she could do so again. Doc did not want to think what might happen if she did not immediately see a familiar face upon waking. She had been ravaged emotionally, as well as physically, and there was no telling where her mind might have taken her while she slept. Kitty certainly counted Ma as a friend – a rare woman who never once judged her for working at and owning a saloon – but the bond between Doc and Kitty was something much deeper. If he were being honest with himself – something he was rarely wont to do for the depth of pain it could uncover – Kitty was the daughter he never had, his gift from God.
But on the other hand, it was those same feelings that tore him up inside every time he looked at her battered face, her abused body, and thought of the hell she must have been through. She hadn't yet been able to tell him what had happened to her while she was being held captive, but his examination had revealed to him more than he ever wanted to know. In truth, more than his heart could take. It was broken for her.
The stairs to Doc's office suddenly loomed before him, and he grabbed the railing, a white-knuckled grip pulling him up the steps. He cursed the age that locked his joints, pained each step, slowed him down. Now, it was frustrating at best. But after the Dog Soldiers had ridden out of town following that one, life-altering minute of agony, it had been terrifying. His legs could not carry him down the stairs and to Kitty's side fast enough, and his hands were not nearly steady enough to be entrusted with her precious life. That should have been a horror reserved only for God Almighty, Himself.
Doc finally reached the top of the staircase, and his mood altered once again. All of the sudden he felt a need to be back by Kitty's side, keeping vigil. He quickly opened the door to his office and immediately spotted Ma sitting at his desk working on some piece of knitting. She looked up at his hasty entrance.
"She hasn't stirred one bit, Doc," she quickly reassured him, concern in her voice. And, "Did you eat enough? Do you want to lie down for a time? I can stay as long as you need me." She was slightly reproachful now, but her motherly face only showed genuine worry for Kitty and for Doc.
"Thank you, Ma, you can go home now." He ignored her questions stubbornly and shrugged off his coat, throwing it across the examination table and rolling up his shirtsleeves. The day was already shaping up to be another hot one.
A hurt look flashed across Ma's face, but she quickly gave him a small, understanding smile and packed up her things to leave. Doc fidgeted by the door, swiping a hand across his mustache, eyes darting back and forth between Ma and the room Kitty was in, until he ushered Ma out the door with an unconsciously given promise to send for her if he needed her help.
He rushed the ten feet to the bedroom and then slowed upon entering it. Kitty was lying there in the bed, just as he'd left her. Her body was, surprisingly, relaxed in sleep for the moment, but her face twitched every so often, alternating between looks of worry, confusion, and fear. Terror. Doc thought about how she must feel, trapped in her mind and her nightmares by an unwilling, though most certainly needed, sleep. His hands ached to reach out and comfort her, but he was afraid that she was so deep in her nightmares she might not recognize his touch for what it was. The thought sickened him.
Doc eased himself down into the wooden chair beside Kitty's bed and just stared at her body, gazed at her face, studied her expressions and movements. Medically speaking, there wasn't much left he could do for her except keep an eye on her wounds and medicate her against the pain. He could give her something to help her sleep if she needed it, but that might backfire and then what if they couldn't wake her from a nightmare? But medical, physical concerns were not why he observed her now.
Doc had known Kitty before this week. He would even have gone so far as to say he knew her better than anyone else ever had – except Matt, of course. Now, however…. Now things were different. Kitty would be different. There was no question in Doc's mind that her psyche had been forcibly altered, and he wanted to learn as much as he could as quickly as possible. It would ease his mind – and undoubtedly continue to break his heart even further – but it would also hopefully help Kitty to recover faster mentally. Emotionally. The more they could do to understand her so she wouldn't have to explain herself, or, God forbid, feel guilty for their confusion and distress, the better.
Doc's thoughts slowed and his vision blurred through tears. Dear God, he prayed Kitty would be able to trust him again. Trust Festus and Newly. Trust Matt. He had seen cases where women had been brutally assaulted and, as a result, were frightened by the men they had once loved. It destroyed relationships. Kitty would know that he and the others stood for love and safety, but Doc was worried that her subconscious, gut-reaction would see things differently. He was afraid they would scare her to death.
Doc scrubbed his face with both his hands and fought to stay positive. It wouldn't do anyone any good to bother about something he wasn't even sure of yet.
He was repositioning himself in the hard chair to get more comfortable when it happened. Kitty was waking up. She stirred restively and slowly blinked her eyes open.
"Doc?" Her voice came out in a harsh whisper, and Doc instinctively grabbed her too-cold hand in his own warmer one.
"Kitty."
God, give us strength.