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A Shot in the Dark
A Maverick story by Deana
I don't own Bart Maverick or Doc Holliday. Phooey.

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"He's the one, right there!"

Without warning, Doc Holliday drew his gun and fired. The bullet struck his target, and the victim gave a cry of shock as he fell to the ground.

People ran over to the downed man, and Doc strode over himself, gun still out. If some thief thought that he was going to get away with his hard-earned poker winnings, he had another thing coming...maybe even in the form of another bullet.

Doc had been at the poker tables for hours, and his perseverance had won out: literally. He'd walked out of the saloon with over five thousand dollars in his wallet, but as he passed an alley, an open crate had unexpectedly dropped over his head and knocked him to the ground. By the time he'd gotten up again, his wallet was gone and a very helpful stranger pointed out the man who had taken it.

Doc reached the man, who was gasping on the ground as he clutched his left arm to his side. "Where's my money, you thief!" Doc exclaimed, roughly rolling the man over and digging out his wallet. What he saw shocked him to the core: the wallet was inscribed with the name of a person who he knew very well.

Doc finally looked at the 'thief', finding exactly what he feared; Bart Maverick, his best friend, lay there on the ground spilling his blood, eyes shut against the pain. "Bart!" he exclaimed, so shocked that he was almost unable to breathe. "What are you doing here?!"

"B-bleeding," Bart gasped out.

Doc put Bart's wallet back in his friend's inside jacket pocket and quickly pulled Bart up into a sitting position.

"Ooooh," Bart moaned, still clutching his bloody arm. He hunched himself over with a gasp.

Doc pulled him to his feet, with help from some of the other men around them. "Where's the doctor's office!" he shouted.

Everyone pointed past the hotel, and Doc could see a man come out of a shop with a few others and head towards them. It looked like they were going to meet the doctor half way.

Doc pulled Bart along, who stumbled with another moan.

"Who shot him?" the doctor asked, when they reached each other.

Doc hesitated. "I did."

The doctor blinked, wondering why a man would shoot someone and then help him...unless it had been an accident.

But that was the problem; it hadn't been an accident; Doc had shot him on purpose. He'd fired his gun at an innocent man, his friend, without even being sure of whom he was shooting at. Doc could've killed Bart, and at the moment, he felt like the guilt was going to kill him.

"This way," the doctor said.

Doc pulled Bart along, bringing him inside the doctor's office and helping him lie on the table. Now that there was light—as it was dark outside and that's why Doc hadn't realized just whom he was shooting—Doc could see the damage that he'd inflicted.

The doctor grabbed a knife off a counter and handed it to Doc. "Cut off his sleeve."

Doc took it and quickly cut through the ruined material of Bart's jacket and shirt; careful not to cut Bart's skin…he'd already hurt him enough. "Sorry, Bart," he said. "I'll buy you a new jacket."

Bart's eyes were squeezed shut and he said nothing.

Once the material was gone, Doc saw why Bart was in so much pain; as if one bullet wound wasn't enough, there was an exit wound too. The bullet had entered the left side of Bart's left arm and gone out the right. Doc winced, desperately hoping that the bullet had somehow missed the bone.

The doctor turned and tossed Doc a towel. Doc used it to wrap around Bart's arm and held it tightly, trying to stop the bleeding.

Bart's eyes squeezed shut tighter and he groaned.

"I'm sorry, Bart," Doc said, wincing himself.

Bart moved his right arm, reaching towards his left side. "Doc," he said.

"Yes?"

Bart swallowed, breathing fast as he dealt with the pain. He reached towards his left side again.

"No touching, Bart," said Doc. "I'm trying to stop the bleeding."

Bart shook his head. He was having obvious trouble speaking and it made Doc feel even more guilty. He'd been shot in the arm before himself and it hadn't hurt quite as bad as it seemed to for Bart, who reached over again but his hand only made it as far as his left side, where he gingerly rested it.

Suddenly, it hit Doc. The bullet had gone into the left side of Bart's left arm and gone out the right…but where did it go after that?

Grabbing Bart's jacket, Doc flipped it open to display a red stain on his white shirt. If he could've dropped dead from shock, he would've just then. "Doctor!" he exclaimed.

The doctor turned around from where he was still gathering supplies, and saw.

Doc's eyes were open as wide as humanly possible, as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. The bullet had gone through Bart's arm and into the side of his body…high up his side, a little more than halfway between his waist and armpit. The only place where the bullet could now be was in Bart's lung.

The doctor rushed over and grabbed Bart's shirt, ripping it open with one tug. There wasn't as much blood as they expected, considering, and all Doc could do was stand there and stare, mouth hanging open.

He'd shot Bart. His friend. Bart was going to die.

Bart suddenly winced again and gave a soft cry of pain, bringing Doc out of his shocked stupor.

"The bullet is stuck in a rib," the doctor said, having tried and failed to pull it out. He suddenly headed back over to a counter.

Doc Holliday looked down at the wound, and realized that he could see the bullet. It was, indeed, jabbed into one of Bart's ribs, sticking out of his body. The wound was shallow, as there wasn't much skin over ribs, especially considering that Bart was thin.

Bart would live.

For a minute, Doc felt faint with relief and he blinked his eyes, holding onto the table.

The doctor came back with a pair of pliers. "Hold him down," he said.

Doc took a deep breath and gathered himself as he walked around to the head of the table and put his hands on Bart's shoulders.

The doctor clamped the pliers around the bullet and pulled.

Bart's body jerked and he gave a cry of pain.

"I'm sorry, Bart," Doc said again, still unable to believe that he was the reason for his friend's pain. "I'm sorry!"

The doctor pulled a chair next to the table and held out a towel. "Hold this over his side," he said. "I have to stitch his arm first because it's bleeding the most."

Doc took it with a shaking hand and came back around the table, sitting on it and holding the towel over the wound.

Bart's eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. He flinched when he felt the needle enter the skin in his arm.

The next twenty minutes were agonizing for Bart and Doc as the doctor stitched all three wounds. He put extra stitches in Bart's side, as they would pull every time Bart moved, and the doctor didn't want to risk them tearing.

Bart eventually passed out from the combination of trauma, blood loss, and pain.

Doc sat in the chair beside the table for a long time, staring into space, still unable to believe what had happened. Why had that stranger pointed out Bart, when Bart was obviously not the thief?

Once the doctor had cleaned up and put all of his instruments away, he turned to look at Doc, whom he knew had needed this time to sit quietly and calm down. "We should move him to a bed."

Doc looked up and blinked a couple of times before standing. He and the doctor carefully lifted Bart off the table and carried him over to a bed, gently laying him down. He was shirtless, with only the bandage wrapped around his torso, so the doctor pulled the blanket up over him.

Doc went over to the chair beside the table and grabbed it, bringing it over and placing it beside the bed. He sat down and sighed, trying to figure out what exactly had happened here. He'd been robbed, a stranger incorrectly identified Bart as the thief, and Doc had shot him. Did the stranger make a mistake, or did he implicate Bart on purpose?

Was that stranger the real thief?

Doc sighed again. He needed to find that man…after Bart woke up.

TBC