Written for a very dear friend.
The Day Has Come
by faust
So, Joe thought, finally the day has come that my family has decided to drag me back home.
He wasn't surprised. It had been—how long?—a week or more since he had started to spend first his nights, then even the days as well in the saloon; gambling, drinking, brawling, generally throwing his life away.
Joe emitted a sharp snort. Who cares? Well, apparently his family did.
Another snort. And then a duck of the head. Of course they did. He knewthat. They really did. They had given him time, time to come to terms with... No, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't.
He didn't.
Somehow he had already forgotten why he had come to the saloon in the first place. It didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that while he gambled, drank, brawled and wasted his life, he didn't have to remember it.
Obviously his family had decided that they had given him enough time. That he had to start remembering again. That was what they always did, making each other remember, talk about it, get it out of the system, talking, talking, talking.
Joe didn't want to talk. He wanted to gamble, drink, brawl, waste his life. Well, he didn't really wanted to waste his life, but somehow this seemed to be a package deal.
And now his family had sent someone to make him stop. Just as it had been to be expected. The only surprising thing was that Adam of all people was here to bring Joe back onto track.
Adam. Out of nowhere he suddenly stood next to Joe's chair, unmoving, silently watching his brother downing another beer.
"Go away," Joe slurred.
Adam crossed his arms.
"I don't need you." Joe knew he sounded like a child, and maybe he was a child right now. Well, what the heck? All right, then he was a child. He could be a child whenever he wanted to be one, right? Right?
Adam tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. High.
"You—" Joe started to yell but then choked and continued softly, "You can't save me."
"No," Adam's voice was barely audible. "Only you can do that."
Joe didn't know when or how exactly he had made his way home. Adam hadn't said another word, and eventually had turned and slowly walked out of the saloon. He hadn't even looked back over his shoulder when he had asked, "Are you coming?"
Joe must have stood up and left the saloon; must have mounted his horse and he must have ridden home.
He didn't bother to tend to Cochise; he was far too tired and unsteady, and when he entered the house he gratefully let himself fall into Hoss' strong arms.
Pa practically jumped from his chair, and both he and Hoss settled Joe onto the settee.
"Get some coffee, Hoss," Joe heard his father ordering, and then Pa was at his side, reaching out for him. Joe let his heavy head fall on Pa's shoulder.
"Pa," he mumbled into the warmth that had been there all his life. "I don't want to talk about it. Not now, please."
"It's all right, it's all right." Pa's hand went up and down Joe's back. "I'm just glad you came home."
"Adam made me, Pa."
Pa started. He leaned back, considered Joe's face. "Joe...Adam is in Europe, he's been there for years."
"Oh...yeah...he is." Joe accepted a mug of coffee from Hoss and gave his father and his brother a crocked half smile that reminded even himself of Adam.
You can't save me, he heard in his head, and then the soft reply, no, only you can do that.
Somehow this seemed even more true now. Maybe, Joe thought, finally the day has come to stop being a child.
And just like that, he stopped.
*** fin ***
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.