Title: Them Eyes
Pairing: Ben Wade/Dan Evans
Note: Really not mine (still) and the story is told from Ben's POV.

He sat still in the saddle, watching his gang finish off the Pinkertons and pluck the spoils of war from the carriage. He was beyond the point of feeling any pride at picking off a wagon; now he just felt the easy satisfaction that he knew the money would bring. After all, he'd been robbing coaches for a while now, and there was only so long that the sense of glee could remain new.

His gaze dropped down to where Tommy was lying, dead as sin. Well, that's what he got for opening his mouth. He rested his palm against the Hand of God. The gun was cursed, he was sure of it. He tilted his head up, looking up at the bright sun bearing down on the coach's splintered remains, the dead sprawled in the dust, and the thin cattle.

Behind him, a horse snorted and he turned his horse, yanking roughly on the reins and urging his mount up the ridge. His horse crested the top of the ridge, and he was a little surprised. The rancher was scrawny looking, dirty and dusty, and somehow protective as he stood between him and the two boys.

But the thing that stopped him? That stayed his hand from pulling the Hand of God and striking the trio down? Those eyes. The rancher's eyes were deep green, glinting hard in the sun. He felt the smile gently touch his lips. "Morning." He heard Charlie ride up behind him.

That defiance in those green eyes made his heart quicken. He always had been a sucker for green eyes.

"Those are my cattle. I want them back." The voice was rough, but it didn't shake. He's seen enough men afraid of him to know that the rancher was just wary. There wasn't fear in the man before him. Just behind him, he heard Charlie cut in, his voice sharp and brittle. A warning on the edge of madness. "Careful, rancher. That's Ben Wade you're talking to."

The older boy looked awestruck, and he nearly smiled at the boy. The rancher pulled between them further, as if he could keep the boy from seeing him. He made easy eye-contact with the man before him, struck by something in that stance. The unwillingness to back down.

"I need them back. They're all I've got." Again about the ragamuffin herd of cattle. He gave the rancher just the hint of a smile, hoping to calm him. "I don't want your herd. But I'm going to need those horses." He heard Charlie move forward just a bit, give yet another warning. "So you don't do anything foolish."

The rancher made eye-contact with him, those green eyes boring into his as the man and his two boys dismounted, as Charlie took the reins from the trio before him. He nodded just barely to the rancher. "You'll find them on the trail to Bisbee." He yanked his horse about, riding down to the ridge to join the rest of the men with Charlie in tow behind him.

The rest of the gang fell in line behind him, blindly following wherever he would lead.

All the way to Bisbee he kept thinking about those green eyes. The rancher had struck a fancy in him. He found himself intrigued by that color of the rancher's eyes, and he couldn't help but want to draw the man. He watched as Charlie went ahead, making sure the law would be out of town for the gang to come in.

Inside the saloon, there was silence as he prowled between the empty tables toward the bar. The bar maid looked at him, if a bit warily, and he wondered if she recognized him. He stood at the bar, spread his fingers on the shiny top, and ordered whiskies for all his men. He gulped the whiskey, listened to Charlie's toast. He gave the slight man a glance; sometimes Charlie's obsession was too much. But they all looked at him, waiting for words. His words.

"Two died fighting. One was weak. We're only as strong as our weakest. Tommy was weak." He downed his second shot, staring at the bar maid. He could still feel the nagging pull of the rancher, feel it in his bones. Damn those green eyes.

Charlie leant in next to him, trying to capitalize on his time, saying words he was only half interested in hearing. "Okay, Charlie," he finally said, giving the young man a look. With a huff, Charlie left him alone, leaving the saloon. And suddenly him and the bar maid were alone.

She tried so hard to not draw his interest, but the lingering interest from the rancher had to be eliminated. And she was the only one around. He spoke softly to her, as though she was a spooked mare, as he circled around the bar to press softly against her.

A few pretty words, a soft kiss, and she was leading him upstairs. And all he could think was how easy it was sometimes.

They pressed into a small room in the top floor of the saloon, the door opening under their combined weight. The space smelled like dust and old sweat, so he buried his face in her neck. The soft, warm scent of her skin blocked thoughts from his mind. He lifted his head and pressed his lips against hers, trying to muffle the want for those green eyes.

He could feel her fingers pulling at his clothes as he loosened the gun belt around his waist. He hung it over the bed's footboard as he steered her toward the made surface of the bed, his fingers tugging at the laces of her dress.

They fell back against the bed, the springs groaning softly under their weight. He could feel her fingers trailing along his back as he roamed his mouth along her neck and chest. He could hear the soft moan caught in her chest.

His hands trailed slowly up her bare thighs, pulling them up to his hips. He was hard, achingly hard, and buried himself in her in one thrust. She moaned, her fingers curling in the sheets. He smirked down at her, moving slowly, leisurely. He needed to get it all out of his system, and that rancher's green eyes had him all riled up.

The springs creaked with every movement, seemingly harmonizing with her moans, and he tilted his head back. It was almost easy to lose himself in the daydream of that rancher stretched out in front of him instead of this soft, plump body. It didn't take him long before pleasure was arcing through his veins, crumpling him down on the girl with harsh pants. She giggled up at him, and he placed a soft kiss on those lips.

Time passed slowly, languidly in the warm room, smelling of sweat and sex. He got dressed and then began sketching. The charcoal moved over the paper, capturing the slow curves of the woman sprawled on the bed.

Downstairs, he heard the doors bang open, screaming. He shared a looked with the bar maid, before they both left the room.

In the saloon, the rancher paced. "You look a little bent, rancher. You come to wake some snakes?" The bar maid pressed past him, "Dan, would you like a drink?" The answer was short, the rancher eyeing him warily, "No, thanks."

He settled in at the bar, the rancher, Dan, nearby. "You got your horses back, didn't you? And your cattle?" Dan frowned at him, but nodded. "Yeah, I got my horses back. But you killed two of my herd." He tossed back his shot of whiskey, feeling it burn its way down his throat, "Well, they died for a good cause. You know...them beeves of yours, they wouldn't even have fed a hungry dog. I tell you what." He dropped some money on the counter near Dan, watched as the rancher's fingers curled over the money. "That should cover it. How much you get for a day's work?"

Those green eyes were narrowed now. He smiled softly. Finally, Dan answered. "Two dollars, when I hire out." He laid a couple more dollars on the shined top. "Well, there's two dollars for a half a day." Dan cocked his head to the side, "You took up my boys' time, too." The man was too engaging by far, and he felt the smile curl his lips. He slid the money over, excited to see how far the rancher would take it. "You're right, I did. Anything else you wanna get paid for, Dan?"

"You can give me five dollars extra." He downed another shot and gave the rancher a sidelong look. Amusement had settled fully in those green eyes, and behind that there was a hard edge. "And what's that for?" The rancher tilted his head back, stared down at him. "For making me nervous." He smiled again, and opened his mouth to say something, amused by the exchange between them. But then Dan's eyes glanced away from his, and he felt betrayal coil in his stomach. He didn't have to turn around to know there was a pistol pointed at his back. "Hands up, Ben Wade."

That was how it all began. The slow trek across the Arizona desert with those green eyes and an engaging rancher. Everything else was, somehow, of no consequence.

When they made camp, Dan was the first man to watch him. The fire crackled between them, lighting up those green eyes and the sharp lines of the rancher's face. "What are you doing out here, Dan? You got a family to protect. You're not a lawman. You don't work for the railroad like Mr. Shiny Shoes over there. You're not a Pinkerton." Dan looked up, "Maybe I don't like the idea of men like you on the loose."

He smiled, "It's man's nature to take what he wants, Dan. That's how we're born." Those shoulders rolled in a shrug, "Well, I make an honest living." He gave a snort of a laugh, "It might be honest, but I don't think it's much of a living. You must be hurting bad for money to take this job." He just wanted to see the anger, the flint in those eyes he had seen back at the farmhouse. The rancher didn't rise to the bait. "Go to sleep."

"I imagine debt puts a lot of pressure on a marriage." Dan looked up, laughed just a little, but those eyes had turned a little hard. "You imagine? What would you know about marriage? We can't all be cutthroats and thieves." He rolled onto his back, stared up at the stars so he wouldn't have to see the mocking look Dan was giving him. "I know if I was lucky enough to have a wife like Alice, I'd treat her a whole lot better than you do, Dan. I'd feed her better, buy her pretty dresses, wouldn't make her work so hard. Yeah, I'll bet Alice was a real pretty girl before she married you."

He heard the shuffle of rocks and dirt as Dan came across toward him, "Shut up about my wife. You shut up about her. You say one more word, and I'll cut you down right here. Right here." Tucker stopped Dan from reaching him, but the fire, the passion in those green eyes made his heart skip a beat. He smiled easily at the rancher. "I like this side of you, Dan."

And then Tucker was taking over the watch, and the night rapidly spiraled downward into a hellish evening filled with song and blood.

That morning, when they set out, he could feel Dan's eyes on him the entire time. That green gaze bore its way into his soul, until finally, he had the courage to meet it head on. "Something on your mind, Dan?" Those green eyes were troubled, the mouth set in a tight line. "Why'd you kill Tucker? Why not me? Or Butterfield?" He couldn't tell Dan he saved him because he liked him, or the game would be lost. The reason he came up with, that slipped out of his mouth, was lame even to his ears. "Well, Tucker took my horse. Did you like him, Dan?"

His rancher's lips thinned a bit more, "No." He looked over at the man, "He told me he burnt down your barn." He noticed the way Dan tensed, that flint filling the rancher's eyes again. "He was an asshole...but wishing him dead and killing him are two different things." He frowned, and could only think that the rancher must think him a terrible person. It was a disconcerting thought. "Your conscience is sensitive, Dan. I don't think it's my favorite part of you."

The rest of the ride to Yuma was filled with blood, as their little posse was cut down to just four.

Butterfield did manage to put them up in a nice hotel, in the honeymoon suite, and then proceeded to leave him all alone with Dan. Out the window, in the distance, thunder rolled. "What are you gonna do with your $200 now, Dan? Now that the rains are coming?" He looked up at the ceiling, that many young brides had stared at he was sure. "I owe people money, Wade. That drought left me in the hole."

He looked over at the rancher, who was sprawled in a chair, a foot up on the windowsill. For a moment, he entertained the thought of Dan getting up and slowly walking over to him, crawling onto the bed with him, kissing him…he felt desire twinge in his gut. He returned his gaze to the ceiling. "Well, what do you think about double that amount? You could pay your debts, buy a hundred more cows, build a new barn."

Dan gave him a look, "How you reckon I'm gonna do that?" He turned his head again to look at his rancher, "Just lay down your gun and let me walk out the door. It's worth $400 to me." Those green eyes hardened again, narrowing in irritation. "Is that what you reckon my price is?" He smiled softly, trying to put the rancher at ease. "No. No, I reckon it's a thousand." A disbelieving look flashed across that face. "A thousand dollars."

He really didn't want Dan to hobble to his death, to leave Alice a widow and the boys fatherless. He really didn't want to see the life and vitality drain out of those eyes.

He smiled, trying to sell it to Dan. "Now, there's 10 times that amount in Butterfield's coach." The rancher leant back, regarding him shrewdly. "Oh, yeah?" He smiled, thinking that Dan was going to bite. "You want my cut, Dan? It's all yours."

Instead, Dan gave him a look. "Isn't that kind of reckless of you, Wade? Seeing as, uh... you're so sure that, uh, your crew's coming to get you?" In his mind, he saw Charlie Prince. The boy was obsessed with him, madly in love with him, crazy. He knew what Charlie would do to his rancher.

"Oh, they're coming, Dan. Sure as God's vengeance, they're coming. But I just like to do things easy. Imagine what you could do with a thousand dollars, Dan. You could hire a couple of ranch hands. Your boys could go to school, grow up smart." He could see Dan buying into the fantasy he wove, "What about Alice?" He felt a little stab of jealousy. Even now, the man thought about a woman who couldn't be bothered to give much more than a passing thought about him. But he forced the smile, "She would be the proud wife of a bona fide Arizona rancher. All you got to do is say yes."

Dan gave him a smirk, "Well... would you give me a bank note, Wade? Or maybe you'd be kind enough to make a deposit for me." He sat up, "Cash," trying desperately hard to make the sale, to save his rancher's life. That smirk turned Dan's eyes cold, "Well, you... you tell me, Wade. How would I account for...for that amount of money? And what would I tell people when I spend it? That, uh...that you got the jump on me, you escaped, and somehow I got a fortune? No. How dumb do you think people are?" And Dan chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nobody needs to know," scrounging for Dan to say yes like a married woman wanting to do the dirty deed with the hired help. Dan glanced over at him before pulling his hat down a bit, "You know what? Would you do me a favor? Don't talk to me for a while."

"You mean we're still not friends?" He put mock indignation into his voice, and it masked the hurt he felt. He just wanted the rancher safe. "No. No, we're not," Dan said softly, those green eyes staring out the window. He sighed, "Come five minutes to three, we're gonna be a hell of a lot closer than you think." Rolling to his feet, he managed to find some paper, a pencil, and slowly began capturing the rancher, his rancher.

When the time came, when no one was looking, he tore the drawing of Dan out of the Bible, folding it gently, with care, and slid it into the breast pocket of his shirt. He followed Dan on the mad dash through town, because he wanted Alice to be proud of her husband, wanted the boys to have a hero father. But the guilt churned in his gut, because it felt like he was leading a lamb to slaughter.

And finally, when he climbed up on that train, and looked down into those green eyes, he saw the pride. He could tell that Dan was proud, felt like a real man for the first time in only God knew how long, and the smile reached the frosty green eyes. He smiled down into that sharp featured face, sharing the pride with his rancher. But the gunshot reports reached him just a little too late, dimming the light in his rancher's pretty green eyes.

He watched as Dan crumpled, riddled with bullets, but still not dead. He stared into those dimming, pain-filled eyes, and felt his heart break. He swallowed around the knot in his throat as he accepted his weapons. His fingers curling around the Hand of God. He blinked slowly and stared at Charlie's back.

In the split second it took his right-hand man to turn, he was killing them all. He came back for a second shot at Charlie. He stared into those blue eyes, and felt his lips tighten. He squeezed the trigger and let the man drop. Casting a glance toward Dan's son, who was mourning his father in a way that he could never mourn his rancher, he caught one last look at those green eyes. They were clouding over, and he swallowed.

And slowly, he got on that train.