Chapter 2 – Not a Better Day

Luke was – was Luke in trouble? There'd been that look on his face in the middle of the brawl, surprise and just maybe fear, and then there was nothing but the headache Bo didn't remember having, but it was there behind his eyes anyway. Sound like a whoosh and he wanted to sit up, but something was holding him back, so he just opened his eyes.

Luke.

"Be still, Bo." Luke was what was keeping him from sitting up, hand on Bo's chest, pushing him back down onto the hard and sticky floor of the Boar's Nest. Smelled of stale beer and felt like a sheet of ice under him and all he wanted was up, to see what was around him, more than just Luke. Shoot, he saw Luke every day, never got away from Luke long enough to forget what he looked like (except those three years when – but no, he didn't need to be thinking on that right now), but there was some commotion, something going on behind Luke, some reason his cousin didn't want him sitting up right now.

"Luke," that hurt, the sound of his voice echoing within his own head. "I'm fine." Winced a bit, just to prove how fine he was. Pushed up against Luke's hand again.

"Bo." And that wasn't a great sound, Luke wasn't entirely under control. Oh, he was doing a fine impression of a man who was under control, but he was all angles, his shoulders tight, voice gravelly, eyebrows down, hair sweaty with clear parts in it, like he'd run his fingers through it more than enough times in the last—

Well, that was a problem, wasn't it? Time had passed and Bo didn't know how much.

Enough, apparently, that an ambulance had been called, because here came a medic. And there went Luke, shifting his weight again in anticipation, because he knew how Bo felt about these things and that bossy big cousin of his was going to make him stay there.

Bo pushed up against his hand anyway, trying to get an elbow under himself. "Luke, I said I'm fine." Dizzy, but fine.

More muscle behind the way Luke kept him down this time, right hand on his chest, left going behind his neck and his face was taking up almost all of Bo's vision now.

"You ain't fine, Bo." But the gentleness of Luke's voice didn't make sense against the tightness of his jaw. Luke wanted to hit someone, not stay calm for his kid cousin. "You've been out…" and when Bo struggled against him one more time, "You're bleeding."

So much for dizzy. Now the world was whirling and the only real thing was Luke's hand at the back of his neck, half supporting, half calming as Bo gave up the fight. Bleeding was not Bo's favorite activity; he rated it right up there with hearing his full given name. And since they were apparently headed for Tri-County, he'd probably get to hear that soon, too. When he could hear anything but the whooshing in his ears, feel anything but the vertigo—

Bo could be a near impossible patient. Being still wasn't exactly in his nature to begin with. He'd rather fight things than submit to them, even if it was just Doc Petticord and his stethoscope. At least he was out again, and at least this time it was not injury or even distress that put him there, just pain medication.

Nothing seriously wrong with him, either, just enough to lay him out like this, just enough to keep Luke at his side. A concussion, sure, but Bo could have hopped back up after that, would have stumbled around some, but Luke could have brought him home and put him in his own bed. The cut to the back of his head was what stopped Luke from handling it himself. Turned out it wasn't all that large; it was a head wound and true to what Luke'd learned in the service, it bled heavily. But in the end, when they shaved away that patch of Bo's hair (and when he realized it, Bo would likely kill him for having allowed that to happen) it had only required a few stitches to patch him up. Bo would be fine and Luke wasn't going anywhere until he could see that for himself.

If he'd known it wasn't as bad as it had looked, he would've taken Bo straight to Doc Petticord, but now they were stuck here, in Tri-County, at least until Bo woke up and the doctors shined more lights in his eyes. They didn't like Bo's flimsy consciousness, wouldn't listen to Luke about how it had more to do with blood than a swollen brain (and on a better day he might have said his cousin might just benefit from having a larger brain, but this was not a better day), and now they'd given him a pain killer, so it'd be hours before he was awake again. The boys might, just barely, get home tonight.

One thing he'd made clear was that he wasn't leaving without Bo. And the Dukes had spent enough time in this hospital that there wasn't even a fight about it. It was just a fact, like germs causing infection – or whatever it was that doctors and nurses believed – that where you got one Duke boy, you got both.

They'd made Luke step out when they were first examining Bo, they always did. So he'd done his familial duty, calling Jesse, taking the heat from that snappish anxiety on Jesse's part (old man never did like it when Bo got hurt), kept his uncle calm out of sheer habit, and gone back to Bo.

Within the hour Bo was patched up, doped up and resting in a room. By then Jesse had come, complete with unspoken lectures about how Luke should have done a better job of looking after his cousin. Eyeballed Luke, patted his arm in apology for the tirade that hadn't ever quite happened, and went to Bo's side, leaving Luke to fiddle with the cord to the blinds, maybe ten squares of that ugly linoleum floor away. Just far enough not to hear whatever Jesse said to Bo, at least not over the thoughts in his own head, the nagging itch to go back to the Boar's Nest and let those two idiots that had started this thing know why, exactly, you never messed with Hazzard, and why you never, ever hurt Bo Duke. Picked at the dusty cord in his hands instead, and really expected that a hospital would be cleaner than this.

"I'm all right, Uncle Jesse," tired words, but it meant his uncle had managed to rouse Bo.

"Oh, I know you will be, Bo," and Luke didn't need to see Jesse's face to know he was winking. "Once you get some rest here. So you just go on back to sleep."

Sleep, Bo never had trouble sleeping. And Luke supposed he ought to be grateful that Bo slept as well as he did, considering. It was less time that he had to look after his kid cousin, who always jumped in with both feet without ever bothering to look to see whether there was solid ground beneath him or not. Still, Bo had been sleeping ever since Jesse told him to, and that was hours ago. Jesse had long since gone back to see to the livestock and handle afternoon chores that he and Bo should have been doing.

There were only so many distractions in a hospital room, and Luke was down to playing with the plastic pitcher. Spinning it on the table kept him from throwing it at the wall.

"Where's Daisy?" Luke thought that was a stupid question, Bo could tell by the way his cousin pressed his lips together. Maybe it was, but it was the first thing that Bo thought of around the headache he'd woken up with. Jesse had been here earlier, he had some vague memory of that. And there was no doubt in his mind that Luke had never left the hospital since they'd gotten here.

"Work," Luke answered, rolling his eyes up and leftward as if the offending question had come from there. "How do you feel?" This was clearly a superior question, as marked by Luke's eyes coming back – almost – to meet Bo's. Luke wouldn't quite look him in the eye. Odd.

"I ain't exactly dyin' to go a few more rounds in the Boar's Nest, but I'll be all right. How about you?" Must be some reason Luke wasn't already teasing him about how his head was too hard for some out-of-towner to do any real damage to, anyway.

Apparently that was an even stupider question than the one about Daisy, the way Luke's eyes rolled that time. "I'm fine, Bo," and Luke left out the words you idiot, but they were there in his tone all the same. "Come on," he said, reaching over Bo, elbow nearly smacking Bo's forehead. "Let's get us a doctor in here so's we can get you out." And Bo was all for that, so he moved his head out of the way enough for Luke to get to the call button. "Easy, Bo." As if it hadn't been Luke's elbow almost clobbering him that had made him move.

So he grabbed onto Luke's arm and held it, loosely, for a moment. Waited until his cousin's brilliant blue eyes finally made their way to meeting his. "I got a headache, Luke." Wrong sequence, look at that worry in his cousin's eyes. "But I'm gonna be fine. Ain't I?" Because he suddenly realized that he had no idea whether he was really all right or not. Maybe there was reason that Luke didn't want to look at him…

"Bo, you ain't seriously hurt, now. Don't be makin' a big deal out of it or nothin'."

Look who was talking. "Okay, then. You neither, Luke." Because for all his know-it-all attitude, Luke knew nothing, really. Luke's arm came out of his grip, just like that, and suddenly his cousin was pacing away from him.

"I ain't—" And there, finally, was the nurse on duty, come to check Bo's pulse or his blood pressure or whatever she needed to do to assure herself that he actually was awake and maybe she should just go ahead and get a doctor here. This conversation was over.

Bo was sulking over there in the passenger seat. As if Luke would have let him drive with a concussion. Hand going back to the gauze on the back of his head again, and maybe the pout was more about the shaved patch back there. Luke grabbed his hand away from feeling it again. Life with Bo Duke was always about keeping one hand on the wheel, and using the other to keep Bo from doing something dumb.

"Luke."

"It'll grow back, Bo." His cousin was way too used to being pretty.

"That ain't what I was going to say." And the pout, if possible, got poutier.

"What, then?" He was being patient, like he'd always been taught to be, staying calm and remembering that Bo was younger than him (used to be he had to remember that Bo was smaller, too, but that had changed quite a few years back).

"Never mind," Bo huffed. Luke let go of Bo's arm, counted ten, and continued his exceedingly safe and relatively slow drive back to the farm. Bo probably had a nasty headache and he'd spent the better part of a day in a hospital. He had good reason to be surly. Luke had his own reasons not to really want to talk anyway, so he concentrated on the yellow lines on the road guiding them home.

Long minutes of no sound except breathing later they were in their own driveway. The yard was dark but the porch light was on, and undoubtedly Jesse was inside, waiting for them. They'd all finally learned not to wait on Daisy to get home from work or they'd never be able to get up for morning chores, but with Bo having been hurt, their uncle would stay up for his boys to come home or the phone call telling him they weren't, whichever way it worked out.

By the time he got around to the passenger side of the car, Bo was pulling himself out. Too damn tall to be getting in and out of a car that way; it always looked like he was going to hit his head and tonight that didn't seem like a great idea. Still he'd gotten his head and shoulders out by the time Luke could get his hands on him, and so he just had to content himself with an arm around his younger cousin's waist while Bo swung his legs around to the ground.

"Watch yourself," mumbled so quietly it might not even have made it to Bo's ears. His cousin didn't shake him off, must be tired. It had been a long day, even if Bo had spent a good portion of it unconscious.

"Luke." Might have been a rebuke, couldn't tell, but he let go of his cousin all the same. After all, Bo was steady enough on his feet. Kept his cousin in front of him going up the stairs to the porch anyway – didn't need him losing his balance and falling backwards.

"Boys." If Uncle Jesse wasn't dozing in his chair, it couldn't be good. But there he was at the kitchen table and wide awake, waiting to make sure Bo wasn't on death's doorstep or anything. After that, undoubtedly, he'd take Luke aside and remind him about starting fights and letting Bo get hurt, because that was the way it worked. For as long as he could remember, Bo started things, got himself hurt, and Luke got the lecture, sometimes the whipping. It was all about how Luke could have prevented it, as if he could actually keep Bo from springing into things. But this time… he could have prevented it, yeah. "I was just startin' to think you might not make it home."

"Sorry, Uncle Jesse." And there Bo went, apologizing like it was his fault, and accepting a hug from their uncle. Looked peaceful like that, forgiven, and he hadn't even done anything wrong. How did Bo always seem to manage that, effortlessly making people love him? Luke just didn't have that kind of draw on anyone.

Their uncle pulled back from the hug to assess the baby of the family. Seemed to find Bo acceptable enough.

"Why don't you head off to bed, Bo? You look like you been trampled by a mule." Or maybe not so acceptable after all. And then— "Luke." That wasn't what he wanted to hear next. "Your dinner is in the refrigerator. I expect you to eat it all." As if he were a small child. And then there was the unspoken I want you separate from Bo for a bit, of course.

Bo dragged his feet out of the room (and on another day that might have been annoying, but tonight Luke figured Bo had a reason to walk flat-footed) with Jesse following behind. That made sense, the old man would see Bo off to bed before coming and lighting into Luke. Might as well get in his last meal. Cold chicken, it looked like, because he wasn't going to take the time to heat it up. Besides, fried chicken always tasted better to him when it was cold anyway.

He took his time with it, figuring the lecture was his real reason for having been sat here. And somewhere in his second drumstick (not Daisy's best, too much… something. Pepper, maybe?) his uncle's heavy old feet rattled the floor boards and there he was.

"Luke." He had a mouthful of cold chicken, so he nodded the acknowledgement that he'd heard. Should have known that wouldn't be enough. Jesse stood there, just as huge and intimidating as he'd always been, starting when Luke had been one heck of a lot shorter. So he swallowed and met the old man's eyes.

Somewhere after three years of compulsory 'yes, sir' in the military, Luke got tired of the words, stopped saying them, and didn't figure Jesse would call him on it. Mostly he didn't, but every now and then—

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't want you up all night watching over Bo. He's gonna be fine. If there's one thing that boy's got, it's a hard head. You both do." It was supposed to make him laugh or at least smile, but it wasn't funny now and it never had been. Bo could have been— "He ain't really hurt. You just go on in there and sleep as sound as he does." Well, he'd have to take Bo's pain medication to sleep like that. But Jesse didn't want to hear him say that, so he nodded and went back to the chicken, which didn't look a lot better than it tasted.

No movement on Jesse's part, so Luke looked up again; maybe his uncle needed another 'yes, sir' or something. Maybe not, the old man was shifting now, settling into the chair across from him.

"Want some chicken?" It was a hope, at least, that his uncle would eat instead of talking.

"No, I don't. Luke," and this was the problem. Everyone in this house just took too long to get around to whatever it was they had to say, called each other by name then paused and if he was going to get the lecture, and it should just come already.

"I started it, Uncle Jesse." Confessions usually sped things along.

A deliberate nod was not what he wanted from his uncle either, but there Jesse was, doing it anyway.

"Bo wanted me to go with him to the bar and hang out with some girls, but there were a couple of guys walking around the place like they were looking for a fight."

"And you figured to give them one?" Oh, Jesse was good at this. Pretending there were no repercussions to telling this story, asking like he was really curious instead of trying to get Luke to lay out for him exactly how big a fool he'd been.

"No, sir. I just didn't like the way they were acting was all. I watched them push their way around the place, they bumped past Bo pretty hard, but he didn't take no offense, so…" A shrug was really the only way to end that sentence.

Oh, his uncle was good. Sitting there all patience and curiosity and no, he wasn't about to light into Luke at all. "But then one of 'em pushed a table into Sunshine, and you know he's dang near eighty…"

"Luke." That was a warning. Tone it down, boy. Don't get so riled. And respect your elders.

Yes, sir. "Anyways," breathe in, breathe out. "They was goin' after them tables where you and your friends play checkers. You know, those guys that…" are too old to fight. "Those guys that ain't used to fighting and could get hurt. So I…" saw red Jesse, I know I'm supposed to count ten, I know I ain't supposed to set a bad example for Bo and I know I ain't supposed to let him get hurt— "I hit one of them. Reckoned I'd make them pick on someone their own size or whatever. I wasn't thinkin' about Bo."

"If you're their own size, Bo's their own size."

"So he got in the middle, too, an' before I knew it, it was a full out brawl an' you couldn't tell who was who no more. Somehow one of 'em got behind Bo and he had a stool, and…" Wait, what was that about Bo being their own size?

"Is there more?" Dang, Jesse was good, could throw you off balance right in the middle of your own confession.

"Nothin' you don't already know. Bo got hurt and we went to the hospital. Like you said, he's got a hard head." Just not as hard as mine. And just look at that, the chicken was still sitting there half eaten in front of him, so he stared at it for a minute before looking back up at Jesse.

"All right," Jesse said and pushed his heavy body up from the table. "Good night, then."

"All right?" And – good night? What exactly… "Jesse?"

"What, you had more to tell me?"

"No, but I'm—" still waiting for the lecture.

"I don't reckon there's much of anything I can tell you that you don't already know. Or that you'll listen to anyways. So good night."

And this was pushing his luck, but, "Anything I'll listen to?"

Talking to Luke was obviously incredibly exhausting, considering the way Jesse sighed and sat, eyes rolling all the way.

"If I told you to let it go, would you?" No more rolling, Jesse's eyes were intense on Luke's, now.

"Let what go, Uncle Jesse?"

"Do you know who they were, Luke, the guys that started the fight?"

His teeth clenched at that. He'd been working so hard at concentrating on taking care of Bo... "No." His jaw was starting to hurt, but he didn't seem to be able to loosen the muscles there.

"Do you know where to find them?"

"No." A swallow didn't do anything to ease the tightness of his jaw, but it did seem to hurt his throat.

"And they ain't from around here." That one didn't require a response, at least. Good thing, too, because there were words building up in him, but not the kind he could say at his uncle's dinner table.

"Then, Luke, let it go. He's going to be all right. They's likely gone and never coming back. You ain't got to go looking for them or anyone who might look like them or the next guys that come through town or any of those things you want to do. You ain't going to make nothing better by going out and stirring up more trouble." And his uncle's case was rested. Didn't stay the rage he'd awakened in Luke one bit, but as long as Jesse'd had his say…

What was the use. Luke nodded and went back to looking at his chicken. Jesse was right, there wasn't anything he could do about what had happened today.

Jesse stood and patted him on the shoulder before leaving him alone in the kitchen. With a plate of cold chicken that he'd never be able to unhinge the anger in his jaw long enough to actually eat.