"He looks comfortable," Vin noted as he smoothed out the quilt covering Ezra. "Do you think he's in any pain Nathan?"

"Can't say for certain, but from what I saw during the war, I'd guess not. A doctor told me once the brain starts to shut down, it can only handle taking care of the basics. Breathing and so on. Pain doesn't seem to be an issue."

They stood quietly, looking down at their friend, completely at a loss of for what to say or do next. Finally, Chris found his voice.

"How long do you figure?"

"Can't really predict something like that. It could be any minute now, or he might hang on for a couple of days. No way of knowing exactly where in the brain the damage was, so can't figure how long he can hold on. It all comes down to where the pressure is, what parts – hell, you guys don't need to know the details." He'd seen JD start to go pale, and decided there was no need for this discussion.

"And there's no way to fix him?" Chris knew the answer, but had to hear it.

"Maybe, if we had a real doctor here he could drill into his head and fix what needed to be done. But I'm not good enough for that."

"Knock if off Nathan. This ain't your fault, and Ezra wouldn't want you feeling bad about this. Besides, you know full well we'd all be long dead without you around to patch us up."

"Buck's right Nathan." Josiah added. "And I am betting what you're describing isn't something just any doctor can fix up either. Sounds like a specialist kind of thing. Ain't like pulling a bullet outta someone, is it?"

Nathan grudgingly conceded the point. "No, it's not routine. But any decent doctor might at least be able to give him a better chance."

JD jumped on one word in the sentence. "A better chance? You saying he still has a chance?"

Nathan regretted the false hope he'd offered by a poor word choice. "Twice, during the war, I saw someone wake up after something like this. That's twice over a lot of years JD. First fellow, well it took him a couple weeks to get any of his strength back, and even then…"

"What aren't you saying Nathan?"

"He was paralyzed Chris. All he could do was move one arm, and had no real control. Never recovered from it as far as I know."

"And the other?"

"He woke up, but he never came back. Never moved, never spoke. Stared off at nothing whenever he was awake. Died a couple months after."

The heartbroken look on JD's face spoke for all of them. "That can't happen to him. Damn Buck, he'd rather be dead.

"Reckon so."

Silence again overtook the room as the men shuffled about and cleared their throats in an effort to keep that oppression at bay. After a moment, Buck grabbed JD by the arm and aimed him for the door. "Come on kid – we can't do any good up here and there's 5 carcasses outside we need to clean up."

Josiah shook himself from his stupor and rose to his feet. "I'll join you." Vin said nothing, but followed them out. None looked back.

Chris looked down, then back to Nathan. "Don't take this wrong, but are you sure?"

"Not completely, but I am as sure as I can be. He's not responding to anything I do, and his pupils aren't reacting either. Told you Chris, I'm not an expert. What I do know is there is nothing I can do. Nothing any of us can do."

Nathan watched as Chris bent down to pull the quilt a bit higher over Ezra. "You stick around for a bit. I'll be back." Then he too went downstairs to take care of business.

7-7-7-7-7-7

"Well," Ezra said, despite that fact he couldn't be heard, "that does not inspire a great deal of confidence in my plan. Young Mr. Dunne is quite correct. The life described is not one I would choose for myself." He looked down at himself, watching as Nathan cleaned and bandaged him, treating his other injuries. He couldn't help wondering why the effort was being made. "Of course. You could do nothing less than everything within your power. If that means nothing more than caring for my remains, that is what you will do. I do wish I had taken the opportunity at some point to share with you how genuinely impressed I have always been by the depth of your compassion. When we met, and I showed you none of the courtesy and respect you deserved, you defied my ill-mannered nature and treated me anyway. You have no choice but to heal, do you? And now I present you with an unwinnable hand, and will die knowing you will carry that guilt. I am so sorry."

Nathan leaned over Ezra as he reset the blanket in place. "Wish I could do something more for you Ezra. I know you'd be mad as a wet hen at me for saying this, but you deserve better than I can give you this time. I'm truly sorry about that." Not willing to stand by and watch the guilt on the healer's face, Ezra turned to the window, looking out over the ramshackle collection of buildings that had somehow become home. He watched as the last of the bodies from the gunfight was delivered to the undertaker's. Vin left the building quickly. He spoke briefly to Buck, then headed toward the livery.

Without consciously thinking about it, Ezra found himself outside the stable doors. He watched Vin enter slowly and head directly to Chaucer. "Hey there Chaucer. You know, don't you boy?" Tiny came over quietly.

"He's been dead still since the explosion. The others, they've all be skittish as colts, but Chaucer's ain't moved at all."

"He's going to be hard to take care off. Didn't like anybody but Ez riding him. Likely won't take to another owner." Vin tried offering a treat, but Chaucer just reared his head away.

"Don't fret about that Mr. Tanner. I'll make sure Chaucer gets what he needs. He's a good horse, just dedicated is all. And Mr. Standish, well he sure treated him right. Any man that feels that way about his horse, well he's a good man. No question on that."

Ezra was surprised by the words. He had rarely heard Tiny speak more than one short sentence at a time, and it was clear the man far preferred the company of horses to humans. To know he was thought of that way by one of the few people he trusted Chaucer's care to was gratifying. Forgetting for a moment his situation, he entered the stable to express that gratitude. He had barely entered when Chaucer reared back on his hind legs, practically knocking Vin over. They stepped back quickly to avoid contact with the agitated beast.

"What the hell got into him?"

"Not a clue," Vin replied. "Think he knew what you were saying. Maybe reacting?" It made no sense, but then neither did any other idea he could come up with. They backed off, hoping the solitude would settle the animal.

"Come now Chaucer old friend. There is no need to react so intensely. I would not have expected you would be aware of my presence." He watched, both amused and concerned by the fact the horse followed his every step. He couldn't even hazard a guess at what Vin and Tiny were thinking by this point. "Chaucer, you must settle. You will do yourself an injury, and I couldn't bear the thought that my presence created such a problem." He quieted in his stall, still whinnying softly, but no longer bucking and threatening to break down the door.

"That's better. Listen to me 'mon ami'. You are going to have to make some adjustments. I have not abandoned the hope that I can find a way back, but I am increasingly doubtful that I shall succeed. If I fail, you must promise me you will allow these men to take my place. They will treat you well, you know that. I beseech you to do the same for them. You have good years ahead, and wasting them, wasting your talent, would be a crime."

Vin turned to Tiny. "Did he just nod?" "Looked that way to me." They walked over to the calmed animal. Vin again held out a treat in his hand. Chaucer turned his head away quickly, then turned back, taking the proffered peppermint. "I'll be damned." Tiny mumbled.

"If I didn't know better, I would swear Ezra just lectured him on proper behavior of a southern gentlemen." Vin smiled at the idea, looking once again to Tiny. "But that couldn't have happened – right?"

7-7-7-7-7-7

Ezra strolled slowly around the town. He looked in the windows and doors of some of his favorite spots. Mrs. Potter had closed the shop for the day, but he could see her inside, sweeping a perfectly clean floor. He could also see her dabbing at her eyes with a damp handkerchief. He shook his head, smiling sadly at the scene before moving along.

The saloon was much quieter than usual. It had emptied out when Buck and Josiah came in and headed to their usual table. Both men stopped a few feet away, looking the spot Ezra would normally take. By unspoken agreement, they turned and sat on the other side of the room. Inez brought beers to the table without saying a word. Buck reached up and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before she pulled free, hurrying to the back room to cry in private.

Ezra leaned against the bar, watching the two big men slowly finish their drinks. He could almost feel them shrinking in their seats, as if the air was slowly escaping from them. They could normally overtake any space they were in, simply by their presence, but now, they barely seemed to exist.

JD came in, walking as they had to the usual spot. Unlike them, he went completed his walk, moving behind Ezra's chair and slowly pushing it up tight to the table before joining his friends.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"No idea, kid. Guess we just keep doing what we always have."

"Doesn't seem right to plan things without Ezra in the mix."

"No, it doesn't." Josiah leaned back heavily, earning a significant creak from the chair. "I do know it is gong to be some time before I sit down to another hand of poker. Maybe I never will. Just don't think I'd enjoy it in the same way again."

"Well that would be a foolish sacrifice to make Mr. Sanchez," Ezra thought.

"Can't imagine he'd be pleased to hear you say that." Buck unknowingly echoed Ezra's thoughts. "Few things in life made him happier than a good game of cards. Think he'd hate to see anyone give that up." Ezra smiled at how well Buck understood him.

"So, we supposed to go on like nothing changed?" JD challenged.

Chris entered in time to hear the question. "No JD. Of course not. But do you think Ezra would have wanted us to just curl up and quit?"

"No, not quit. But, well it just ain't gonna be the same," he voiced the sentiment they all felt.

"You want to remember Ezra the best way you can, then you live your life the way he'd want you to. You have fun. Play cards, drink good booze. Laugh, or cry, with your friends. In other words, Live. That's how Ezra would want things to go on."

"And when you drink that good liquor – really Mr. Larabee? Booze? – make sure you raise a glass to me from time to time."

"No." JD spoke firmly.

"No?"

"He's not gone yet. He's still alive, and we have to stop talking like that's gonna change. We can't quit on him."

Buck nodded. "Kid's right Chris. It ain't over yet. Let's not bury him while he's still breathing."

"You heard Nathan."

"You betting against Ezra? Never a good idea Chris." Josiah smiled for the first time that day.

Chris decided there had been enough stress and shock for the day without getting into a fight that would accomplish nothing. "Hope you're right about that JD. I really hope you are. Just don't want you getting your hopes up to high."

"I know Chris. But this is Ezra."

"Even Ezra doesn't win every hand."

"Wins the important ones." JD insisted.

The frustration was becoming more than Ezra could cope with. There were so many things he wanted to say to them still. Instructions he should have left. Even knowing the world he lived in, the enemies he'd made and the risks he took, he always assumed Lady Luck with continue to be by his side. Now it was too late.

For one thing, he wished he had told them how to let Maude know he was gone. She wasn't as tough as she let on. This was going to hurt her more than she would ever let anyone know. He wished he could tell them to go easy on her. To not accept at face value the things that she would say and do. She would need the support of his friends, but would never ask for it. It simply wasn't the Standish way of doing things.

Every bit as important, he wished he had let them know what they had all meant to him. Yes, he was dying far earlier than he might have hoped, but he could not deny that he had a sense of accomplishment that he could never have anticipated in his life. With his life. He owed that to the men he now dared to consider brothers. He should have told them. But that wasn't what they did. It was understood, at least he hoped it was, that they were family, and nothing more needed to said.

Ezra was too drained, in every sense, to listen to any more. Seeing the pain he was causing, the stress around his situation. He couldn't deal with it. He closed his eyes, trying to block it all out.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

TBC