Author's Note: Thanks for joining me on another one of these little journeys. This one's quite a bit different in how it doesn't rely on canon, but borrows from it. Best simply to think of it as AU, probably. And to remember that the moonshine-running Dukes were a bit rougher all around than the characters came to be during the series' later years.

I forgot to say how I own nothing and make no money, but sadly, it's true.

Chapter Two - A Moment of Life

February 1985

Leave it to Bo to get twisted up in a knot about a pointless, little, years-old scar on Luke's arm. It's not like it matters much, other than being a lump of skin he has to decide whether to button his shirt cuff over or not. Doesn't hurt anymore, it hardly even did when it happened. Bo's just being dramatic in acting like it's anything they need to talk about.

(And if the very first thing he did when he arrived at the farmhouse was to check Bo over for nicks and dings, signs that NASCAR has left any kind of an ugly mark on him, that's just habit. Started too young, maybe, him watching over Bo. Like brushing his teeth, it's the kind of thing his Aunt Lavinia nags in his head about. Is Bo all right? You have to look after your little cousin.)

They're big boys now, would both tower over Lavinia were she still around to see them. They can most certainly each tend to their own wounds without the other one there to watch and worry. Heck, somewhere in the last nine years or so, Bo must've learned how to get out of bed without Luke there to shove him, figured out eating three square meals a day. He's in good shape, looks like, even if his shoulders are slumped in deference to that lecture he's getting from Daisy. Funny how she doesn't trust Bo to behave at her wedding, how she expects him to be more interested in the bridesmaids than the ceremony. Girl knows what she's talking about. She's got Bo pinned to the wall with her sharp girl-claws, and it's as fine a reason as any for Luke to slip out of the house.

Nostalgia has no place here amongst the ruins of a farm. The house stands as well as it ever did, which means it's in serious need of some repair. Still got mile-wide gaps in its boards that a stiff wind can whistle through without hardly getting interrupted from its original northerly path. Makes Daisy shiver under her turtleneck sweater, while Bo pretends to stand up to it. For Luke it's a different thing entirely; used to a brittle, iced-over life from about October through April, this is a reprieve. A moment of life in the middle of death; the sun is out for more hours than he's seen since early fall, warming things to a temperature where the hardiest of Montana's wildflowers would poke their heads out of the newly thawed ground.

Hazzard's brown. Everything's fast asleep with no thoughts of waking up. Jesse did his best with the farm after his children went off in their various directions, but it's now been a lot of years since there was anything living here to come out of dormancy. Searching out flowers for Jesse's grave yesterday was harder than it should have been (Rhuebottom's just doesn't carry out-of-season supplies, so they had to go out to Capitol City), delivering them up to the cemetery at the top of the hill was excruciating. He ended up with one cousin at each of his sides, clinging there and crying like it hadn't been years since the old man passed. And it wasn't that Luke didn't miss their uncle too, more like he might have appreciated a few minutes alone at the gravesite.

And, he realizes, that seems to be his destination right now. Walking through dead fields in a county that used to be vibrant with life, as out-of-control, pest and weed-ridden as it was. The most colorful of all the various malignancies might have been the man who hid his dark and selfish heart behind a white suit. No one the Dukes enjoyed having as County Commissioner or as competition for their best 'shine customers, but the man had enlivened the place, keeping Luke on his toes. It's not the same in this corner of Georgia without old J.D. Hogg.

Rosco must feel it more than anyone, even Lulu. Sure, back in those days the sheriff had to look the other way so much it's a wonder he didn't wind up wall-eyed. But Boss Hogg had been Rosco's sole friend and the one person who would abuse the sheriff in exactly the same way his domineering mother had. If it wasn't love, it was at least comfort, and Rosco had blossomed into a twisted little prickly-pear flower under the overbearing crush of Boss Hogg's attentions. Lulu, sweet as she is, can't be any kind of a real substitute for her now dead husband. Still, according to Daisy (who would know, what with her engagement to Enos and all), Rosco and his sister are now inseparable, even living under the same roof again for the first time since they were kids.

Corn, there used to be row after even row of the stuff right here in these fields Luke's crossing, its monotonous uniformity disguising its greater purpose in this little swath of Appalachia. And when there weren't shoulder-high stalks, the land used to be covered in freshly turned soil. Now the farm turns out abundant weeds; Luke's jeans are picking up more burrs than dirt.

The old burial grounds are still set off from the rest of the property, lined in trees. They've also been maintained by Daisy since she returned to Hazzard last year, so while the grass that covers their ancestors is winter-brown, at least it's neatly trimmed and raked free of leaves. It's about the only respite from the desolation of the rest of the Duke property.

Standing in front of his uncle's plot, Luke finds that whatever he might have wanted to say or ask has deserted him now. Maybe it makes its own kind of sense, the silence of this space. Could be the fondest memories he's got of the man who raised them are the quiet ones, companionable moments of tending to the works, watching the moonshine cool back from steam to liquid. Or passing a wrench from one old, tired and wrinkled hand into another, young and strong grip. Luke couldn't have hit puberty by the time Jesse left the tractor to his care. Old thing it was, needing a new steering column after the ignition got fixed, and then there were the brakes. Troublesome as it could be, Luke loved it for the challenge in keeping it alive. And for the quiet moments he and Jesse shared in putting it back together after yet another near-death experience.

So he lets himself be quiet, even if he did have a purpose for coming up here. Keeps it to himself as he looks at the familiar headstones of family members he never knew or hardly remembers. Lavinia dominated his earliest years, and everything since then has been Jesse. A man so strong that Luke doesn't reckon he'll ever end up being half his equal.

By the time the sound of shuffling feet breaks through the hard shell of silence surrounding this place, Luke's ready to hear it. And when that familiar, heavy, hot presence drops its arm across his shoulders, Luke welcomes it.

"Hey Bo," is all he says when his cousin tips his head down so their temples can rest against one another.

November 1974

It was – there were too many things all at once to explain the emotion. "Yee-haw!" about summed it up and Luke knew exactly what he meant by it. Gave Bo the eyebrow, calm and cool, reminding him about how fully-grown adults behaved. It was more of a challenge than chastisement: just try to make me smile – so he did, slung an arm around his cousin's shoulders with a good, hearty thump. Oh, but those lips were still skeptical, refusing to come out of their straight-lined denial of anything fun going on here in the grease-and-sour-milk stink of the junkyard. Wasn't Bo's fault he had to jump in the air, knowing full well that Luke would catch him before he hit the ground. A tight little smile was how Luke rewarded his efforts, followed by Cooter's idiot giggle coming from the other side of the formidable carcass of an older Dodge Charger.

"Gentelmens," the court-jester and junkyard-scavenging mechanic's son said, opening his arms expansively, "your ride." Little bow there at the end and Cooter really was the perfect idiot. Sober for once, and industrious. "Bought it off some fool boy whose daddy just got him a new car. 'Don't need this old heap anymore' he said, and gave it to me for a hundred dollars. Which I just happen to know y'all can pay me – in 'shine."

And that was what it really took to shake the last of the Marine stiffness out of Luke. He dropped Bo, rough fingers catching in the back of the filthy blue t-shirt that Daisy would be yelling about when they got home, held on just long enough to steady Bo on his feet. In a second Luke was gone, down to his knees, then flat on his back and sliding underneath the hulking steel body in front of them. Bo wasn't the only one that would be hearing about ground in dirt and how from now on they could just wash their own clothes. Which had always been an empty threat, a kind of casual power that the girl held over their heads, but just lately, Bo wasn't so sure she didn't mean it. Seemed like she was spending more and more nights out under the stars with that pinto-driving sissy-boy, L.D. (Lame Duck, Bo had called him, only to get Luke's rolled eyes in response. Then his cousin had whispered a pair of deliciously naughty words back at him, the kind of swearing he must have learned in the Marines. It was just a damn good thing that neither their uncle nor Daisy had been around to hear them, or Luke would have been bent over a hay bale before he could say lickety-split – or that naughty thing – again.) Could just be Daisy would rather leave their dirty jeans behind and maybe take up washing old L.D.'s.

"Yep," Luke was telling the undercarriage of the car. "She's in fine shape. Don't look like she's ever even taken any hard knocks."

"He," Bo corrected him.

Oh, Luke had an opinion of that. That sour little look on his face as he dragged himself along the dirt and out from under the car had nothing to do with the way the place (or their somewhat rancid friend – sober, but the remnant aroma of last night's entertainment hung all too heavily on his grimy clothes) smelled. "He?" clarified for them all that Luke thought Bo was an idiot.

"Well yeah," he answered, just smiling away whatever gloom Luke might have wanted to dump on him. "I figure if he's a boy, and he's a Duke, he's gonna chase down all them girl cars that are on the track."

"Shoot," Luke was answering back, of course he was. There wasn't a thing Bo ever said that Luke didn't have a smart response to. "You best hope he takes after you for the effort, and me for the success, then."

Well, if he and Luke were going to have a baby together: "We just better make sure he gets my good looks," was Bo's final assessment.

Luke's flattened lips and squinted eyes expressed his views on that matter.

"We just got some new paint at the shop. I'd be glad to swipe it for you," Cooter interjected. And that was all right, he'd delivered the baby, ought to get his say in how things turned out. "Only cost you one extra jug of 'shine."

Which made everything quite tidy, really. He and Luke would swipe 'shine from their Uncle Jesse to pay Cooter for paint that their friend stole from his father's shop. A perfect Hazzard deal.

December 1974

"Come on, Luke," was as annoying as a snot-nosed, little blonde boy pulling at his sleeve. Bo was taller than him now, and seemed to have mastered the use of the tissue. Which somehow didn't make his nagging voice any less annoying. "Let's go test out them new shocks in the General."

In a flash, Black Tilly had been discarded like last week's girlfriend. Used to be Bo couldn't wait to drive her, whether she was filled to the brim with clandestine moonshine, or traveling light with only the two of them as passengers. Now she'd become a jilted lover, replaced by the General, formally known as the General Lee. Their labor of love, even Luke had to admit that much. Main difference was that Luke knew that the General was a show pony, but Tilly was their hauling mule. Someone had to do some work around here.

"Later," Luke answered, knowing full well it wasn't going to do a thing for Bo's patience. Not that his cousin was the only one on the verge of losing his cool. "When I'm done here." Tilly was a sweet lady from behind the wheel, but under her hood was another matter. Cramped quarters where even switching out spark plugs and a simple oil change equaled bruised and nicked knuckles. And since today's misery was the serpentine belt, Luke was looking at grease-filled cuts, the likes of which were about as pleasant as snake bites. "You could help."

Restless shift from one foot to the other and Bo was behind him, breathing hot on his bare shoulder. Trying to give a damn about what Luke was doing, but it was an obvious failure. A sigh just about in his ear and Luke had enough.

"Here," he said, "hold this." Just a simple crescent wrench, Luke laid it in Bo's perfect, pink hand. The expert way Bo grabbed it, twiddling the screw to widen the span of the jaw, belied his seeming mechanical incompetence. Not to mention that the kid had showed real aptitude while building the General's engine. It wasn't about what Bo couldn't do, just what he didn't want to, and some things never changed.

Bo, Aunt Lavinia whispered in his brain, has badger medicine. Quick to anger, aggressive in all of his emotions. His fierce new love for the General made almost everything else disappear, everything but Luke, maybe. Because fun wasn't fun unless Luke was along for the ride.

"There," Luke pointed. "Hold that nut steady." A necessity when its companion bolt wanted to take it spinning with every twist of Luke's wrist. The two pieces of hardware might have been in perfect harmony with one another, but working the way they were was preventing Luke from making any progress here.

Lavinia was half Cherokee, her mother's side. She knew the land and its animals better than just about anyone else Luke had ever met. She knew people, too, recognized them by what she called their "animal spirits." He loved her, maybe more than the mother he'd never really known. But she put too much thought into some things, so much effort to explain what was ultimately very simple. Bo was intensely interested in one thing until he fell in love with the next. Tilly was yesterday's news.

A little elbow grease, leaning left while Bo twisted to the right, and finally the tensioner rotated enough to provide slack in the belt. Slipping his wide fingers down to find the closest pulley wasn't much fun – smeared grease into fresh scrapes on his knuckles – but at least this time, the belt came loose in Luke's hand.

"You can let her go now," he advised his clearly bored and still pink-fingered cousin. Snap and pop, the tensioner got released faster than was likely good for it.

"When we're done here," was Bo taking all too much credit for a few seconds of work. "You gonna be ready to test out them new shocks?" When, Luke, when – same tone he's heard since Bo learned how to talk. How many minutes used to get whined at him during those years when he had more schoolwork than Bo, got stuck sitting at the kitchen table while Lavinia made sure every last bit of it was done.

None, he always wanted to say and couldn't. Because Bo needed to learn that first things came first, whether it was homework or chores, and somehow, it had long ago become Luke's job to teach him. You've got to set a good example followed by you're too old to get away with that anymore had peppered his childhood until Lavinia passed and suddenly everything she'd said was true. Bo was at his side from dawn until dusk, becoming his responsibility to look after while Jesse worked days in the fields and nights at the still, keeping a roof over their heads. Daisy was watched over by every woman within a five mile radius (poor motherless girl needs a feminine influence), but Bo was Luke's alone.

And a two-year hitch in the Marines hadn't changed a damn thing. Daisy was all grown up now, even got herself a job in town. Convenient sort of a thing, her working at Boss Hogg's roadhouse. Serving beer to the same men who drove for Hogg, delivering moonshine that didn't even make for good gargling, much less swallowing. All the same, the commissioner had his clients, men that were afraid to buy from anyone else. And there was nothing he'd like more than to horn in on the Dukes' business. Hiring Daisy might have been their competition's biggest mistake, even if she did pull in customers from as far off as the interstate, what with that tiny little work outfit she had to wear.

"We'd," Luke advised, "get done sooner if you'd get down there and change her oil. Got a run to make tonight, and she'd better be in shape for it." Up into Tennessee, where roads wound back on themselves up into the heights. No place a man should be in a car that was in anything less than perfect health.

Got him grumbled at, but Bo took off his top shirt and grabbed the drain pan before getting down to slide under the car. Big, Bo had grown just huge over the years Luke was gone, and it might have made more sense for Luke to take the low ground. If Bo could have been counted on to concentrate long enough to get the new belt properly fitted around all the pulleys.

"I know we got a delivery to make, Luke," found its way up through the engine components between him and Bo. "But we also got a race on Saturday. We got to make sure the General's ready for that, too."

Made him laugh, the way Bo felt compelled to remind him of things he'd never forgotten. "Tell you what," he answered. "You get that oil changed before I get this belt on, we'll take the General out to Dry Creek and give him a real good run. Maybe even get Enos to chase after us and make it a genuine race." After all, Rosco's newest deputy was eager enough to make a good impression, and there was no faster way to the sheriff's heart than through chasing the Duke boys.

"No problem," came back at him from under the car, like it was news. Shouldn't take Bo but half the time it would take Luke to get their respective jobs finished, considering the sheer number of pulleys he'd have to stretch the new serpentine belt around. And that was fine, Luke had every intention of letting Bo win, then letting him drive the rest of their day away. Yeah, they had obligations, but that didn't mean they couldn't have fun.