A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. I was going to go for a bit longer, maybe another 2k words or so, but I have a weakness for cliffhangers, because I am evil like that. -cackles- Hope you guys like the extra long chapter anyway. :) Hopefully, I'll get around to writing the next chapter soon. Wow, I love my Muse right now. I've never had it be so active. Keep those finger crossed people! Let's hope this writing craze of mine continues.

Please keep with the reviewing, and if you spot any mistakes or anything stands out to you that doesn't quite look right, please let me know. I haven't had the time to beta this much.

Disclaimer: I own JP, Mr. Lewis, Hespera and... Abernathy, was it? In any case, I own nothing else.

Double, Double, Here Comes Trouble

For someone who'd been kind and rather fun less than a day ago, Vin's personality had made a complete turn around.

Sure, he was still kind, and sure, he would probably still be fun, were the situation different; but at the moment, he was pretty frightening.

Ezra snuck a quick peek at him from where he was crouched down, trying to reach the metal type 'B' that had disappeared under the printing press. The normally cheery man was talking quietly with Mary Travis near the doorway, and his face, while agreeable and friendly, still had that painfully mild look about it.

Something about this new and unfamiliar look was even worse than what he'd come to know as The Larabee Glare. It was just so… mild. It was the only way he could explain it. And what probably made it so disconcerting was that it just didn't fit what he'd learned of Vin at all.

Ezra quickly looked down when he saw Vin turn in his direction, and concentrated on looking Contrite and Immersed in his work. He waited until he felt Vin's eyes drift away before he relaxed back onto his heels, his thoughts awhirl.

Mary had been surprisingly forgiving, considering he'd knocked almost an entire day's work across a majority of her floor. She'd been so nice - even going so far as to ask him to call her 'Mary' - that Ezra had begun to wonder if maybe he'd overreacted: if she was this nice, would it really have been so horrible to stay with her?

As it was, this whole situation was getting out of hand.

Ezra'd been counting on Vin's reaction to complete his plan: Vin should have been more than happy to believe his side of the story, and should have brushed the whole thing off as just being a case of 'boys being boys' or something similar. Not… this.

Should he have roped Mr. Wilming–Buck–into this instead? He was definitely the type to believe the story of an innocent, lonely little boy who'd been the victim of a terrible misunderstanding. And yet… he'd thought that about Vin, and look how that had turned out.

But no… he'd never misread anyone before! …Well, excluding that one time when an old, bad-tempered matron of a hotel had refused to believe he'd, 'Just found the money lying around!'

But Vin had seemed such a perfect subject! It had to be something else.

Then again, with all that had happened to him in a mere week, it wouldn't be too surprising if he were a little off his game.

Maybe ah should have listened to that little voice while ah still had the chance, Ezra thought with a sigh. But…

Naw. It had been worth it.

Ezra looked over to where Billy was sullenly collecting the metal type and placing them in the box, and couldn't hide a smirk of satisfaction.

Totally worth it.

"Mary, I'd like ta speak ta Ezra now, if tha's all righ' with you," Ezra heard Vin say. He glanced up apprehensively in time to see Mary sigh and run a hand over her face.

"Yes, all right, he's done his share of the clean up. I'll take care of the rest with Billy. Lord knows most of this is his fault, anyway."

"I wouldn' be too sure 'bout that," Vin cautioned. Ezra, whose attention and eyes had started to stray due to loss of interest, jerked both back to stare at the two adults standing near the door in shock.

Perhaps Vin sensed him watching somehow, because the conversation became too hushed for him to hear, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Ezra wouldn't have heard them for the loud rushing in his ears and the buzzing of his reeling thoughts.

Did he know? Had he seen through him? Had he really misjudged everything so badly?

Ezra felt a small hint of panic and indecision beginning to rise through his body, the tell-tale tightening of his muscles and quickening of his breathe precluding the rush of adrenalin that always came when a con or game threatened to go south.

This mix of feelings always led to a conflicting urge to either run like Hell, or form panicked plans for getting away quietly and undetected, or, if possible, to do both at the same time. All in all, a very bad combination.

Ezra ruthlessly shoved all of these urges into a very small corner of his mind, and forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly, calmly. Panicking would get him nowhere now, and would be both useless and unproductive. Better to save it for a time when it was needed; it could only hurt him in this situation.

Still breathing slowly, Ezra went back to collecting pieces, nearly jumping when the dreaded, "You can finish now, Ezra," came.

He plucked up one last piece and put it on the tray, then very carefully stood up and began brushing down his clothes, stalling for time.

A good look at his options was what he needed: if lying at this point was only going to dig a deeper whole for him bury himself in, he needed to know ahead of time so he could plan accordingly.

Mah God, things were neva' this complicated befoa', Ezra thought glumly.

For someone who'd been withdrawn, polite and introverted less than a day ago, Ezra's personality had certainly taken a turn.

Vin glanced at Ezra, who was diligently scrounging for the metal pieces of type still scattered across the floor, and gave a mental sigh.

Despite having talked to Chris about this, he still had no idea what to do.

Their conversation had almost convinced him that Ezra had done this deliberately, but he still couldn't help clinging to the hope that this had all been some unfortunate accident. It just didn't fit what he'd learned so far of the quiet boy. If he was honest with himself, he just didn't want to believe that Ezra was capable of playing them like this. It… wasn't right.

Doubtless, if this had been a purposeful action, it probably hadn't been meant maliciously. Still… he just didn't want to believe it. Not yet; not until he had more proof.

Vin turned his attention back to Mary.

"He's a good boy, you know," she was saying, "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding. Boys will be boys, and all that."

He smiled at her, grateful for her eternal optimism and forgiving nature. "I don' know what happened jist yet, but I mean ta ask Ezra 'bout it."

"I'll speak with Billy, too. With all that's happened to the poor boy, Ezra's probably just confused and frightened right now, and I'm sure they'll get things patched up between them once everything's cleared up."

Feeling doubtful about that, but nodding anyway, Vin leaned his shoulder against the door jam, fiddling absently with his hat as he tried to come to a decision. Should he brush this all aside for now, giving him the chance to observe Ezra and figure out if Chris was right? Or should he follow his instincts, which were practically screaming at him that Ezra had to be held accountable, that no child should be allowed to get away with such blatant manipulation?

Maybe, for now, it would be best for all of them if he just let this one slide. Maybe he should just give Ezra the benefit of the doubt on this one, give them both a chance to get used to each other and this unusual situation first.

Maybe yes, probably no.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. When it came down to it, Vin just didn't think it was his right to do anything about this, never mind punish the kid for something he couldn't even prove. He'd just met Ezra; trying to be an authority figure this early in their somewhat tentative relationship could easily push him away.

Righ'. So do nothing it is.

Having reluctantly come to this conclusion (after deliberately shoved all his uncertainties into the back of his mind), Vin asked Mary if he could speak with Ezra and hoped for the best.

They walked in the general direction of the saloon, as quiet as when they'd first walked this way, mere hours ago. This silence was considerably tenser than the last, with both Ezra and Vin wrapped up in their uncertainties and apprehension, neither wanting to be the one to broach the unavoidable conversation.

Eventually, when the tension became too much, Vin slowed to a stop and put a hand on Ezra's shoulder, bringing him to a halt.

"Ezra… we need ta talk."

Ezra swallowed, and nodded hesitantly. This was it: the moment of truth.

They sat down on the boardwalk, both quiet for another moment as Vin gathered his thoughts.

"What were ya thinkin', kid?" Vin asked finally, his voice soft, neutral. "What got you two fightin'?"

Ezra fidgeted with his hands a moment, unsure how to answer. At least Vin didn't seem angry, which was a good sign. Maybe this wouldn't go as badly as he'd thought it would.

"Ah…" he began, then stopped. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then sighed. "Ah'm not really sure, suh."

A hand on his chin lifted his eyes from where they'd been staring at the ground.

"It's jist Vin, Ezra. Why don't ya start from the beginnin', hmm? What got ya two arguin'?"

He swallowed again, finding it hard to think with Vin staring straight at him, as if he could read all his secret faults and find the truth in his face. Ezra realized, to his discomfort, that at this point, a true account of events was really the only option. A limited version of the truth, sure, but the truth nonetheless.

"He made me angry," Ezra finally stated, a bit flatly. Possibly not the best thing he could have said, as it implied that he had been the one to start the altercation, but it was the closest thing to the truth he was willing to divulge.

It seemed to be enough for Vin, however, because he let go of his chin after scrutinizing his face closely for a long moment. Ezra got the distinct feeling that Vin had been searching for a lie, and that if he had lied, the scarily intuitive Texan would have caught it. It was a disconcerting thought.

"Go on," the Vin said gently.

Knowing he didn't have much of a choice, Ezra continued, looking back down at the ground, "Ah tried to be polite at first, but Billy rebuffed all mah attempts at friendship. He was being rude and unkind fore no apparent reason, and it made me angry. Ah was just trying to be nice," he added rather plaintively, and Ezra realized, as he said it, that this was also true; painfully so. He really had been trying to be nice to Billy, but the boy had refused all his efforts. Completely shot them down, in fact.

As much as he hated to admit it, the rejection had hurt. It was hard enough to make friends while skipping from town to town, running cons and essentially being his mother's ace in the hole. With his rich clothes and refined mannerisms, most children his age found him intimidating, and often times ignored him completely. He hadn't minded much; when his mind was occupied with other things, most of which involved scouting out possible Marks for himself and Maude, he was content in his solitude. During the down times, however, when there was nothing to do but sit in his hotel room and look out at the bustling towns, he had ached for friendship, someone within his age range to talk to and play with – something that had never come.

Ezra could feel Vin looking at him, and he kept his eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to see his reaction to this shameful admission.

"When he pushed me, ah lost it, and ah… said some things. Some not vera' nice things. It made him angrier, and when he pushed me the second time-" here he left out a few things, unnecessary things that he was not about to admit to, even if Vin had undoubtedly figured them out for himself by now, "-Ah fell and knocked ova' Mrs. Travis's things. That's when you came in."

He stopped, and waited.

At his feet, a lone ant struggled with a crumb of something three times its size. As Ezra watched, it attempted to crawl up the wooden sidewalk, but ended up tumbling over and dropping its gigantic burden. The poor thing kept getting up and trying to climb, only to fall (get up, fall, get up, fall), failing and falling again, and again, and again…

Something about this small creature - this lonely, sad creature - and the way it tried and failed countless times to bear its heavy load dredged up an emotion from deep inside him that was so strong and terrifying it took his breath away.

He almost choked on it, this painfully thick emotion so cloying and real it made his eyes sting and made it impossible to breathe. It took all of his considerable will power to keep this feeling from showing on his face, and even then it was barely enough.

What a great moment to go absolutely batty.

He forced himself to look up, look away, and tried not to flinch when he found Vin staring directly at him again, his face inscrutable. At least that mild look had disappeared, though that wasn't much of a consolation.

Ezra knew his explanation was less than adequate, but it wasn't like he could say, 'sure, Vin, I knew Billy was angry, and I deliberately used that information to get him to attack me, insuring I could stay with you'? Yeah, right.

There was nothing more he could do; the ball was in Vin's court now.

When Ezra finished his story, Vin almost sighed out loud with relief. So it hadn't been intentional, just a simple disagreement between two boys whose personalities had clashed. He felt a little ridiculous now for reading so much into the situation.

There was still that nagging voice in his head that kept insisting there was something Ezra was hiding, and that something had definitely been intentional about the whole thing, but Vin very firmly told it to shut up, and it subsided. There was no point in being paranoid, not when Ezra had been so open and honest with him.

It was actually a bit surprising that he'd been so forth coming. Vin had expected it would be a little bit like pulling teeth from an ornery horse, but Ezra had offered an explanation readily enough. Perhaps they were finally making progress.

When he happened to glance down at Ezra, Vin saw his face suddenly twist into a horribly pained expression, with an emotion behind it that he couldn't place. Alarmed, he was about to ask him about it, but it disappeared before he could say anything. Ezra looked up then, and Vin had to resist the urge to find out the source of that look. Now wasn't the time.

He didn't want to push his luck by asking Ezra any further 'touchy' questions about his past, even though he'd promised Chris he would, so he decided it was time to wrap things up.

"I think it would be good if ya 'pologised ta Mrs. Travis and Billy. Jist tell her what ya told me, and I'm sure she'll forgive ya jist fine. Try ta get 'long wi' Billy this time, kay?"

For some reason, as he'd started talking, Ezra jerked his head up, his face stunned and a bit puzzled, but in the end he nodded readily enough, his face turning to apologetic so fast Vin thought maybe he'd imagined it.

"Yes suh, ah'll do that now."

Vin almost corrected him about the 'sir', but decided against it. He'd break him of that habit eventually.

"All righ' then," he said, giving Ezra a casual half smile. "Let's jist drop by Mary's again and git that over with, then we kin head over ta the boarding house ta see 'bout yer accommodations."

"Hey Buck, I heard Chris and guys are back! Have you seen them?"

Buck reluctantly glanced up from where he'd been happily appreciating the front of his companion's dress, disappointed at the interruption.

"Uh…" he began unintelligently. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, but when he finally did, he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the saloon, or it could have been the livery. "Went over there… I think. Not sure, wasn't really paying attention."

This brought his mind back to what he'd previously been 'attentioning' to, and Buck was distracted all over again.

JD sighed, amused and resigned, and went off to find his wayward companions on his own. Trust Buck to be completely unhelpful.

It had been rather uneventful and boring around Four Corners without Chris to intimidate any and all unfortunate travellers who happened across their town, Vin to create havoc, and Nathan to patch up the injuries of everyone involved. Buck could be fun when he wasn't busy salivating over some attractive skirt, but since that was all he'd been doing lately, he was no help. As for Josiah… well; building a church is really only attractive if one is, say, addicted to manual labour, sweat, and looking unattractive.

It was good to have them back. Now all he had to do was find them.

Ezra was… confused. Very confused. And slightly disillusioned.

When Vin had told him he wanted to talk, Ezra assumed he was finally in for it, caught in the act, and had resigned himself to paying for his misdeeds. It had almost been… a relief, of sorts, that he was finally going to own up to his disgusting act of un-gentlemanly-like behaviour, and his atrocious act of playing with people's emotions. He'd been anticipating a relief from the unexpected guilt he was feeling, and when Vin had just… brushed it aside, like it had been nothing more than a little misunderstanding, Ezra had been surprised, grateful, and then, unexpectedly, very confused. And a bit disillusioned.

He had had to clean, of course, and apologize; but while the cleaning had been terribly asinine, and the apologizing an exercise in his restraint not to kick his newly-dubbed enemy, it would be a serious stretch for Ezra to call it a punishment.

Maybe he'd been wrong all along; maybe Maude hadn't really taught him wrongly. Was it normal, then, to string people along for one's own benefit? Was conning and cheating people really an acceptable way of life?

That didn't seem right, though, and this was mainly what had Ezra so confused. A bit angry, strangely enough, at being confused. And a bit disillusioned.

Neva' mind that, now, he told himself sternly as they walked away from Mary's, done with the expected apologies. No need to complicate things.

But it was useless, now that the thought had entered his mind, to try to suppress it. He tried anyway, but his doubt and confusion refused to disappear. Would things ever be simple for him? Would anything ever make sense?

It's like playing a game of cards, Ezra thought rather ironically, a bit bleakly. Only this was a game that he had to play, had to finish, had to fight to get through in one piece: playing was imperative, final. To not play was unthinkable.

But one has to know the rules to play the game, and ah don't know these rules.

Again, that awful, unidentifiable emotion swept its way past his defenses - only this time, he recognized it for what was: the overwhelming, unavoidable, terrifying feeling of being crushed by inevitability, of knowing that there is nothing you can do to help the situation, yourself, or anyone else. That there is nothing left to do but curl up on the ground and wait for your moment to die.

He recognized this feeling because he'd experienced it once before, back when all this had started. Ezra felt his hands clench involuntarily, and he strove to relax them, even as a wave of grim determination pushed itself to the surface. He was so caught up in it that he failed to notice the look of concern Vin shot at him.

Ah will not give in to this again, not this time. Ah have endured moa' than enough uncertainty and pain; ah deserve to make mah own choices. From now on, ah do what ah think is best fore ME.

Starting with tonight.

A game of poker sounds just lovely.

Ezra had been quiet since they left Mary's. Too quiet.

Looking down at him, Vin found himself questioning, again, if he'd handled the whole thing wrong. There could, of course, be a myriad of other reasons for the boy's silence, but he couldn't ignore the possibility that, by handling the situation as he had, he'd done something that could irrevocably ruin Ezra's faith in him and adults in general. Though why that might be the case Vin couldn't quite say, but it was a feeling that wouldn't fade, despite his counter arguments and mental reassurances to the contrary.

Having not had the greatest of childhoods himself, Vin didn't have much to base his fears on, but living in Four Corners, watching the way the various town's people - Mary, the Potters, a few of the more friendly families - treated and raised their children had gifted him with some knowledge of children, the way they think, and how to deal with the many problems and difficulties that came with child rearing. Even Chris and they way he acted around Billy Travis was very informative and thought provoking.

Unfortunately, Ezra was not anywhere near a normal child.

He glanced down at Ezra, mind still on the mysteries of a child's mind, and noted with some alarm and no little concern the way the quiet boy had his eyes tightly closed, shoulders tense and breath a bit unsteady. Vin almost reached out, almost asked him what thought had caused this reaction, but pulled back at the last moment. He was probably just remembering the fight; Vin had not missed the way Ezra's voice had echoed his hurt at being rejected by the Travis child, something Vin regretted on his behalf.

Why Billy had reacted the way he had was something Vin planned on asking Chris to speak with the boy about. An' if he doesn't, I definitely will, Vin thought grimly.

Eyes still focused on Ezra, Vin was able to catch the change in expression and the clenched hands that came with Ezra's decision to look out for Number One. Though Vin didn't know the reason behind this change of body language, it was enough to put him on edge. This couldn't be good.

Again, his uncertainties about his decision to brush the whole incident under the rug pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. And again, Vin pushed them away.

What's done is done, he thought, not without a hint of regret. I did what I though' was best, an' I reckon I's jist gonna have ta live with it.

Still, he could not dismiss the feeling that this was going to come back to haunt him, and not in a good way. As such, it was with some hesitation and lingering concern that he pushed open the swinging door to the saloon and ushered himself and Ezra into the popular tavern.

It was more crowded inside than the first time he'd been there. Ezra looked around, taking the lively atmosphere that came with working being done for the day, and workers and travelers alike looking to find some way to relax, a way which generally involved getting drunk off their collective asses.

It took a moment, but Ezra eventually spotted Chris in the crowd, seated at a table with another, older looking man he didn't recognize. Vin, spotting them at the same time, steered them through the drunken masses and pulled out two chairs for them at the decent-sized table. Still wrapped up in his thoughts and future plans, it wasn't until he sat down that it occurred to him to give the unfamiliar man an initial once-over.

The man had short-cropped, curly grey hair, a hearty looking beard and mustache, and looked old enough to be his grandfather. Also with a large build and scarily big hands, this man gave off an intimidating, if rather scruffy, look. His blue eyes were kind, however, and they were enough to put Ezra immediately at ease, something which hadn't happened since... well, ever. And though he had yet to speak with him or even be introduced, Ezra felt an instant liking for him.

"Good to have you back, Vin," the gentle giant said in a pleasant rumble.

"I gotta say, it's good ta be back too, Josiah," Vin said with a pleased sigh as he settled into his seat. Vin said it with an exaggerated 'z', and Ezra mouthed it carefully to himself, memorizing the pronunciation.

Josiah with a 'z' chuckled lightly and said, "And who's your friend?" He directed the question at Ezra rather than Vin, and Ezra, appreciating the gesture, introduced himself without needing to be prompted.

"Ezra Standish, suh. It's a pleashu' to meet you."

Josiah shook his outstretched hand gravely, and replied, "Josiah Sanchez. Please, call me Josiah."

Noting that he pronounced it with an 's' rather than a 'z', Ezra smiled and said, "Then please call me Ezra, Josiah."

His attention drifted then, so he didn't noticed the rather astonished looks that Vin and Chris exchanged. The gentleman and his companion, who he had labeled earlier as potential Marks, didn't appear to have arrived yet. Confident that he'd read them correctly, however, Ezra wasn't worried. It was still early, after all, only around five or six in the evening. They were probably having dinner at the hotel still. It was better this way, anyhow. It would be much harder to pull off a proper game/con if Chris and the others were here when he tried it. Though unaware that Vin and Chris had been present when he'd been running his game back in Eagle Bend, he was still unwilling to try anything with them present. Chris and even Vin had proved to be scarily perceptive when it came to these sorts of things, and it would be quite horrible if they were to somehow interrupt his game and ruin his concentration. Or for that matter, alert the entire population of the town to his less-than-stellar activities, which was a distinct possibility.

No, he would have to distract them somehow, maybe come back later once they were off doing something else. Ezra had pegged Chris from the start as a sometimes heavy drinker, so he might stay longer than Vin, who seemed the type to prefer solitude over crowds. Josiah he couldn't quite say yet, but it could go either way.

He was wracking his brain for some way to get them out of the saloon and away from where they could do damage to any of his schemes when Vin took care of it for him.

"Ezra, we need ta talk about where yer gonna stay."

Ah, good; a perfect distraction. He turned his focus back to the table and concentrated on looking attentive. "Am ah... gonna stay with Mrs. Travis?"

He doubted that would be the case, but there was always a possibility-

"No, yer gonna stay the boardin' house with one of us 'til we kin decide where yer gonna go and what's gonna happen next." Ezra skillfully ignored the pointed pause that Vin clearly wanted Ezra to fill with the reasons behind him running, the man who'd shot Vin, and a number of other things Ezra was most certainly not going to talk about.

"Will ah be rooming with one of you?" he asked honest curiously, all the while desperately hoping that he wasn't going to have to. That would put a serious crimp in his future plans, and would totally negate the purpose of his getting Mary out of the picture in the first place.

"Nah, we'll git you yer own room fer now, unless ya'd prefer ta stay with one a'us. We all tend ta have weird sleepin' hours, so I thought ya'd sleep easier on yer own." Ezra was quick to agree, hardly able to believe things were going so according to plan.

"Do you want ta come now?" Vin asked, and Ezra nodded, trying not to seem too eager. "All righ' then. Chris, ya wanna come?"

Ezra glanced his way, not sure if he wanted him to come or not, but Chris just shook his head and stood up, motioning to a harried looking Inez that he'd finished. "I've got to check on the horses and talk with JD about anything that might'a happened while we were gone. I'll come check it out later."

Vin shrugged and said, "Suit yerself," before waving goodbye to Josiah and heading out the door. Ezra, relieved, followed quickly after him.

Once they'd gone, Josiah turned to the still standing Chris and, with a casualness that belied his next words, said, "I'd keep an eye on that one if I were you."

Chris nodded wryly in understanding and picked up his discarded hat, briskly placing it on his head. "Believe me, I realized that about ten seconds after meeting 'im."

Leaving a chuckling Josiah behind him, Chris headed out as well, thoughts concentrated on one young fellow who'd become inexplicably entangled in their formerly simple lives.

With an attentive Mr. Abernathy, the owner of the boarding house, hovering a few feet behind them, Vin let Ezra lead the way as he slowly and carefully looked at each room. Finally, after they'd gone through most of the rooms and Vin had showed him where the rest of the town's unofficial peacekeepers slept, Ezra discovered a room that practically screamed perfection, or as close to perfect as one could find in a boarding house.

The room was probably about 6ft. by 10ft., a good size for anything not an expensive hotel room. The was one large picture window against the far-north wall, allowing for a good view of the backs of the hotel and the saloon, as well as the fields behind the boarding house and some of the main road. A large, ancient oak tree grew almost directly against his window, and Ezra knew that with a bit of effort, he could use it to climb down or even get on the roof with it. A single bed pushed against the right wall and just resting in the corner beneath the window - the plain brown quilt matching the pale, cream-colored walls nicely - had a small dresser with a set of drawers resting at its foot. Other than a small writing desk with a shelf of wood nailed above it, the room was empty. And Ezra felt it would perfectly suit his needs. It was a bit plain, sure, but that could be remedied easily enough. What was most attractive about it, in his opinion, was the possibility of an easy escape from his quarters should he find it necessary to, say, engage in a few midnight activities that the adults would otherwise not approve of.

"Ah'd like this one, please," Ezra said to Vin and Mr. Abernathy, unable to hide the slight quiver of excitement in his voice.

Vin smiled at him, glad to see him happy. "Sure thing, Ezra. Me and Mr. Whitaker over here'll take care a' business; why don' ya go get yer stuff. I think they're probably still in the stables with yer horse."

Ezra felt a gasp leave his lips, and nearly ran past Vin and a bewildered Abernathy. Hespera! He'd completely forgotten about her!

He broke out into an all-out run once he'd cleared the stairs, and managed to reach the stables in record time, despite having only been there once before. Skidding to a halt just inside the doors, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light before anxiously looking around for Hespera. Spotting her off in the corner, chewing contentedly on some straw, he rushed over to her, knees feeling wobbly with relief.

"Hello, mah dea' friend," he said in a hushed, apologetic voice, still breathing a bit fast from his run. "Ah'm so sorry ah didn't come check on you right away. Are you all right?"

He ran a hand over her neck, allowing her to nuzzle his pocket for possible treats. It was then that he noticed her tack and saddle were missing, and that she'd apparently been brushed down, with food put in her stall.

Ezra was still gaping in confusion when Chris came up behind him, startling him enough that he tripped and fell against Hespera. Or would have, if Chris hadn't caught him just in time. A sense of strong déjà vu hit him, but he tried to ignore it, struggling to regain his composure.

"I found her in here, still saddled, when I came to check on the horses," Chris said, a bit of gentle reproof in his voice. Ezra felt his cheeks flush with shame. He'd been so busy hatching various plans and schemes that he'd completely neglected his only friend in this new world full of unknowns.

He hugged her neck, fighting to hide the moisture that suddenly clouded his vision. "Was she all right?" he asked, his voice embarrassingly thick.

His face was still hidden in Hespera's silky mane, but he didn't move when a hand cupped his neck, bringing with it an inexplicable sense of comfort.

"Don't worry, she was fine. It's been busy for ya these past few days, so I don't blame you for forgettin' to tend to her. You just gotta remember something - can you do that for me, Ez?"

Ezra was almost afraid to move, as if doing so would break the spell that seemed to have fallen over the both of them, with Chris's gentle touch bringing up feelings and emotions completely foreign to him, ones he wasn't sure he was ready to confront.

Feeling painfully vulnerable, he answered Chris's question with a muffled, "Yes," not even noticing the hated nickname that had slipped out, or that he'd neglected to add the mandatory 'sir'.

"Your horse has always gotta come first. You might be hungry, tired to the bone and want nothing more than to throw yourself on your bed and sleep for weeks, but that's never an excuse not to take care of your horse. They can be your best friend, Ezra, if you treat them proper."

The hand left his neck, and Ezra felt a strange feeling of loss. Sniffing lightly and trying to cover it as he rubbed at his face, he turned to Chris and gave him a quivering smile. "Ah... yes, ah will try to remember that. Thank you fore taking care of her."

Chris nodded, his face oddly kind, and reached up to take down a pack that was hanging from a nail on the wall. Ezra took it from him, trying to show his gratitude at everything Chris had done for him without having to put it to words. He wasn't really sure he could, at the moment.

It seemed that Chris understood, because he brushed a hand through Ezra's hair, allowing it to linger for a moment, before saying, a bit gruffly, "Get that up to that room of yours. I'll come by and see it later," before he walked out of the stables, leaving Ezra to cling to his pack and wonder what had just happened.

Vin, while puzzled at Ezra's hasty departure, had shrugged it off as one of the peculiarities of childhood and continued to stare at Ezra's new room.

Something was missing.

When a cursory examination failed to yield any inspirations, Vin took to studying the room foot by foot, taking in the walls, the coloring, the bed, the furniture..

It was as he studied these that it hit him: the room was too plain. There were no decorations, and with nothing more than the bare necessities, it lacked personality and color. As he thought over what could be done to make it more welcoming, the answer came to him in a flash of understanding.

It was so obvious, Vin could have slapped himself. With a wide grin on his face, he jogged over to his room a few doors down and jerked open the door, ignoring Whitaker's confused questions. On his bed, tucked under his bag, was just the thing to make Ezra's room seem more like home.

Feeling a bit lost and not quite sure what to do now, Ezra wandered down the road, bag still clutched in his hands. His mind kept wandering to that moment in the stables, the unaccustomed emotions of warmth and comfort that had come with a strong feeling of acceptance. He didn't know how else to describe it. When Chris had taken the time to worry about his feelings, he had been granted a small glimpse of what Could Have Been. It was... painful, almost. Painful knowing what he'd missed, living a life of uncertainty and uncaring.

He pulled the bag against himself, unconsciously tightening his hold, hands wrapped around his waist, until it was almost hard to breath. To know what it felt like, to experience it, only to realize that he would never feel it again was enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Ezra knew he couldn't afford to let his thoughts drift like this, to the possibilities of a normal childhood and what that could have meant for him, where that could have left him today. He couldn't, because he knew that dwelling on it too long could allow him to fool himself into believing that it was possible, even now, when he knew it was much too late. Building a dream life, considering the possibilities of one, would only hurt him all the more when it was viciously torn away.

'If Only's would get him nowhere.

It was with some surprise that Ezra realized he'd ended up at the saloon in his aimless walking. Not knowing what else to do, he pushed the doors open, noting wryly to himself that this was becoming a habit, and wouldn't Mother be proud.

Josiah wasn't there, and neither was Chris, Vin or Buck. Or Nathan, for that matter, but Ezra hadn't thought him the type to frequent such establishments, his skin color not-withstanding.

Ezra wasn't sure whether he should be happy about their absence or not, until he noticed something very important, which immediately led him to conclude that yes, it WAS a good thing they were gone.

His Mark was back.

He drifted through the crowd, eyes scanning the room without any apparent purpose. This wasn't true, however, and he soon found what he was looking for; as the back door that led to the kitchens swung open and Inez came out with a loaded tray, releasing the tantalizing smells from within, Ezra quickly ducked around a group of rowdy customers and slipped inside.

He found a low-hanging shelf holding dry goods and various other foodstuffs, and he carefully placed his bag in one corner, hidden from sight unless you knew where to look for it. Finding a reflective surface in a shallow pan of water, he straightened his clothes, ran his hands through his hair, picked at a few pieces of lint and practiced his 'innocent and guileless' face. While the clothes left much to be desired, Ezra figured it could only help him blend in in a town conspicuously lacking in rich and money-accustomed people.

Preparations complete, he stepped out of the kitchen and arranged his game face.

Mr. J. P. Addison, the proud owner of a small but budding legal company, was interrupted during his evening indulgence of alcohol by a small voice, issuing from somewhere near his elbow, that said, in a pleasant, polite voice:

"Excuse me, suh, but might ah interest you in a game of chance?"

John Patrick turned to look for the source of the voice, and was surprised to find it had originated from a boy of about eight to nine years of age, with short brown hair and bright green eyes, wearing a small, well-kept if dusty suit. He was holding a deck of cards that positively dwarfed his hands, and he had an innocently earnest look on his face.

As the father of two young boys, though both were a few years younger, John Patrick was at once both charmed, curious and rather concerned.

He was about to question the young boy further, when his drunk companion, Robert Lewis - a rich, older rancher who had hired him to help with some legal problems, and was currently celebrating with him over a completed deal - said to the boy, rather insultingly, "Yer jus' a kid, boy. What's yer name?"

Said kid, expression remaining guileless and unassuming, said, "Evan Sanders, suh."

Robert continued, words slurring, "Righ', Sinders. What makes ya think we'd play wi' the likes a you? Yer just a kid, prolly don' have the money or know howda play, anyways..." Robert trailed off as he became occupied with gulping down his drink, some of it sloshing onto his waistcoat, John noticed with distaste.

Evan, however, positively beamed at this answer, and John was intrigued to note that this smile was anything but innocent and guileless, unlike his previous look.

"Well, suh, ah guess you won't know until you try."

Although John knew he should put a stop to this - because honestly, what parent in their right mind would willingly allow their kid into a saloon, by himself, to gamble? - but it was proving to be too intriguing to stop. John decided to let it play out, and if it did go too far, he could always contact the kid's parents and get him out of there. After all, it wouldn't do for them to try to file a lawsuit against him.

Ezra was happy.

As he'd thought, the older looking gentleman with the mustache was indeed rich, and a heavy drinker too, as it turned out, and he was proving to be more than he could have hoped for. With five games already behind them, Ezra had managed to win the first four and lose the last, and was planning on winning this one and losing the next, so Mr. Lewis wouldn't be suspicious, and would feel confident enough to begin betting more.

Mr. Lewis's companion, however - a one Mr. John Addison - was proving to be a bit smarter. While Ezra hadn't had the chance to really observe him before, now that they were in such close contact, Ezra used the opportunity to get a good look at him.

Somewhere in his mid to late thirties, with a thinning head of black hair, kind eyes and slightly less expensive suit than his companion, Mr. Addison had spent the last half-hour unobtrusively studying Ezra. Declining to join in on the game, he'd instead watched from the background, face inscrutable, and for all the world looking like he couldn't care less that a young kid was giving his companion a run for his money.

Somehow, though, Ezra got the sense that Mr. Addison saw and heard a lot more than most would. And as much as Ezra would have liked to stay and relieve Mr. Lewis of all his money (which, at this point, he probably could have done without the intoxicated man even noticing), with how attentive Mr. Addison was being, Ezra didn't feel comfortable staying too long. Perhaps he could convince Mr. Lewis to come by again, and they could finish their game some other day without the scarily observant Mr. Addison.

"Well, Mista' Lewis, it appears ah have won once again," Ezra said smugly, comparing his three beautiful queens and two lovely sixes to Mr. Lewis's lowly eights. Mr. Lewis, swaying slightly as he stared with wide eyes at the cards, and said, with the slow carefulness of the highly drunk, "How... did ya do tha'? I swir-swear I saw those somewhere in'a deck."

"And apparently, you were wrong," Ezra said firmly as he gathered his winning and stowed them away in his suit pocket. He sighed dramatically, one eye looking for Mr. Addison's reaction, and said apologetically, "Unfortunately, mah time is up. Ah regret to announce that ah must leave you gentlemen. But should you eva' pass through town again, ah would be happy to indulge in anotha' game with you."

That said, and having carefully filed away Mr. Addison's amused reaction, Ezra was about to step away from the table, when a voice rang out over the crowd and caused him to almost choke on his tongue:

"Ezra? What the hell are you doing here?"

A/N: Liked it? Let me know!