A/N: They're back! No, I can't leave this fandom alone, apparently. I played around with a few things and these alternate situations intrigued me. What would Billy have done had Jessie actually walked out that door before Charlie? It might have gone something like this. I own nothing but my OC and altered plots.

Stinking Springs, New Mexico Territory, December 24, 1880

"Scurlock, you son of a bitch, you wanted to come, you know you did! There was nothing stopping you from going with her on that stage except yourself. You chose to come, Doc, and don't say you didn't." Jessie relaxed in Billy's arms, still breathing like a racehorse at the end of a two mile heat. "For whatever reason, you wanted this ride. Don't blame us when it didn't turn out like you planned." She shrugged out of Billy's loosened hold. "If you really wanted out, you'd have left in '78." She bent, snatched up her fallen hat, stuffed it on her head without even brushing off the dust, and stomped towards the doorway.

"Jessie, wait!"

"Jess!"

"Jessie!"

"Shut up, Scurlock!" Charlie tried to catch her arm, but she pushed him away. She was two steps past the doorway when Chavez hollered, panic dripping from every word.

"Gata, stop!" She half turned and a rifle boomed from somewhere close by. The next thing she knew she was sliding down the rock wall behind her, white-hot agony shooting across her chest, a metallic taste on her tongue.

"Jessie!" Billy's cry sounded far away. Hands clutched at her as gunfire zinged off nearby rocks, yanking her back into cover. "No! Jessie, no!" He was on his knees beside her, reaching for her vest.

"Let her be!" Chavez yelled as he pushed Billy away. Hurt bloomed in Billy's eyes and he stayed where he was. "Don't look down, Gata, look at me, please." It hurt to move, to breathe, to think.

"There's at least ten of them," Dave called. "How are we gonna get out of here?"

"We'll figure something out," Billy yelled back, his eyes never leaving her face. "Jess …" His voice broke. "I'm sorry, it should have been me … it all should have been me."

"Damn straight it should have been you!" Doc spit in disgust. "She's the only reason you're still alive!" Billy seemed to shrink in on himself.

"She can still keep us alive," Dave hollered from the doorway. "She's buzzard bait, send her out first and we might have a chance." Something dark and lethal flared to life in Billy's eyes. He was off the ground and lunging across the room before any of them could do more than blink.

"She was right about you," he said in a voice full of ice. "You're no Regulator, and you don't know the meaning of the word pals." Dave stammered out a protest that fell on deaf ears. Billy caught him by the back of his shirt and shoved him at the door. "Skin out, boys." The barest hint of his old laugh escaped. "Arkansas Dave is gonna lead us out!"

"Go," Jessie choked out, her hand shaking as she clutched at Chavez's shirt. She'd only slow them down, there was no way they could escape if they had to carry her up the hill.

"But –"

"Go, please." She drew in a breath and choked, drawing Billy's attention for a split second. His throat worked, and she knew he, at least, would leave her without protest. Even if a part of her didn't want that, it was the way it had to be. Chavez swallowed hard, then leaned down and kissed her forehead, murmuring something in his own tongue, before he stood, face frozen, and stalked towards the scuffle at the door. Doc's eyes were red as he squeezed her hand, too overcome to say a word. Poor Charlie cried openly as he smoothed her hair. "Rings," she gasped, and he looked down to the chain around her neck. "Manuela … Yen …" He nodded, curly hair flopping over his forehead, and snapped the chain with a quick twist of his hand.

"I will," he promised, his voice thick. "Damn, I'm sorry, Jess."

"Not your fault," she rushed the words and bit down hard on her lip to stop a cry of pain from getting out. "Go." Hendry stared, his throat working as he hurried past.

"Billy, please!"

"Too late, Dave." Without another word, Billy shoved him out the doorway and the gunfire kicked up. "Go!" She watched through blurry eyes as the boys darted out the door and risked the pain to sigh in relief.

Until her blood ran cold when Billy stepped back from the doorway before Dave's lifeless body crashed to the ground. He turned around with a hard swallow, eyes red and gleaming with moisture, and came back to sit beside her, his hands pressing against the wound in her chest.

"You – li-little rodent," she gasped. "You –"

"Shh. God …" He looked up at the sky. "You never left me."

"You – i-i-idiot … moron …."

"Maybe I am, Jess, but …" His throat worked. "I couldn't go."

"They'll h-hang us t-together."

"No." His thumb wiped away a smear of blood on her cheek. "As long as we're alive, we've got a chance to escape. You just have to fight to stay alive, you hear me?"

"C-can't shoot y-you if I-I'm dead, can I?"

A moment later, the click of a dozen hammers cocking sent a chill down her spine. She slowly turned her head and found the posse surrounding the rock house, rifles aimed at their heads. Billy's grip on her tightened.

The man she'd hate until she died came through the doorway and swallowed hard when he saw them in the floor. "She gonna make it?"

"What do you care?" Billy snarled.

"It wasn't personal, Kid."

"I should have let her kill you." Billy turned his face away, all his focus on stopping the blood seeping through his fingers. "Please, Jess."

"I'll try," she whispered as the world above her went dark.

Lincoln, New Mexico Territory, January 17, 1881

Billy woke with a start, his heart pounding in dread. He quickly turned, finding Jessie curled up on the bunk beside him, her labored breathing filling his ears. He raised a shaking hand and swiped at his face, the chains on his wrists clinking.

They had to escape, she was going to die in here if they didn't. Billy glanced out the moonlit window above their heads. He knew the boys were out there, and working on a plan to save them. His throat worked. If only she was strong enough to run.

It had happened so fast … a chill ran down his spine. Chavez had known, the terror in his voice as she'd stepped beyond the doorway had thrown him back to that stable in Juarez, and the warning he'd been given, but hadn't understood until it was too late.

He should have chased after her, should have tackled her to the floor, should have found a way to stop her … how could it have been so small a choice that led to all of this? She'd been mad as hell he'd stayed, but how could he leave the one friend who had never left him? It wouldn't have been right, no matter how much his gut told him he'd just doomed himself as he left the door and freedom behind. Jessie had followed him to Hell and back and now he would follow her, consequences be damned. Out of all of them, he was the only one who really deserved to hang, he knew that, even if he'd never admit it.

How had it all gone so wrong? It had been the game of all games until, in the blink of an eye, it wasn't. Despite all the friends they'd already lost, he'd never really believed either one of them would stare death in the face. And then her blood had splashed across the rocks and he'd been forced to grow up in the space of a single gun shot.

Her breathing hitched and he touched her shoulder. God, please … But what did he ask for, if God would even grant him anything after what he'd done? Would it be better if she died now instead of living, only to face the noose in just over a week? As long as they were alive, there was hope for an escape, but if she died …

Would he even want to try?

She stirred and blinked up at him with pain filled eyes. "What … what time is it?"

"I don't know, probably after one o' clock," he said after another glance out the window.

"I dreamed about a horse," she said between rasping breaths, still looking at him with eyes too old for her face. He swallowed, a chill beginning to slide down his back.

"What kind of horse?"

"A pinto mare."

"It wasn't Chavez's spirit horse," he protested. "It can't be. The boys will get us out of here … we weren't born to hang."

"I know," she said softly. "But it's just like he described, down to the war bonnet on her ears and the shield on her chest."

"We're not half Apache, Jess, I don't think we count." He forced a laugh, but she didn't smile. The floorboards in Garrett's office squeaked and he turned, noticing shadows dancing in the narrow gap under the door. Another squeak, then a third, then the faint click of a hammer being pulled back slowly and his blood ran cold as ice. "Jess." She pushed herself up on one elbow, and he helped her sit up the rest of the way, his arm around her back. His mouth went dry. They couldn't … Pat wouldn't do that …

The door swung open, crashing back against the wall, and three figures stood framed in the doorway. "What's going on? Pat?"

"Your friends are trying to bust you out." Poe's oily drawl carried in the darkness. A low chuckle he recognized as Olinger's echoed in the room. "The Ring decided that's not gonna happen." Lamplight from Garrett's office bounced off three revolvers raised to firing position and his heart stopped.

"Pat!" He knocked them both off the bunk into the floor as gunfire tore into the wood. Bullets ripped through his back and legs, leaving him breathless with pain. She jerked in his arms and blood splashed across his face. "Pat, no!"

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Jessie sitting astride a pinto mare, reaching down to help him up. He took her hand, and the world dissolved into nothing.