NOW:

Five days passed before Adam awoke.

Doc Martin was sent for immediately, and upon arrival, he entered Adam's bedroom and proceeded to conduct an evaluation that lasted for nearly two hours. When he finally emerged, he requested to speak to Ben alone.

"I do believe Adam will live," he said. "I left a bottle of morphine and a syringe in his room. Each injection should not surpass the second line on the threaded shaft of the syringe, no more than one injection every four hours." He cast Ben a serious look. "He is in immense pain, but he refused to allow me to administer a dose. I think he is afraid of losing control over his faculties. I am hoping that is a fear you can soothe."

"And if he does not want to listen to me?" Ben asked lamely.

"I seem to remember a time when you could implore that boy to do damn near anything. You're very convincing when you want to be. Perhaps, if you are careful with your words and the way you say them, you might find Adam quite suggestable and agreeable." He clasped Ben's arm and smiled slightly. "Stay close to him, Ben. You know where to find me if I am needed."

Martin excused himself with a nod, leaving Ben to hesitate for only the slightest of moments before scaling the staircase and making his way to Adam's room. Standing in the doorway, he crossed his arms and looked upon those who had congregated inside. Hoss, Joe, and Lil stood, scattered around the room; Jamie had settled into the chair next to the bed, and Peggy was perched carefully on the very edge of it and held Noah on her lap.

The room was alive with chatter, both excited and relieved, as the group seemed intent on speaking to Adam all at once. Adam, however, responded sporadically with a slight nod or shake of his head. He was overwhelmed—that was glaringly apparent to Ben—tired, and his expression was pinched with pain. Still, he said nothing, did nothing that would discourage those around him to cease speaking and leave him to rest. Ben was certain Adam knew how difficult the passing days had been.

Lil seemed to take note of both Adam's despondence and Ben's post by the door. She looked in between father and son before announcing that it was time for everyone to leave Adam be. Peggy was not eager to heed the instruction. Neither was Noah. Extending his upper body beneath his sister's tight grip, he leaned over and reached desperately for his father.

"Noah," Peggy tried softly.

"It's fine," Adam whispered, his voice hauntingly quiet but coarse from disuse. He cringed as he lifted his arms slightly in offering, then smiled to reassure his son. "Come here."

Looking over his shoulder, Noah cast Peggy a look that seemed to demand she let him go. She looked at him momentarily, her expression laden with concern. "Gently," she instructed when she finally let go of the tot. "Carefully," she added.

Noah complied easily, moving with an attentive grace that was uncommon for a child his age. Still, Adam cringed again as his son moved and shifted the mattress slightly. He seemed to swallow a groan when Noah settled into his arms. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a small breath, then exhaled it, and inhaled another, as though to soothe the wave of pain his son's movement had awoken. When he opened his eyes again, he cast Peggy an expectant look.

"You too," he whispered.

Tears filling her eyes, Peggy shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't… you can't. Come on, Peg. Let me hold on to both of you for a minute or two. It won't make anything worse than it already is."

Sniffling, Peggy stood. For one terrible moment, Ben wondered if she was rejecting Adam's offer outright. Then she made her way to the other side of the bed and settled in on Adam's chest opposite her brother. Adam cringed again and swallowed another groan as he held both his children with as much strength as he could muster.

"I was so afraid you were going to die," Peggy whispered, the admission made thick by her tears.

"Hey," Adam whispered, his gaze meeting Jamie's across the room. "I'm a hero, remember? Ain't nobody in the world that can kill a man like me."

Jamie smiled in return, nodded, and then followed his two older brothers from the room.

Picking up Noah's discarded blanket, Lil wrapped it around the boy, then leaned over and kissed Adam on the forehead. "You're the finest hero I've ever seen. And the best man I've ever known." She looked between Noah and Peggy, then back at Adam again. "I'll return for these two later. Why don't you allow your father to give you something that's going to ease your pain now that you've calmed your children? Then the three of you can take a nice long nap."

She did not wait for a reply. Procuring the bottle of morphine and syringe from the night table, she handed them to Ben, squeezed his arm, and then left the room. Ben was not immediately sure how to proceed. Casting Adam a questioning gaze, he lifted the items in silent offering. Adam looked at the medicine and nodded.

Ben administered it quickly, the only thing rivaling his speed was the relief the drug provided his son. The tenseness of Adam's expression softened almost immediately; his body seemed to lose all rigidity as he adjusted his grip on Peggy and Noah, his hold still weak but significantly less careful than it had been.

"Better?" Peggy asked knowingly.

"Much better," Adam said.

"Good."

Ben thought it good too. Doc Martin had been foolish—he had been foolish too—to think Adam would need to be convinced to accept the medicine. It was not that Adam was afraid of what he would say after being given the drug, rather he had more pressing things to say before losing himself to it. He needed to speak to his children, to hold and reassure them before he allowed himself to be medicated back into unconsciousness.

Sleep overtook Adam quickly, and safe in their father's arms, it overcame Peggy and Noah too. Like the rest of the family, Ben left them alone, only returning alongside Lil when she came to collect the children hours later. Noah slept on, but Adam and Peggy had both woken. With her eyes appearing watery, her cheeks pink with irritation, Peggy looked like she had experienced another bout of tears.

Gathering Noah in her arms, Lil ushered Peggy off the bed and toward the door. Standing bedside, Ben held back, wanting to ensure Adam was still comfortable.

"Pa," Adam said, his tone of voice sounding decidedly off. "I need your help with something."

"What?" Ben asked.

"I want you to shave my beard."

It was such an odd request, seeming so incidental and unimportant at the current time. It was Peggy's reaction to it, coupled with Lil's sad expression that hinted it was not an unimportant one. It was much more serious than Ben could possibly understand.

Mouth agape, Peggy turned and hesitated in front of the door. "Pa," she tried. "But Eddie—"

"Come on," Lil said grimly as she took hold of the teen's hand. "This situation has become a little too grown up for you."

Ben's face was etched with confusion as Lil closed the bedroom door; he was unsure what exactly his son was asking for help with.

"I want to do it now," Adam said. "I need to do it now."

It was just facial hair, Ben thought. What in the world could possibly be so significant about that? What was the implication of growing it long, or cutting it off? Why did this request, this moment seem so consequential?

"Please," Adam pleaded.

Ben sprang into action. Moving to stand in front of the bureau, he poured water into an awaiting bowl, gathered a towel, then reached for the straight, steel razor that had neither been used nor sharpened in years, and hesitated. Badly neglected, the blade was bound to be terribly dull, dangerous to utilize on a beard such as Adam's. Left unkempt since he was shot, Adam's beard was nearly as unruly as the blade of his razor. It was thick, the hairs rising from the skin of the lower half of his face to extend nearly an inch. It could not be properly and safely rectified with the current tool.

"I'll be right back," Ben said.

Adam did not say anything as his father left the room; he did not speak when he returned; and he did not say a word as Ben began to liberate his face gently and proficiently from the hair that had taken up residence upon his skin with a razor he had procured from his own room.

Adam's hazel eyes were glazed, made glossy by the medicine he had been administered. Ben hoped it had not dulled his faculties too. He prayed he was not making a mistake, giving into a drug-induced plea that Adam would come to hate him for in the coming days.

The hair covering his son's face was just that: hair. If wanted again, it would grow back. Still, it was not just hair. Though the significance of the beard had not been explained to him, Ben was aware that it was, in fact, significant. Having it meant something, and cutting it off would mean something else. He wanted to ask Adam what those things were. Why he had been the one chosen to help with this task over Hoss, Joe, or even Jamie. But he did not. Whether he was avoiding asking the question or hearing the answer, he did not know.

Upon finishing the task, Ben looked upon his son's face, his chest fluttering with an emotion he could not define. It could not be denied, Adam appeared younger without his beard. Though the hair covering his head remained longer than he once wore it, he looked so much like the man he had been six years ago when he had spent nearly every night sleeping in this bed, in this room, in this house that had been his home.

Seeing through eyes that were absent and glossed over, Adam looked at his father and reached for his hand.

As his son held on to him for the first time in years, Ben did not want to question Adam's need to suddenly be so close. He did not want to allow himself to wonder if it was the pain Adam was in or the drug he had been given to treat it that had allotted them such a gracious moment. He tried not to think about how fleeting this moment promised to be.

"Adam," Ben said softly. Lord knew this was not the moment to try to sort out the past, but he did not want to waste it for fear that a more favorable one would never present itself. "We need to talk."

Shaking his head weakly, Adam closed his eyes. "Pa, just… let it go. Not forever… just for right now."

Not having the heart or desire to deny Adam anything, Ben complied. He remained with his son until the time came to give him another dose of morphine, and then long after he had fallen back into a deep sleep. Peggy joined him after a while, and he surrendered the chair by the bed to her and took to standing by the window.

Appraising Adam, Peggy's eyes were etched with despair. "I hope Noah recognizes him without the beard. He's never seen him without it."

"It's just hair, Peggy," Ben said. "Cutting it off does not change the person beneath it."

"Don't be so sure of that. You felt it, didn't you? The change we were talking about? The thing we were both anxious for and dreading at the same time. Don't pretend you didn't because I know you did. He woke up, which is good. But he shaved his beard, which is bad. Aunt Lil wants to think I don't understand. She doesn't want me to understand because she wants to protect me from grown up things the way she can still protect Noah. But we both know she can't. I was with Adam and Eddie from the beginning. I was there when he first fell in love with her, and now I'm here as he finally decides to let her go."

"Sometimes letting go is a good thing. When someone dies, you can't hang on to your grief and hurt forever. It gets in the way of enjoying the good you had with them, the love you shared."

Peggy's expression was one of pure misery. "You don't understand," she whispered. "You think you do, but you don't."

"Don't I? Peggy, I have been where Adam is. I know the pain that accompanies losing a wife. I was married three times, and I was forced to continue living after losing each one of them. I know it is hard to let go of someone when they're gone. I know the importance of holding on to them in the right ways. Brooding is dangerous. Carrying the memory of someone upon your shoulders for the rest of your life is worse. It gets in the way of enjoying what you have; it affects how you love the people who are still around you. Adam may have aged a bit, but he is far from old. His priorities have changed since the last time he lived here; the things he wants and needs have changed too. He is a father now; he has Noah and you to think of."

"You speak as though him falling in love again is a possibility."

"It is," Ben said simply.

"It's not. There will never be another woman. There can't be, not with the way things were or are. You did not see him and Eddie together. You don't know the love they shared. They understood each other. They supported each other. I've never seen anything like it in my whole life. I only hope I have the opportunity to see it again."

Ben hoped for that too, and he prayed the teen was wrong. Just because Adam had lost his first true love that did not mean he could not find a second. He still wanted for Adam what he wanted for all his sons: to find someone to stand next to them and understand them in ways the rest of the world could not. He wanted Noah to grow up knowing the love of a mother, even if the woman who provided it was not his own. He wanted so many things for the teenage girl in front of him; he wanted her to be happier, less cynical, less knowing than the difficulties in her life had shaped her to be.

"Everything is going to be okay, Peggy," he said. "Your pa's going to be fine, and so are you."

"I don't believe you. If you knew what I knew, then you would not believe yourself either. Pain does not stop existing because we've decided we no longer want to see it. Things are always the way they are, even if we tell ourselves they are different. My pa is hurt, so he needs you right now, but what's going to happen when he's well and he doesn't? What is going to happen when he walks back into town with everyone knowing what happened to him but not really understanding why. What's going to happen the next time he gets shot?"

"There's not going to be a next time."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"I do. He's a lawman. It is impossible to keep him away from danger. When he was a marshal, he used to chase it, and now that he's a sheriff, it chases him. The people in that town stalk him like prey."

"Like the wolf? The one that you said returned and ruined your life in San Francisco?"

"It's kind of like that. Although, it's different too."

"Peggy," Ben began and then paused, thinking briefly about the question he was unsure should be asked. Maybe it was better to wait until Adam woke up again, so the two of them could have a long conversation during which an answer to this question would hopefully be voiced. It was not proper for him to glean too much information about Adam's past from Peggy. It was not appropriate for him to probe. Still, he opened his mouth, the question escaping him anyway, because he needed to know; although, he was certain he already did. "Will was the wolf, wasn't he? He was the one that came back."

Shaking her head, Peggy's eyes filled with tears. Though she did not answer, the truth was etched upon the fear in her face. It had been Will; Ben was certain of it. It was yet another thing he wished he could have understood better. Did Will come after Adam because armed with a badge Adam had come for him first? Was it Adam's love for Peggy that had eventually demanded he find Will after learning the truth of what had been done?

"Don't ask me more questions about it," Peggy whispered. "Because I can't tell you more. I've already told you too much as it is."

Ben did not need her to divulge more. With everything she had said over the passing weeks, coupled with what Roy Coffee had said, and the very little Adam had said himself, he was doubtless he already knew more than enough. He knew his son, his nephew, and what both men were capable of. He knew himself, the secrets he had kept and the lies he had told. Whatever bad blood had existed between Will and Adam as men, he had created and fostered it. If something had happened between them, Ben was sure he himself was to blame. It was he who had protected Will; he who had invited him into the folds of their family; he who had brought Will back into his oldest son's life.

Sadness overwhelmed him, and he embraced it. He deserved to be the primary focus of Adam's anger. To be kept at arm's length. To be grieved by the years they had lost and the distance that had settled between them. Whatever difficulties Adam had endured in the last six years he had caused them. No matter how much Adam hated him, it would never compare to how much he hated himself.

But when Adam awoke again, he looked at his father tiredly and did not appear to hate him at all. Strangely, Ben could not help thinking that Peggy's premonition had been right. Change had come—it was just not something anyone could have anticipated would shift.

Adam was quiet, exhausted, and still in a great deal of pain. The pain of his body, Ben could soothe with the medication Doc Martin had left behind. It was the pain which he was certain lurked in Adam's heart that he struggled to find the proper words to soothe. He wanted to bring up Eddie and Charlie, the wife and son Adam had lost. He wanted to talk about the argument that had driven them apart, the diary Laura had written, Ohio, and Will. He wanted to speak about the day Adam had been shot; he wanted to ask who had done it and why his son had not defended himself. He had numerous declarations and questions lurking on the tip of his tongue as he awaited a correct moment to express them.

Mindful of Adam's condition, he did not want to engage in conversations that would cause more harm than good. Or maybe he was just afraid of the things he needed to say. Afraid that they would invite more change into his life. That they would widen the sprawling gap between him and his oldest son, deeming it a distance too wide to be spanned. After all, Adam was finally close and calm, both developments that were bound to be fleeting, his son turning fickle the moment he healed enough to return to Virginia City and resume his post. Though it was not spoken about directly, this was something not a single member of the extended family seemed to be looking forward to. Roy Coffee seemed to share their dread when he came to call a few days after Adam awoke.

"Talk around town is ugly," he advised Adam as he sat next to his bed. "A lot of people have a lot of different opinions about what happened to you. Ain't a single one of them kind or cast you in a pleasant light."

Standing by the window, his permanent post as of late and one he was endlessly grateful to be allowed to maintain, Ben thought the summation was the understatement of the century.

If Adam was surprised by the news Coffee had shared, he gave no indication. "Did you really expect a different result?" he quietly asked.

Pulling his hat from his head, Coffee held it in both of his hands, his index fingers absently stroking the brim. "No."

"Then what do you expect?" Adam asked bluntly.

Casting his gaze upon the room, Coffee was not quick with his answer. "I think you oughta step down, relinquish the rest of your term."

"I can't do that."

"No, you don't want to do that," Coffee corrected.

"Can't, don't want to, what's the difference?"

"Life and death."

Adam chuckled. "Don't be so dramatic."

"I ain't being dramatic," Coffee said seriously. "Just realistic. You already took one bullet because of people's ignorance, Adam. I don't want to see you take another."

"I won't."

"You don't know that."

"Well, neither do you," Adam said.

Coffee cast Ben an exasperated look and tilted his head at Adam, a clear petition for reinforcement. Looking at Adam, Ben found himself the focus of his son's attention.

"If you have something to say about this, then you better say it now," Adam warned. "Because once this conversation is over, I am not going to take kindly to either of you bringing it up again."

Ben was aghast his opinion was being solicited at all. He thought for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Then he opened his mouth and prayed he could find the right words. "I don't believe it's prudent to ignore the risks you are inviting by remaining sheriff," he said. "Of course, I don't think it's wise to ignore the risks of stepping down. This town has made their opinion about you clear, both courses of action promise complication and danger."

"Exactly," Adam said to Coffee. "Look, Roy, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but if protecting me from the gossip of this town was a goal of yours then you should not have brought me back here. People are going to think what they want about the past; I can't change that. They are going to trade stories about Laura Dayton and me until the day I die, and I cannot do anything to stop them. The only thing I can do is stand tall, remain in place regardless of what anyone has to say about me."

"But it ain't just words anymore," Coffee tried. "Adam, someone tried to kill you, and unless you've recalled something you've decided not to share, we still don't know who that person was, which means they're still out there. For all we know they are waiting and watching for an opportunity to do it again."

"Which is why I can't step down. Roy, what exactly do you think is going to protect me if I do?"

"Me!" Coffee exclaimed.

"You? Listen, no offense, but you're an old man. You cannot protect me as much as the star pinned to my vest will."

"It did not protect you as of late."

"This time it will."

"How can you be so sure?" Ben asked. He was not trying to challenge his son's conviction, rather he was trying to siphon some for himself. If he could have felt comfortable picking sides, he would have chosen Roy's over that of his son. Not because he wanted to stand against Adam, but because he wanted to keep him safe.

Adam cast Ben a stubborn gaze. "Because I lived," he said. "That changes the rules."

"Of what?" Ben asked.

"The fight this person began, the game they were playing with me without making me aware of it. I could have died, but I did not, and now it's just nothing more than a game of cat and mouse, and, this time, I have the upper hand. I'm the cat now, and I've been playing this type of game for the better part of six years. I know how to wait and watch, and I know how to pounce."

"How does a badge assist you with that?"

"It protects me," Adam said simply. "It makes what this person did to me a bonafide crime. If I don't have a badge and someone shoots me down, unless there's witnesses willing to speak about it afterwards, they can tell their own story; they can make up their own truth. They can say I wanted the fight."

"I am not so sure you don't," Coffee said flatly. "Just remember something, Adam, a man hiding behind a badge can tell his own stories too. You open your mouth and you say all the right things, but everything you say still don't explain the one thing that makes the least sense. You didn't pull your gun. You didn't defend yourself against the person who shot you, the one you say you can't remember."

Watching his son's eyes narrow with swift indignance, Ben deemed it best to step in. "That's enough," he said. And it was. The only thing less favorable than engaging in an argument with Adam himself was arbitrating one between his oldest friend and son. "Roy, I think it's best if you take your leave, so Adam can rest."

Looking between Ben and Adam, Roy forced a smile. "Of course." He stood, put on his hat, and followed Ben toward the door. "Oh," he added, stopping in place to appraise Adam thoughtfully. "There's something else I think you oughta remember. You ain't a cat, Adam. No, I'd reckon your loyalty to others has always made you more of a dog. If a dog runs with wolves long enough, it is only a matter of time before he becomes one of them too. Just something to think about, I suppose."

Exiting the room on Roy Coffee's heels, Ben could not help feeling uneasy as he quietly mulled over what his friend had said.

Making his way to the bottom of the staircase, Coffee turned around, faced Ben, and spoke again. "Adam's lying, you know," he said grimly. "God knows I hate to say those words, but damn it, someone has to. A man of his profession ain't stupid. If you choose to chase after the most vicious men the devil created, you don't step away without a few unconscious habits. A lawman always pulls his gun, no matter what. He'd be stupid not to, and Adam's not stupid. He's really, very smart. He knows why he didn't pull his gun the day he was shot, and he knows who shot him."

Looking at Coffee, taking note of the sadness of his expression and the fear in his eyes, Ben wanted to ask his friend what he knew about Adam that he did not. Clearing his throat, he settled on a different question, and decided to place his trust in his son. "Why would he keep that a secret?"

"That's what concerns me. I have my own theory; I reckon I won't trouble you with it now. Time will tell whether it's right or wrong, and I don't think I need you trying to prove me wrong, or being angry at me in the meantime. And, in the meantime, I hope you find a willingness to look at your oldest son with honest eyes. Don't be fooled, Ben. Don't miss the signs. Adam's spent all this time being angry at you, and now, suddenly, he's not. A wise man might ask himself why that might be, what the cause of such a sudden shift in outlook truly is. What such a thing would allow him to hide, or why he would want to."

"He's running away from something." His grief, Ben supposed.

Coffee tilted his head. "Or toward it."

Watching Coffee leave, Ben felt his apprehension grow. Peggy had said there was a darkness inside of Will, an anger that he tried to hide. She had said that something bad had happened and now she thought Adam was afraid that a hint of that same darkness was inside of him too.

The big, bad wolf came back, Peggy had said. He came back.

"What happened?" Ben asked. It was a question that went unheeded and unanswered by the empty room surrounding him.

TBC