Supremum Vale
He huddled together and tried to draw warmth to his limbs. He shivered, cramped muscled pleaded for movement. There was no sensation left in his fingers; his hands and feet were completely numb. He slid his hands inside his shirt and under his armpits but to no avail; frozen fingers only met cold skin.
I'm dying
JD sighed and thought of Buck. Buck who was gonna be so pissed when they'd find him. Pissed, because he had managed to freeze to death 5 miles from town.
"I swear it ain't my fault, Buck. Horse got bit by a rattler and threw me. I walked and walked until I couldn't go on no more."
"That was a mighty foolish thing, kid. You coulda taken food or a blanket. Hell son! Some matches at least!"
JD sighed again and rested his head on his knees, enjoying the slight warmth of his own exhalations against his skin.
He didn't want to die. How many times had that thought already crossed his mind since coming to Four Corners? It flitted through his brain in every gunfight, ever stand-off. He wasn't afraid of death. The thing was familiar enough. He just wasn't ready to go, not just yet. And not like this. Not alone.
His eyes grew heavy; sleep drew close, caressing him with feathered fingers. Stubbornly, he fought the dreaded foe off for a little while longer. He wouldn't give in yet. He wasn't quite ready yet. Needed to do some more thinking. He felt very calm inside. The peace of mind a man has when he knows nothing will save him anymore.
It was too late for him now. There was hardly any feeling, any pain left in his battered, tired body. It was ready to let go if his mind would let it.
Soon enough...
His thoughts drifted towards Buck and Chris, to those six men, these brothers, family. It hurt to be the first to go, to be the one to break up the Seven. But still, better him than one of the others. After losing his mother, he wasn't sure he could stand losing more kin. He was glad he wouldn't have to find out. Another reason he didn't mind the dying bit all that much.
He was sorry though, he was gonna hurt Buck. He cared the most. Had, almost from the very beginning, given a fuck whether he lived or died. Had risked his life to save him, taking on that sabre. Had cared. Always.
JD knew Buck loved him and , even though it was a strange thing to consider, knew his death would hurt his friend some.
Turn to Josiah, Buck. Whatever it is, he'll help. He helped me when I was losing myself. You and Josiah kept me from drowning after...Annie... He'll help you keep your balance. And Ezra. Talk to Ezra. He cares more than you might think. Catch him late at night with some liquor in him and he'll take off that pokerface. He'll show you...
His stomach hurt. The cold was reaching deep inside of him now. His organs protested against the icy dull fingers invading and gripping them, but they were losing the fight. The pain brought him out of his death sleep a little. He whimpered when the cramps tore through his midriff. Suddenly, he wanted to start crying and call for his mother to take him in her arms and soothe him. Or Buck, to cuff him on the head and tuck him in and sit with him. He didn't want to die alone. He hated being alone. Always had, always would. He needed to feel a pat on his shoulder, a warm hand against his cheek, a voice whispering comfort into his ear, a presence by his side.
A dry sob escaped him and made him frown. He was not gonna cry. The others would not find him with tearstains on his face. He refused to waste the last moments of his life crying!
He inhaled deeply, careful of the cramps but they already ebbed away. Numbness, blessed relief, spread again covering him with dark wings. He fought a losing battle. He fought...