Author's Notes: Now, don't nobody have a heart attack, but here's the next chapter. :-D And I realized, just after I posted chapter 8, that I am an Uber-Goober, and I forgot to thank three people without whom I could not have actually gotten that danged chapter written - Mouse, for her brilliant ideas on songs for that scene towards the end; Flynne, for her triumph over her internet connection and her grand ability to edit my stories; and Fanficfan, for her impressive ability to juggle schoolwork and funwork, and for her incredible attention to detail. And on second thought, I'd also like to thank all those who reviewed last time - now, I read some great comments, but for once I don't think anybody managed to guess what's gonna happen next - not even T.S. Blue, whom I was starting to believe is either psychic or a stalker (preferably the former). :) Enjoy!

Chapter 9: What Did I Do?

"What did I do, tell me, what did I say
That kicked up the dirt and brought out this side of you, baby…
The longer it goes, yeah the shorter your fuse
Maybe you'd know if you walked in my shoes
Damned if I don't and I'm damned if I do…
Tough as a dry creek
Sharp as a hawk's beak…
Hard as an oak tree…
Sure as a heart beat
Babe, you got a mean streak…"
- 'Mean Streak' by Little Big Town

Contrary to Bo's hopes, the drive to school was mostly silent. At first, Bo waited expectantly for Luke to speak up, but his cousin seemed as intent on ignoring him in the truck as on the farm. Eventually Bo settled into a dejected slump, staring out the window.

About halfway to town, Luke glanced across at his cousin. Even he noticed the painfully heavy silence in the truck cab, and he figured, maybe it would be harmless to say something.

"So, uhm, how's school going?" Luke asked quietly, clearing his throat.

Bo looked up hopefully. "Good! Well, as good as school gets, anyhow." He smiled, but the smile fell when Luke didn't reply. Was it his talkative chatter that annoyed Luke so much?

After a few more minutes of silence, Luke cleared his throat again. "And, uh, football?"

Bo grinned. "Football's great! We've got practice tonight and tomorrow, and Saturday's the first playoff game – if we beat Hatchapee, we go to another playoff game next week, and then the regional championship. Coach Maugul thinks we can do it."

Luke gave a little smile. He'd read so much about the team and the coach in letters, it was almost strange to hear about it and see it in person instead.

They reached the school right then, and Luke pulled up to the curb so Bo could climb out. As the blond took his backpack and shut the door, he paused hopefully at the open window.

"Hey Luke?"

The Marine looked over to his cousin questioningly.

"Will you pick me up after practice?"

Luke gave the same tentative little smile. "Sure, Bo."

Bo grinned in earnest now. "Four o'clock. Don't forget," he teased.

"Four o'clock. I'll be here," Luke promised.

Luke was in a slightly better mood as he drove home, and he took his time, looking around at the sights, places and people he'd missed for so long. Just outside of town, though, one place caught his attention, and on a whim he pulled over into the parking lot.

The Red Rock Tavern had a region-wide reputation for serving the worst beer to the worst sort of men, and at seven-forty in the morning on a Thursday, it didn't have many customers. But Luke recognized one green pickup truck parked there – the same that had left the Boar's Nest parking lot just before Bo and Luke last Saturday evening.

Pocketing the truck keys, Luke made his way to the door and stepped inside. Though it was a bright morning outside, it was a dusty, dingy night inside, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they did, Luke spotted who he was looking for, and he walked over.

Danny Winterson was just starting his daily routine with a mug of the swill the bartender called beer. He looked up at Luke's approach, somewhat surprised, and gestured to one of the many empty chairs.

"Well, if it ain't Luke Duke, Hazzard's own veteran Marine," Winterson quipped in a drawl.

Luke sat, studying the other man intently, then leaned back in his chair. "How'd you know, Danny?" he asked.

Danny laughed, taking a swig of his beer. "What do you mean, how'd I know? Who else would know? Hank was the same way – cooing over his little baby girl, bragging about his plans to move to Nebraska, all the while jumping at shadows and looking over his shoulder day and night. You think it's so easy to leave it all behind?" Winterson laughed bitterly. "Just 'cause I'm missing a leg, doesn't mean I'm the only one with scars."

Luke nodded, looking down at his arm on the table, idly flexing his fingers and making a fist. "How do you get Home then?"

Danny shook his head, staring at his half-consumed beer. "Ain't that the question of the day. You think I'd be in here, if I knew?"

Luke sighed and closed his eyes. That wasn't the helpful answer he'd hoped for.

Danny peered at him, studying him was sharp brown eyes. "What happened?" he asked, almost kindly, without a hint of sarcasm or menace.

The Marine looked up, and was silent for several long minutes. Then he sighed, looking down at the table again, and slowly related what had happened Sunday night, and parts of what had happened since. When he was done, Danny Winterson nodded solemnly. It took another soldier to truly understand.

"I dunno, I don't even know what to do. I can't leave, but if I stay…all I can think of is who's gonna get hurt next," Luke was saying.

"I know what you mean," Danny said, waving to the bartender to bring a round for them both. Luke thanked him and took a sip of the beer, nearly gagging at the taste. He set it aside and resolved not to touch it again.

"I remember at the hospital, I scared the hell out of an orderly who woke me up one night, when he came to change my IV. Damn near broke his wrist. They put me on sedatives for three weeks after that."

Luke shook his head. What the hell was a man to do? "What about when you got back to Hazzard?"

Danny shrugged sullenly. "My old man hasn't said a word to me since I got here. He'd probably disown me if I wasn't a cripple. Good ol' Uncle Sam sends me my checks, and here I am."

There was a long silence again before Luke spoke.

"I got shot over there. Right in the ribs. Damned sniper took out three of mine and me before we got 'em." He laughed the same bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Son of a bitch nearly killed me, and as soon as I'm on my feet again, they send me right back out there. Patted me on the back, gave me a Purple Heart, and sent me back out."

"What did your folks say?"

"I didn't tell them. Not gonna, either. They don't need to know about that – any of that."

There was another long silence, as Danny swigged at his beer and Luke stared absently at the table. This time Danny spoke up.

"I miss it sometimes. The guys – the girls," he said with a smile, " – even the fighting, sometimes. There was nothing like it, you know?"

Luke nodded, smiling a little at a memory of his own. "Yeah, I know."

At four-thirty, Bo was trudging along the road to home carrying his backpack over one shoulder. He didn't notice the bright October sunshine, or the birdsong in the trees, or the quiet peace of a Hazzard afternoon. Luke had forgotten about him.

The day had gone well, for a day at school. He was attentive in class, which surprised all his teachers, and earned him a few positive comments when the bell rang. The cafeteria was serving his favorite lunch, and he had a few quarters to afford buying it. He'd kicked butt at practice that afternoon, and was showered and changed by three-fifty to wait for Luke at the curb. He watched the older brothers and parents of his teammates drive up two and three at a time, and he refused more than a few offers to give him a ride home too, knowing that Luke was coming.

Then four o'clock turned into four-oh-five, four-ten, four-fifteen, and Bo stood there alone, watching the road hopefully. By four twenty-five, he picked up his bag and started walking, thinking maybe Luke had a flat and he'd meet him somewhere along the way. That hope diminished with each step he took, and with a heavy heart, Bo realized Luke must have forgotten him entirely.

Bo hardly looked up as he trudged along, but when he did, he saw something that stunned him to no end – a familiar white pickup, sitting next to a green pickup and a few other vehicles, all out in front of the Red Rock Tavern.

Luke was laughing with Danny over the latest story the infantryman told, when the front door of the tavern opened, flooding light into the dim barroom. Luke squinted and looked back at the new arrival. The smile was wiped from his face when he recognized the lanky silhouette with a backpack on one shoulder. Then the tavern door slammed shut again, and Luke scrambled to his feet, realizing he hadn't even looked for a clock in hours.

You know, I think Luke just gave 'getting lost in conversation' a whole new meaning…

"Bo!" he shouted after the closed door, and he entered the blazing afternoon sunlight at a run. Luke stumbled, blinded for a few moments, before he looked around and spotted the swiftly retreating figure walking out of the parking lot. "Bo, wait!"

Bo ignored his calls, but Luke saw him reach a hand up to wipe away tears. The elder cousin knew that if he ran after him, Bo could run harder and longer, so he jumped into the pickup to head him off. Luke caught up with Bo a few hundred feet down the road, but Bo didn't stop when the truck pulled up.

"Bo, come on, I'm sorry!" Luke called, to no avail. Sighing, he stopped the truck and got out, jogging to grab his cousin's arm. "Bo…" he said, panting – even the short jog taxed him.

The blond wrenched his arm away and walked faster. "Leave me alone, Luke!" he snapped hotly, hastily wiping away more tears.

"I'm sorry, Bo! I just…I wasn't…" Luke helplessly watched his cousin walk away, deaf to his apologies. Then all of a sudden, Bo stopped and whirled around, turning angry, tear-reddened eyes on his older cousin.

"What did I do, Luke?.!" he shouted, chest heaving. "WHAT DID I DO?.! You were my best friend! My brother! What did I do to deserve this?.! Tell me what I did wrong!"

When he received no answer, Bo turned again and stalked off, leaving Luke standing in the middle of the road in shock. Luke's shoulders sagged, and he bowed his head, closing his eyes against the tears.

"You didn't do anything, Bo…" he whispered to himself. "You didn't do anything."

A little later, Daisy and Jesse were relieved to see Luke driving the truck up to the farmhouse. They'd been worried sick, with him gone all day and not a word to anyone, but they couldn't exactly report a grown man missing when he'd only been gone for a matter of hours. What worried Jesse more, though, was how Luke headed straight for the barn, looking more miserable than he had all week. A half-hour later, Bo came walking up the driveway looking mad enough to spit nails, and Jesse soon learned at least part of the story.

"I don't know!" was all Bo roared when Jesse asked him what was wrong. They were mucking out the stalls together, pitchforks in hand. After a few minutes of work, Bo calmed enough to growl a proper answer. "Luke was gonna pick me up after practice, and he forgot. He was drinking at the Red Rock with Danny Winterson," Bo spat the name hatefully, as though blaming the man for all his ills.

Usually Jesse would try to say something calming and comforting, but it this time seemed like Bo needed to spend his week's frustration in a flare of anger. He'd calm down, and they'd sort this out later.

When the finished with the stalls, Jesse sent Bo on to other chores while he spread fresh hay out for the mule and goats. As he expected, he heard rustling as Luke climbed down from the hayloft, having heard every word.

"I wasn't drinking," Luke said quietly, standing off to the side. "We just got to talking, and I lost track of time…"

Jesse stopped to look up at him. "You disappointed him pretty bad," he chastised gently.

"I know," Luke admitted, gazing towards the farmhouse. "I tried to apologize, but he wouldn't listen."

"Do you blame him? Give him some time to cool off," Jesse advised. "He'll listen then."

Luke nodded and sighed, and came over to help his uncle with the hay.

No one was more surprised than Daisy when Luke showed up at the dinner table and Bo stiffly stood up to leave. The blond only grudgingly obeyed when Jesse ordered him to sit back down, and he studiously ignored his older cousin for the duration of the meal. Luke was crushed by his little cousin's behavior, and it showed. He picked at the meal, hardly eating, and constantly glanced sideways to see if Bo would even look at him – which he wouldn't. Luke practically jumped to his feet when the meal was over.

"Uncle Jesse, can I borrow the truck?" he asked, hands fidgeting restlessly. He had to get out of here.

Jesse frowned. He was taking Traveler on a 'shine run to Chickasaw tonight, so he had no reason to refuse, but the way Luke had been acting, he sure wanted to.

"Well, sure, Luke, why?"

Damn. He hadn't thought up a good excuse yet. "I'm, uh, meeting Cooter over at, uhm, the Boar's Nest." It would have sounded legit, if he hadn't stumbled over every other word.

"Oh…alright," Jesse reluctantly agreed. "Don't be out too late, now."

Luke barely heard the last bit, already halfway out the door. Frowning after him, Jesse picked up the telephone.

"Maybelle, get me the Davenport farm…"

Luke slumped down onto the barstool and ordered two longnecks, ignoring the odd friendly calls to him from around the little bar. He hadn't actually intended to end up here, but once he'd said it, the Boar's Nest seemed as good as place as any to go. His plan for the rest of the night naturally formed itself from there, and he set about achieving it by chugging down the first beer as quickly as possible. Luke was halfway through drinking the second one in similar style when a callused hand clapped him on the shoulder and a jovial voice greeted him.

"Hey there, Lukas Dukas! Fancy meetin' you here!"

After choking on his beer, spraying part of it on the bar, and wiping the remainder off his chin with his sleeve, Luke turned around to look up at Cooter's relentlessly cheerful grin. Without asking permission, the mechanic sat down on the next bar stool, and ordered another round for the both of them.

As the night wore on, Cooter had no trouble figuring out just what Luke wanted to do with his evening. He didn't want to talk, which he proved by ignoring everything his friend said to him or asked him. He didn't want to flirt, which he proved by glaring icily at an old girlfriend who sat herself down in his lap. But he sure did want to drink.

After downing five beers to Cooter's two in the first hour, he slowed it up just a bit – mostly because the bartender refused to serve him beers at that rate. By hour three, Cooter was easily able to sneak the truck keys from his pocket, and by hour five, the mechanic and bartender both expected him to be on the floor at any moment. Just once, the mechanic tried suggesting that he ease off a little, to which Luke snapped, "It's my money, I'll spend it any damned way I please."

It was getting very late, and Cooter was starting to wonder if they'd be closing down the bar – he did have to work the next day. Sitting there on his barstool, he didn't notice the sounds among the usual bar noise until Luke turned around sharply and suddenly in his seat, with narrow eyes and a barked "Hey!"

When Cooter did turn around and look, he saw Lyle Elkshere and Cindy Matherly sitting two tables over, the former getting a little too friendly and the latter protesting none too lightly. Before Cooter could blink, Luke was on his feet (somehow) and headed in that direction.

"Leave the lady alone, Lyle," Luke growled, fixing the blond man with an angry glare. The distraction was enough for Cindy to break away from her would-be date and dash behind her rescuer. She was shortly joined by Cooter, who grabbed for his friend's arm.

"Luke, come on man, you don't want to do this," Cooter urged worriedly. He'd seen the expression on the Marine's face – a look of boiling anger usually reserved for those who threatened his family – and right now, Luke could do some serious damage. However, right now, Luke wasn't listening to him.

"What's it to you, Duke?" Lyle snarled back, getting to his feet and shoving the chair out of his way. "You lookin' to get a little action for yourself?"

"I'm lookin' to keep the lady safe from dogs like you, all paws and no honor."

Luke took a step forward just as Lyle did the same. Growing more nervous, Cooter pulled at his friend's arm again.

"This ain't a good idea, Luke! Someone's gonna end up hurt!"

Apparently, for all his bluster and bravado, Lyle Elkshere was thinking the same thing. Luke Duke had half a foot and fifty pounds of hardened muscle over him, and just now, looking at that black expression, Lyle realized he was messing with a live grenade just looking for a reason to explode. But Lyle wasn't a man to back down from a fight, and he took another step forward.

"Luke!" Cooter saw his hand ball into a Marine Division Champion boxer's fist, saw the muscles bunch in his arm and shoulder, saw the flash of fear in Lyle's eyes – all just moments before Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane burst into the barroom, gun in hand. All activity stopped.

"Aaaallllright, now! Just what's going on here?.!" the sheriff demanded, more than a little annoyed that the bartender had called Maybelle and Maybelle had called him while he was on his way home.

Lyle took the opportunity to scoot back out of range of Luke's fists – a wise and life-saving decision if there ever was one – and even Luke turned his attention to Rosco – or Roscoes, since there seemed to be about three of them standing there. Rosco, in turn, focused his annoyed expression on Cooter and Luke.

"Uh…heh heh…" Cooter tried to smile. "We were just headed home, weren't we, Luke?"

Luke frowned through the haze that had thickened considerably since losing focus on his opponent. "No, I was just about to teach Lyle Elkshere a hard lesson in manners," he countered.

"No, no," Cooter argued. "We were just about to go home. Come on, Luke."

One hand still on Luke's arm, he pulled his friend towards the door, past Rosco and the watchful bar crowd. A fight or an arrest – or both – would have been fun to watch, but it looked like Rosco was gonna let Luke Duke go just the same as that Winterson troublemaker.

Stumbling along behind Cooter outside, Luke fumbled through his pockets for his keys with his free hand, and came up empty.

"I think I dropped th' keys…" he frowned, peering down at the ground back towards the door.

"No, I've got 'em, cause you ain't drivin' like this, buddyro'," Cooter explained patiently. "Come on, now, we'll take my truck." He opened the passenger door for Luke, so very glad that Uncle Jesse had called him earlier and asked him to find his friend.

For his part, Luke decided not to argue, because four to one made for mean odds, and the ground seemed like a very unstable place to stand right now. With more than a little unnoticed help from Cooter, he climbed into the truck cab and lay back against the seat, watching with half-closed eyes as the mechanic shoved his feet inside and shut the truck door.

That was when Cooter noticed a slim figure hanging back near the building, wrenching her hands and looking in his direction.

"Hey there, Cindy," he called, and she stepped out into the light. "Look, I'm sorry about all that in there…"

"Oh, no, Cooter, it's alright, I really appreciate it…I'm glad things didn't get out of hand. Is Luke okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh, yeah, he'll be just fine. A few too many, that's all. I better get him home, though…" Cooter hinted, reaching for his truck door. Cindy seemed to want to say something, though, so he asked, "Are you alright, darlin'?"

She wrung her hands again. "Well, yes, thanks to Luke…it's just, Lyle was my ride home, and…I don't really know anyone else here tonight…"

Cooter smiled. "Well come on, Cindy honey. I'll give you a ride home." A thought occurred to him. "Better yet – can you follow me back to the Duke farm in Uncle Jesse's truck? I'll give you a ride home from there."

Cindy smiled, happy to be helpful, and Cooter wondered if he'd get a thank-you kiss in the bargain.

Bo and Daisy were both still awake when the two trucks pulled up in the driveway, and both were very worried about their cousin. Bo had already given up on being angry with him – he just wanted Luke back, his cousin Luke, not the stranger who'd been there all week. He didn't know how to make that happen, but fighting didn't seem to be the way to do it. So, when Cooter pulled up with Luke in the passenger seat, Bo was right there with Daisy running out to meet them.

"He's alright," Cooter reassured them both as he got out of the truck. "He's just…drunk."

Bo and Daisy could see that for themselves. The passenger side door slowly swung open, and Luke none-too-steadily climbed out, frowning as the door jumped out and hit his shoulder while he shut it. He took a couple steps, tripped on a rock that slid out from under his foot, and stumbled a few more steps until steadying arms reached out and caught him.

"Easy, Luke, I got ya."

Luke looked up at Bo's worried blue eyes and held his gaze for several long moments. Then, surprising everyone on scene, the elder Duke reached out and shoved Bo away.

"Stay 'way, Bo," he growled, then moved with determined steps towards the barn. How he managed to climb the ladder to the hayloft was anyone's guess, but he did, and then he was gone from sight.

Cooter moved his shocked stare from the dark barn to the two remaining Duke cousins, amazed at what he'd just witnessed. Bo looked crushed, and Daisy, saddened. She was the first to speak.

"Thanks for bringing him home, Cooter."

"Yeah, thanks, Cooter," Bo added quietly, turning away from the barn.

Cooter had a hard time finding the words. Much, much more was wrong here than he expected. "I, uh…look, no problem, y'all, I just wish…" He sighed. "Look, I gotta work in the morning, an' I know y'all should be hittin' the sack too, but…are y'all still helpin' Miss Lulu decorate for the Halloween dance tomorrow afternoon? Maybe I'll try to stop by then an' talk to Luke…"

Bo looked to Daisy – chalk one more up on the list of things he'd forgotten about lately. Saturday being Halloween, the Ladies' Auxiliary was holding a charity auction in the afternoon and a costume ball that night, all to benefit the Hazzard Annual Agricultural Scholarship Fund. Daisy had volunteered the Dukes weeks ago to help Miss Lulu set up and decorate the Boar's Nest for the events.

Daisy nodded gratefully. "We'll be there all afternoon, and I'll try to get Luke to come too. Thanks, Cooter. And thanks, Cindy, for bringing Uncle Jesse's truck back."

Bo seemed to notice her for the first time, standing awkwardly by the white pickup she'd parked in its proper spot.

"No problem, Daisy. Good luck – I hope Luke feels better."

Then Cindy climbed into Cooter's truck, and they were gone.

Bo waited anxiously in the living room while Daisy climbed up into the hayloft to check on Luke. It wasn't long before she returned with her report.

"He's sleeping. I covered him up, and I think he'll be okay for the night," she said, slumping down onto the couch beside him. "Oh Bo, I don't understand this at all! Uncle Jesse said he just needs time and space, but Luke just seems to get farther and farther away from us!" she cried.

"From me, you mean," Bo corrected miserably. Daisy looked up to see a tear trickling down his cheek. "I thought it would be so great to have him home again…"

Daisy leaned over and wrapped her little cousin in a hug while he cried, but she knew it was small comfort for him. He and Luke had always been so close, it didn't seem like even a war could come between them, and now in just a few short days, their brotherhood looked like it was broken forever.

Did y'all have as hard a time watching that as I did? I sure hope something changes soon, 'cause I don't know if I can bear to watch much more.