PART TWO

Previously---The ride home from Jericho…

Chris woke up with a start, head aching and his heart pounding, unsure where he was. He rolled over and out put a hand to push himself up; a figure appeared out of the dark. He scrabbled for his knife but couldn't find it, his mind returning to the Warden taunting him and the life in the Sheriff's eyes dulling as Chris had stabbed him. Chris' mind still reeled from the memory of the snake landing in the hole, the rattle and his body's reactive jerk away from the reptile.

"Whoa, it's me Chris," said Vin.

"Where..? What are we doing? "

"Resting up for a spell. You're done in."

"'m fine. Want to get home."

"Leave it til mornin', it's late now."

"No! Let's go."

"Nathan needs the rest too," Vin wasn't playing dirty, just telling the truth and it worked.

"Oh." and Chris got up anyway. Vin stood there ready to anchor his wavering friend as his world tilted and spun.

"You need food and rest, cowboy." Vin said as Chris grabbed at his shirt and Vin held onto a too thin arm briefly before Chris took off again.

"Not hungry." The way he felt he didn't think he'd ever be hungry again.

"Hey stud, good to see you up. How you doing?" Buck called softly from the other side of the fire. The others were on watch, asleep or checking on Nathan.

"Fine." Behind him Vin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Where you off to in such a darned hurry?"

"Well, you forced all that water on me on the ride out so…." Chris gestured towards some rocks and bushes.

"Ah…"

Truth was Chris didn't need to go that bad, he felt hot and sweaty and unsure of himself. It was quiet, too quiet after the noise of the prison camp, the shovels against the earth and picks breaking stones and the guards beating on some prisoner. Some space and cooler air might help, he thought as he wandered off a few yards. He dutifully watered a bush anyway, and even that hurt. God damn Warden and his friends were too ready with those heavy batons. His back ached like mad. He stood staring out at the night sky spread in all her finery.

Chris was annoyed with himself for getting caught so easily by the crooked sheriff. Should never have turned his back on him in the bar. He had been used to hard work, he had, after all, built the small house and corral with Sarah. But the prison life- stone breaking, digging dirt and making bricks was hard on poor rations and really painful with his stitched slash wound and bruises, not to mention the shackles round his ankles and wrists.

And then there were the long days and nights in the 'hole'.

Alone with himself in the dark. Not always good company these days and never a good idea at the best of times. One time a year or so back he'd overheard some out of towners talking about him in the saloon –

'Why's he so mad all the time?'''

'He ain't mad.'

'Well, he's sure got a mean way a bein' happy'… it was a good description he thought.

Chris didn't like to remember his time in the hole. He'd been fit but bruised when he went in there, after getting in the Warden's face. But after a day or so, he felt really bad and he knew it had to be more than the poor rations they grudgingly threw in. Damn, but he really missed his whiskey and a decent smoke. It made the cold and damp nights harder to bear. He got to thinking way too much. The bad dreams and shakes weren't helping any.

After eight days in the hole, Larabee was a slighter, shakier bearded shadow of his former self. And that bastard Warden knew it. Most of the shakes had gone by then and all he wanted to do was get out alive. He should have been hungry as all hell but he wasn't. The cook spitting in the food and then the stabbing after soon saw to that.

Chris had only been doing what he thought was right, he told Buck and the others- standing up for the innocent watch seller…

He figured he didn't need to tell Buck and the others that he'd gone off in a mood, looking for a bit of oblivion. Cut loose for a day or three- that had been the plan. He didn't tell them he hadn't cared that Jericho was a real nasty spit of a town. He was all ready for something and nothing when the watch seller turned up. Chris was polite and ignored him right up until the guy tried to get him interested in maybe buying a watch for 'someone special'. He was just going to tell the man he didn't have a special person any more and to leave him the hell alone, when the sheriff came in with his fake paper and stupid story about the robbery in Landon. Push came to shove and the watch guy wasn't going to last two seconds, unless he did something. So he did.

And then there was Inmate 46, unable to work because he was ill and or injured and being forced to do so anyway. He couldn't seem to turn his back on that either. In doing so he incurred the wrath of the mean spirited warden and Chris, being Chris, shouted and pushed back.

At least Simmons was able to patch him up. He could remember the feel of every one of those crude stitches going in, the needle sliding through his torn flesh. No laudanum or carbolic and only a swig of rye to drink before hand, which he lost soon after. He remembered the sting as the 'doc' gleefully pressed the wad of spit and alcohol over his wound. At least when he went back to get his head seen to, he got a good drink off Simmons that time…

Chris weaved his way back to camp and the others, stopping to check on Nathan. Worrying them by the way his legs buckled and dumped him on his knees.

"Nathan going to be okay?" he asked frowning.

"Just fine with God's providence, our friend's own strength and potions," grinned Josiah.

"Good…good. Wouldn't want anyone else to die because of my mistakes." Chris said bitterly. Behind him Buck and Vin exchanged an anxious look.

Nathan opened his eyes at the familiar voice.

"What's..? Chris? Sum thin wrong?"

"Nope."

"Need... look at you". Nathan tried to sit up, but was pushed back with a grimace and was fed a drink. "Urrgh, what was that?"

"Your best potion, Nathan. Now you know how we feel!" chuckled Josiah.

"ha, funny… gi' some to Chris…" he murmured, his eyes sliding shut as Josiah rechecked his wound.

" I'm fine "said Chris and painfully pushed himself upright and tottered back to his own bed roll and sat on the ground leaning against his saddle. Vin twitched the blanket over him and passed him a cup. Chris peered and sniffed it first.

"It's just water, Larabee. Food?"

Chris shook his head numbly.

"Bet the food weren't that great. You should eat." Vin urged.

Buck appeared at his side with a few choices. 'Damn', Chris thought, he was being double teamed. They must really be riled up. Chris decided he hadn't the energy for the bread and cheese but the apple might work. He couldn't stop the flinch as Vin's sharp knife glinted in the firelight as he cut it in two, checking it was okay inside.

They moved away, busying themselves with the fire or bedroll, but Chris knew they were watching him - afraid he'd disappear if they didn't see that he was physically there. They watched as Chris' chewing slowed and he drifted into sleep, his eyes closing then opening and finally losing the struggle altogether. His other hand still clutching the uneaten half of the apple. Vin gently removed it.

Time passed, but Chris didn't sleep for long, jerking upright at the sound of low voices across the camp and Josiah digging into Nathan's pack. "Huh?" blinking he did a quick visual sweep that all was as it should be, trusting the others to watch his back because he was just too damned tired. His stomach roiled uneasily and his side throbbed. Despite that his eyes slid shut again.

Some time later he woke up, thirsty. Blinking his eyes open once more, Vin was sitting next to him looking worried. Chris wondered if he'd said or done something while asleep. He took a gulp of water and re-capped the canteen.

"Why don't cha lie down Chris? Be more comfortable, get more rest"

Chris just looked at Vin like he was mad. Rest? He'd forgotten what that was any more.

"Got used to sittin' upright," he said before he could stop himself… but he did slide over and lie down with a barely suppressed groan and involuntarily grabbed at his side. His sore head didn't take kindly to the change in position and he took a few deep breaths to push the sick feeling back.

"Ya hurt?"

"Warden took to beating me. It's nothing, just let me be." Chris mumbled, irritated at himself at the same time. Vin was only trying to help. And he hadn't lied exactly, just not told him everything. Vin didn't know that he'd spent far too many nights sitting upright in the hole. That thought made him shiver. What would they think of him when they found out he'd sliced his own belly to evade the Lawless brothers like some coward? That in the madness of the hole the first time he'd thought about Vin's $500 bounty that would free him but kill his friend…mad thoughts... didn't mean them…

"Okay "said Vin, but Chris could tell he didn't think so, because he added another blanket, donated by Buck.

"We got your back pard" Vin reassured him, hoping that this would let Chris sleep properly, not the restless shifting about he was doing.

"Thanks." another breath or two and Chris slept.

Once again it didn't last long, Vin didn't like the way he seemed to be hurting and sweating. Suddenly Chris came to and hurriedly crawled off the bedroll, not getting very far before he threw up the water and half apple he'd consumed earlier. Exhausted from the dry heaves and everything that he'd been through, he rolled over onto his aching back trying to pull himself together.

He sensed someone coming and cracked open one eye, squinting against the firelight. Vin with the canteen of water. He struggled onto one elbow, took the canteen and swilled his mouth, then spat it out. Gingerly he drank some more water and accepted a hand and a tug upright. Vin scuffed dirt over the mess Chris had made. No comments, no jokes, just got on with things. Chris liked that about him. No-one else seemed to notice; even Buck wasn't getting into his face.

He wanted the night to be over. He wanted to be back in town, where he knew how things were. Or even better at his cabin, but he figured they wouldn't let him go there just yet. He just wanted things normal again. He wanted a shave and a long hot bath and an even longer drink. He'd just have to wait for those things. He didn't feel good at all. And each time he closed his eyes he could see and hear the warden yelling and shouting at him. Chris could remember the thud of his baton against his legs and back. His head throbbed nastily from the hit he'd taken the other day from the Warden. It hadn't been easy trying to rest in the hole and when he wasn't in the hole he had to be wary of other prisoners trying to steal his boots or chunks of bread that he'd hoarded. That kept him awake a lot of the time too.

He desperately needed rest but it wouldn't come. He was exhausted and strung out and couldn't sleep. He began to wonder if he was imagining the whole thing. A tiny voice laughed and sneered at him 'you're still in Jericho, you fool!' That was another reason for waking up…just to check.

Daybreak finally arrived and Chris managed some food but wasn't trying very hard. He ignored the pointed looks that Buck and Vin gave him. He was glad of the water though. He felt the others eyes on his back as he awkwardly strained to get on Pony, lacking his usual fluid grace.

"Let's go home," he ordered, aware that Buck and Vin were slightly behind on either side of him. We got your back, pard. Josiah followed JD with Nathan and Ezra and then himself and his personal guard at the rear. Chris let JD lead the way; it stopped the young sheriff from asking him questions and trying to tell him the three legged dog joke in a desperate attempt to cheer him up. He'd heard it before and it had been funny when Adam said it….

As their town drew closer, he grew more anxious to see it, to see if it was the same. It had to be, he hadn't been gone that long- it just felt like forever. They'd made another stop or two for Nathan and each time Chris felt his heart race and sweat pool, though he tried to hide it.

By the time they rode down the main street to Nathan's rooms above the livery, he was barely conscious and gripping his reins and saddle horn so tight, Vin had to prise his fingers off one by one. After that everything was a jumble. A see-sawing world as he slid off Pony, raised concerned voices swooped in and out of his hearing. A swirling, nauseous sensation and then he was falling into a deep pit. Chris knew this pit and opened his arms wide.