So, by now it's obvious that where this story started with the idea of what would send the Duke kids scrambling off to the separate lives they lived in the reunion movies, it doesn't lead back to those movies. The boys just couldn't stay apart that long. Still, you'll see that in some ways I skipped straight past the first reunion movie and off towards the second.

Thanks to everyone who has been reading thus far, and double thanks to those who stop in and review.

I don't own the Dukes or Hazzard, only the plot.

Chapter 8 – Grueling Harvest

His girl had come back home, too. Now they were all in Hazzard, his kids that weren't kids no more. And they really did have those sad faces, even when they smiled at him, asked if he was comfortable, could they get him anything? And never, ever, asked him how he was…

Because they knew, and they didn't want to know. And, if he could have changed things, he would have kept them from knowing.

They couldn't change it. Each and every one of them wanted to, but some things couldn't be changed. Gastroenterologist. Endoscopy. Biopsy. Gastrointestinal Stromal Tumors. Metastasized. A whole new vocabulary learned in just a few short weeks. And finally, inoperable. And even, untreatable. Oh, he could go through the radiation and chemotherapy (not exactly new vocabulary words, but certainly not any they'd ever used on a day to day basis before) but they wouldn't do anything except make him sicker. It was just too far gone. Stomach cancer.

This was not what he'd wanted for his kids.

"Bo." His cousin was in the barn, looking lost.

"No chickens, Luke. We ain't got no chickens."

Bo was nothing if not observant. "No, we ain't," he answered with a straight face, waiting for his cousin's next declaration of the obvious.

"Luke," and the shadows caught in the anguished shape of Bo's face were enough to pull him up short. Eyebrows meeting in the center and cheeks pulled in taut, teeth not quite biting at his lip, and, "We've always had chickens. It's where we got eggs."

Yes, Luke was fully aware of that. But he wasn't going to point that out just now. "This ain't about chickens," he announced instead, no doubt in that. Felt the muscles in his own jaw start to twitch a bit, and swallowed, hard.

"Maudine's done passed…" Bo wasn't done making discoveries – things he already knew and yet needed to know all over again. "No cow to milk. No goats."

Yep, that about completed the inventory.

Not quite. Looking up – "No hay, or not much anyway. Luke, even Cooter had hay and a cow."

Had – because they didn't know anymore. Trips home had always been quick and family oriented. They'd seen Cooter in town, at the garage, but never at his home. And now, according to Miz Tisdale, he wasn't in Hazzard at all. But there was no time to think real hard about that right at the moment. Bo was talking again, or trying to.

"It ain't… right, Luke. This ain't our farm."

Well, it was their farm, but it wasn't home. Luke had noticed that, too, but there hadn't been much of a chance to worry about it, what with Jesse's medical needs and the short time they would have left to share with him… Leave it to the baby of the family to complain about missing the livestock.

Luke didn't know what to say. Bo was looking to him to – fix it – and he couldn't. He wanted to snap at his cousin, but couldn't do that either. "Yeah." It was all he had, the only thing he could give his cousin: agreement.

"We'd have to start over…" Half a thought, maybe something they weren't ready to really think about, because – "After he's gone." And that was as much as Bo could say.

"We got time," Luke tried, but they both knew it wasn't much. "To think about it."

Two adult men, standing a nearly empty barn, studying the dirt at their feet. Finally, one moved, hard to say which, because in a moment, they met in the middle, comforting each other as best they knew how.

"Daisy." He knew it was pointless, at least right now, but he wanted to make an impression on her. Most of his adult life had been dedicated to making an impression on these kids (sometimes working overtime, because it was difficult to make an impression on such hard heads as his boys had), and hoping that it would lead to some kind of positive outcome in the future. "I want you to go back to school."

A shaking head, visible horror in her eyes, was Daisy's response. I'm not leaving you, though she didn't actually say it.

The old man closed is eyes. Tired, but there was still work to be done. He might not have planted these kids, but he'd tended them carefully through their growth and ripening. As always, harvest was grueling, but without it, all the effort he'd put in thus far was for nothing.

"Not right now." Giving in, but not really. He'd expected this part. "But… as soon as you can. After." Words unsaid, but where there been horror seconds ago, now there were tears. "Come here, girl."

Most days he still insisted on spending in his recliner. His kids would take turns, keeping him company and disappearing in shifts. He was exhausted, he was ill, but at least so far, he hadn't required any particularly special medical care, not since those few days in the hospital. Between his children, Emma Tisdale, who would've moved in if there had been room, frequent afternoons with Lulu Coltrane Hogg, and brief visits by other townsfolk, he was never alone. He still liked to be at the center of things. But moments like this one, where he actually had some privacy with his girl, were rare, and he needed to take advantage of them while he could. Even if she wasn't ready to hear what he had to say.

"I'm sorry," she was saying, getting to her knees at his feet (heard her joints pop a little on the way down – what had happened to the spunky little girl that bounced around the house with such incredible energy? Who was this woman in front of him that seemed so serious?), "Uncle Jesse."

"Well now, Daisy, I don't reckon you got much to be sorry for. But if it's them tears you're apologizing about? Well, it's just good to know you'll miss me." Shouldn't have said that. He was trying to let her off the hook, but it hadn't worked. She was crying more and trying harder to stop it. "I'll miss you, too." Might as well finish the thought. She couldn't get any more upset.

She didn't. If anything, his last few words seemed to calm her a bit, at least enough to listen to him, he judged. Her fine hair caught lightly in the calluses of his hands as he stroked it. Funny how his palms had never softened, even after he'd stopped using them for constant heavy work. Farm life was imprinted in his body. But some days he could almost feel the cancer finally taking away what a lifetime of hard work had given him.

"After I'm gone, sweetheart, I want you to go back to school." Head shaking, like she was still the little girl that didn't want to wear a dress to church (where had his tomboy gone?). "Daisy, please." He never said please to his kids. Didn't need to, yes, but also knew that the word would essentially compel them to do whatever he asked. And it wasn't fair to manipulate them that way. Except now, when it mattered more than anything ever had. "When the time comes, go back to school."

Breathing deep and slow, calming herself, the woman he'd loved every bit as much as his departed wife – nodded. A tiny gesture, chin down then up again. Reached up as he leaned forward, and held onto him. Slight shift to get his beard out of her ear, quick giggle, and there she was, the excitable little girl that used to bully her cousins, making Luke silently beg their guardian to relax the rules about hitting girls back.

They were waiting for their uncle to die. Waiting, something Bo had never learned to do. Teachers, uncles, cousins, sheriffs – everyone had tried to teach him the concept of holding his horses, taking a moment, counting ten, being patient, but it had never worked. But now – he hoped the interim, this moment before, would last forever. Hoped for it as he spent a lot of time outside of the house. Chores, who would've thought he'd missed them so much? Chores would've given him the excuse to be out here as often as he was. Him and Luke, because, yep, here his cousin came.

"There you are." As if it had been hard to find him. As if Bo didn't spend a lot of time in this very spot these days, uncomfortable as it was to sit in the roots of an oak tree when you were well over six feet tall and approaching thirty.

"Them teachers was right when they called you the smart one." Squinting up at the man standing in front of him, wondering how soon Luke would do his duty as the oldest child and return inside with his younger cousin in tow.

"Come on, Bo," the solidness of his cousin, offering a hand up. Bo balked, or at least didn't move quickly, leading to – "Trust me."

Well, if it was a matter if trust – Bo reached up and took hold, felt the warmth of Luke in his hand. Felt himself get hauled up and then in a lazy gesture, one that knew exactly how tall he was, and just how wide, and even where his body was sore from leaning against a tree, Luke slung an arm around Bo's back, leading him towards the barn. Led him all the way to that dusty corner where they hadn't yet gone, to that thing that they both knew was there, but had let lie for now. Walked him right up to it and started tugging on the dust cover. The General.

"Where are we going, Luke?" They'd left the farm over the process of Jesse's diagnosis and illness, of course. Bo had gone all the way to Atlanta, even, to pick up some things and officially take an emergency leave of absence from his team. But whenever the Duke boys had left the farm, wherever they'd gone, they'd always used a practical car. The farm truck, Bo's sedan, even Daisy's motorcycle. But today, apparently, they were going out in the General.

"Playing hooky." Small grin at that. Answered by an honest smile, the first in weeks.

"Think he'll start?"

"I know he will." No explanation of that; none necessary. Clearly Luke had been out to this corner after all, tinkering with the Charger whenever he'd been slipping away from the house. (Of course – he always used to pop open the hood of a car when things went wrong, fixing things he could touch, instead of those he could only feel. And me? I have my own ways of handling bad things.) Didn't have to ask or even look. He knew Luke would be getting in the passenger side, letting Bo go where he needed to. Turned the key and – "Drive," Luke commanded. Should have minded that it was an order, but didn't.

Town. It wasn't like they hadn't been here from time to time over the last month. Of course they had. But not with the General. And while the back roads offered a certain type of promise, town offered the opportunity for some fun, and it seemed like years since they'd had – fun. Even if they weren't kids anymore.

Enos, though, wouldn't be part of it. They already knew he was gone, back to L.A. Daisy's marriage had seen to that. But maybe Cletus… who was on foot, pretending to write tickets. Faking, it was obvious, because his pen was a good four inches above the ticket book, and he was sort of wandering, rather than actually moving from car to car. Bo pulled up to the curb on the wrong side of the road, and Luke slipped up onto the window frame.

"Hey, Cletus." Luke's teasing voice, can you come out to play? Wouldn't be caught dead saying that, but it was there in his tone, all the same. "Whatcha doin'?" As if they couldn't see.

"Hi, Bo! Hi, Luke!" This wasn't the first time either one of them had seen him, but it was probably his first exposure in years to both Duke boys at once.

The greetings were friendly and completely ignored the number of times Cletus had clapped handcuffs around their wrists and exactly how many ponds the Dukes had tricked the deputy into landing in, cruiser and all.

"So, uh," because subtlety was not Bo's middle name. "You want to chase us?" And he slid onto his own doorframe, up and even with Luke. Couldn't let his cousin have the height advantage.

"Sorry, boys, I can't. Sheriff Coltrane's got me out here patrolling so's he can meet with his campaign manager. Wants me out of the office, but nearby, in case he needs me."

"Campaign manager?" No wonder those words had gotten stuck in Luke's brain. Bo couldn't shake them either. "What's he campaigning for?"

"County Commissioner," their childhood friend answered with a shrug, like everyone knew that. And maybe people who didn't spend their days in a farmhouse, waiting for a beloved family member to – well, maybe most Hazzardites did know it. But it was news to the Dukes.

"Rosco?"

Bo giggled, half at the notion that the sheriff would run, and half at the look on Luke's face. Never realized how much he missed the silly faces Luke sometimes made, like right now: are you kidding me? The facial asymmetry of Luke all exaggerated in his effort to point out exactly what a ridiculous idea that was.

"Boss Rosco? Shoot the only reason he's ever elected sheriff was 'cause almost no one else ever wanted the job. Boss Rosco." That last part under Luke's breath, but Bo heard it. His own face was a broad grin, one that he could feel stretching out-of-shape muscles.

"Boss Rosco," he repeated with some wonder. "Now wait a minute, Luke, I think that could work out." Skepticism. Not as much fun as some of Luke's other looks, but it would do for the moment. "Yeah, 'cause, see, it'll save money on taxes. At least he ain't got to buy fake fire hydrants – he's already got 'em!" A headshake, that smirk that was too smart for all this (and wasn't it amazing – of all things, Bo had actually missed that), then Luke was slipping back into the car. But – "Who is Rosco's campaign manager?"

"Emery Potter."

"You gotta be kiddin'," he said sliding down next to his cousin. "That'll be the most boring campaign ever."

"Yep," Cletus agreed. "So far they done made posters. They say 'Vote for Rosco Coltrane, Hazzard County Commissioner.'"

Snicker from Luke. "Well, it's honest, anyways. It don't say nothin', but it don't lie. Maybe Rosco's goin' straight."

Arched eyebrows, like they were thinking about that, then, "Nah!" in unison. Cletus laughed with them as they waved and pulled away from the curb.

"One good thing about Cooter being gone," Bo was saying.

"What's that?" They had been away from the farm for most of the day. Luke was going to have to do something especially nice for Daisy. While she'd agreed that the boys needed some time away from the house, he hadn't secured her permission to disappear for this long. Still, driving hadn't been enough. They'd needed this time to just sit by Hazzard Pond and – rest.

"Well, if he's really fightin' the system by being part of it? And if he actually gets hisself elected to Congress like Miss Lulu thinks he will? We'll have a good ally against Rosco." Which assumed they'd be here – within arm's reach – to need an ally. And led right back to things they weren't ready to discuss.

So they sat in silence for awhile, which would have made sense, if only they'd had fishing poles. Long about the time that Luke was wondering which cobwebs in the barn were hiding their fishing poles, Bo spoke up again.

"Luke." Long pause.

"Bo," he answered with a smirk, since his cousin seemed to have forgotten the rest of whatever it was that he was going to say. Sarcastic, yes, but that was Luke, and Bo would understand.

Except he didn't smirk back. Didn't take offense, either, just looked at him.

"Spit it out, cuz."

But apparently it wasn't the kind of thing that could be – spat. So Luke just waited, lying on his side in the grass, head propped on his hand and watching his cousin sit there with emotions passing across his face.

"Talk to me, Bo." It was probably the gentlest thing he'd said to his cousin since – well, it was certainly nicer than he'd been since they'd moved out of Hazzard. Seemed to be what Bo needed.

"Do you ever wish..." It must be bad. Bo could always talk. In school, during the church sermon, in the bed next to him, Bo's mouth was always moving. Not necessarily making any sense, but saying words, followed by even more words. But now he was struggling to say even one thing.

Luke waited quietly, simply because he couldn't think of a single other thing to do. Bo met his eyes for only a second, then looked away over the pond they'd grown up skipping stones across. But in that brief eye contact, Luke knew his cousin was hurting.

"Do you ever wish it was already over?" His voice cracked, and Luke drew himself out of his lazy position. "I don't want Uncle Jesse to be gone, not really, and just this mornin' I was hopin' we'd have a long time before he left us," words spilling almost too fast to follow now. "But this waiting… and it's only going to get worse…" Luke was moving more quickly, not sure whether it had to do with wanting to comfort Bo or just make him stop talking. Maybe both. Put his hands on his cousin's shoulders, not sure what Bo would take from him right now. "He's gonna suffer, Luke."

The thing neither of them wanted to think about. And there it was. All said and just floating around them and out over the pond. A younger, rasher version of himself might have told Bo to shut up. Instead, he tightened his hold on Bo's shoulders and tugged, sliding them both across the ground towards each other, getting grass stains on the seats of their jeans, no doubt (good thing Daisy don't do the wash no more or we'd be ducking flying rolling pins for this one). Bo came with the pull, didn't fight it, so he knew. Slipped his arms around his cousin, felt Bo's hands on his own back, and said the only words he had.

"I know."