By mid-morning, a lazy rain had started again through the town. Chris stood looking out the door of Nathan's clinic at the puddles pockmarking the street. Behind him, Vin rested quietly, tucked under the blankets. He wasn't asleep - at any noise or movement, he'd stir and Chris could tell he was paying attention, even within his eyes closed.

Once he opened his eyes at the sound of two men shouting a greeting to each other across the street, but then he'd seen Chris who told him:

"It's OK, nothing to worry about." and he nodded and closed his eyes again.

For at least the dozenth time this morning, Chris wondered what he was doing here. Except for that one instance, Vin didn't need him nearby to sleep. Nathan hadn't left any medicine for Vin to take at regular intervals, there was no impending medical crisis to be watchful for. Vin was just resting, his body trying to regain all the strength it'd lost and hadn't been given enough Buck to recoup yet. Didn't need another person hovering around for that to happen. Just needed dark and quiet and a comfortable bed.

No, Chris didn't know why he was here. He shut the door and sat back in the chair next to the bed. Except - maybe he was here for himself.

He'd had JD check out Vin's room last night, then checked it himself before turning in for the night. Nothing out of place, the bed had been slept in, which Chris thought was a good sign. But Vin had left his hat and his holster behind when he left the room, and that was never good.

So, was he here to make sure Vin didn't wander off again? Didn't wander off into the elements with no hat or coat. Didn't wander out of Chris' life without a word, or explanation, or goodbye.

Chris sat and watched Vin sleep, and didn't know why.

M7*M7*M7

Broad daylight found five friends sitting down to a meal at the boarding house, the last man taking his seat after the others had been there a quarter of an hour or so.

"How are they?" Josiah asked, as Nathan sat down with them.

"Vin's sleepin', Chris is worryin'. Been thinkin' I should kick Chris out 'fore I get myself another patient..."

"What happened to him last night?" JD asked. "To Vin?"

"Can't say for sure." Nathan told him. "Bad dream, bad memories..."

"Or a lotta anger he ain't never let out before." Buck offered.

"You think he really hates his mother that much?"

Buck started to answer JD's question, but Ezra beat him to it. "No, he loves her that much. A man who truly felt such antipathy towards his mother would consider her well gone, at whatever stage of his life he lost her. The passion and rage you describe him as conveying, in my experience, generally comes from a heart that has loved so much yet feels that love has not been returned, and cannot fathom why."

M7*M7*M7

Vin woke up in Nathan's bed.

Again.

He rolled over to find Chris in the chair by Nathan's bed.

Again.

"Back in here, hunh?" he asked.

"Looks like." Chris agreed. Vin seemed coherent now, the fever and confusion of this morning gone. "So what happened?"

Many possibilities presented themselves to Vin. He picked the one that bothered him the most.

"Fell asleep."

Chris thought Vin was being deliberately vague. "Before that." and Vin worked to remember what happened before he fell asleep.

"Had supper with you." and Chris still thought he was funnin'.

"I ain't got time for this Vin. "

"Time for what?" Vin asked, honestly confused. "Y'asked what happened. I fell asleep in that bed, wrapped up in that damn quilt y'thought I needed so bad. Fell asleep, and poor drunk Petersen nearly got his head blowed off thinkin' my room was his 'n rattlin' the knob." Vin sounded angry. "Let my guard down..."

"So what's that got to do with damning your mother to hell?" Chris asked. Vin looked at him wide eyed, that memory wasn't so clear.

"I done that?" the anger was gone, replaced by distress. Chris nodded.

"Josiah and JD found you out there in the cemetery, cursin' your mother and tryin' to bury her headstone in mud...you were cursin' her for leavin' you Vin. .."

"She did leave me..." Vin's voice became small. "I wanted to go with her and she left me. All I could hear was some heartbeat, somebody holdin' me n' she kept tellin' me I had to stay. Kept tellin' me I had to hold on, only she wouldn't tell me what it was I got to hold onto..."

"When you was sick..." Chris said.

"Just wanted to go with her, didn't want t'stay here...just wanted to be with my Ma ...she left me..." he turned over again, away from Chris and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders.

Chris didn't know what to say to him, so he just let him be.

M7*M7*M7

Vin was getting mighty tired of being tired. He opened his eyes and wondered how long he'd been asleep this time. He'd been sick before, it never took him out this hard or this long. He needed to be on his feet again, on his own again. Being sick was making him vulnerable, more than just physically. That had to stop - and soon. He could stand risking his, he was used to that. But risking his spirit was something else entirely.

He rolled onto his back, expecting to see Chris next to him. But the chair was empty, and the only other person in the room was Nathan.

"Hey Vin - how y'doin'? Brought some food up for you - think you could eat something?"

"I 'spect I could..." He was still tired, and even speaking took effort. "Chris ain't here?" His voice sounded odd to his own ears, rough and higher pitched, even though his throat didn't hurt anymore.

"No, praise the Lord. Y'got him fussin' so much I couldn't hardly stand it... what are you smiling at?" Nathan asked, as an amused grin crossed Vin's face.

"Chris - fussin'..." he took a breath. "Seen rattlers sunnin' theirselves on a rock... ain't as still as he can be."

"Yeah, and I seen mothers with sick newborns, ain't as fussy as he can be neither... here, let me help you sit up..."

"Thanks..." Vin sat with his back against pillows against the bed frame and Nathan handed him a bowl of stew. "Guess maybe I shouldna gone out overnight, hunh? Fishin' I mean."

No, you shouldn't have... Nathan wanted to say, but it wouldn't do any good now.

"I think it did you some good, being out with Chris, out where you feel comfortable. More to an illness sometimes than just physical symptoms. Man's spirit has to heal too..."

Vin looked up at him, surprised that Nathan seemed to have read his thoughts.

"Yeah..." Vin ate the stew and Nathan sat down at the table to read a medical book. "Nathan? How come y'took care of me?"

Nathan was surprised by the question.

"We're friends. Of course I'm going to take care of you."

But Vin shook his head.

"Them fellas tried t'lynch you could walk in here wounded, and you'd take care of 'em."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't be none too gentle with 'em now, would I?" But he looked at Vin's face and knew he wanted a serious answer. "Why wouldn't I take care of you?"

"I never had much truck with doctors 'n such." Vin told him, taking another mouthful of stew. "Doctor couldn't save my Ma. Lots of 'em won't take care of you, 'less you can pay 'em somethin'. Some call theirselves doctors 'n ain't. Cut y'up worse'n Kiowa..." he was done with the stew and Nathan took the bowl from him. "Never took much to bein' touched, or havin' folks too close to me..."

"Reckon you had about all the touchin' you could stomach then, bein' sick."

"Yeah...that weren't all bad though...just seemed that nobody ever wanted t'touch me, when I'se growin' up, lessen they was hittin' me for somethin'. Guess maybe I just ain't used to it not hurtin'...how long am I gonna feel tired like this? Reckon I ain't slept so much since I'se a baby."

"You'll be tired till you're well Vin. Human body heals best when it's at rest."

"That rhymes - you could be a poet." he grinned at his friend.

"Go back to sleep Vin. " Nathan had to smile too. "Sooner you sleep, the sooner you'll be well."

"Yeah..." Vin eased himself back down under the blankets and turned on his side. "I 'preciate it though. You takin' care a'me. Lettin' me put you outta your bed."

"You don't have to thank me for that Vin. "

"Puttin' up with Chris bein' here day and night..."

"Okay, you owe me for that..." Nathan sat on the edge of the bed. He was about to pull the blankets higher, but instead he gently rubbed his hand back and forth across Vin's shoulders. Vin tensed, but didn't say anything, so Nathan continued doing it. "Your body will heal Vin, whether you want it to or not...you have to want your spirit to heal..."

"You been spendin' too much time with Josiah..." Vin said, and hoped Nathan wouldn't leave off touching him too soon. It reminded him of how his Ma used to get him to go to sleep when he was so full of thoughts and ideas that he couldn't seem to lay still. It was working now, his eyelids grew so heavy, and the world seemed to disappear into a pleasant muffled blur.

When Vin was asleep again, Nathan stood and pulled the blankets higher. "You've gotta want your spirit to heal, Vin. " he said again.

M7*M7*M7

Chris had something to eat, then took a chair out on the boardwalk, watching the traffic and townspeople, but with a clear view of the door to Nathan's clinic. He had a book in his hand, but he didn't read it. This town was getting too small for him. Too many people, too many things to worry about.

His eyes went up to the clinic.

Too many people to worry about.

Before coming to this town, before saddling up with the Seven, he hadn't worried about anybody - including himself - since Sarah and Adam died. Probably the most concern he showed all that time was for his horse and his guns.

Now look at him. When did Chris Larabee decide it was the best thing to do to sign on to protect a town with six other rootless, wandering, demonized men? When did that part of him that cared about anything start to come back to life? Just when did that happen?

When he saw a scrawny, determined shop clerk pick up a buffalo gun to stop a lynching or die trying, all by himself.

So now that "shop clerk" lay sick and recovering up in the healer's clinic while Larabee tried to reason himself out going back up there to talk. Vin wasn't a kid like Billy who needed his ogres reasoned away. Talking to Vin wouldn't bring his Ma back, wouldn't erase the pain of being beaten by his stepparents, talking wouldn't change one thing that had gone on in his life.

So why was Chris getting to his feet and walking towards Nathan's clinic?

He was nearly across the street when Buck hailed him from the boardwalk.

"Got a minute? Wire just came in from Ute City, gotta fella up there confessed to killin' somebody hereabouts couple years ago..." and Chris turned and followed Buck back to the telegraph office.

M7*M7*M7

Vin found his boots kicked under the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress to pull them on. His hat and his gun weren't anywhere around, so they were probably still back in his room. His room. As though he'd ever referred to it that way. It was a room, is all. He'd no more call it his room than he'd call an empty stall at the livery his stall. Just a place to rest a bit is all. Even with all the new gewgaws Chris and them all had thrown in there - just a place the wind and rain couldn't get to you is all. He no more owned it than he owned the ground under a tree. Less maybe even. He could get tossed out of his room a lot sooner and a lot more legal than somebody could roust him off open land.

His room.

The room.

Damn room.

He got his boots on and headed for the door. He'd get his hat and coat and gun, then saddle up his horse for a long ride, get his thoughts back together. Get the pain and memories and sadness tucked back in where they belonged, where they couldn't hurt him no more. At least for a while.

Just as he got to the door, Vin looked out the window and saw Chris walking in the direction of the clinic, and a heaviness lifted off of him. Maybe he'd get Chris to go with him. Probably not overnight, Chris and Nathan would never stand for that. And Vin didn't feel sound enough to argue with them. Just out and away for an hour or so. He wouldn't even plague Chris none about how old he was or nothing. Just ride.

When he opened the door though, he saw that Buck was standing with Chris, talking serious about something. Then Chris turned and the two men walked away, and the heaviness settled back into place. Vin shut the door and sat in the chair in front of the woodstove. He had no strength to go anywhere now.

M7*M7*M7

Vin was still sitting in the chair half an hour later when Nathan came back to the little room.

"What are you up to?" Nathan asked.

"Nothin'..."

"Goin' somewhere? Got your boots on."

"Was goin' back -" his room? Damn room. "- boardinghouse."

"Not yet you ain't. Y'can sit in that chair awhile if you feel up to it, not for long though..."

"Yeah..." Vin tried to rub the tiredness out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Nathan? You remember where you were twelve years ago?"

"I remember - still in slavery. War wouldn't start for another year and a half."

"You still know anybody from back then? Anybody you still see or still friends with?"

The line of questions puzzled Nathan. He turned the other chair around to sit across from Vin.

"No, can't say as I still see anybody I knew twelve years ago. How 'bout you?"

"Naah, nobody I'd want to see...y'think any of us'll still be together twelve years from now? Still friends, still even recognize each other?"

"Sure we will..." Not that Nathan thought that was true, but he figured it was the answer Vin wanted - or needed - to hear. "Don't you think we will?"

The only answer Nathan got was a shrug. Wasn't bad enough to be sick here and now, Vin was worrying about what his life would be like in a decade. "

Where do you see yourself twelve years from now Vin? If you was to picture right now what your life will be like, what d'you see?"

Vin gave Nathan a confused frown.

"I don't know...never looked s'far ahead. Tomorrow is as far as I look usually...don't know..." he repeated when he saw that Nathan was waiting for him TO look that far ahead. "If I'm still alive, reckon I'll still be on the trail...lessen I'm too old to even sit my horse..."

He said that seriously, and Nathan had to smile. In twelve years Vin might be as old as Chris Larabee was now. Larabee wouldn't take kindly to being thought of as too old to sit a horse.

"Just out, alone, prob'ly in the rain somewhere and can't get a fire goin'. Just cold, wet, alone..."

"Always comes back to that, don't it? Bein' alone."

"Always was alone. Sometimes the more folks was around, the more I was alone..."

"Hard havin' friends now, ain't it Vin? Get by on your own for so long, hard to know who to trust - or why you should trust them. I'll tell you, took me a long while t'trust white folks. And yeah, a time or two I trusted people I shouldna trusted. A time or two I helped people I might not help now if I could go back and change it. Still, I'd rather do good for somebody who don't deserve it, than risk not doing it for someone who does. I'd rather waste some trust on a person who don't deserve it, then waste my life keeping myself away from friends."

"I had friends 'fore, Nathan." Vin said, a little defensively. "Had lotsa friends. Just none...that stayed. None I stayed with. None that I cared when we split up."

"You care now, don't you?" Nathan asked, though he knew the answer. "You care now and it scares the hell outta you, don't it?"

Vin looked around the room. He wished he had his hat, he could pull it down over his eyes, he could hide that way.

"Yeah, it scares me." he whispered. He wouldn't look at Nathan.

"Growin' up bein' a slave, the folks you loved and cared about could get sold, or killed, or run away...that makes me scared to love people now. Thinkin' - knowin' - that I could lose them anytime." Nathan said. "What scares you about carin' about people Vin?"

Too many instances of wasted affection - some ignored, some mistaken, some thrown back at him like frigid water - jumped at Vin.

"I'se always in the way. Couldn't do nothin' right. Couldn't find nobody wanted me around. I'se always dirty, cold, and hungry. Was always 'don't touch that, get away from there, what're you lookin' at? you don't deserve that, that don't belong to you, get away from me...' wasn't till I fell in with buffalo huntin' and showed 'em I could shoot that anybody thought I was worth havin' around. Even then it was only as long as I could shoot, and did shoot. Weren't me, just my shootin' that mattered..."

"Vin-" Nathan cringed at the pain in his friend's story, if not in his voice. "You feel that way? With us? You know it ain't your gun hand you're valued for, not by the rest of us."

"Reckon I saved y'from bein' lynched." Vin offered.

"Reckon I saved your life a time or two since then." Nathan countered. "That the only reason you like me? The only reason you'll have me around?"

"...'course not...you're a good man, y'care about folks, you -" But Vin stopped before he cut his own throat any more. Nathan was giving him an amused look. "I know." he said. "But knowin' and knowin' are just two different things."

"Yeah, they are..." Nathan agreed. Then Vin said no more, only sat as pulled into himself as he could get. "I'm goin' over to get us both something to eat...you get tired, you lay back down, hear?"

"Yeah..." but when Nathan was gone out the room and down the steps, Vin stood by the window, wondering where Chris had gone.

M7*M7*M7

Sitting alone in Nathan's room, visions of everything he'd ever done wrong, and every wrong ever done to him, crowded Vin. He felt every blow, heard every rebuke, swallowed every insult. He saw the herds of butchered buffalo bleed and rot before his eyes, and felt the aching emptiness of native people left to freeze to death as they starved. The visions swarmed him like hornets, angry and stinging, bent on destroying him.

Nothing ever made them go away for long. It seemed that as long as he was on the trail, goin' somewhere, anywhere, they stayed back a ways. But now, these past days he'd been bound to this room, maybe even the past months he'd bound himself to this town, they were back with a vengeance, suffocating him more than his illness had ever come close to.

He closed his eyes.

And was surprised by a feeling of safety hovering in his memory. He expected it to be the memories of his Ma from his delirium, but it wasn't. He thought maybe it would be falling asleep wrapped up in that damn quilt they'd put on his bed.

But it wasn't.

Something he couldn't make out, just at the corner of his mind's eye, was keeping the swarm at bay. For now anyway.

For now, that was all he asked.

To be continued.