Yesterday my oldest turned 13! The connection with M7? One month and one day after he was born M7 premiered and I got into fandom and writing fanfic... Thanks again for the reviews, they encourage me so much and remind me not to give up on any story ideas still floating around in my head.

Chris paced the hallway outside of Ezra's room, gripping the leather belt in his hand. His anger boiling now, as the ramifications of the belt's appearance were realized.

This was about more than Ezra reliving the attack. Someone was orchestrating this, torturing Standish mentally, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of his sanity.

Larabee wanted to destroy something, someone.

"Cowboy." Vin's voice was low and soothing, the tone he might use if he was trying to approach a wild horse.

"What?" Chris snapped at the tracker, in no mood to be soothed.

"He's going to be alright."

"We don't know that." Chris waved the belt in Vin's direction. "This…" his anger peaked as he looked at the detested piece of leather. He flung it forcefully away from him, watching as it slammed against the wall and landed on the floor.

"I know," Tanner went to the belt and scooped it up again, winding it into a tight coil. His fingers lingered on the cold metal of the buckle.

"What do you want with it?" Chris demanded, not understanding why Vin didn't just leave it.

"Wanna make sure it's not used against him again," Tanner answered practically.

Chris sighed. He hadn't thought of that. Of course he didn't point out that someone could use any belt as a symbol of what happened. He hoped to God that it wouldn't happen again. At least he knew that the six other peacekeepers were going to do everything possible to prevent anyone from getting to Ezra again.

At Nathan's initial yell everyone had run upstairs, but once they were certain there was no immediate danger, Chris had sent Buck and JD back downstairs to keep an eye on things. Folks had started to filter back into the saloon now that the brawl had ended and Larabee didn't need anyone wandering upstairs and nosing into Ezra's business.

Josiah was outside, subtly watching over what was happening around town and looking out for any obvious signs of foul play. Nathan had ushered Ezra into the privacy of his room.

Standish had tried to insist that he was fine, but even once the initial fright had passed, the southerner continued to shake uncontrollably. Nathan had feared that between the assault downstairs and finding the belt, Ezra might go into shock.

Chris ran his fingers through his hair. "Who's doing this?"

"Someone one who looks a hell of a lot like Tom Wyler," Vin answered looking at Chris knowingly.

"Family."

It clicked together confirming Chris' fears that the 'sightings' Ezra had been having were more than just memories of his trauma.

They were silent a moment, obviously mulling over the realization.

"Think it's linked to the fires?" Vin questioned.

It made sense, Chris thought. Tom Wyler had tried to get the land deeds from Ezra. He was the man behind the attack on Standish. They knew that he'd sent telegrams to someone in Four Corners, but they'd never been able to find that someone. If Wyler's partner had been family,then when Vin killed Tom…Wyler's family might be looking for revenge.

"Why not me?" Vin asked suddenly as if he'd followed Larabee's inner thoughts.

"What?" Chris looked at him.

"I'm the one who shot Wyler. I killed him." He glanced at Ezra's door. "Why are they targeting him and not me?"

Chris heard the guilt in Vin's voice. "There's no reason to it," he admitted. "Why would this person target the new settlers now that they've got their land? None of them are gonna just abandon their dreams. Might take awhile to recoup and rebuild but they're determined to stay. It's senseless."

Vin leaned against the wall. "It's revenge," he shook his head. "Pure revenge."

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Ezra's body betrayed his every effort to control it. His hands trembled, his knees shook. Every time he tried to stand he wavered so badly that Jackson pushed him back down onto his bed.

"Stay put," Nathan commanded, swinging Standish's legs up onto the bed.

"I don't want to lie down," Ezra protested,but didn't fight the action. He watched, feeling helpless as Nathan propped a rolled blanket under his legs.

"You need to." The healer worked quickly to settle the gambler.

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Nathan pointed threateningly. "You took a bad hit to your shoulder. You hit your head on the way down and now you've had a damn good shock."

"I'm going insane," Ezra finished for him.

Nathan pulled up short, surprised and angered by the fear he could clearly see in Ezra.

"Not likely." Vin spoke from the doorway, startling both men with his silent entry.

Beside him, Chris held a tray with a kettle of steaming hot water and mug on it. Nathan caught a glimpse of Inez in the hallway before Chris closed the door and handed the tray to him.

Ezra shook his head. "I'm reliving the attack. I'm seeing things that aren't there. I'm confused. I'm losing my mind." His voice grew more frantic as he went on, his panic palpable.

"No." Chris stepped forward. "That's not what's happening."

"Ezra," Vin continued interrupted. "Someone is doing this to you."

"What?" Ezra froze.

"Reliving the memories may be real, but there's someone out there triggering them, trying to make you think you're going crazy."

"I don't understand." Ezra closed his eyes, suddenly so very weary.

"The sightings of Tom Wyler," Chris said. "Tell me about them."

"A figment of my imagination," Standish murmured.

"Tell me about him, "Chris repeated.

Swallowing, Ezra opened his eyes again. Nathan moved beside him, readying the sling for his arm.

"I've seen him twice."

"Twice?" Vin asked.

Ezra nodded, sitting up again awkwardly so that he could put the sling on.

"In the saloon," he started.

"And in the street, "Chris finished. "When you thought you were in the middle of the attack again."

Ezra winced as Nathan adjusted the sling and helped settle back against pillows that now propped him up.

"I thought I was imagining it all." Ezra's voice was a shamed whisper.

"I think we're dealing with Wyler's partner." Chris walked over to Ezra's rocking chair, turned it away from the window so it was facing the bed and sat down. "We think he's family."

"Family," Ezra repeated the word as if he'd never heard it before. "I didn't imagine him? I'm not seeing things?"

"Don't think so. Not everything at least." Vin held up the belt. "This is real."

Ezra's eyes locked on the belt and he seemed to sink further into the pillows.

"Someone hung it on your door, knowing what kind of response you'd have," Nathan added.

Standish's face colored with shame, he was embarrassed by his fear in front of these men.

"Only way someone would know that…is if they were there when you were attacked." Chris leaned forward. "You need to tell us about your attack," he said gently.

"No." He nearly startled himself with his strong response. He refused to meet Chris' gaze. "I've told you what I remember," he managed to regain control of his tone.

"Try to remember," Vin prodded. " How many men were there?"

Ezra looked away from them as visions of hands pulling at him ran through his mind. He'd never counted before, he just remembered there'd been too many to fight against. "Five," he whispered finally. "I think there were five of them.

"Do you remember any of them with Wyler? Anyone who looked like him?"

Ezra cringed as more memories started. He wanted to push them away, bury them. He didn't want to share with the others how weak and useless he'd been. He felt the hands, harsh and brutal pull him off of Chaucer. He managed to signal the horse to go and had felt a sense of relief when the men failed to grab the beast before he got away from them. Then Tom Wyler had sneered and fired the gun.

"Ezra."

Standish jolted at Chris' voice, hissing as he jerked his shoulder. "I don't remember," he insisted quietly.

"Ezra."

"I don't remember anyone but Wyler," the gambler bit out angrily.

"That's enough." Nathan stepped in, handing Ezra the mug of tea, he'd prepared. "I need to get Ezra to drink this now and then he needs to rest. Out. Now," he ordered.

Chris looked like he was going to protest, but after a moment he nodded and headed out of the room.

Vin paused at the door. "When you're ready Ezra." And then they were gone.

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"He's lying," Chris poured himself a drink of whiskey and downed it in one take. Around the table, the rest of the seven, save for Ezra, were gathered.

It was late and the saloon was once again empty, the other patrons chased out by Inez.

Ezra had not come out of his room since the conversation earlier.

"You can't force him to talk about it," Josiah insisted.

"But if whoever is doing this to him is the same one starting the fires, he needs to talk to us about it." Buck played with his mustache.

"What do we do about the fires?" JD asked. "What if there's another one tonight? How do we know who the next target will be? Shouldn't we be out there patrolling?"

Buck laid a hand on Dunne's shoulder, stilling the barrage of questions.

"There's too much territory for us to cover when we don't know the target," Vin answered. "The settlers have been warned and a few men are ready to rid into town for help if needed."

"You really think Ezra is lying about what he remembers?" JD jumped the subject back to Standish. "Why would he do that?" He looked back and forth between each man, waiting for an answer.

Josiah sat back in his chair and scratched at his beard. "He was tortured, JD."

JD scrunched his face up, shaking his head. "They beat him up bad."

"And shot him," Chris reminded.

"Near hung him," Vin added.

"Yeah but…" The youngest of their group shook his head again.

"JD." Nathan leaned forward, his hands clenched tightly together. "It was five against one. They ambushed him, dragged him off his horse, shot him and then tried to beat information out of him. They strung him up for God's sake."

"But if he remembered enough to tell you all that, why would he lie about remembering the men who did it?"

"He never told me what was done to him," Nathan admitted, surprising everyone at the table.

"Then who did?" Buck asked.

Nathan stared at the oil lamp in the center of the table, watching its flickering flame for a moment before he finally cleared his throat to answer. "Tom Wyler."

"What?" Chris looked at Nathan.

"It was when we'd first arrived in town," Nathan explained. "Before we…before I knew it was Ezra who was hurt. Wyler was taking me to him. He listed all Ezra's injuries. Thought it was because he'd been helping care for Ez. Then when I discovered it was Ezra, I was too wrapped up with trying to save him. I never asked Ezra and he never confirmed or denied."

"Even if he didn't tell you then…why wouldn't he tell us now if'n it can help him and somebody else?" JD persisted.

"How would you feel?" Vin asked directly. "If it'd been you and all those thing happened. How would you honestly feel?"

JD seemed to contemplate for a minute before he finally answered. "Weak," he admitted. "Maybe ashamed that it happened, but Ezra shouldn't feel that way. It could have happened to any of us."

"Knowing that don't always change the way a man feels inside when he's been torn down, Kid."

"So what do we do?" Dunne looked as lost as the rest of them felt.

"We wait," Sanchez answered. "We show a little bit of patience and we wait."

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Ezra stood in the dark shadows at the top of the stairs, looking down into the dimly lit saloon. He stared, unfocused at the oil lamp in the center of the table where the rest of the seven sat and listened as they talked about him.

They didn't sound like they thought he was losing his mind, no. They sounded…frustrated but supportive. He wasn't sure what to think about that. Ezra had expected Chris to demand that he tell them everything he remembered about the attack instead of willingly following Josiah's advice to wait patiently.

He shifted carefully, not wanting to draw their attention yet. His mind raced as he struggled with the decision. Was he the key to figuring out who was behind the fires? Was it possible that if he let himself remember everything and share it with someone else that he'd be able to identify the person who was setting the fires? Would sharing his deepest demons free him from the mental anguish in which the memories seemed to have trapped him?

Ezra sighed lightly and with his good hand he rubbed at his temples. His head ached. His shoulder and leg throbbed. His god damned heart ached. Everything about him right now seemed to focus on pain. He was weary of it.

Josiah's words from earlier resounded through his thoughts. "It is a fight between two wolves. One is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego."

Ezra knew as the preacher's gentle voice filled his mind that he needed to let go of the negative emotions boiling within him. He couldn't do that on his own. He needed his friends and it was time, he realized, as he watched them struggle with how to help him, it was time to reach out, to let go and let them support him.

Gathering his courage, Standish pushed away from the wall and turned toward the top step.

A hand clamped over his mouth from behind as the cold, threatening steel of a gun pressed painfully into his temple. "Going somewhere?"

TBC...