Beware the sappiness. xD A tiny bit more touching. Do you hate me yet?
God, my throat is burning.
Once Wyatt closed the door, Doc tossed his jacket on a peg, poured himself a cup of water, and said, "Make yourself at home."
"Hm. Fine place you have here." Wyatt sat on the edge of Doc's bed.
"Well, you know I do all right for myself." Doc eyed the water as he emptied his waistcoat pockets of coins and bills. He didn't want Wyatt to know how bad his throat and lungs felt at the moment.
"How much did you take in tonight?"
"A little over fifteen dollars. Not bad. You?" Unable to wait any longer, Doc took a drink of his water. It helped, but not for long.
"I think I kept losing and winning back the same three dollars I won at the beginning. But I don't mind. It was fun. You sure had me worried, though."
"Worried? Whatever for?" Doc asked innocently.
"About your cheating getting us into a fight. It nearly did."
"Oh, nonsense. Come here." Another cough felt took another drink. The burning ebbed slightly.
Wyatt came to the table as Doc spread out the map.
Doc swallowed quickly and asked, "Now, are the soldiers stopping right at the state line, or will they go on to Granada with us?" He continued with the subject a little just to keep Wyatt talking.
Doc watched Wyatt with unnecessary attention, noticing the way his throat flexed when he talked... and then Wyatt's hand brushed his fingertips. A little shiver ran down his spine. "And if that's the spot, where might we take to the Indian trails?" He moved his hand south of the pencil mark.
Wyatt tucked the pencil under his thumb and grabbed Doc's hand. Before Doc could react, he moved it out of the way and made a few marks on the map. "This should be about where they are, the ones I'm more familiar with. They all cross over one another eventually."
If it had been anyone else, Doc would have reacted dramatically, maybe even violently. But it was Wyatt... and that shiver was back. All he could do was utter, "I see" before a coughing fit consumed him. Damn it all! "Excuse me," he said between coughs.
Silently, Wyatt held out Doc's cup. He had done the same with a canteen on the buckboard, and Doc felt grateful for his friend's kindness, even in adhering to the request not to discuss his illness.
When he was steady enough, Doc took the cup and drained it quickly. Then he fetched his laudanum and took a sip. He replaced the cork, grimacing at the bitter taste, before going back to the wash stand to pour himself more water. He left the cup on the washstand while he coughed into his handkerchief.
"Doc..."
There was blood on the handkerchief. "It's all right," Doc said, trying to fold the handkerchief quickly and return it to the pocket of his open waistcoat. "It seems the dust of the road has done some damage. These things happen. I'll do better once we part with the coach." I hope. He sipped his water again and returned to Wyatt's side. "You were saying?"
"...I was saying..." Wyatt looked at the map again. "Some of these trails run west, so we wouldn't lose much time by turning off the road for a while."
"I see. But we wouldn't have the buckboard, so once in Granada, I think we should make sure we have all of our most important supplies ready to move to horseback quickly if necessary." Doc coughed again briefly and sipped his water.
"Yeah, that's a good idea. We could even pick up a pack horse in town so all we would have to do is saddle up the harness horses and go."
Doc put his hands on the edge of the table and leaned on it. He wasn't as well versed in trail riding as some, so he said, "Mm. Ask James about that."
"Maybe we ought to get to bed," Wyatt said. "James had a point - we might not get much rest later."
I don't want to sleep... I want to stay up talking to you all night. He felt a little flustered at his own thought. His face heated and he felt a bead of sweat run down his face. He swallowed back a cough and said, "Where did you come by this map, Wyatt?"
From his peripheral vision, Doc thought Wyatt was staring at him. "Kansas City," Wyatt answered. "A cartographer there put it together from his own study and information he got from the buffalo hunters."
Doc took quick, shallow breaths to try to keep the cough at bay. "You could... add your own..." He started, but it was no good. He coughed so violently that he listed to the side, inadvertently leaning against Wyatt.
"John..." Wyatt put an arm around him and walked him over to the bed where he eased him down to sit on it.
Doc hacked into his handkerchief again. Damn it, now I've made a spectacle of myself. When he looked up, Wyatt was offering him the cup again. He took a sip of water and then wheezed, "Flask. In my coat."
Wyatt fetched it. A little whiskey finally calmed his symptoms a bit.
"I apologize," Doc said, looking at the floor with an unfocused gaze. "I ought to have listened to you and gone to bed. Now I've made myself a bother to you."
"It's no bother," Wyatt said. "Think nothing of it."
It's no bother that you're spoiling everything. Think nothing of the fact that you're dying. The corner of Doc's mouth twitched at his own ironic thoughts. "You go on back to your room, boy. I'll be all right."
"Are you sure?"
Doc nodded, not looking at his friend.
After a moment's hesitation, Wyatt patted Doc's shoulder and left the room.
Now that he didn't have to pretend, Doc took a few minutes to compose himself before getting up to go use the washroom and come back to undress. He had packed light, so he would be sleeping in his underwear. Finally, teeth brushed, everything neat and ready for morning, Doc strategically placed his water and whiskey where he could reach them and climbed into bed.
He took a deep breath to blow out his lamp and began to cough again instead. The coughing was so forceful that he didn't hear his door open again. When he finally tipped his head back to take a drink of whiskey, he spied Wyatt standing in his room and nearly dropped the flask. He managed not to spill it and set it aside before sitting up properly against the headboard.
"I thought you were going to bed," Doc said flatly, glaring at Wyatt.
"I left my map," said Wyatt, who was in his stocking feet, undershirt and trousers.
That could have waited until morning. "Well, as you're here, just collect it and go."
Wyatt walked across the room, carefully folded his map, and turned back from the table.
"Don't forget your pencil," Doc said, eyes narrowed.
"Right." Wyatt turned back to the table for the pencil, then came back toward the door.
Doc watched him over the foot of his bed. You're hesitating again. "Wyatt, you need to start pretending harder or just go ahead and say what you're thinking."
"What... what do you..."
"You're worried about me, but you don't want to say so because you agreed not to speak of my illness."
Wyatt looked away, clearly uncomfortable.
"You sure played poker better than this."
Wyatt sighed and came around the side of Doc's bed. "I'm sorry. I can't help being a little concerned. And I feel responsible."
"That is ridiculous. I had consumption before I ever met you." Doc smirked when he saw a puzzled look cross Wyatt's face. "I'm bein' facetious, my friend. You mean you feel responsible for my current state because you convinced me to come along on this trip."
"That's about it."
"Well, you remember things wrong. I decided to go of my own free will. Made up my mind if you were going, I would too. So, stop being so conceited as to think you're responsible for everything."
Wyatt met his gaze with something near shock.
Good, I have your attention. "I'll be better in the morning. You'll see."
"It's my fault Kate wasn't around to tell you not to go," Wyatt pointed out.
"Let's not argue what might have been, or neither one of us will get any rest. I told you, I'll be better in the morning."
Instead of going away, Wyatt came a step closer. "But tonight..."
"I'm fine, damn it." He coughed again, managing to stop after only a couple of seconds. Is this because I was rude to the preacher? he silently asked the Almighty. Your timing is flawless.
"Doc, just let me..."
"What? What exactly are you going to do that I'm not already doing for myself?"
Wyatt's eyes roamed around, eventually coming back to meet Doc's gaze. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll stay here all night if you'll let me."
Oh, lord... It was just what Doc had wanted, and yet he couldn't let it happen. They both needed to sleep. Maybe the coughing would keep him up, but Wyatt could rest if he'd only go back to his own room. Full of regret, he shook his head. "At least one of us needs to get a good night's sleep."
As Wyatt stood in a cloud of indecision, Doc remembered that rainy night when Kate had insisted on staying with him. How forward she had seemed. How meddlesome. But this wasn't some saloon girl offering to care for him - it was his friend. Like cousin George helping him out when he had been shot in Texas.
"James is asleep," Wyatt tried again. "Either I'll wake him up going back in there, or his snoring will keep me awake."
It was a weak effort, but Doc found it touching that he was still trying. "Oh, for land's sake, son." He sighed. "Did you clean your teeth? I'm a dentist, you recall. I can't abide the thought of someone not taking care of their teeth."
Wyatt half-smiled. "Yes, I did."
"All right. I'm too tired to argue with you anymore. Do what you want. But put the lamp out, would you?"
"Sure, Doc."
Wyatt put his map back on the table and pulled the one chair over by the bed. It didn't look very comfortable.
Doc grabbed the second pillow from his bed and tossed it onto the chair.
Wyatt glanced at him as if deciding whether or not to protest. He settled into the chair, adjusting the pillow behind his back. Then he leaned over to put out the lamp.
The room seemed completely dark at first, but soon Doc could see the window as a pale square of moonlight with Wyatt partially silhouetted in front of it. It's too quiet. This is extremely awkward. "Talk to me, Wyatt."
"...What?"
"Tell me some long, pointless story without a moral. Your voice is like a creek."
"A creek?"
"Water falling over rocks and tree roots... It's..." Soothing. "It will help me sleep."
Silence reigned. Doc decided he was asking too much. He was about to say "Never mind" when Wyatt spoke.
"Back in Iowa, a long, long time ago, there was a boy who dreamed of being a soldier like his older brothers. Instead, he was man of the house while his father was away recruiting, organizing, and drilling local companies of soldiers. This boy, Wyatt, had two younger brothers and two younger sisters to help look after."
Doc smiled a little as he settled down in the darkness. This may have been a bad idea... I don't want to sleep when I could be listening to that voice.
But Wyatt hadn't even gotten through describing Morgan and Warren fighting over who had to do the least pleasant chores before Doc started missing a detail here, a sentence there... he was nodding off.
Next thing he knew, it was sunlight coming in the window, and a work-worn hand was gently feeling his forehead.
Seeing he was awake, Wyatt smirked. "I guess you were right. You do seem better."
Awwwwww... Did we get it out of our systems? No? I told you it was sappy.
Oh yes, Doc's cousin George did take care of him when he was recovering from being shot. It seems Doc retained contact with a few family members.