This may be the last installment for a while, so at least it's not a cliffhanger. xp

On "Wyatt Earp and the Cowboy War": I have finished it now, and I would be excited about the new information if they hadn't ruined their credibility in episode 1. Two things I can say for it (besides Virgil looking more like the real Virgil than anyone else in history xp): 1. Doc was blond. Good for them. In spite of his facial hair being all wrong and his accent being unimpressive, he actually looks like he could have been the real Doc. 2. They got Doc and Wyatt's final parting right, something else no show or movie has done before. Instead of Wyatt seeing Doc gunned down or parting with him at a hospital, they say goodbye in a hotel in Denver Colorado... so, in a way, they do see an eclipse there together. (OK, yeah, that was mean of me. Sorry. xD)

I hope you get a laugh out of this one - there's a spot where in Wyatt's POV Doc is barely intelligible, but in Doc's POV his speech is perfectly clear. Is it just bias, or is it that dentists can always understand distorted speech from their work experience? ^_^

Getting Doc back to the hotel was a process, and anxiety threatened to disturb Wyatt's calm. But he knew that cool headedness was the only sensible procedure, so he said nothing, but pushed on until they arrived. Once he got Doc seated, he used his friend's handkerchief to slow the blood flow while he went to request that hot water and bandages be sent to their room.

When Wyatt returned to him, Doc looked up with bleary eyes. "I forgot to wire Kate."

It was then that Wyatt realized Doc was drunk in addition to being injured. His drinking at the saloon had not been heavy, but it had been steady. "We'll do it first thing in the morning," Wyatt assured him. "Can you manage the stairs?"

"Yes, I'll manage."

Wyatt took hold of Doc's good shoulder to help him up. For a moment, he worried that Doc would fall right back into the chair, but he managed to steady him. The staircase proved a great challenge, but they surmounted it at last.

Wyatt sat Doc on the bed and began extricating him from his jacket.

When Doc grimaced, Wyatt said, "Sorry. It's that or cut it off you."

"There's no point in savaging the garment any further. If I cannot have it patched to suit me, I'm sure some poorer man would be glad to have it."

Wyatt nodded. He untied Doc's cravat and removed his starched collar. His waistcoat came off a little more easily than the jacket. Then he started on Doc's shirt buttons.

"You've done this before," Doc said in an accusatory tone.

Nonplussed, Wyatt said, "I know I've told you about my brothers. They took some looking after from time to time."

Doc uttered a small grunt of pain when Wyatt removed his shirt.

"Sorry. That should be the worst of it."

"Laudanum."

Wyatt soon found the bottle of medicine and handed it to Doc, who took a nip and sighed.

"Thank you."

Wyatt picked up the lamp from the bedside table and held it close to Doc's shoulder to look at the wound. It seemed to still be bleeding steadily, deep red drops forming to roll down Doc's arm. "Damn."

"Might as well use my shirt to catch the blood for now. It'll need to be treated for the stain anyway."

Wyatt rolled up the shirt and tucked it under Doc's elbow.

"Any signs of coagulation?"

Wyatt looked up, searching for a clue toward the definition of this word in Doc's face.

"Clotting. The thickening of the blood which slows the flow."

Wyatt made a closer inspection with no new results. "I'm not sure."

Help arrived then in the form of a concierge and chambermaid with bandages and a kettle of hot water. The concierge helped Wyatt to make Doc more comfortable.

"You owe me a good handkerchief," Doc told Wyatt.

I owe you my life. You can have whatever you want. "I'll get you one. Silk. Monogrammed."

Doc chuckled. "Don't go to all that trouble."

Wyatt looked at the hovering concierge. "I think we'll manage from here, thank you."

The man nodded.

"Give the man a tip," Doc prompted.

"Right..." Wyatt took a coin from his pocket and handed it to the concierge without bothering to check its value. "Thanks for your help."

"And one for the chambermaid. I daresay it's given her a fright to see a man in not so much as his shirtsleeves, with blood running down his arm."

Wyatt looked toward the door. There was no sign of the maid, but Wyatt didn't feel like discussing it, so he gave the concierge another coin and sent him on his way.

"Let's get this cleaned up," Wyatt said. He cut a strip of the bandaging material and dipped it in the hot water before beginning to clean around Doc's wound. It looked much less ominous when the worst of the blood was gone.

"You'd best sterilize it," said Doc. "Whisky will do that."

Fresh blood seeped out of the wound, and Wyatt dabbed it away quickly before retrieving Doc's flask from his jacket and opening it. "Ready?"

Doc gave him a nod.

Wyatt laid his left hand on Doc's shoulder and carefully doused the wound with whisky.

"Shit," Doc hissed, twisting his fingers into the bedclothes.

Unconsciously, Wyatt caressed the bare skin at the collar of Doc's undershirt before removing his hand.

"Bind it tight, now." Doc took the flask from Wyatt and drank from it.

Wyatt did as he was told, and Doc cursed through gritted teeth. Then there was nothing more to do but finish cleaning the blood off Doc's arm. When that was done, Wyatt tidied up the room and then returned to the bedside to remove Doc's boots. Doc remained silent, putting Wyatt in mind of a sleepy child.

"Stockings too?"

After a moment's hesitation, Doc nodded slowly. Perhaps he thought it too much to ask another person to touch one's stockings and imagined that only a spouse would deign to do such a thing. But having grown up in a pack of boisterous boys, Wyatt had dealt with far more off-putting things.

He went to the head of the bed and worked his hands under Doc's shoulders, remembering the night he had comforted Doc after his nightmare in this very hotel. "Sit up."

Doc assisted Wyatt in getting him upright, and Wyatt turned down the covers behind him.

"Just a moment."

"What is it?"

"I can't sleep without cleaning my teeth. It's against my constitution."

Wyatt frowned, thinking of the bother it would be to get Doc to the washroom for that. But it was just like a dentist to insist on such a thing.Anything you want.Wyatt smiled. "All right. Let's get you up, then."

Wyatt draped Doc's bloodied jacket around him for the journey to the washroom, wanting to protect his friend's dignity as best he was able. Doc managed to walk fairly steadily under his own power, with only a hand at his elbow for guidance.

"Don't you have a toothbrush?" Doc asked in a tone that dripped with judgment.

"I have. But I don't tend to travel with it. It's another thing to lose."

Doc tsked him in a way Wyatt doubted he would have if he were sober as he opened his tin of tooth powder. "The things that live in your mouth and destroy your teeth are hard at work, whether you're traveling or at home. If you don't clean them every day, I'll be removing all your teeth before you're forty and fitting you with a false set."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

"I recommend ceramic." Doc busied himself cleaning his teeth, pausing to say around his toothbrush, "Vo I met you coul' affor' gol' mow."

Wyatt stifled a snort.

When he finished, Doc spat into the basin, rinsed his mouth with water, and spat again. He moved to lift the basin, but Wyatt took it from him and dumped it into the slop jar himself, to spare Doc having to use his injured arm.

"I made a very fine set from galvanized rubber when I was in Texas," Doc went on.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you did."

Back in their room, Doc confessed a need to avail himself of the chamber pot, since the washroom did not provide any away from the private rooms, and the only other option was going all the way to the ground floor and out to the privy. Wyatt found the pot under the bed and took the lid off. Only now did he hesitate, glancing at Doc's form-fitting trousers.

"Do you..."

"I can manage," Doc said.

Wyatt nodded and turned away to give him privacy. He busied himself with getting out of his own clothes. He unpacked his newly acquired money on the table and found there to be even more than he had realized.

"Doc... how much do you reckon you won tonight?"

"A few hundred at least. Three or four, I'd say."

"Goddamn. Between us, we may have close to a thousand."

"We may indeed."

Wyatt went to the door and bolted it. "I'm less trusting of man's better nature when I'm in possession of a small fortune," he explained.

"Nor can I blame you. Tell me, what are you made of, Wyatt?"

"Made of?"

"Lightning and lard, best I can figure. The bullets can't catch you, or they slip right off you."

The sound of the lid being set back on the chamber pot informed Wyatt that it was safe to turn around. "Maybe I have a good friend keeping an eye on me."

Doc had gotten himself completely out of his trousers, leaving him in his underclothes. "I just happened to look up at the right moment. Luck. Or Providence, if you must."

"Maybe so, but either way, you've saved my life again. Maybe I'll tell Mattie she owesyoua kiss."

Doc laid his hand over his heart. "Wyatt, I'm a married man!"

Wyatt grinned. "That's not what you said in Texas."

"Texas was a long time ago now. For all intents and purposes, I am married. Not lawfully, perhaps, but decidedly."

"And you would never accept a kiss from some other lady, even as gratitude for your having saved her gentleman friend?"

"Well... if Kate didn't mind."

With a chuckle, Wyatt pulled the bedclothes down to the foot of the bed so Doc could easily climb in. He pushed the chamber pot back under the bed and put out the lamp before lying down, himself. Once more, he was on the side of the bed closer to the door, with Doc's wounded arm away from him where he wouldn't disturb it.

They couldn't help but remain in contact, nor did either of them show signs of caring. Wyatt gave a slow sigh, feeling the tension ebb from his body. It had been such a long day. "It's almost four," he said.

"Wyatt, there have been times I didn't quit until the sun returned to scold me for not giving her the pleasure of waking me."

"I don't doubt it." Wyatt rolled slightly toward Doc and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I really don't know," he muttered, remembering the notion that had come to him on the train.It might not be the consumption that takes him at all. Any day could be his last.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. I'm just glad you're here, John."

There was a long silence, but Wyatt didn't worry about having said too much. It was time he trusted Doc not to take things the wrong way.

Finally, Doc answered. "I'm glad you're here, too."

Still slightly drunk, Doc managed to walk to the washroom under his own power, with only a hand at his elbow for guidance. It was considerate of Wyatt to make sure he was covered and steady on his feet. But Doc realized he had not seen Wyatt brush his teeth once on their entire journey, and it was becoming a disturbance to him.

"Don't you have a toothbrush?" Doc asked.

"I have. But I don't tend to travel with it. It's another thing to lose."

What a poor excuse. Doc scolded his friend as he opened his tin of tooth powder. "The things that live in your mouth and destroy your teeth are hard at work, whether you're traveling or at home. If you don't clean them every day, I'll be removing all your teeth before you're forty and fitting you with a false set."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

"I recommend ceramic." Doc began cleaning his teeth, pausing to say around his toothbrush, "Though I bet you could afford gold now."

Wyatt stifled a snort; Doc wasn't sure what he found so funny.

When Doc moved to lift the basin, Wyatt took it from him and dumped it into the slop jar himself.

"I made a very fine set from galvanized rubber when I was in Texas," Doc went on.

"I'm sure you did."

Wyatt shepherded Doc back to their room again. He really was showing a kindness that Doc had rarely seen in another man. It reminded him a bit of his cousin George, who had tended him after he'd been shot in Texas.

Doc knew he would need to use the chamber pot, and he was loath declare it, but he knew it would be difficult for him to kneel and find the thing himself, one-handed as he was right now. Fortunately, Wyatt maintained that ineffable confidence he had been showing since their arrival in Hugo, and promptly retrieved the pot and removed its lid. Only then did he hesitate.

"Do you..."

Doc realized Wyatt was wondering if he would need help with his belt and trousers, but Doc felt confident that he could perform the necessary actions himself. "I can manage."

Wyatt nodded and turned away. While Doc awkwardly unfastened his belt and trousers almost entirely with his right hand, Wyatt undressed and emptied his pockets of the night's winnings.

"Doc... how much do you reckon you won tonight?"

"A few hundred at least. Three or four, I'd say." Doc finished his task and kicked his trousers off completely before standing to wrestle his pantaloons back into place.

"Goddamn. Between us, we may have close to a thousand."

"We may indeed."

Wyatt went to the door and bolted it. "I'm less trusting of man's better nature when I'm in possession of a small fortune."

"Nor can I blame you." Doc recalled the icy touch of adrenaline he had felt when he saw their assailant in the dimly lit street. It was a marvel that every time bullets flew in Wyatt's vicinity, they managed to miss him. "Tell me, what are you made of, Wyatt?"

"Made of?"

Doc gingerly used both hands to tie the drawstring of his pantaloons, wincing a bit. "Lightning and lard, best I can figure. The bullets can't catch you, or they slip right off you." He leaned down to replace the lid on the chamber pot.

Wyatt turned toward him. "Maybe I have a good friend keeping an eye on me."

"I just happened to look up at the right moment. Luck. Or Providence, if you must." Doc always gave the devil his due; it was best not to ignore the possibility of divine intervention either.

"Maybe so, but either way, you've saved my life again. Maybe I'll tell Mattie she owesyoua kiss."

Doc laid his hand over his heart. "Wyatt, I'm a married man!"

Wyatt grinned. "That's not what you said in Texas."

Fort Griffin was where Doc had first laid eyes on Wyatt, and in those first weeks of their acquaintance he had made up his mind that Wyatt was good to know and interesting to study. At that time, Doc had not been calling Kate his wife, though they were already involved. "Texas was a long time ago now. For all intents and purposes, I am married. Not lawfully, perhaps, but decidedly."

"And you would never accept a kiss from some other lady, even as gratitude for your having saved her gentleman friend?"

That made Doc seem a bit ungrateful. "Well... if Kate didn't mind."

With a chuckle, Wyatt pulled the bedclothes down to the foot of the bed. Doc climbed in easily enough while Wyatt pushed the chamber pot back under the bed and put out the lamp. Then Wyatt got into bed next to him, his arm flush against Doc's.

Doc felt none of the usual misgiving about Wyatt's closeness. The lasting change in his friend's demeanor seemed to have banished that away. When Wyatt gave a long sigh, it confirmed that he wasn't worried about the intimacy, either.

"It's almost four," Wyatt said.

That wasn't new to Doc. He had scarcely slept regular hours since the consumption took hold. "Wyatt, there have been times I didn't quit until the sun returned to scold me for not giving her the pleasure of waking me."

"I don't doubt it." Wyatt rolled slightly toward him and laid his hand on Doc's shoulder, muttering something.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. I'm just glad you're here, John."

Here to warn you of danger? Here... as in, "I'm glad the bullet wasn't nearer your heart"?Doc puzzled a little over just what Wyatt meant, but even though he wasn't very drunk anymore, he was too sleepy for very deep thoughts. He has been very kind in looking after me. If I had been in this fix by myself, I'd have been reliant on the kindness of strangers. "I'm glad you're here, too."

He wished his arm wouldn't throb if he reached across to touch Wyatt's hand. Instead, he let his head fall toward his shoulder until his chin touched Wyatt's fingers. In a few minutes, he fell asleep.

Remember that time a newspaper said Doc had been killed in Texas? That's the time his cousin George came out to look after him. It shows that Doc had not cut all ties with his family back east and remained on good terms with some of /

Doc did indeed make false teeth out of ceramic, gold, and galvanized rubber with the help and/or input of his then partner at their dentistry practice in Texas. These sets of teeth won actual prizes at some fair or convention... I may have mentioned it in my notes before. I don't remember at this point. xp This has been a long journey.

Something I learned recently is that Mattie may have actually first met Wyatt around the time he met Doc in Texas. I don't feel like going back to alter my story now, but it might be fun to do a one-shot of Doc, Wyatt, Kate, and Mattie all carousing in Fort Griffin together. xp

Thanks for supporting this story. I hope you'll drop a comment.