Jackson opened his eyes and once more glanced around the clinic. It was strange for him to be seeing his own place from this angle. He'd been hurt before, but never like this. Never to the point where the pain prevented him from helping one of his friends. He turned his head slightly and glimpsed a buckskin jacket. He knew Vin was worried about the gunslinger, knew the others were doing all they could to keep him alive. He was also sure the sharpshooter would shoulder the responsibility if Chris Larabee succumbed to the injuries and died. The young man would blame himself for not being able to save him. Nathan eased himself up in the bed and bit back a startled cry as he couldn't find the strength to make it all the way up.

"Easy, Nate!" Tanner was beside him in an instant, holding the tiny bottle of Laudanum. He poured some into a spoon and held it to the healer's mouth.

Jackson swallowed the liquid and waited for it to bank the fire burning in his side. His eyes opened once more and lit on the tracker. "Water," he mumbled.

Vin reached for the glass and helped his friend drink.

Jackson finished half the glass and let his head rest against the pillows. "Any change?"

"No. He's still got a fever."

"Dammit! Are you gettin' him to drink anything at all?"

"Small amounts of water and willow bark tea. He's still fightin', Nate, but I...I'm not sure he's got much more fight left in 'im."

"I think we've all thought that, Vin, but Chris has always surprised us before and I'm not giving up on him now. Help me over there so I can take a look at him."

"I don't think so, Nate, ya've got yer own injuries ta think 'bout. Chris wouldn't want you doin' anythin' ta make it worse. Now jest lie there and sleep," Tanner grinned in spite of his worry for the blond gunslinger and the healer.

A sound from across the clinic caught his attention and the tracker turned away. "Stay put, Nate!" he snapped as he heard the healer moving on the bed. He hurried to his friend's side and knelt beside him. "Chris?" he said as he touched the pale forehead. He smiled as he realized there seemed to be less heat coming from the body. He watched as the blond's lips moved slightly. He barely heard the word water and immediately reached for a glass. He lifted the blond head and was relieved as Larabee opened his mouth and sipped tiny amounts. He watched the throat move and knew the swelling must've gone down some as there was none of the usual gagging actions. He watched as dazed, pain-filled green eyes opened and fought to focus.

"That's it, Cowboy, get those eyes workin'"

"V...Vin, w...what happened?"

"You went and got yerself shot. Seems like ya had a bit of a fight too."

Larabee's eyes opened wide and he fought to sit up. Memories came back in a rush and he turned his head towards the opposite side of the clinic. His gaze was met by the healer's and a small smile crept to his lips. "Y...you okay, Nathan?" he rasped.

"I'm fine, Chris. It's you that's had us all worried. How're you feeling?"

"F...fine. Throat and chest hurt..."

"Chris, drink this," Tanner ordered.

Larabee did as he was told and turned an icy glare on his friend as the Laudanum hit his stomach. "D...dammit, Vin!" he hissed as his friend's face lit up in a grin.

"Water, Chris?" Tanner didn't miss a beat as he held a cup to the gunslinger's mouth. Once more he felt relief as the injured man drank from the cup. He looked towards the entrance of the clinic as the door opened and Ezra Standish stepped through carrying a tray of food. He watched as the poker face slipped at the sight of the gunslinger looking at him.

The gambler quickly recovered and his face once more showed little emotion as he spoke. "It's splendid to see you awake again, Mr. Larabee."

"T...thanks, Ez," Larabee muttered tiredly. His eyes closed and opened once more to look into the soulful blue eyes of the tracker. "V...Vin, Tommy okay?" Tanner's eyes lowered almost imperceptibly, yet as weak as he was Chris saw the change. "Vin?"

"The kid's not talkin' ta anyone, Chris."

Larabee tried to sit up, but found his strength to be almost nonexistent. "Dammit!" he cursed his own weakness. "K...kid was b...beaten by h...his f...father, Vin. I p...promised I'd help him get h...home..."

"You will, Chris," Tanner assured him as he watched his friend fight to stay awake. "Right now its time fer ya ta get some more sleep. Close yer eyes. If ya feel up ta it when ya wake up we'll bring Tommy ta see ya."

"T...tell 'im s...sorry," the gunslinger mumbled as he surrendered to sleep.

"Mr. Jackson, I think it would be prudent for you to follow Mr. Larabee's example and catch a little sleep as well," Standish suggested.

"N...not tired," Jackson lied.

"Nate, ya'd best 'member them words when one of us says 'em ta ya the next time we're laid up and in yer care," Tanner grinned. He wasn't surprised when the healer's eyes closed and his breathing evened out. He turned back to the blond and slowly removed the towel from around his neck. He smiled as the con man took it from his hands and replaced it with a new one. "Thanks, Ez," he said as he placed the new offering around the gunslinger's neck. He knew the swelling was going down, but wasn't completely gone. For now he'd continue the ice treatments in an effort to make sure there wouldn't be any setbacks. Once he finished placing the towel he stood up and stretched the kinks from his stiff back. "I'm gonna go let others know 'bout Chris wakin' up. Think ya can handle the two of 'em fer a bit, Ez?"

"I assure you I can indeed handle our injured comrades," he smiled as Vin left him alone with the two men. Since becoming part of this unique group he knew what it felt like to have a family. He sighed as he sat at the table and ate his lunch, leaving Tanner's on the tray awaiting his return.

Chris opened his eyes and listened to the conversation across the room. He knew they were talking about Tommy and how they'd go about finding his mother when the child wouldn't speak to anyone. He turned his head slightly and looked at the other bed. Nathan Jackson was propped up on pillows, a tray sat on his lap and he seemed to be eating. Josiah Sanchez and Buck Wilmington were talking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the gunslinger. Chris opened his mouth to speak, but little sound escaped his parched throat. He smiled as the ladies man instinctively turned and hurried over to him.

"It's about time you decided to join us, Stud," Wilmington said, a mischievous smile on his face. He touched the pale brow and laughed as the gunslinger pulled away from his touch. "Just checkin' to make sure your fever hasn't come back," he told his friend.

"I...I'm fine, B...Buck, just t...thirsty."

"Well now that's good news, Chris. I've got some of Nathan's horse piss here and a little bit of broth for you as well." He sat on the edge of the bed and eased his friend up, smiling as the ex-preacher automatically came over and slipped a couple of extra pillows under the injured man. Buck eased the lean form back on the pillows and waited until the blond's breathing eased and the lines of pain diminished somewhat. "Sorry, Pard, I know that wasn't easy."

"G...got that r...right," Larabee gasped as he opened his eyes once more. A cup was placed in front of his face and he reached for it. "I can do it, B...Buck," he hissed.

"I don't doubt it for a minute, Chris, but if you spill it on your bandages we're gonna have to change them again. Do you want that?"

Larabee thought for a few minutes and slowly shook his head. Right now the pain in his chest wasn't too bad, but if his friends messed with it he knew the agony would return. He nodded as Wilmington placed the cup before his lips and slowly sipped from it. "T...thanks," Larabee mumbled as he finished the second cup, this one containing a small amount of tepid broth. A third cup appeared and the blond drank the cool water gratefully. "Buck, how's Tommy?"

"He's okay, Chris. He just refuses to talk to anyone. We can't find out his ma's name and until we do we can't contact her."

"Bring him up here. He'll talk to me," Larabee ordered, but felt his grip on consciousness waning. "Damn, s...so t...tired."

"Go to sleep, Pard. I'll bring Tommy up when you're feeling better."

"Okay," Larabee agreed and was soon sleeping again.

Buck flicked a lock of blond hair off Larabee's forehead and eased one of the pillows out from under him. He turned towards the bed holding the second patient and received a nod of approval from the healer and the ex-preacher. He sighed as he realized both Larabee and Jackson were on the mend, although neither man would be up to moving around for a while yet. He met the ex-preacher's eyes and saw the look of relief mirrored in them. He sat back in his chair and watched as the second injured man joined Larabee in sleep.

"I know what I can and can't do, Josiah, now let me up?"

"No! Now quit your complaining and lie there."

"I'm tired of being in bed. I got things to do!"

"Why the hell can't you behave yourself like him," Sanchez asked as he pointed to the second injured man.

"He was hurt worse than I was. You said yourself the wound is healing fine. Hell, it doesn't even hurt anymore," the hiss that left him belied the words and he swore as he heard a weak chuckle from across the room. "Shut up, Chris," Jackson cried indignantly.

"N...now you k...know how it f...feels to be a prisoner in y...your clinic, Nate," Larabee smiled as he turned towards the two men. He improved steadily since he woke the day before and drank the liquids Wilmington fed him. Now he was waiting for Vin Tanner to return with Tommy Wilson. His stomach churned as he remembered the screams from the child when he heard Yosemite telling Larabee the four new men in town. Somehow the kid knew who they were and now it was up to the gunslinger to make sure the boy knew he wasn't alone and wouldn't be hurt anymore. He would find out who the boy's mother was, and where she lived today. Then they'd make sure telegrams were sent as soon as possible. His vow to see the boy reunited with his mother was first and foremost on his mind. One way or the other he'd make sure Tommy Wilson wouldn't be hurt again.

Chris listened as Nathan continued his tirade about wanting out of bed. He knew he'd be doing the same thing as soon as he gained a little more strength. His head swivelled towards the door as it opened and Vin entered. A small boy gripped the sharpshooter's hand and Chris watched the boy's blank face. The small head was bent low as if he was afraid to meet anyone's eyes. Some of the bruises were fading rapidly, but the deeper pain was still on the boys face. He bit back the sorrow filling his heart, knowing it wouldn't help the child before him.

"Hi, Tommy," he greeted and watched as the child's head snapped up. The eyes were filled with fear and something else. Something that tore at Larabee's heart. A deep sadness that should not be seen in a child's eyes, especially one so young as Tommy Wilson.

The small boy pulled his hand from the sharpshooter's and sprinted across the small space. He jumped on the bed before anyone realized what was happening and everyone saw the gunslinger's face blanch as the child landed on the bed beside him.

Larabee bit back a sharp expletive as the small boy's arm wrapped around his chest, his head dropping heavily on the wound. He held up his good hand and warned the others not to do anything, that he was alright. Tanner, Sanchez, and Jackson could see the pain on Larabee's face, but knew there was nothing they could do for now.

"H...hey, Tommy," Larabee forced the tremor from his voice and asked softly. "How are you doing?"

The child's head came up and the small round eyes met  Larabee's. "I'm okay. I...I thought y...you were dead, C...Chris," he cried, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Didn't I promise you I'd get you back to your Ma?" the head bobbed once and then landed on the bandaged chest. "Well, all we need to know now is where your Ma lives," Larabee told him.

"She lives in a big place called Boston. Our 'ouse is one of the biggest on the street. My Uncle Joe owns it, but he let's us stay there. We got our own rooms," Tommy answered excitedly.

"Do you like it there, Tommy?" Larabee asked, ignoring the growing discomfort in his chest. He knew the wound was bleeding, but didn't want the others to know until they had the information to help the child.

Tommy's head came up again as he answered. "I love it there. Uncle Joe takes me ridin' and swimmin' and there's all kinds of thin's to do. He's real nice to me and my Ma. He don't make ma cry like P...Pa did. Is Pa gonna come take me away agin?"

"No, Tommy, your Pa can't hurt you anymore. We'll send a wire to Boston and let your Ma know you're here. I bet she catches the next stage out here to get you."

"Really?" Tommy asked.

"Really, Son, she'll be here before you know it." Larabee said, biting back a moan as a small fire erupted in his chest.

"Tommy?" The boy lifted his head and looked towards the man who called his name. "Tommy, Chris needs ta get some rest now. Why don't we get ya back ta Mrs. Potter? Aren't ya s'posed ta help her make cookies?"

"But I wanna stay wit' Chris," the boy sniffed as he clung tightly to the injured man.

"It's okay, Tommy, you go with Vin. Mrs. Potter makes the best cookies and I'd love for you to bring me one when you're done," his words brought a smile to the child's face and he knew he'd said the one thing that would get the child to leave him. Somehow Tommy Wilson had adopted him as his protector and Chris wasn't gonna let anything hurt that image.

"Are ya sure ya want me ta go?" Tommy asked.

"It's okay just as long as you come back," Larabee told the boy.

"I will and I'll bring ya some cookies," the child said as he eased off the bed. Vin took him by the hand and led him from the clinic. 

Chris waited until the boy was out of sight before giving in to the agony in his chest. His left hand came up and held tightly to the bandages. He felt rather than saw Buck sit beside him on the bed. He didn't open his eyes as nausea threatened to empty his stomach. Through a thick layer of fog that engulfed his mind he heard Wilmington order Jackson to stay put. He felt the pull of darkness as the moustached man pulled back the bandage and swore at the fresh blood seeping from the wound.

"Ah, Hell, Chris," he hissed as Tanner came through the door.

"Nathan, stay where ya are. Buck and me got 'im covered."

"I can help, Vin!"

"Nate, yer always tellin' us ya've got enough ta do wit' one of us 'urt. Well what makes ya think this is any different. Me and buck got 'nough ta do lookin' after Chris wit'out havin' ta worry 'bout what yer doin' ta yer own wound." He saw his words have the desired effect and turned back to the blond. "Buck, how bad is it?"

"I don't think there's any stitches broke but it's bleeding again, Vin, and he's in a lot of pain."

"Alright, let me take a look while ya get 'im some of that Laudanum." The two men switched places and Tanner talked to the injured man. "Hang on, Cowboy, Buck's getting ya some Laudanum."

"S...shit, Vin, seems like my c...chest's on fire 'gain," Larabee hissed through gritted teeth.

"I bet it does, Cowboy," Tanner sympathized as he examined the wound. "It's not too bad. I'm just gonna clean it up a bit and put a clean bandage on it."

"Here you go, Pard," Wilmington held the spoon to Larabee's mouth and watched as the medication disappeared.

"T...thanks," the gunslinger mumbled, but missed Wilmington's answer as he waited for Tanner to finish his ministrations. He felt the sharpshooter's gentle touch and waited for the bandage to be replaced.

"All done, Chris."

He heard the pain in the other man's voice and knew where it was coming from. He opened his eyes and reached out and grasped the sharpshooter's arm. "Vin?" He waited for the blue eyes to rise and meet his. "This was not your fault!"

"I should've 'eld 'im back," Tanner muttered.

"He's a kid, Vin. A little boy and he was excited. You didn't know he would come running to me like he did. You boys have been telling me how quiet and withdrawn he's been. There's no way you could've known he'd pull away from you like that. Dammit, Vin Tanner, you saved my life and I'm forever in your debt. You hear me? You got that bullet outta me and made sure the swelling in my throat went down..."

"W...wasn't just me..." Tanner interrupted. "Buck and the..."

"No way, Vin," Wilmington stopped the tracker. "I don't know that I'd'a been steady enough to get the bullet and I wouldn't have known to pack that ice around Chris's throat. Least not until Nathan was awake enough to tell us. Lord knows that might've been too late."

"Listen to him, Vin. Buck knows what he's talking about," Larabee said as he tried to turn on his side. A small groan escaped as he shifted on the bed, and smiled gratefully as his two friends helped him turn. He felt the blankets lifted over him as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Vin looked at Buck and then glanced towards the second bed. Jackson was seated forward propped up by pillows. He'd watched the men as they cared for Larabee and knew they were doing a fine job. He realized Vin and Josiah were responsible for saving his and the gunslinger's life. He knew the others helped, but from the sound of things it was the ex-preacher and the sharpshooter who deserved a lot of the credit. He sank into his own pillows and fell asleep knowing the five healthy peacekeepers would be there should anything need to be done for him or Chris.

The following day found Nathan Jackson sitting in a chair beside Chris Larabee. His own wound was much better and only caused him minor pain. He lifted the bandage and checked Larabee's wound. He knew instantly how close they'd come to losing the gunslinger. The wound was in close proximity to the lung and he knew Tanner must've had nerves of steel to dig for the bullet.

"Well?" Larabee asked, angry that he wasn't being allowed out of the bed when the healer was.

"The wound's doing well, Chris, but if you go moving about it's just gonna open up again."

"Yours isn't," Larabee glared at the other men in the room.

"Mine wasn't as serious as yours Chris. Besides I didn't have a kid jump on me and make it bleed again. Plus Wilson choked you and you were having problems breathing. Vin, Buck, keep him in bed for at least another two days."

"Dammit, Nathan, I'm tired of lying here!"

"Well you're just gonna have to put up with it for a little longer, Chris. Now just be quiet and rest. I'm gonna do the same," Jackson said as he slowly stood up and crossed the room. He was pleased with the way the blond was healing, but he knew from experience once Larabee was out of bed it would be damn near impossible to get him back in it. As he sank onto his own bed he met the gazes of the two men standing between the beds. "You two make sure he don't get up." Jackson relaxed against the soft pillows and felt a blanket pulled up over him. He mumbled thanks as he closed his eyes and slept.

Tanner and Wilmington smiled and nodded as their only response. The ladies man finished covering the healer with a blanket and smiled at the barely audible response. They'd managed to keep Nathan in bed longer than they thought possible and they knew they'd have an even greater fight with the blond. Now that Jackson was up, Chris Larabee could see no reason why he should have to stay down. They explained how his injuries were compounded with other problems, but the injured man would not be so easily acquiesced. He wanted up and he struggled to do so. The two men moved to either side of the bed and watched as their friend sank back into the pillows in defeat.

"Are you ready to rest now, Pard?" Wilmington asked.

"Shut up, Buck!" Larabee snapped. His hands clenched at his sides as he realized the men were right. Although his mind wanted up, his body was not quite ready.

"There's a little boy outside who wants ta see ya, Chris," Tanner informed his friend. "Do ya feel up ta seein' 'im?"

"Hell, yes, Vin. Why didn't you say so before? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Since he saw ya yesterday he's been talkin' up a storm."

"Did you send the wire?" Larabee asked.

"JD took care of it yesterday. We're just waiting for an answer," Wilmington explained.

The gunslinger nodded and watched as the sharpshooter moved to the door. He smiled as the small boy entered the room. Chris saw a plate in the child's hand and knew what it was. He sat up in the bed and felt Wilmington place a couple of extra pillows behind him. "Are those for me?" the blond asked.

"I made' em 'special for ya, Chris. Mrs. Potter's a real good cook. Not as g...good as Ma, but she makes great cookies," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. He lifted a cookie and passed it to the injured man.

Larabee smiled as he took the cookie from the small hand. A sudden memory of doing the same thing with Adam caused a small shudder to run through his body.

The motion didn't go undetected as the scoundrel watched the man and the boy. He knew as soon as he saw the look pass over the blond's face that he was thinking of his own son. A shadow swept over his face and he quickly forced it back as he moved towards the bed. "Hey, Tommy, did you bring any for me and Vin?"

"Sure," the boy said as he passed one to the other men.

Larabee was grateful for Buck's timely interruption. He didn't want the child to see how much his touch affected him. He breathed deeply and took a bite of the sugar cookie just as the kid returned to the bed. "Aren't you gonna have one, Tommy?" he asked.

"I had three at Mrs. Potter's. She said I shouldn't 'ave anymore 'cause it might ruin my supper," he said, his eyes downcast.

"Hey, Tommy, Mrs. Potter's right," Chris told him. He lowered his voice and met the boy's eyes. "Just between you and me she's a softie. After you finish eating tell her how great everything was and she'll give you more of those cookies."

"She will?" the boy's eyes lit up conspiratorially.

"She will. Just make sure you eat everything on your plate, okay?"

"Okay, Chris. What about you? Are you gonna eat everything on your plate?"

"Yeah, Chris, I hear Mrs. Potter's making ya up some broth. Are ya gonna give us any lip about eating yer own dinner?"

Larabee glared at the sharpshooter as he finished the last of his cookie.

Wilmington watched as his friend spoke with the boy. He remembered a similar conversation that took place the week before he and Chris left on the last trip before Sarah and Adam were killed. The smell of Sarah's cookies would always be a vivid memory for Buck Wilmington. He fought back the memories, not wanting to remind Chris of the days that would never be again. He slipped out of the clinic and let his grief manifest itself as tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. Chris Larabee might've only been a father for a few years, but in those years he'd proven beyond a doubt he was a natural. He wiped the tears from his face and turned back to the clinic. He entered just in time to hear Tommy telling Chris that he'd eat all his supper if Chris ate all of his. He smiled at Larabee, knowing the gunslinger was trapped and he'd do anything the child asked.

Chris Larabee sat on the landing overlooking the street. Nathan Jackson was seated in a chair opposite him. Both men were under orders not to move from the spot they'd been deposited in. They were both watching the children playing below. Tommy Wilson's battered features were quickly returning to normal, a slight bruise the only sign of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father.

Chris and Josiah explained to the child that his father was dead and would not be coming back and the boy's heart seemed to have lightened tremendously. He didn't show any signs of remorse and for this Chris was glad. A child deserved to live without fear and now Tommy Wilson had that chance. The child was content and settled in with Gloria Potter. The woman was treating him as one of her own and the child was regaining a zest for life only seen in small children who knew there was nothing for them to fear.

In the week since the shooting happened the child grew closer and closer to Chris Larabee and the gunslinger realized his own feelings ran deep for the boy. He gazed at the wire JD passed him earlier in the day. It was from Sarah Wilson and Chris knew his time with the child was growing short. The woman was leaving immediately to come for her child. Chris could tell by the wording that she loved Tommy and was relieved the child was safe. She would be arriving in Four Corners in two weeks. He sighed as his shoulders slumped, knowing how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to another boy. In this case the child was going home to a happy family and not lost to life forever.

"You look tired, Chris," Jackson observed, as he sat straighter in his chair. He knew what the wire said and he knew how hard this was on the blond.

"Tired, Nathan, yeah, I am."

The healer's eyebrows shot up as he heard the dejected admission. He knew Larabee's tiredness had little if anything to do with his body. This tiredness was more from the mind. The gunslinger had grown close to the boy and now he would have to say goodbye to him once his mother arrived. "When are you gonna tell him?" the former slave asked.

"This evening when he comes to the clinic." The boy was becoming a frequent visitor to the clinic, spending as much time as he could with Chris. The blond enjoyed every minute of it and wouldn't trade it for anything. He smiled as Tommy hurried up the stairs towards him.

"Hi, Chris. Hi Nathan," he said breathlessly. "Did you see how far I threw the ball?"

"I did, Tommy. I don't think I've ever seen anyone throw one that far. You really gave Buck a workout. I think he's still running." Larabee ruffled the boy's hair.

"Ah, Chris, I hate that."

"Hate what?" the gunslinger asked.

"Hate when ya mess my hair."

"Why's that," Larabee asked curiously.

"'Cause when ya do it Mrs. Potter says she's gotta fix it. I hate it when she combs it."

Larabee leaned closer to the child and whispered. "To tell you the truth, Tommy, I hate having my hair brushed too."

"Brushin' hair is for the girls," Tommy grinned at his friends.

"Tommy?"

"It sounds like Mrs. Potter's looking for you," Jackson said.

"Ah, Chris, she says I need to take a bath," the boys speech improved over the few days since he began speaking again. "I don't have to, do I? I mean baths are for girls. Men don't take baths and we men gotta stick together. Right, Chris?"

"We men do have to stick together, Tommy, but in this case Mrs. Potter's right. If she says you need a bath then you'd better do as she says."

"Ah, Chris, baths ain't good for boys," the child said as he dropped his eyes.

"Tommy, do you like Mrs. Potter?"

"Course I do."

"Do you think she'd do anything that was bad for you?"

"Nah, Chris, she wouldn't hurt no one. She's a real nice lady."

"Tommy?"

Larabee heard footsteps on the stairs and knew the woman was on her way up. "You be good for her, Tommy, and I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay, Chris," the boy agreed as he walked towards the woman.

"There you are, Tommy. Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"Yes. Ma'am," Tommy answered, a smile forming on his face. "I was just hiding."

"Hiding from me? Why?"

"Cause I didn't want no bath."

"But he's going to now. Aren't you, Tommy?"

"Yes, Chris," he wrapped his arms around Larabee's neck and whispered softly. "I like baths, Chris, but don't tell nobody, okay?"

"I won't Tommy. Now you go with Mrs. Potter." He smiled as the child followed the woman down the stairs.

"You're good with him, Chris," Jackson said softly.

"He's a good boy, Nathan."

"Yes he is, and you're a good man for taking him under your wing."

"I've only done what any of you would do."

"The difference is Tommy wouldn't talk to anyone but you."

Larabee leaned his head back against the chair. His body was tired as well now. He levered himself up from the chair and gritted his teeth against the twinge of pain from the wound in his chest.

"Chris, maybe you should wait until one of the others come to help you?"

"I'm just going in to lie down, Nathan. It's not that far."

"Chris, this is your first day out of bed."

"I'll be careful, Nathan," Larabee grinned as he walked slowly into the clinic. Once inside the door he let it slide closed and leaned heavily into it. His mind wondered back to a similar scene with Adam. One where the boy didn't want to take a bath and Sarah was searching for him. Chris talked to Adam in much the same way he just talked to Tommy. The similarities between the boys went beyond just the age. The two seemed to share the same joy for games and, he laughed as he thought, baths.

He staggered towards the bed and lowered himself onto it. He eased out of his boots and lay back. He slowly drifted towards sleep, a vision of two little boys vying for attention in his dreams. A sleepy smile covered his face as he realized he was seeing scenes that meant more to him than life itself.

When Vin looked in fifteen minutes later he knew his friend was asleep. He silently walked across the floor and eased his legs up on the bed, covering the sleeping man with a blanket.

It was three weeks later that seven men, two women, and one slightly nervous little boy watched as the private stage came slowly down the center of town. Tommy's uncle hired the coach as soon as he heard the boy was found. Sarah Wilson would be traveling with an escort also hired by the boy's wealthy uncle. They'd wired Four Corners and informed them they would be arriving as soon as arrangements were made.

Tommy clung to the black clad leg with both arms. He was excited about seeing his mother again, but he didn't want to say goodbye to these people, especially Chris Larabee. A soft sob escaped from him and he felt the peacekeeper lower himself to his knees.

"It's okay, Tommy."

"I'll miss you, Chris," the boy let the tears fall as he wrapped his arms around the dark clad form and clung to the gunslinger's neck.

"I'll miss you too, Tommy, but remember what we talked about?"

The boy released his hold and swiped at the tears streaming from his eyes. "You said I had to be strong. That my Ma needs me," he sobbed.

"That's right. Your Ma's been real worried about you, Son. She's been looking for you everywhere since you disappeared. She loves you very much."

"I know," the small voice whispered as he watched the stage come to a stop. "My Ma never hurt me. Only my  P...pa did."

"Well your Pa won't hurt you anymore, Tommy. When you go home you won't have to worry about anyone hurting you anymore. You'll be able to go to school and play with lots of other children."

"Will I have to take baths?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I guess that's the only bad thing," the child grinned and turned towards the stage.

Larabee heard the soft gasp and felt the excitement emanating from the boy he'd grown to care for.

"Ma!" the boy's voice cried out as he ran towards the woman who stepped from the stage.

There was no doubt in his mind who the woman was. Her hair was the same color as Tommy's and hung in curls down her back. She was approximately five and a half feet tall and very slim. Chris watched as she picked up the child, fighting back the jealousy he felt building in his mind. He knew it was wrong, knew the boy was where he belonged, yet he felt he was losing a child all over again. He turned away and started towards the saloon, ignoring the six men standing with him. This hurt more than he ever imagined. In the month since the boy ran into his path they'd forged a bond far beyond any he ever thought possible. A small voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned back to find the child hurrying towards him, dragging the pretty woman with him.

"Chris, this is my Ma. She wants to meet you."

Larabee smiled and tipped his hat. "Ma'am," he said softly.

"I want to thank you, Mr. Larabee. You don't know how much Tommy means to me!"

"Actually, Ma'am, I do," he told her. "He's a good boy and you should be proud of him."

"I am. Tommy, why don't you go say goodbye to the others," she suggested and waited for the boy to move out of earshot. She held the steady gaze of the gunslinger and spoke softly. "I was so scared when his f...father took him away, Mr. Larabee," she explained as tears formed in her dark eyes. "Do you have any children of your own?" She saw the troubled look come into the sad green eyes and knew she'd hit on something he wanted to keep to himself. "You don't have to answer that. I can tell you did and I can tell you lost them. I won't ask you how or why. I'll just assure you that Tommy is well loved and he'll be safe and happy with me. I won't let anything happen to him. He's my life, Mr. Larabee. Do you understand that?"

"I do, Ma'am. More than you'll ever know. You just make sure you tell him you love him and thank God for every minute you get to spend with him," Larabee said, turning away so she wouldn't see the pain those words caused him.

"Are you going to say goodbye to him?"

Larabee nodded and walked to the group of people saying goodbye to the boy. He waited for the others to finish and knelt once more in front of him. In the background he could see Yosemite helping the driver change the horses. He knew the family needed to leave immediately if they expected to make the connection with the train that would take them back to Boston. This was goodbye, one he knew would be hard on him, but at least he knew the child was alive and would be well loved and cared for.

"Tommy!"

The boy sniffed, fighting back the tears forming in his eyes. He wanted to be strong and show Chris he was a man. His small body shook with his effort and finally, with a great hiccupping gasp he wrapped his arms around the lean gunslinger and let the tears fall.

"I...I'm g...gonna miss you so m...much, C...Chris," he sobbed,

Larabee held him close and ran his hand through the thick head of hair. He could smell the soap Gloria Potter used on him when she bathed him earlier and he pressed his lips to the boy's forehead. "I'm gonna miss you too, Tommy, but someday we'll see each other again. Until then your Ma needs you to take care of her. Are you man enough for the job?"

"I...I am!" the boy exclaimed, his arms once more encircling the gunslinger's lean form.

"I knew you were, Son. I never doubted it for a minute."

Sarah Wilson wiped the moisture from her eyes, knowing in her heart the man holding her son would make a perfect father if given the chance. She looked towards the coach as the driver climbed back onto the seat. She wished she had more time to spend with the man who meant so much to her son, but they needed to make the train. She had a job starting at the end of the month and it was a chance she wanted to take. A new life for her and Tommy, one in which she could support them both with ease. Her brother was more than generous, but she needed to prove to herself that she could care for her son.

"Tommy, we have to go," Sarah whispered.

Larabee stood away from the boy, fighting the urge to lift him into his arms and keep the child with him. He knew Tommy needed his mother and he wouldn't stand in the way. "You're the man in your family now, Son, so you've got a big job ahead of you. Now let's get rid of them tears and show your Ma just how big a man she's got."

Tommy's head came up and his hands swiped at the tears. His tiny chest pushed out and a proud look came over the small face. The soft eyes looked up at the tall man standing in front of him and he spoke in a little boy's voice. "I'll take care of my Ma, Chris, if you'll take care of Vin and the rest of your family. They need you to lead them. I love you, Chris, I wish you were my Pa." The child turned and ran towards the stage before Larabee could find his voice.

Men and women alike heard the admiration in the boy's voice and fought back their own emotions. They watched as the black clad man turned away from the coach.

As the coach headed out of town Chris turned on his heels and headed for the saloon. He knew the others were following him and right now he was glad of their company. The boy's declaration was one he hadn't expected, yet, although it hurt, it also told the gunslinger he'd done his best with the child. The last week of fishing and riding were perfect and Chris felt what it was like to be a father again. In his heart and mind Sarah and Adam were clear once more and he knew that their memories would never fade again. He smiled as he realized beyond a doubt that Tommy Wilson was his own healing touch. The child's words were just what he needed to hear.

He entered the saloon and moved to the back table. He sat down and watched as the others entered one after the other. Each man taking a seat around him. He met their eyes before coming to rest on the ladies man.

"Are you alright, Chris?"

"I am now, Buck," he said and knew it was true. He really was alright and as long as he held his family close in his heart, both the ones that were far away from him and the ones that were near, he would never be alone again.

THE END