Jesse stood frozen in place as Frank reached for his arm. The two men had watched the gunfight and only added to Jesse’ fear of the blond. Frank turned his head sideways and studied his friend for a few minutes before dragging him towards the hotel. He knew he should check Jesse’ head, but was not sure why. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled Jesse away from the scene.

Josiah hurried towards Mary and Buck, glad to see Billy was not with them. Mary looked pale and shaken as she stood with the ladies man, and Josiah saw the steadying hand Buck had on her arm.

“How is he, Josiah?” Mary asked as soon as he was in earshot.

“Nathan’s finished stitching up the wound...”

“Is Chris awake?”

“Not yet, Buck. Nathan’s not sure how long it’ll be before he wakes up, but he says when he does he’ll more than likely have headaches. He wants us to make sure it’s quiet in the clinic.”

Buck didn’t think Mary could be any paler and he felt the tremble in her arm. He knew she was thinking about Chris Larabee and how close they’d come to losing him today.

“How’s Billy?” Josiah asked.

“I told him Chris was hurt,” Mary shook herself and took a deep breath as she continued. “He’s inside with Gloria. She said she’d look after him for me. I had to tell him Chris was going to be all right, but he keeps asking if he’ll die like Steven did.”

“Mary, Chris is strong...”

Mary’s head came up until she met Wilmington’s eyes. “So was Steven, but it didn’t stop them from killing him!” she snapped before turning away and walking into Potter’s store.

“She’s taking this pretty hard,” the ladies’ man observed.

“I expect it brings back a lot of memories. She lost one man to a bullet and I expect she thought she’d lost Chris the same way. She’ll be fine as soon as Chris wakes up.”

“I’m gonna go see Chris.”

“Alright, Buck,” Josiah said as he headed towards the church at the end of the street.

Chris slowly regained consciousness as he fought clear of the fog engulfing his mind. When it did, it slammed him back into another nightmare, one he couldn’t quite grasp. Pain rocked his skull and he moaned softly as a hand reached out to touch his shoulder. He knew where he was, could smell the distinctive odor of the livery and knew he was in Jackson’s clinic. He could hear voices, but didn’t understand what they were saying. Chris knew he was hurt, yet couldn’t remember how or why.

“He’s coming round, Nathan,” Mary said as she watched Larabee’s eyelids flutter.

Jackson stepped forward and took the chair Mary vacated. He reached out and touched the pale forehead and felt the fever there. It didn’t seem as bad as it had and he breathed a sigh of relief. Chris had been unconscious for nearly thirty-six hours and Jackson wondered if maybe there was more damage than what he could see.

“Chris, can you hear me?” the healer asked softly, knowing Larabee would probably be suffering from a headache.

Chris kept his eyes closed as pain exploded in his skull. He wanted to ease the mind of those talking to him, but couldn’t find the energy to let them know he was all right. He swallowed against the mounting nausea in his stomach, but knew it was a losing cause as it continued to build. He kept his eyes closed as he was eased onto his side just as his stomach lost its contents.

Jackson had known immediately what was happening and he eased Larabee onto his side. He felt Mary standing beside him and was glad for the help she offered. He placed the gunslinger back on the pillows and accepted the cool cloth from the newspaperwoman. “Thanks,” he said as he washed the cloth over the pale face.

Chris slowly fought the pain and nausea and let his eyes open. He sucked in a deep breath as all he encountered was complete and utter darkness. He could hear Jackson’s voice as the healer tried to ask him questions, but the shock of finding out the nightmare had been real was too much.

“Chris?” Jackson tried again as the green eyes showed something he never associated with the gunslinger. Fear and uncertainty were mixed with the pain on Larabee’s face as the man lost consciousness once more. 

“Nathan?” Mary asked as she looked from the unconscious man to the healer.

“I don’t know, Mary. The fact that he woke up is a good sign,” Jackson tried to reassure her, but he’d seen something in the green stare that worried him. He changed the bandage on the head wound and was relieved to see there was no more bleeding.

“I’ll go let the others know he was awake.”

“Okay, thanks, Mary, but warn them to keep it quiet if they decide to come see for themselves.”

“I will,” she told him as she left the clinic.

Jackson lifted the lids of both eyes and checked his patient. Something about the way Larabee reacted when he’d opened his eyes worried the healer. Nathan wished, not for the first time, the town had a real doctor. He knew many things, and was still learning more as time went on, but head wounds were dangerous and not something to take lightly. The former slave looked up as Vin Tanner and Buck Wilmington entered the clinic.

“Nathan, Mary said he was awake.”

“He woke for a couple of minutes, Buck,” Jackson answered softly.

“That’s good, right?” Wilmington asked hopefully.

“Yeah, it is.”

Vin knew there was more to it, but didn’t voice his concerns. He watched as the healer stood up and stretched. He knew Jackson hadn’t been getting much sleep since the gunfight and hoped that was what he was sensing.

“How was he?” the sharpshooter asked.

“Sick, but that’s to be expected. He’ll probably do a whole lot of heaving because of the concussion. It’ll be important to keep him drinking, so whoever is with him when  he wakes up needs to make him drink.”

“Nate, ya look tired. I’ll stay with him if ya want ta get some rest,” Tanner told him.

Jackson ran his hands over his head and knew the younger man was right. He wouldn’t be any use to Chris if he didn’t get some sleep. “All right, Vin,” he said and turned to the ladies’ man. “Buck, tell everyone what’s going on and that I’ll let them know as soon as Chris wakes up again.”

“I’ll keep them out of here, Nathan,” Wilmington assured the healer as he left.

“What’s wrong, Nathan?” the Texan asked as soon as the ladies’ man was out the door.

“I’m not sure, Vin,” Jackson answered as he stood up and stretched the kinks from his back.

“Nate?”

“I saw something in Chris’ eyes when he woke up...”

“What?”

“Fear.”

“Fear? In Chris?”

“I know that’s not something we see in Chris, but it was there, Vin.”

Tanner sat beside the bed as Jackson walked to the cot on the opposite side of the room. There was silence for a few minutes before Jackson eased down on the cot.

“Call me if he wakes up or needs anything, Vin.”

“I will, Nathan,” Tanner assured the medic as he eased his feet up on the mattress and leaned the chair back on two legs. He balanced his lean form and thought about what Jackson had told him. What could possibly make Jackson think he saw fear in the gunslinger’s eyes? 

Buck, JD, and Ezra sat in the saloon late in the evening. Jake Peters was buried the day before and Chris was still unconscious in Jackson’s clinic. The townspeople were worried about the gunslinger and the men were constantly stopped and asked how Larabee was doing. It had been two days since the shooting and except for a couple of minutes, Chris hadn’t been awake. With each passing hour, they grew more worried that Larabee would not wake up. Jackson was also worried about dehydration as the gunslinger was not drinking anything.

Buck looked towards the door as two men walked in. He recognized the pair and wondered what their intentions were in Four Corners. The two hadn’t done anything to rouse his suspicions, yet he couldn’t help but wonder what they were up to.

Frank led Jesse into the saloon and smiled as he noticed the blond gunslinger was not there. He knew Jesse was afraid of Larabee, but wasn’t sure why. It made things easier for him that Larabee was still not around. He frowned as he remembered the shooting and that Larabee had been shot. He reached out and touched the side of Jesse’ head, but removed his hand as Jesse winced.

“Sorry,” he said as he leaned against the bar. “Hey, Senorita, two whiskeys,” he smiled as Inez came towards him.

Inez placed a glass before each man and poured a shot into each one. She watched as Frank downed his glass and asked for a refill. She filled the glass a second time as he slid some coins across the bar. “Thank ya, Senorita. Anyone ever tell ya how purty ya are? How about givin’ me a little kiss?”

Inez smiled as she saw Buck come out of his chair. She put up her hand to tell him she was alright and he sank back down, but she could see his instincts were to come to her rescue. The young woman turned back to the man standing in front of her and smiled. Before she could say anything a soft southern voice spoke up.

“Ah, Senor, perhaps you are better suited to kiss the mule in the livery. It is more fitting for your asinine behavior.”

Wilmington spewed the whiskey he’d been drinking across the table at Standish’ quietly spoken words. He looked at the two men at the bar and realised the pun was lost on them. The one they knew as Frank was still trying to flirt with Inez, while she was finding it hard not to laugh at the gambler’s choice of words.

Jesse knew his friend was flirting with danger, but his head was hurting and all he wanted to do was go back to their room and lie down. He could hear Frank talking to Inez, but couldn’t quite make out the words as he reached for the glass on the bar. His hand shook and some of the liquor spilled over his fingers as he lifted it to his mouth.

Inez watched the smaller man as he seemed to have trouble lifting his arm. He looked as if he’d already been on a drinking binge and realized it might have been a mistake to serve either of them more alcohol.

Frank smiled as Jesse swallowed the fiery liquid. He pounded the younger man on the back as he coughed and choked. He stood back as his friend looked like he was about to get sick.

“Ah, Mister, ya’d best get your friend out of here before he gets sick,” JD suggested.

“Jesse ain’t gonna be sick, are ya Jesse?” Frank frowned as his friend swayed. He grabbed his arm and hurried from the saloon, annoyed that his friend had ruined his fun. Then he remembered that his friend was ‘broke’ and he led him towards the hotel.

“There’s something strange about those two,” Dunne observed as Frank led Jesse outside.

“You can say that again,” Wilmington agreed. “But they haven’t broken any laws yet, so there ain’t much we can do until they do.”

“I think we’re dealing with a couple of simpletons, Mr. Wilmington. Neither man seems to have all his faculties in order.”

“That one fella does seem a mite skittish,” Dunne said.

“Yeah, well, maybe we should keep an eye on the two simpletons,” Wilmington told them as he stood up to leave. “I’m gonna see if there’s any change with Chris.”

Mary sat next to the bed and tried not to show the worry she felt. Jackson and Tanner sat at the small table. a plate of food, virtually untouched, before each man. She knew they were worried that Chris didn’t seem to be waking up, as she watched his face for any sign that he was.

Chris lay on the bed, not ready to face the empty darkness he knew would be there if he opened his eyes. His throat was dry and he needed a drink, but couldn’t find the moisture to voice his words. A small moan slipped past his lips before he had a chance to stop it.

“Chris,” Mary smiled as she heard the soft sound from the injured man. “Nathan, I think he’s waking up.”

Jackson and Tanner were at the side of the bed before the words left her mouth. Both men had heard the scratchy sound in spite of how low it was. Mary stood up to give the healer room to examine his patient.

“Hey, Chris, it’s ‘bout time ya woke up,” the healer said as Larabee’s eyes moved under the closed lids.

Chris tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. A soft cough filtered past his lips and he felt someone ease his head up. He heard a familiar voice, but couldn’t quite put a name to it, yet he knew the person was trying to help.

“Here, Chris, drink this,” Jackson ordered softly. He kept his voice low, knowing Larabee’s head would be pounding as a result of the head trauma. He smiled as Larabee drank the water without question. “Take it slow, Chris,” he ordered as he removed the glass. 

“Na...than.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Vin and Mary are here too.”

Chris nodded, but groaned as the slight movement set his stomach churning once more. The gunslinger knew he needed to open his eyes, but wasn’t sure he could face what it might reveal. He took a deep breath and slowly opened them.

“Welcome back, Cowboy,” Vin said as he saw the eyes open.

“Oh, Chris,” Mary sighed in relief as she looked at the injured man.

Jackson was close enough to once more see the fear in Larabee’s eyes. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

Larabee lifted his right hand and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked rapidly, but there was no change. At first he tried to convince himself it was night, but that illusion was quickly shattered as he realized Nathan would have the lamp going in order to examine him. He closed his eyes and waited for his stomach to stop churning.

“Chris?”

Jackson’s voice was filled with worry and Chris knew he was waiting for him to say something. “C...can’t see, Nate,” he whispered softly.

“Open your eyes, Chris,” Jackson ordered, ignoring the soft cry from Mary Travis. He heard the door open, but didn’t turn to see who it was.

Chris forced his eyes open once more and felt it tug on the wound on his forehead. He groaned softly as pain lanced through his skull. He felt Nathan examine the wound and winced as the fingers touched the swollen area.

“Easy, Chris, just lie still for a minute.” The healer finished checking the wound and Larabee’s eyes and sat back in his chair.

“Nathan?” Wilmington asked. Mary’s worried expression and moisture laden eyes told him something was wrong.

“B...uck?”

“Yeah, I’m here, pard,” the ladies’ man answered as he hurried to the bed. He was glad to see his friend awake, but his instincts told him something was definitely wrong. “How are ya feelin’?”

“Can’t see, Buck,” Larabee winced as his own voice set off an explosion of pain once more. He turned on his right side and lost the small amount of water he’d drank. He felt Jackson’s hands ease him back to the bed and closed his eyes.

“Chris, I need ya to drink a little more water,” the healer said, as he poured a small amount of laudanum into the glass. He mixed the contents and lifted Larabee’s head slightly.

Chris was grateful for the liquid in spite of the taste of laudanum that went along with it. His stomach seemed to accept the offering and he felt the glass removed from his mouth as his head was eased back on the pillows. Any movement set off the pain, but he tried not to show his discomfort. Instinct told him Vin Tanner was in the clinic in spite of the fact he hadn’t said anything. He felt the laudanum, pain, and his own body’s weakness as he drifted back to sleep.

“Nathan, will he be all right?” Buck asked.

“As long as we keep getting him to drink and he takes it easy...”

“But what about his eyes?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know. It could be the swelling causing it or it could be he damaged something inside his head. If it is the swelling then his sight could return as soon as it goes down.”

“If it’s not?” Tanner asked.

“Ain’t much I can do. Maybe one of them doctors at the hospitals back east could help.” Jackson was frustrated at what he thought was a lack of ability on his part, yet he knew the others had confidence in him.

“Nathan?”

“I just don’t know, Mary,” he answered her unspoken question.

“What can we do ta help?” Tanner asked.

“Best thing for him is to rest and give himself time to heal. We need to make sure he drinks and maybe get some broth into him. I don’t think he can handle anything solid in his stomach right now. He’s probably gonna suffer severe headaches for a while and that alone can make him sick to his stomach. That’ll bring even more problems if we can’t stop him from...” he stopped as he looked at the pale newspaperwoman. “I’m sorry, Mary,” he said.

“It’s okay, Nathan. I need to hear this as well.”

“You need to go get some sleep and spend some time with that boy of yours,” Buck said as he saw the dark circles surrounding the woman’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Buck,” she said as she felt his hand on her arm.

“No, you’re not, Mary. You haven’t had much sleep since Chris was shot and you got a small boy to look after. Chris wouldn’t want you neglecting either Billy or your health because of him.” He knew he’d said the right words as Mary nodded once and went to the bed.

She placed her hand on Chris’s shoulder and whispered for his ears only. “You rest, Chris, I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Vin, you need to get some sleep as well. JD and Ezra got patrol tonight so it might be a good idea for you to get some sleep as well,” Wilmington explained.

“Buck’s right, Vin. Ya won’t be doin’ anyone any good if ya pass out.” Jackson ushered him out of the clinic with orders not to return until he had a full night’s sleep. Nathan turned to watch the ladies’ man settle into the chair beside the bed. He walked to the shelf, pulled out one of the books on medicine, walked to the table and opened it to the section on head injuries.

The next two days passed with no change. Chris would wake for a few minutes at a time and drink whatever they gave him.

The pain and nausea were a constant presence and Chris hated the way he felt. He heard someone moving around the clinic and pushed himself up on the bed.

“Chris...”

“Nathan, I’m tired of lying down,” Larabee hissed as he slid his legs over the side of the bed. He felt Jackson’s steadying hand on his shoulder and smiled in spite of the darkness surrounding him.

“How’s your head,” Jackson asked as he sat beside the injured man.

“Still there, I think,” Larabee answered.

“Feel like eating something?”

“Not really. Just water...”

“Chris, ya gotta start eating...”

“There’s no point right now, Nate.”

“Do you still feel sick to your stomach?” the healer asked worriedly. He filled up a glass of water and reached for Larabee’s hand, making sure his friend had a tight grip on it before he released his hold.

“Yeah, lucky if this stays where I put it.” He sipped at the water as Jackson watched him.

“That’s because of the concussion, Chris. It will get better.”

“What about my...”

Chris didn’t finish the question, but Jackson knew what he wanted to hear. “I don’t know, Chris. I wish I did, but I’m not...”

“Nathan, you’re as good a doctor as any of the ones back east. You may not have a paper on the wall, but you have all the people in this town as proof of that. Is there anyone you haven’t used your skills on?”

Jackson laughed at how easily Chris was able to turn things around and make him feel better about the things he did. “Thanks, Chris.” He reached for the cup as Larabee groaned softly. “Ya need to lie down,” he warned, and was surprised when the gunslinger sank back to the bed without protest.

Chris closed his eyes and fought back the self-pity he felt coming over him. He wondered why he even bothered to open his eyes, as all he saw was complete and utter darkness. ‘A blind gunslinger,’ he thought ironically as he drifted towards sleep. He felt Nathan’s hand on the bandage covering his head and knew his friend was making sure it was healing properly.

Nathan knew the swelling had gone down, but there was still some present and the bruising had spread to encompass part of his eye and cheek as well. Vivid purple and blue was surrounded by a lighter shade of yellow and red as the trauma began to heal. He knew Chris wasn’t really sleeping, but knowing what a private man Larabee was, he left him to his thoughts.

“Nathan.”

Jackson looked up as Vin entered the clinic. He knew the younger man had seen Larabee sitting on the landing and wondered why the sharpshooter hadn’t stopped to speak with him. “What’s wrong, Vin?” he asked as he closed the medical journal.

“I’s jest wonderin’ how Chris is doin’?”

“Still the same,” Jackson told him. “He’s unable to keep anything down, except water, and even that don’t stay inside him for long. His headaches are a little easier, but they’re still bad enough to make him pass out if he tries to move around. I had to convince him to sit on the landing for a while.”

“Yeah, Chris probably feels like everyone’s watching him. Ezra’s talking to him now.”

“Hope he don’t use none of them five dollar words of his. Chris already has one headache.”

Tanner knew the healer was trying to ease his mind by shedding a little humor on the situation. “Nathan, Chris don’t like being the center of attention...”

“I know that, Vin, but...”

“He wants to go out to his place.” Vin could see the healer getting ready to protest, but he held up his hands to stop him. “Ya said he needs ta get some rest and quiet...”

“Yeah, he does, but he can’t be left alone the way he is.”

“He won’t be alone. I’m gonna stay with ‘im. Buck and the others are willin’ ta take my patrol for me.”

“I need ta take those stitches out in a couple of days...”

“I can bring him back to town or you can come out to his place.”

“What if something happens?”

“We’ll hightail it back here. Nathan, we both know Chris is a little down,” Tanner said as he remembered how depressed Chris seemed to be getting. The people of the town were continuously dropping by, asking how he was doing, and he would pretend to be asleep. He didn’t want to acknowledge their well wishes or address their worries.

“Vin, I just don’t know.”

“Why don’t you ask him what he wants to do?” Tanner pressed.

“You know damn well what his answer will be, Vin.” Jackson shook his head as he saw the smile on the sharpshooter’s face. “Oh, hell, alright, let’s go tell him, but it won’t be today. You can take him out there tomorrow morning after I’ve got some supplies ready for you.”

“Thanks, Nathan.”

“Thank me after I see that this does Chris some good.”

“So, Mr. Larabee, that’s the news of the town,” Standish said as he watched the gunslinger. The man was still pale, making the bruises that marred his face more prominent. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No, thanks, Ez, I’m fine,” Larabee told him as he looked at the now familiar darkness.

“Hey, Ezra.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson. I was just bringing Mr. Larabee the...”

“Gossip,” Tanner finished.

“Mr. Tanner, I assure you I do not spread gossip.”

“Don’t matter none what ya call it, Ez, yer still tellin’ stories,” Tanner said.

“You two stop bickering before ya give Chris a headache,” Jackson told them.

“Too late,” Larabee winced as he rubbed his forehead.

“Ya been out in the sun too long, Chris. Come on and we’ll get ya back to bed.”

“I’m okay, Nathan.”

“Chris, if ya want ta go out to your place tomorrow, then ya’d better start listening to what I say.”

Larabee’s head came up at the mention of getting out of town. His sightless eyes came up to meet those of the healer and his voice was laced with hope. “You mean it, Nathan?”

“Yeah, it’ll probably be a whole lot quieter out at your place and Vin is gonna go with ya. Now why don’t you come back inside and lie down for a while?”

“Okay,” Larabee winced as his headache became more pronounced. He felt a steadying hand on his arm and was soon sitting on the side of the bed.

“Here, Chris, take this.”

“What is it, Nathan?”

“Laudanum, it’ll help ya rest.” Jackson saw the grimace on Larabee’s face as he drank it. “Now lie back and try to sleep.”

Ezra and Vin watched as the gunslinger eased back no the bed and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for Larabee’ to drift off to sleep and the three men left him alone.

Day and night had little meaning for Chris. He’d wake up to the same cloying darkness whether asleep or awake. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but couldn’t stop. Mary and Billy had been in to see him earlier and he was frustrated at his inability to see them. He was finally alone in the clinic, but sensed Jackson or one of the others was close by. Larabee sat up and slung his legs over the side of the bed. The pain was a little more manageable right now, but he knew the longer he stayed up, the worse the pain would be. He wanted something to drink and used his hands to feel around, his frustration growing worse as he reached for the table. He touched the pitcher of water and the glass sitting next to it, and felt around until he found the handle and picked up both it and the glass. Chris took a deep breath and brought the pitcher over the lip of the glass. He tilted the pitcher until he heard the water splash into the glass.

“Dammit!” he swore as the water spilled over the edge and dropped onto his legs. He went to place the pitcher back on the table and swore as it crashed to the floor, water spraying across his bare legs and over the floor. His frustration eased as he threw the glass across the room. 

“Feel better?”

“Hell, no, Josiah! Shit!” Larabee swore as pain lanced his skull and he swayed. He felt strong hands grab him and ease him back on the bed.

“It’ll get easier, Chris.”

“Will it, Josiah? How can you be sure? How long’s it been now? A week? Two weeks? Hell, I can’t tell anymore. Day and night don’t mean nothing to a blind man!”

“Chris, feeling sorry for yourself isn’t gonna help.”

Larabee clenched his eyes tight in order to keep his weakness from showing. He knew Sanchez was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. “How long’s it been, Josiah?” he muttered.

“Eight days since you were shot.”

“Eight days,” Larabee whispered unbelievingly. “Eight days since the world went black.”

“Don’t give up, Brother,” Sanchez said as he retrieved more water from the bucket on Jackson’s table. He carefully stepped over the shards of glass and shook his head as JD stepped through the door, smiling gratefully as the young easterner left them alone. He took a new glass and poured the water into it before returning to the bed. Chris sat with his head in his hands and Josiah saw the slump of his shoulders. For him, Chris Larabee was a man who oozed confidence, but to look at the gunslinger now he saw only dejection. He tapped the glass against Larabee’s fingers and said softly. “Here, Chris.”

Larabee wrapped his fingers around the glass and drank the cool water. “Thanks, Josiah,” he said as he passed the glass back.

“You’re welcome, Chris,” the ex-preacher walked back to the table and placed the glass on top of it.

“Josiah?”

“Yes.”

“Is it dark outside?”

“It’s the middle of the night, Chris,” Sanchez answered.

“Sorry, Josiah, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t, Chris. I was...”

“Watching me?” Larabee asked softly. “Guess I do need...”

“It’s only for a little while, Chris. Things will get better.”

“Sure, Josiah. Look, my head’s hurting. Why don’t you get some sleep. That’s about all I’m gonna do anyway,” the gunslinger said as he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He heard Sanchez leave and took a deep breath. He’d been alone before, but never had he been so alone in a group of people. He slowly drifted to sleep, glad that by the next night he would be at his cabin, where prying eyes wouldn’t be watching him constantly.

Sanchez gave him half an hour to fall asleep before he stepped back inside and cleaned up the glass and the water. He listened to the soft snores from the injured man and silently prayed that Chris Larabee would get his sight back.