Vin loosed a sharp, hissing breath through gritted teeth and drove his head back into the floor, his eyes tightly closed, his pale and sweat-beaded face twisted into a mask of pain, his long fingers knotted into the pallet of comforters beneath him. Chris had been coaching him through the exercises for less than fifteen minutes, going slowly, cautiously, yet already it felt as if his knee were being torn apart all over again. Tears seeped from the corners of his eyes and slid down into his hair as he struggled to straighten the joint and lift his heel from the floor, and his whole leg trembled from the effort. But it was too much, the pain was too much, and with a thick, wrenching groan he relaxed his thigh and let his heel fall back the mere inch he had managed to lift it.

"I cain't," he whispered hoarsely, exhausted and in pain. "I cain't do no more."

"It's all right," Chris assured him, leaning over to bathe his ashen face with a cool, damp cloth. "You got through most of 'em. And we don't wanta risk doin' any more damage by overdoin' it. You just lie here and rest. I'll get the brace back on you, then we'll get you somethin' to eat, get you another pain pill. How's that sound?"

Vin swallowed hard and opened his eyes, then turned his face away from Chris to hide the tears he couldn't restrain. "I hate this, y'know?" he rasped dejectedly. "Hate havin' ta fight fer ev'ry little thing..." He lifted a shaking hand and wiped impatiently at his tears. "Tired of havin' my life torn ta pieces..."

"I know," Chris breathed, setting a hand on Tanner's thin shoulder and squeezing gently, his own face lined with sorrow. "Believe me, partner, if I could take all this away, or even make it better-"

"I know," Vin sighed. "But ya cain't. Nobody can. 'S jist..." He gave a half-hearted shrug. "'S jist somethin' else I gotta deal with. Pick up the pieces an' go on." He sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling. "Hell, it ain't the first time. Likely won't be the last."

"Probably not," Chris agreed, unable to lie to this man. "But at least this time, and from now on, you won't be doin' it alone." He smiled slightly. "And it'll be easier to put those pieces together with all of us helpin' you do it."

Vin slowly turned his gaze back to Chris and searched the man's eyes intently, seeing only understanding and determination in the green depths. He had done this before, too many times, but knew it would be different this time because of the man at his side and the others ringed solidly at his back. He was used to others walking away and leaving the pieces of him where they'd fallen. But with everything that was in him he knew that nothing this side of hell would drive these men away.

"Well," he breathed at last, his voice still shaky but showing a faint trace of familiar spirit, "I reckon if y'all are gonna help... I c'n hang on a while longer."

A smile spread slowly across Chris's face and warmed his eyes. They'd always known that Vin had reserves none of them could guess at; sometimes, they just had to remind him. "Yeah, I reckon you can. Now, let's get that brace on, get your ass off my floor." He winked. "You make a lousy throw rug."

"Yer all heart, Larabee," Vin groused.

"Yeah, and you're all skin and bones." He moved down to Tanner's knee and reached for the brace. "If we don't get some meat on you soon, Nettie's gonna make rugs out of all of us!"

Vin snorted and shook his head as Chris lifted his leg just enough to get the brace under it. "Sad, sad," he drawled as Larabee carefully fitted the brace and closed the straps in their proper order. "Y' oughtta be ashamed of yerself, bein' scared of a li'l ol' woman."

"Ain't the 'li'l ol' woman' I'm scared of," Chris countered, looking up and arching a blond brow. "It's the li'l ol' woman's damn shotgun."

7~7~7~7

"Hey, y'know," Buck said thoughtfully, turning his gaze from the big-screen TV to Chris, "he kinda reminds me of you, stud."

They had settled into the den after lunch, Buck and Chris each taking a recliner, Josiah in Vin's rocker and Vin stretched out on the couch, and were watching - yet again - the extended DVD version of "Fellowship of the Ring." JD and Vin had gotten them all hooked on it after seeing it countless times in the theater, and it now seemed that no lengthy gathering at the ranch was complete without at least a partial viewing.

Vin had requested it this time, and it had occurred to Chris that no one had asked to see it since Tanner had been hospitalized. As if they hadn't been able to bear watching one fellowship splinter while their own hung so dangerously in the balance...

Not surprisingly, Vin had fallen asleep about halfway through as the pain meds had kicked in, but the other three had kept watching, lost once more in a movie they all pretty much knew by heart. It was nearing the end now - Boromir had tried to steal the Ring but had redeemed himself by fighting to defend his friends despite his mortal wounds, and Aragorn was cutting a bloody swath through the army of uruk-hai - and Buck gave voice to the thought he'd had for some time.

Chris watched the bloodied but unbowed warrior charging headlong into battle with the fearsome uruk-hai who'd shot Boromir full of arrows and arched a blond brow. "You mean because of his obvious leadership skills and ability to pull a ragtag bunch of hard-headed fools into a cohesive team, right?" he asked with some self-satisfaction.

"Oh, hell, no," Buck answered at once. "I mean," he winced as Aragorn swung his sword and sheared off the ugly uruk's head, "'cause when he has a bad day, somebody usually dies."

Chris shot a narrow-eyed stare at his old friend while Josiah chuckled appreciatively. Buck grinned and waggled his eyebrows shamelessly, and Chris found it impossible to hold back his own smile.

"You're impossible," he said with a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, but ya love me for it," Buck beamed.

The telephone rang before Chris could frame a suitable retort, and he gave Buck a smug grin as he rose from his chair. "Saved by the bell, stud," he shot back, hurrying to the bar and snatching the handset from the cradle before the ringing could wake up Vin. "Larabee," he greeted tersely.

Buck turned down the TV's volume just in time to hear Chris yelp in sharp alarm, "Today?" Wilmington exchanged a puzzled look with Josiah, who only spread his hands and shrugged, then turned in his chair to look across the den at Larabee. The blond was standing at a near military brace, though his long fingers were trying to gouge holes into the bar's polished oak top. Buck's bewilderment deepened and he leaned forward, watching and listening intently. Chris was giving short, and mostly incomplete, answers to what was clearly a rapid-fire barrage of questions, yet not once did he object or try to take control of the conversation. In fact, his tone remained exceedingly polite, though his voice was strained and his green eyes held a look closely akin to panic. As Larabee's stricken gaze shot toward the sleeping Vin, understanding hit Wilmington in a rush.

He sat back with a wide and wicked smile and winked at the frowning Josiah. "Time ta batten down the hatches, preacherman," he crowed with unconcealed glee. "I think Hurricane Nettie's headed straight for us!"

7~7~7~7

Chris was sitting out on the porch, smoking a cheroot and holding a glass of scotch as he waited for the familiar old blue pickup to come rattling up the drive. He was over the shock of Nettie's sudden announcement that she was coming, but his thoughts were still unsettled; thus the scotch.

Christ, what would he tell her?

He'd tried to keep her informed as best he could while Vin was in the hospital and she was away tending her sister, and, knowing she'd accept nothing less, he'd been completely honest about Vin's condition, sparing her none of the ugly and often frightening details. But they both knew that mere words could never adequately describe all that Tanner had suffered, knew keeping in touch by phone could never take the place of her being with the young man she loved as a son.

He'd hoped that once Vin got out of the hospital and Nettie returned to Denver the problem would be solved. Vin still looked like hell, but Nettie would fuss over and coddle and tend him back to strength and health.

But that was when they'd thought Vin's body was all that would need such care.

He exhaled a long, slow stream of smoke, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the distance, and raised the glass to sip from his scotch. He, Josiah and Buck had discussed what to tell her, what they should and what they shouldn't, but hadn't come up with any answers. It was Vin's story to tell, they knew that; they just weren't sure he had the strength yet for another telling. But Nettie, with those sharp eyes that missed nothing, would take one look at "her boy" and know immediately that the worst of his hurts had not been done to his body. She'd demand answers...

Chris just had no idea how, or even if, he could give her what she'd want.

The door opened behind him and quiet footsteps sounded on the porch. "How's Vin?" he asked, not looking to see which of his friends had joined him.

"Still sleepin'." Buck came around and settled his big frame into the chair to Chris's left, then set his beer on the small table between them. "Nathan called for an update on Vin. Josiah's talkin' to him now."

"How're we gonna do this, Buck?" Chris asked softly, turning his uncertain gaze to his oldest friend. "Nettie, the boys... they're all gonna have ta know. But I just..." He shook his head slowly. "How?"

"I don't know," Buck sighed, his blue eyes unusually somber. "You're right, they all have to know. Vin's gonna need all of us, and that means we all have ta know exactly what he's battlin'. But I sure as hell don't wanta tell Vin that he's gonna have to tell it all again. I'm not sure he could. One time damn near broke him. To put himself through all that again-"

"But he's gonna have to," Chris said, bitterly hating that fact. "He can't keep it locked up inside; not anymore. It would kill him." He thought a moment. "But at least now we know, and we'd be there with him, helpin' him." He looked searchingly at Buck. "Surely that would help him, right?"

Buck smiled slightly, his blue eyes soft; sometimes he wondered how a man as smart as Chris Larabee could not know just how much help he'd already been to Vin. "Yeah, pard," he said quietly, "I reckon it would."

Chris frowned slightly as he studied Buck. "You look awful sure of somethin'."

Buck's smile widened. "Just sure of you, stud. That right there takes care of a lotta things."

Chris scowled and looked away, not sure what he'd done to make any of these men believe in him as they so obviously did. And they weren't men to believe in much.

"Listen to me, Chris," Buck said quietly, drawing his friend's gaze once more to him. He leaned forward and rested his forearms across his thighs, clasping his hands lightly between them. "You keep thinkin' Vin's waitin' for you ta perform some damn miracle for him. What you don't see, though, is that you've already done it. You're here, Chris," he said firmly at Larabee's bewildered look. "You moved heaven and earth to find him when he was lost. You stayed with him in that damn hospital even when it tore out your heart to see what he was goin' through. And you've been with him ever since." His blue eyes bored into Chris's green ones, forcing understanding upon the man. "All that boy has to do is whisper your name and you're there. Now," he sat back and arched two dark brows, "for somebody who's screamed and never had anybody come, you tell me that ain't a miracle."

"Is that all it takes?" Chris asked, certain he should be doing more.

Buck shrugged, a trace of sadness crossing his face. "Sometimes, pard, that's all you can do. Sometimes all you can give is yourself. But for Vin, I'm bettin' that's more than enough."

Chris dropped his gaze to his glass and frowned uncertainly into his scotch. "You make it sound so simple."

"Because when it comes ta you bein' there for Vin and him bein' there for you, it is simple," Buck said. "Hell, it's the simplest thing in the world for you two, comes as natural as breathin'."

Chris opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sounds of tires on gravel. Moments later the old blue Chevy pickup rounded the drive at the far end of the house and pulled into view.

"I just wish that helped me know what ta tell her," Chris breathed, his stare fixed on the approaching truck.

Buck frowned thoughtfully and reached for his beer. "Y'know, I'd be surprised if we have ta tell her a damn thing." He raised his beer and took a drink, watching as the truck pulled to a stop. "Face it, Chris, that ol' woman knows more about Vin than he does."

7~7~7~7

Nettie pulled onto the long, rutted drive that led to Chris Larabee's house and stopped the truck, putting it in park and sitting back in her seat, dropping her hands into her lap and knotting them tightly together to still their shaking. Lord, but her nerves were a mess! Fear and need warred within her, and both centered around Vin Tanner.

The son of her heart if not her body.

She'd flown in from Tucson yesterday afternoon and had wanted nothing more than for Casey to drive her straight here. But the girl apparently had anticipated that request - Lord, she was a sharp one! - and had said from the outset and with not the slightest hint of give in her voice that they'd be going home. She'd said that Nettie needed rest, and while the old woman had firmly denied that ridiculous notion, Casey had gently added another reason for staying away that for a few terrible moments had driven all the steel from Nettie Wells's backbone. Like as not Vin wouldn't be in any shape for visitors anyway after his latest setback. Then the girl had told her about the fight with Chris that had sent him back to the hospital in a state of shock, and Nettie's heart had clenched in fear.

What in heaven's name was happenin' to her boy?

Now, sitting in her truck and staring up at the ranch house, she was deeply afraid that she knew. She'd had all last night to think about it, to think back over the years that she'd known Vin and to remember every clue she'd gleaned from watching him, from taking care of him, that had allowed her to piece together the awful details of the life about which he never spoke.

Something had finally unleashed the memories he'd locked away of the abuse he'd suffered as a child.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes tightly as sorrow and dread wrung hard at her soul. She'd always feared this would happen, that the tight, even desperate control Vin kept on that part of his life would someday shatter, leaving him at the mercy of a past he'd fought so hard to deny even existed. And now it seemed her darkest fears had come true. Whoever had preyed upon him back then was still preying upon him now.

She exhaled unsteadily and pressed a shaking hand to her eyes, fighting back the tears she couldn't afford to shed. Not now, not when Vin surely needed her strength. Later she'd cry, when she could do it without worrying about what it would do to him.

When she'd finally gotten herself in hand, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, gazing once more at the house up ahead. Her boy had been hurt, was hurting still, and she hadn't been here to help him when he needed it most. But she'd make up for that now. As she put the truck in gear and started once more up the long drive, a faint smile lit her seamed face.

And likely Chris Larabee and the others had already made up for it in ways even they couldn't fully understand.

7~7~7~7

As she pulled the truck around to the back of the sprawling house and parked it, she saw the two men sitting on the porch and knew they were waiting for her. Her lips twitched in a smile; two guard dogs protecting their charge. Warmth flooded her tough old soul at the evidence of such devotion.

Lord, she could never give enough thanks that her boy had fallen in with such men.

She opened the door and stepped out of the truck, and immediately Chris Larabee was on his feet and striding toward her, his lean body seemingly relaxed but those green eyes of his laser-sharp in their focus and intensity. She read the steely determination in those eyes, saw it in the firm set of his jaw, and knew she'd not be seeing her boy just yet.

Likely it was just as well. No doubt there were things that needed talking about first anyway.

Chris stopped just before her and she inclined her gray head to meet his gaze. She saw the bruises Vin had left upon his face and a shadow of worry darkened her gaze. It had to be bad for him to lash out so at this man.

"Nettie," he greeted quietly, made a bit uncomfortable by her scrutiny but not turning away from it. He knew her, knew those sharp eyes of hers would miss nothing, and was strangely grateful for that. Maybe Buck was right; maybe she'd see on her own what he just wasn't sure he could say.

She arched a gray brow. "That boy always has been good with his fists," she observed wryly. Then her humor faded and she reached up, laying a weathered hand gently against his bruised cheek. "Aren't many men who'd take such a beating and still want him around. I'm grateful to ya for not turnin' your back on him."

He took her hand in his and drew it away from his face, but enfolded it between his two. "That's never gonna happen," he said in a low voice, gazing steadily into her eyes. "Too many people have done that already. I figure it's time that stopped."

She nodded slowly, recognizing his words for the solemn vow they were. "He's not always an easy one ta help. Just isn't used to it, I guess. Hasn't had enough of it in his life ta get used to it." Sorrow darkened her eyes. "Folks've just always found it easier to turn away and leave him on his own."

"But not you," he said softly, intensely grateful to the woman for all that she'd been to Vin. "He told us how you two met, what all you've done for him, meant to him. He stopped bein' alone the day he wandered into your class."

Her sorrow deepened at the memory of that day, at the memory of that boy, and tears softened her fierce eyes. "My heart just broke for him," she breathed, still able to feel the ache that had gripped her then. "Others walked into that class, but not him. Just sorta slipped in, silent as a shadow, and took a seat at the back, in the corner, tryin' his best ta hide. Lord, what a sight he was! Skinny as a half-starved stray, hair even longer then than it is now, and eyes that didn't belong ta no seventeen-year-old boy. Half wild, he was, skittish as a wolf; looked for all the world like he'd high-tail right back outta there if anybody even looked like they were gonna come too close. He'd drawn an invisible line around himself and he wasn't gonna let anybody cross it."

"He let you, though," Chris said, able to picture the boy she'd described with painful clarity. Hell, he was inside right now, asleep on his couch.

She lifted her head, arched a brow and fixed those fierce old eyes squarely on him. "I reckon I didn't give him much of a choice," she declared in an iron voice. "He needed help. He needed a kind hand. Most of all, he needed ta know he wasn't somethin' that deserved bein' thrown away. He was just a boy-"

"No," Chris broke in softly, tightening his grip on her hand, "he was your boy. From that very first day he was yours, and he'll be yours from now on."

Again the tears filled her eyes and rolled slowly down her face, but she made no attempt to stop them. All the love she felt for Vin welled up hard within her, wringing at her heart and pouring out through those tears. "What's wrong with him, Chris?" she asked in a rough, shaking voice, clinging tightly, desperately to his hand. "What's happened to my boy?"

He stepped closer to her and slipped an arm about her, then gathered her to him in a tight embrace. His own tears fell and he let them, knowing he had no reason to hide them from her. "It's all comin' back to him," he whispered, certain she knew what he meant. "He's tried for so long to deny it, but now it's all comin' back. And it's tearin' him apart."

Buck watched them from the porch, saw them come together in that embrace, bound by their mutual love for Vin, and raised his beer to them in a silent salute. Then he rose to his feet and slipped back into the house, knowing he wasn't needed here.

Two of the most formidable forces on God's earth had just formed a united front. Vin Tanner's demons didn't stand a chance.

7~7~7~7

Nettie sat in the rocker she'd pulled close to the couch and simply watched Vin as he slept, her heart aching for him. Lord, he was thin! The bones of his face, shoulders, wrists and hands stood out in sharp relief through the parchment-thin layers of skin that covered them. He'd always been lean, with never a spare ounce of fat on him, but not even all those years ago when she'd first laid eyes on him had he looked as fragile as he did now. And pale... She could see every fine vein in his face, every freckle. Even his long hair had lost its luster and fell across his face and throat in dull, lank strands.

But, Lord, he was alive, and still her beautiful boy.

She longed desperately to reach out and touch him, to brush the hair away from his face, to pull the quilt - the one she'd made him - up over his shoulders and tuck it close about him. But she wouldn't risk waking him. Chris had told her how tortured Vin's sleep had become, how frequently and how cruelly the ghosts from his past tormented him, how rare true rest had become. He was at peace now, though, whether from the medication or the instinctive knowledge that his friends were near, and not for anything would she disturb him.

Right now it was enough just to sit here and watch him sleep.

She remembered other times, so many times, when she'd done this very thing. So many times she'd nursed him through illness or injury, so many times she'd just held him and helped him through the nightmares he always claimed afterward not to remember. Even then she'd known they were more than dreams, more than some wild conjurings of dark imagination. Even then she'd known that the demons plaguing him had been all too real.

But in all the years she'd known him, she'd never once gotten him to admit that.

She rocked slowly, gently, never taking her eyes from her boy. Chris had told her what Vin had revealed last night, and the horror of it had been almost more than she could bear. She'd listened in sick grief for all that he had suffered, her pain too deep for tears, her soul reeling from a truth so much worse than even her ugliest suspicions. And she'd watched first in shock and then in sympathy as Chris Larabee, a man as hard and dangerous as any she'd ever known, had wept unashamedly for his friend.

If God had granted Vin any mercy at all, it was in giving him such men as these. More than friends, they'd somehow become his brothers. And none more so than Chris.

She smiled slightly at that thought. Larabee had been nervous about how she'd react to her boy's appearance, had assured her they'd been doing all they could to get him to eat and rest as if he feared she'd think him negligent. She snorted softly and shook her head. As if she'd ever think these men were capable of negligence where one of their own was concerned!

Lord, but men could be thick!

She continued to rock and to think and to watch her boy, content to wait upon his waking. Gradually, though, the soft creak of the rocker worked its way into his dreams, the familiar sound tugging gently at his mind and rousing it to vague awareness. Instinctively he fixed on that sound, felt again the sense of warmth and security, of home, that it always invoked in him, and let that sound and its feel lead him up from darkness and into the light.

Nettie saw him stirring and held her breath, torn between her need for him to wake and the knowledge that he needed rest. But his pale lips moved soundlessly, his eyelids flickered and brown brows drew down as wakefulness pulled ever more strongly at him. Then his thin, fine-boned hand lifted and moved as if seeking something, and, unable to help herself, she reached out and took it firmly in her own, then leaned forward and clutched it to her heart.

"I'm here, son," she murmured quietly, allowing herself finally to brush the thick, lank hair from his face. "I've come back to ya." Callused fingers tenderly stroked his forehead. "Now it's time for you ta come back ta me."

Long lashes fluttered like dark wings against his near-translucent skin, then slowly, slowly they lifted, his eyelids parting to reveal two hazy slits of blue. Heavy mists of sleep still clouded his mind, but her voice and her touch wound through them like warm strands of light, banishing the fog. His eyes opened further and cleared, and her seamed and softly smiling face filled his vision. He gasped sharply in shock, then exhaled shakily in deepest joy and relief.

"Nettie!" Before he knew how it happened, before his body could register any pain at the movement, he was sitting up and reaching for her and clinging tightly, fiercely to her as she shifted to the couch and enfolded him into her loving embrace. "Oh, Lord," he whispered, his voice breaking, his eyes filling with hot tears. "Oh, Lord God, I've missed ya!"

She cradled his slight, shaking frame more closely still against her, holding him as tightly as she dared and resting a tear-streaked cheek against the top of his head as he sobbed out all his pain, fear and torment into her waiting heart. She made no attempt to quiet him, merely held him and let him cry as she'd done so many times before, as she'd continue to do for as long as the good Lord granted her life.

"He hurt me, Nettie!" he sobbed against her breast, his whole body shaking violently from the force of his emotions. "He b... beat me... Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Nettie, he hurt me so bad I had ta kill him ta make him stop!"

Nettie clutched him fiercely to her at that and cried with him in pain and relief.

At last, at long, long last, her boy was waking from his nightmares.

7~7~7~7

"Feel like I'm goin' crazy," Vin breathed, still huddled in Nettie's arms, his head on her shoulder. "Only," he winced, "Chris says I ain't ta call m'self crazy no more. Got him a whole long list of things I ain't s'posed ta call m'self."

"Can't say I like the sound of it either," she said firmly. "Reckon from now on Chris and I will be workin' on that list together." Despite her tone, the hand stroking his back was infinitely gentle, her touch as loving as any mother's.

"Ain't sure what else ya'd call it," he sighed, his eyes closed, his whole body relaxed. Nettie's warmth was chasing away the chill that seemed to have become a permanent part of him, her touch soothing the kinks from his soul. "Pulled a gun on 'em, done it twice now ta Bucklin, beat up Chris..." He swallowed and shook his head faintly. "They done nothin' but try ta help me 'n I tried ta kill 'em. Sounds crazy ta me."

She laid a cheek against his hair, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Wasn't them you were aimin' ta hurt, son," she murmured. "It was all those others who've used ya so cruelly in your life. The boys know that, and they've forgiven ya. Maybe it's time you forgave yourself."

"Jist cain't be sure it won't happen again," he told her, lifting his head and fixing tired blue eyes upon her. "All this stuff gets tangled up in my head," he rasped. "Voices yellin' at me... Cain't get it all ta lay straight sometimes."

"Whose voices, son?" she asked softly.

He winced and bowed his head, unable to look at her. "Castro... an' the man I shot... man I killed... back then. I c'n hear him yellin' at me, c'n even see him gettin' ready ta hit me-" He flinched violently and pulled abruptly away from her, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. "'S always so real!" he whispered shakily.

She reached for him, but he only pulled away again. One iron gray brow shot up and fierce eyes bored into him. "You runnin' from me, Vin Tanner?" she demanded sternly.

He shrugged slightly, but never looked up. "Jist figgered... knowin' what I done... mebbe... mebbe ya wouldn't... want me near ya no more."

The fear in his soft, hoarse voice and the abject misery in his posture dissolved her anger and wrung hard at her heart. "Come here," she urged, slipping an arm once more about him and pulling him back to her. He resisted for a moment, then groaned and let himself sink again into her embrace. "You listen ta me, boy," she ordered firmly, pressing his head to her shoulder and resting a cheek against it. "There is nothin' you could ever do that would drive me away from you, or make me drive you away, you hear me? I know that you're no angel, I know that you're no saint, and I know you haven't been innocent since long before I met ya. You are what you are, and I love ya for it. All of it, the good and the bad, the sweet and the ugly. You got your darkness, Vin; anybody who's lived your life would. But there's a powerful lotta goodness in ya, too, and I ain't fool enough ta turn my back on that. You're mine, son, you have been since I first laid eyes on ya." She looked down at him and again that warning brow lifted. "Don't you ever run from me again, boy, you hear me? 'Cause I'll only come after ya."

A soft smile curved about his pale lips and he nestled deeper into her embrace. "Ya sound jist like Chris an' the boys," he breathed. "Ain't ever had so many folks tryin' so hard ta hang onta me in all my life. Gotta say, it feels awful good. Think I could get used to it."

"You'd better," she declared, "'cause ain't any of us lettin' go anytime soon."

He lifted his head and gazed into her face, but made no move to pull out of her arms. "Good," he whispered shakily. "'Cause I don't think I could do this without y'all. Hell," he breathed, again bowing his head. "Half the time I ain't sure I'll be able ta do it even with y'all! I'm all twisted up inside. Ain't sure I'll ever be straight again."

Nettie eyed him for long moments, studying him intently and trying to gauge his strength. He had precious little of it, she knew, and what little he had was as threadbare as an old blanket. But most of his strength, she also knew, had never come from his body anyway. It came from the sheer stubborn determination that formed the core of his being, that unbending will that had kept him alive so many times when everything else had failed him.

Maybe it was time to see just how determined he was now.

"If that's what you really want, Vin," she said quietly, "then you're gonna need some help."

He gave a soft breath of laughter and raised his head. "Aw, hell, Nettie, I know that! I ain't such a fool as ta think I c'n do this on my own. I'm gonna need all'a y'all-"

"You're gonna need more than us, son," she told him, holding his gaze with her own. "We all love ya dearly and we're gonna do all we can for ya, but even we can't do it all. We just ain't got that kinda trainin'."

He frowned in confusion. "Trainin'?"

"You need help, Vin," she said softly. His eyes widened suddenly and she had to reach quickly for his arms to keep him from pulling away again. "You listen ta me!" she ordered in a low, firm voice, holding tightly to him even as he began to struggle. "You were abused, son, and you had ta kill a man ta stop it. Now, you buried all that for a long time, maybe too long, but it's all comin' back. And if ya don't let somebody who knows what they're doin' help ya through it, then it's gonna tear ya apart. And I just couldn't bear ta see that happen."

He did pull away from her then, outrage and betrayal pouring through him, and rose unsteadily to his feet, standing over her and staring down at her in pain and shock. "You do think I'm crazy!" he rasped, his heart shattering within him. "Jist like they did back then-" He shook his head slowly, dazedly, and backed away from her, his face a white mask of anguish. "Ya wanta lock me up-"

"No, Vin, no!" she protested, rising sharply to her feet and starting toward him. But he only backed away faster, his pain giving way to panic, and she stopped, forcing herself to stand still. "Honey, ya know I'd never-"

"No!" he shouted harshly, terror flooding his soul. "Ain't nobody ever doin' that ta me again!" The memories rose up sharply and crashed over him, plunging him back into the hell he'd barely survived. He was cold, cold as he'd always been in that place, and near blinded by the sterile glare of fluorescent light off stark white walls. Vague sounds came to him, muddled by the drugs they fed him just to keep him quiet, and nausea churned wildly in his gut. He closed his eyes tightly against the glare, clapped his hands over his ears to keep out the sounds, and felt the screams again rising within him. He tried to bite them back, knew what would happen if he let them loose, could already feel the bite of restraints into his flesh. But nothing could stop them. The white walls closed in upon him, voices whispered and shouted in his mind, and before he could stop it the scream tore from him, carrying the sound of his shattering soul upon it.

"Vin!" That howl of rage and fear tore through Nettie like a knife, searing through her heart. She started again toward him, but he turned to flee, a look of madness upon his face. "Vin, please-" Then to her horror he was falling, his left knee collapsing beneath the strain put upon it and pitching him to the floor. She raced after him, threw herself down upon him when he tried to crawl away...

And loosed a strangled cry of her own as long, hard fingers snapped shut around her throat. Blue eyes glittering with rage and with not a hint of recognition stared into hers, and even her strong heart quailed before the savagery written on his face.

"Ain't nobody... ever... puttin' me in that place again!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, Jesus-"

"Vin!"

"Merciful God!"

Shock and terror sounded in three voices as Buck, Chris and Josiah burst into the den and then came to an immediate stop at the sight that greeted them. Vin was half-sitting, half-laying on the floor, Nettie leaning over him, his hand around her throat. None of the three men moved a muscle. Vin wasn't choking her, not yet; none of them wanted to be the force that drove him over the edge into murder.

"Vin," she gasped, struggling to speak past the painful pressure against her throat. "Honey, ya know me. Ya know I'd never lock you inta such a place." Though it hurt her almost beyond bearing, she stared into his eyes, seeing both terrified child and the boy she loved in the deadly man who held her. "Listen to me, Vin," she urged, willing herself to remain still and calm, more frightened for him at the moment than she was for herself. "Listen to me, honey! Ya know me. Ya know I'd never hurt ya. Merciful Jesus, son, I'd rather die myself than ever bring harm ta you!"

He was breathing hard now and shaking uncontrollably; sweat stood out in beads over his ashen flesh. He could still hear the sounds of that place, but was beginning to hear her voice too, and confusion rent his mind, leaving him teetering between two worlds.

"Ya think... ya think I'm crazy!" he rasped, his fingers beginning to twitch at her throat. Despite his desperate determination to protect himself, though, some instinct he could not understand kept him from tightening them. "Ya wanta... put me back there-"

"No," she said firmly, clearly. She suspected she could break his grip now if she tried, but was afraid of what else in him she might break in the process. "I wouldn't do that, and I'd fight anyone who tried. I'd never lock you behind bars, within walls, Vin Tanner. It would kill you, and that would kill me."

Her voice was growing stronger in his mind, overpowering the other sounds, the other voices, there. Something inside him turned toward her voice, rose yearningly toward it, and tears spilled down his face. "I cain't... I cain't go back there-"

"Ya won't, honey, I promise!" she breathed, her voice breaking at the torment in his eyes. Someone had scarred him horribly, and every one of those scars was bleeding before her. "I've never lied to ya, son," she said quietly, her own face wet with tears. "In all the years I've known ya, I've never once lied to ya, boy, and I swear upon God's holy name that I'm not lyin' now. I love ya, Vin," she whispered brokenly. "You're my boy and I'll love ya 'til I die."

A hard shudder ran through him and a harsh gasp tore from him as those words filled his mind and shoved all other voices aside. My boy. In all his life, only one person had ever called him that... His vision swam, then cleared, and suddenly he saw her, saw her beloved face...

And his hand wrapped around her throat...

"Oh, God!" He jerked his hand away as if her flesh burned him and stared in horror at the red marks left upon her by his fingers. His fingers! "Oh, Jesus God!" Panic filled him, shame flooded him, and he scooted back from her as quickly as he could, shaking worse than ever and feeling hideously sick. "Nettie!" He stared at her throat, then down at his hand, his heart hammering frantically against his ribs and thundering in his ears. "Oh, Jesus... what've I done? What've I done?"

He collapsed into helpless, wrenching sobs and, caring nothing about herself, Nettie went immediately to him again, draping herself over his shaking back and pressing her face into his hair, crying with him and talking to him, saying the same words over and over again.

"It's all right, honey," she wept into his ear. "I love you. It's all right, honey..."

Behind them, Chris sank dazedly to his knees, trembling almost as violently as Vin. Buck staggered on shaking legs to the nearest chair and fell heavily into it, while Josiah dropped his head into his hands and prayed.