Vine '04: Catch Colt

JD lifted the shot and stilled halfway to his lips.

He closed his eyes and bit down so hard his jaw popped.

The shot fell from his fingers, sloshing its contents against the table.

It rattled dully then settled into its amber puddle.

JD shoved it away.

The drink was useless.

This was useless.

His head fell forward between his drooping shoulders and he scrubbed at his face with his hands. He wanted to lock this up tight and hold himself cold against it and let no one be the wiser. He wanted to run to the others and spout his inconsequence of pain and bitterness even if sympathy was beyond them.

JD would have cursed if he could think up something remotely appropriate.

Chris had the right idea. Bury it all down, far and hard and deep, and keep it buried with biting liquor and biting temper, dousing the sputtering embers of weakness and emotion before even one weary breath is shuddered.

If he were Buck - well, the Buck they'd all seen until gone months now and maybe even still - he'd find someone to bury his dick in and leave it there, fucking and fucking until whatever hurt was replaced with the sweet numbness of mingling come and woman-wet and the hollow, meaningless afterglow that would still be undeniably good.

Or he could work his fingers blood-raw like Josiah, bent on his knees, prayer beads and sweat beads clacking from his chest, sanding to perfection some dark recess of the chapel that no one would ever lay eyes on.

Were he Nate he could fetch herbs and minerals and whatever all else from the land, knowing without a doubt what each did and how to wield it, comfort found in that invariable. Then he could make tracks for the village and soothe a bruise here and a scrape there, leave buoyed with the sense of being needed and the kindly superiority of knowing what someone else does not - and admires you for it.

Vin would ride out seeking the lonely, unattainable horizon, wanting solitude. Wanting - a mean, insightful part of JD knew - the lie that he was a man conflicted needing the balm of nature's freedom when really he was perfectly content being who and what he was among his unchallenging friends who made family here in Four Corners.

JD smirked. Being like Vin might be best - Vin was straightforward and pragmatic, taking what comes when it came. He just liked the outdoors and that solitary hero mantle that fit his slim shoulders with easy perfection much as he genuinely liked a lonely sunrise.

Either Vin or Ezra. Because Ezra wouldn't take shit from nobody, even if taking shit at the moment was what getting the upper hand required. In the end he'd come out richer - or at the least the better - and laugh his way with calculated carelessness all through the doing.

JD closed his eyes and sighed, jaw tight against the sudden swell of disappointment and burning tears and pitiful, impotent anger.

It was times like these JD truly wished he had such a vice of will.

But he didn't have any; he wasn't them. Wasn't angry at everything and resigned to the nothing.

Damn his stupidity or optimism or humanness or whatever else they wanted to call it besides.

"That frown gets any deeper and your face'll crack in half."

JD sighed then tried to conjure a smile. His effort was something more of a grimace. "Hey Buck," he nodded, voice quiet.

Buck settled into the chair next to his. JD avoided looking over, avoided the clear blue eyes he knew would be roughened with cajoling kindness and concern. This is exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen; this is exactly what he'd been sitting here hoping for.

Warmth closed over his shoulder, strong fingers massaging the tension held there.

"Anything that can be helped?"

JD shook his head jerkily. "I'm fine, Buck. Will be fine," he added, honesty getting the better of him. He managed to look up, managed to stifle a measure of his empty, hollow desolation. "Don't waste riding time sitting here with me. Get on out to Chris' like he's expecting."

He smiled, watery and sad and years older but firmly resolute.

Buck's eyes narrowed, color solidifying to a hard, penetrating dark blue. His lips pursed and his fingers tightened around JD's shoulder.

"Keep on like that and your face will crack in half," JD teased. His smile warmed, wry but closer to genuine. "Go on Buck. Nothing you can do anyway."

JD willed Buck to stand up, turn around and leave. Chris would be waiting and this would keep. Hell, this would never be solved, no use in chasing after it.

His sigh of relief had almost passed his lips then Buck stilled, halfway to a stand, eyes intent. JD shook his head. Even after being around the others and learning their ways and survivals remembering the details got the better of him sometimes.

The sigh flattened, tracing through the air with resignation.

Buck sat back down, the telegram JD had forgotten to secret away pulled across the tabletop to be read.

JD followed Buck's eyes, knew that the short, choppy missive was read once then read again. He started counting in his head and didn't even make it to five when Buck turned back to him, cross and demanding and even more concerned.

"When did you get this?"

JD shrugged. "This morning."

"Only this morning! But it says here - "

"I'm lucky I got it at all, Buck. Only did 'cause Alastair and I were almost friends growing up. I never would have heard if it was left to the others." JD's tone was smooth, almost light.

It was true. He'd known it from day one, known it and relearned it every day of his life. Coming out west and making his own way had helped to erase all that he wasn't; the telegram was a sharp reminder of all he'd never be.

Buck nodded once, eyes and face set with his particular, warming resolution. "You're coming out with me. Chris won't mind the extra company for the day and then dinner."

Even if Chris minded JD knew Buck wouldn't care.

"I don't need to go anywhere." JD tugged the telegram out from under Buck's hand and folded it once, tucking it inside his jacket. He leaned back in his chair and cross his arms. "Fact, think I like the idea of being alone. Not like it doesn't suit," he muttered.

Buck's lips twisted. "No dice, JD. I won't be leaving you to yourself - man gets a telegram like that he appreciates company, even if he doesn't know it."

When JD would have argued again Buck's hand lifted to hover in the air, shushing the half-formed words.

"Either you ride out with me now or I wait you out here and I leave you to explain to Chris why he had to come looking for me." Buck gazed at him serenely, aggravatingly certain of being right.

Aggravatingly right altogether, too.

JD tried a last time. "I appreciate the offer, Buck, I do. But this is the first coupla days you and Chris will have had away from town in awhile - you don't need me around for that." Wouldn't want him around for it either, he silently tacked on.

Surprisingly Buck didn't push. Instead he changed his approach, leaning close to JD, blue eyes tainted with that watery and knowing hollow sadness.

"C'mon with me, JD. I'd like it if ya did."

JD closed his eyes and cursed in the strident, strange beats of Kiowa Vin had taught him.

He nodded without looking back at Buck. JD knew defeat when he saw it. The steady warmth returned to capture his shoulder, fingers tightening before lifting to clap against him a few times.

"Well then. Let's get you ready to ride."

JD listened to the scrape of chair then of boot. He followed Buck's confident exit from the saloon with his ears. When the batwing doors thrummed in subtle vibration he stood and quietly trailed after.

They saddled up and rode the easy miles in silence, Buck keeping a covert eye on him the entire time, sending encouraging smiles and nods all along the way. The attention caught him in a conflicting balance, hanging between being comforted and irritated.

When they arrived Chris was waiting, a casual, dark shadow leaning against one of the posts holding the short awning above the blunt porch. Hazel eyes flashed then narrowed in speculative question, taking in the two riders when the eager expectation had been only for one.

Buck just touched a finger to his hat then spurred Lady towards the corral they'd recently expanded. JD hastened Brownie and beat them to it then rolled neatly out of the saddle, swiping both reins into a hand. He squinted up at Buck.

"You go on in. I'll see to them - you see to Chris."

Buck smiled at that but understood. JD wasn't sending him in to catch the brunt of the potentially bad reaction - he was giving the lovers a moment alone before his intrusion hindered them further.

Lady snuffled and shifted when Buck slung down and started towards the cabin, an affectionate pat on her rump left as he passed by. JD held the reins tighter and stroked her nose absently, watching the back door open to reveal Chris, shifting his weight as Brownie butted into him from behind.

Chris looked out to where he stood, ignoring the soft touch of Buck's hand that started at a hip and circled around to rest at the small of the muscled back. JD ducked his head and turned into Lady's neck when Buck leaned close from behind, quick kiss deposited against Chris' nape softening the hard features, drawing Chris' attention back to only them.

The gentle intimacy gave him a hot tingle - not one born of arousal, rather that sweet vibration of witnessing something undeniably right and being thankful for its existence, thankful for the allowance to share it.

JD let his mind wander while he untacked the horses. He thought about the past coming to haunt the present - that was an inevitable thought at this place, even without the harbinger of his morning telegram. He thought about Chris and Buck and what he'd learned about them. A thing he'd found out well before the others and had kept to himself, even from them.

He smiled, brushing Brownie's gleaming coat with a quick touch. Hadn't they be taken aback to discover that not only was he aware they'd been keeping private company but that he hadn't spilled that secret to another soul.

When he'd had to divulge that he knew he'd asked they tell him who else did; it seemed only fair. At that time the answer had been no one. Since then the list had grown to include Ezra - a too-long trail ride and the indolence of thinking the man soundly asleep combined with trust and recklessness brought that about - and more recently Vin. Chris snuggling up and ranting about Buck while down with a fever when Buck had been away had been the final piecing clue for that admission to make its way into reality.

The three of them had discussed it idly one night over a game of cards. It hadn't come as a shock to any of them. Vin had been onto it for a time already; hearing Chris mutter 'fuck' and 'me' and 'Buck' in the same rambly sentence had been enough for him to cement his suspicions.

Ezra had laughed his way through an exaggerated description of Buck and Chris' faces upon his waking to find them, tangled and muffled, a tight knot writhing with desperate soundlessness under their bedrolls. Their expressions were the best, he'd explained breathlessly, after he'd announced his wakened state and mild assertion that since the two were obviously otherwise occupied he'd see to making a patrol of their perimeter.

By the end of the telling Vin and JD were laughing just as hard.

Done with his work he pushed Lady into the corral, holding the short gate narrow with his other hand so Pony couldn't bolt out. Brownie went in last, going easily, happy to have some run around time and the ready tufts of dry forage to nibble at.

He took the steps into the cabin slowly; the back door had been left open for him. Chris and Buck were talking as they moved about, voices low and comfortably conversational. They were readying a somewhat early lunch, mismatched dishes and three enamel cups crowding the small table that sat adjacent to the potbellied stove, golden biscuits with thick gravy bubbling up from under them huddling in a cast iron pot waiting to be served.

Chris took up one of the cups and poured it full of coffee - he handed it over to JD with a nod. "JD," he said mildly, barest smile breaking his calm features. His head inclined towards the small stool tucked into the corner behind the table. "Grab yourself a seat."

JD masked a shaky sigh by blowing at the coffee as he rounded the table and lowered onto the stool. He sipped at the hot dark and let it tumble across his tongue and down his throat. It tasted good. It felt good. Much better than that whiskey would have.

It wasn't just the drink that was better. JD knew that well.

He looked up when the sugar bowl appeared under his chin. Buck smiled at him and let it fall onto the table. JD grabbed a measure and watched it as it spilled into the coffee, the thick, rough granules twisting and turning down and down into the black-brown as they melted away.

Buck didn't move away so he glanced up again.

"You wanna talk about it, we both know how to listen." He shrugged, both hands held away from his sides. "Not like I'm any different," Buck said equitably, any bitterness he'd tasted from their shared condition long since washed away.

JD nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Buck's eyes crinkled at the corners, relaxed and pleased now that his certainty of dragging JD out here had proved itself out as being right as he knew from moment one.

"Thanks," JD grumbled, reluctant with his smile.

Chris caught his eye again and he saw the same understanding readiness lurking in the often dangerous gaze. It was different than Buck's, of course, but no less for the harsher way life had formed the man. JD bobbed his head and lifted his sweetened coffee, a small salute before he took a drink of the tangible hospitality and shelter Chris had easily granted to him on this day.

Buck's hand teased Chris' side and Chris hitched, eyes widening then skittering away, lean torso arching deeply. Chris huffed with a low growl and Buck just laughed, the two turning away from JD to finished gathering the meal.

JD's smile faded as he watched them, his pensive contemplation again getting the better of him.

This world was completely different than the one he'd run from, the one that had been denied him. It was simple and hardscrabble and would likely cause his long line of prim great aunts to suffer a strong fainting spell. It wasn't the riches and passive good life that he'd been cruelly, thoroughly acquainted with but disallowed - he wouldn't give this up for all that might ever have been offered to him for his return.

Master Saylor dead.
Funeral three weeks past.
I thought you should know.
Amicably, Alistair.

The words appeared before him even without the benefit of retrieving and unfolding the telegram from his pocket. It was part of him now; he'd remember those stark phrases always.

JD's father was dead.

The wealthy, powerful man who had kept his mother employed over a dozen years and not because of her prowess folding linens.

His lips twisted.

He and Buck were more alike than Buck knew, even if he'd told his friend long ago about his dubious heritage as a stray seedling of the manor.

JD was well aware he'd been told as an afterthought. That Alistair continued to regard him at all was something he half appreciated and half resented. He thought he wouldn't care if he never heard from Alistair again, considered himself gladdened to be out from under the oppression of his being and their haughty denial of it. He was oddly settled by being given the news that his father had passed.

It was a day for clashing emotions.

When he'd left Alistair had asked that they keep in touch - they'd grown up together, allowed to play with one another, delighting in the foolish games of unfettered youth, accepting one another outright and without suspicion. They were almost the same age, one boy with the dark hair and eyes of his mother, the other towheaded and ruddy-pale like his father. One legitimate, in line as heir. One tolerated, left unclaimed. Age and time had eroded their tenuous kinship, Alistair moving on into the fold of the family, JD and their games left behind in the stables.

There was no other way it could have been.

JD almost hadn't bothered to keep his promise to Alistair; he felt he'd be no better than all he'd come to resent if he didn't. He had allowed himself the certain pride that had crept in when he'd been able to cable back that he was entrusted as sheriff to a whole town, law-keeper and respected as legitimate in this place, here on his own and not by his slanted daddy's name, that he didn't need assistance and wasn't going to come limping 'home.'

Shit. He'd known the moment he'd left he'd never look back, let death or the devil take him in favor of asking anything of them.

He hadn't taken the money Master Saylor had tried to push at him, cold eyes and cold demeanor clearly showing it for the act of relieved obligation it was. He'd just taken his pride and his first and middle name, leaving his mother's to rest and his father's to rot.

JD would wire Alistair back, thank his brother. It would be, he had no doubt, the last they ever spoke to one another.

They were different people living different lives in places that might as well not exist, one to the other. They had long ago run out of things to say. He wouldn't suffer the lost contact any more than he did this removed, dull mourning. It affected him, sure. But JD was his own man now, his bitter taste now mostly washed away.

A plate of steaming food was set before him and Buck let the saltcellar carelessly fall. It pitched side to side but didn't spill. He smiled at them both, wordless thanks that was readily accepted and readily understood. Buck smiled back and JD was glad he had come - out west, to this town, to the decision to challenge Chris to let him fight, into his job as sheriff, to this cabin on this day.

He thought about his friends, the two with him and the others close at hand. They were his family, thrown-in and by choice, illegitimate and more vitally loyal than anything else he'd ever known or would find. He thought about his father, last bonds tying him to that disapproving specter gone from him with a finality echoing that of the man's actual death.

JD's stomach grumbled then Chris and Buck were sitting to either side of him, crowded and close and comfortable around the small table. A nod at one another and they lifted their forks then began to eat.

End