The sun began to rise over the mountains in the Western sky. The warming bright rays were creeping over the ground towards the man that was trying to gain some warmth from the numerous blankets that covered his body. The thick blankets moved as the figure beneath them shivered. A muttered curse escaped the form, but it was a muffled sound due to the suffocating material that stopped the fresh air from gaining access to his lungs. The figure rolled over and shifted itself into a more comfortable position then settled back down into a deeper sleep.

The man's horse continued to graze on the verge of the slow moving stream that lay a short distance from the small man made camp. Even though dawn had arrived, the horse knew that it would still be a few hours before it would be required to carry it's owner home. It lifted it's head and pricked it's ears towards a sound that drifted through the air from the east. It was a familiar sound to the animal and it shook it's head and blew the air out of it's nozzle in response. When the noise stopped the animal resumed it's grazing.

The fire that had been centered in the middle of the camp had gone out in the early hours of the morning. This gave the chill of the long night the opportunity to move in and cause the sleeping figure to loose it's body heat. The sun continued it's journey as the next three hours passed. The sleeping man moved again. This time he was waking up. Finally. The horse became alert at it's owners movements when the blankets were roughly thrown aside.

"Good lord." The rising figure moaned when the chilled air hit the bare flesh of his face and hands. "Who's stupid idea was this anyway?" No one answered him.

He sat up and reached into his beige jacket and removed a shiny silver flask. It was his constant companion, he kept it next the deck of cards that he also carried with him everywhere he went. He returned it to the inside pocket after taking a long swig of whiskey. He hoped that it would help get rid of the chill that had seemed to settle in his bones. This really was a bad idea. The man stood up and stretched the muscles in his back. They had become stiff after spending the long cold night on the hard ground.

He didn't bother with breakfast, he wasn't in the mood. His anger had grown during the days he had spent on the trail. It wasn't his idea to be out here, it had been someone else's. The person who had pulled him away from the gambling tables was going to pay dearly when he returned to town. It had been done out of anger and as usual he had received the backlash of that anger. Why it was always him he didn't know, he hadn't done anything. But they always accused him of doing something. He would get payback, he only had one more day of travelling, plenty of time to come up with a plan of vengeance.

His first priority was to relieve himself of last nights coffee, which had included a few shots of whiskey from his flask. The man's anger had caused him to spend the night thinking about what had been within his reach. A home, friends, people that he could care about and trust. Men that he thought were willing to watch his back and protect him with their lives. These were things he'd never had before. They were words that hadn't existed within his large vocabulary, but were now becoming more familiar to him. But after what had happened that night, he wondered if it was worth the effort.

Did he really need people who would say they were his friends but treat him differently than they would the others. Men who continued to blame him if something went wrong. He didn't understand friendship, didn't know what it really meant. He was a man who was easily hurt but never showed it. He had been taught not to let people see what was in the inside. He had learnt to pretend to be someone else. He had gotten so good at it that the real man that was within him didn't exist for years. He had only begun to want to show himself in his new environment. But where had it gotten him, so far, nowhere. He had a decision to make. Should he go or should he stay and try to become a permanent part of the group.

His mind continued on with the thoughts but he refused to acknowledge them, it was too early. He had plenty of time to think it over once he began the final part of his journey to Four Corners. He packed up the small camp then whistled for his horse to come to him. He saddled the animal that he had owned for four years then mounted it. The man turned it in the direction of the town he had wanted to call home and heeled it into a gentle trot.

The man's bright green eyes looked up into the sky, it was becoming darker as the storm clouds moved in. He knew the rain was going make him even colder than he was. He had nothing to protect himself against it. God he hated this. Why him? He could be somewhere warm playing a game of poker, and winning. His body jerked at the sound of thunder. The rain wasn't far away.

"Knowing my luck it'll be snowing next." The Southern accent was thick with anger and sarcasm.

The rain started to fall late in the morning. It wasn't heavy, it was annoying. The light patter of rain that surrounded both man and horse grated on his nerves. His anger grew as another clap of thunder sounded in the distance. This was only the beginning of the storm, it was going to get worse. He just didn't know how much worse.

He didn't hear the gunshot that was covered by the sound of the thunder, only the searing pain as the bullet tore through his right arm. The force of the bullet threw him from his horse, he landed awkwardly, his head hitting a rock on the dirt trail. He lay on his left side, dazed and confused as to what was happening around him. He thought he could hear the sound of galloping horses getting closer to him. He tried to lift his head to find out what was going on but quickly allowed it to fall to the ground again. A wave of dizziness had overcome him. The sound of muffled voices assaulted his ears, it mixed with the ringing that had already taken up residence within his hearing cavities.

"Check his pockets. You get the horse." A voice growled in his ear.

His opened eyes couldn't focus on the face that appeared above him. Hands roughly tore the jacket from his weak struggling form. A gasp of pain escaped from his mouth when his injured arm was moved. Someone yelled in surprise after they removed his custom made boots. Three hundred dollars had been hiding in the left boot.

Other hands removed his guns and watch. That angered him. The guns and other objects could be replaced but the watch was the only memento that he had of his father. He kicked out at the man who was standing over him and at the same time reached out for his watch. He smiled when he heard a voiced scream. His own followed it when someone's boot connected with his ribs. His arm was pulled back down, his hand was empty. The thought of loosing his father's watch hurt him more than the physical pain he was feeling. That watch meant everything to him.

"What are you going to do with him?" A voice asked. It was more distant than the others. "He's not dead yet."

"Very observant of you." The man on the ground growled at his attackers. He was rewarded with a second kick to his ribs.

"Kill him slowly." This was spoken by the man that had ordered someone to take his horse. He was obviously the leader of the group of men. "Throw him over the cliff."

'Cliff! What cliff?' But the injured man didn't make his thoughts available to the men that surrounded him.

"What cliff?" Someone else had the same thought.

"The one we passed two miles back." Was the explanation. "Tie his hands and put him on his horse. Sorry, I meant to say my horse."

The outlaw had admired the horse from a distance. The chestnut gelding was going to loose it's owner. He had no problem with killing the stranger, he'd done it before. He'd lost count. It was a way to make a living without having to work like the poor bastards who struggled all their lives with nothing to show for it.

The injured man clenched his teeth when his blood soaked arm was pulled in front of him. The person wasn't gentle in his attempts. It took a matter of seconds before the skin around his wrists were torn. Blood was beginning to soak into the rope. He was pulled to his feet but his knees buckled, he wasn't able to carry his own weight. The rain helped to blur his vision even more than it already was. The pain in his arm and side wrapped itself around his mind with a strong grip. It would only be a short while before it let go. When that happened he would be dead. He wasn't ready to die. The man who had sent him out here hadn't paid for his error in judgement. He wouldn't know that the gambler had died. The leader of the group would assumed that he just kept going.

He wasn't allowed to sit on his horse, he was thrown over it. The pain in his side worsened. All he could see was the ground beneath him. His hands were tied to the stirrup. He felt the movement as his horse was forced to follow the others. The man's mind tried to think of a way to escape, but his mind was clouded with pain. He silently cursed the person responsible for sending him out here.

His mind finally cleared but it didn't think of ways to escape. It thought about the people and things that he was going to loose. The men that he needed and wanted to make his life complete. He wasn't sure though if they wanted to help him get what he'd always wanted as a child. The things he wanted didn't come easy to him, he either refused to accept it or people didn't trust him enough to give it to him. He almost had it once but it had slipped through his fingers. He still didn't know who's fault it had been. His or theirs. It didn't matter now. He had been given another chance, but he was allowing his insecurities to keep him from taking what he wanted and needed.

The man forced those thoughts from his mind, he needed to concentrate. He had to find a way to survive. He wasn't going to leave the world like this. His mother had taught him better, he had learnt a trade. His death should be at a poker table, not out in the middle of nowhere where his body would be left to the wolves. That was no way to die. He had to survive and make someone pay for what was happening to him. But it was also important to him that they knew he hadn't run out on them again.

They reached the edge of the cliff. He closed his eyes and gave his mind one last attempt to think of a way to escape. Nothing came to him. He was a failure, his mother would be dissapointed in him. Maybe it was fate, this was where he was meant to die. He didn't want this. If he was a religious man like the one in Four Corners who'd made an effort to be his friend, he would have prayed. His mother and life had convinced him that a higher power did not exist. Neither did luck, you had to make your own.

"Throw him over. If the fall doesn't kill him, well, then he'll suffer until he dies." Laughter followed the order.

The sharp edge of a knife freed his hands from the saddle. He was pulled from the horse, he wasn't given the chance to escape. He was carried to the edge and tossed over before he could do anything to stop them. He heard a scream and realised it was his own. He seemed to hang in midair for what seemed to him to be hours before he began to fall. It was a long way down. But he felt some hope, the cliff's wall was set at an angle. If he hit the side of the cliff first, he would roll the rest of the way. Then he remembered the man's words. If he didn't die instantly, he would suffer until he did die. It would be better if he died quickly.

He hit the side of the cliff with bone breaking force. He couldn't help but notice two things through the pain as he rolled dangerously down the side of the cliff. The rain had stopped and the sun had come out. At least he wasn't going to die in bad weather, the sun would be shining down on him. He finally reached the bottom. His body slammed against a large rock. The sunlight broke, the breakage caused the light to disappear as the man was sent into oblivion.

The sun slowly disappeared again and the rain began to fall. This time it was a heavy downpour. Large droplets fell to the ground, seemingly with as much force as the man who had fallen from the cliff's edge. The blood that had begun to soak the ground was being washed away leaving small trails of blood stained rivers. The blood that had poured from the wound on the side of the man's skull had also been washed away by the rain that was continuing to splatter against the slack features of the inert form.

There was no movement, no sign of life from the man who lay in a crumpled heap. He lay on his back, his hands were on his stomach, the rope still bound them together. The white shirt, now soaked by the rain, clung to the bruised skin. The shirt tails had been pulled from the waistband of his trousers. Two buttons had been ripped from the once emaculate shirt. The bruised skin was exposed to the elements. A cut, seven inches long, made it's way across his left side. The left leg was twisted and lay beneath the right leg. The wet bare feet were covered with abrasions and bruises. The once handsome face held a deep graze on the right cheek. The skin was pale, a greying tinge was beginning to show through. The lips were a pale blue.

The storm ended quickly but the clouds kept their position in the sky. They hid the sun, it's warmth was unable to gain access to the unmoving form that lay at the base of the cliff. A cool breeze began to shift through the trees, it lacked the strength to move the clouds or the damp hair that clung to the man's scalp. The breeze picked up in strength, the clouds finally began to move away. Trees swayed in the wind, the long grass also moved with the wind. The form on the ground didn't move, it was as still as death.

Darkness crept over the land. The full moon rose up into the cloudless sky. Thousands of stars shone brightly in the dark void above the man who still hadn't moved. A coyote howled in the distance. The body jerked in a responsive movement and a grimace of pain showed on the man's countenance. His head rolled towards his left shoulder. No other physical motion came from the body.

It was another cold night but this time the man had no fire to protect him from the winter chill. No blankets to cover his unconscious form, the remaining heat escaped from his body. The late winter night passed slowly. When morning arrived the sun rose, it's strength melted the morning dew that covered the ground like a cloak made of snow. By this time the still form was generating it's own heat through a fever that had developed during the night.

Movement came from the body. The man's eyelids fluttered open. Green eyes that were filled with pain looked up at the pale blue sky in confusion. His gazed turned to the face of the cliff. A man sat on one of the rocks watching him. There was a look of sympathy on his face but he made no effort to help the injured man. Emerald orbs stared at the dark eyes that looked back at him. His own eyes closed again as he drifted back into a state of unconsciousness.

The sun drifted across the sky. The source of warmth failed to dry the man's clothing, his hair was still damp. The fever caused the sweat to ooze from his pores. The blood had begun to flow from the head wound again, a thin line stained the side of his face as it slowly ran down his cheek to gather around the deep graze that had been caused by the fall. The man could feel the dampness on his face, he lifted his hands to wipe it away and groaned at the movement.

"Ezra."

Ezra frowned, his mind was clouded with a thick fog. He thought he heard a voice, but he couldn't have. He was alone. Out in the middle of nowhere. Dying. There was no one around to help him, he was destined to die here. The men he fought with wouldn't know what happened. They would hate him for running out on them again.

"Ezra!"

This time he was sure there was a voice calling his name.

"EZRA!"

He winced at the volume of the voice.

"You need to stay awake!"

Ezra opened his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. His eyes settled on the face of the man who was watching him. He didn't recognise the person but there was something familiar about him.

"What?" Ezra managed to mumble. His throat was dry, his lips were cracked and his voice was nothing but a coarse whisper.

"Remember what Nathan told you about a concussion?"

"Nathan?" Ezra was confused.

Why wasn't this man helping him. He was lying here, probably dying and the man was just watching him.

"Yes, Nathan. Come on Ezra you haven't lost your memory."

"Help me." Ezra pleaded with him.

"I'm sorry Ezra. I can't."

"Can't?" Ezra tried to focus on the man who refused to help him.

"I can't help you physically. You have to do that yourself."

Ezra's eyes drifted closed again.

"Stay awake Ezra, you have t. . . "

Ezra thought the voice just seemed to fade away, he was still aware of being awake but where did the voice go. Was the man still there, or had he left him alone. He tried to reopen his eyes, to stay awake like Nathan had told him. Had it been Nathan that was talking to him. No, it hadn't been but the man had known Nathan's name. And his knowledge of Nathan Jackson told him that he knew Nathan, he knew that he was a healer and would know what to do with Ezra's injured form.

Darkness overcame him once more. His thoughts of the stranger drifted away into nothingness. A few hours passed before the form moved again. The eyes slowly blinked open. The man stared at the darkening sky above him. The silence that echoed within in him and around him terrified the young man. He was alone. He had always been afraid of dying alone and now the thing he feared most was going to become a reality.

"Ezra if you stay here you're going to die."

Ezra's body jerked at the voice that shattered the silence. The pain he felt brought tears to his eyes and a cry of pain to his lips.

"I know it hurts Ezra, but you can't stay here."

"Why . . . won't . . . you . . . help . . . me?" Ezra gasped through the pain.

"I can't Ezra."

"Why?" When the pain eased slightly Ezra turned his head. The man was sitting on a rock. His knees were grasped within his arms against his chest.

"I can't explain now, you're too confused."

"I'm not . . . doing . . . anything until . . . you . . . explain."

The man chuckled. "If that's what you want Ezra. I can't help you because I'm not real."

"Wha . . ." Ezra knew he was unconscious, he had to be. Or maybe he was dead. But he knew he was wrong in his assumptions, there was too much pain.

"I'm not real Ezra." The man repeated.

"Your . . . not real?"

"No."

"Then . . . what are . . . you?" He could feel the dark void returning for him.

"I'm you Ezra."

The figure disappeared from the rock as the man slipped back into unconsciousness. The sun fell behind the mountains as the day echoed the man's state of mind, it too drifted into darkness.

He was confused, he wasn't sure where he was or if he was even alive. If he wasn't dead then he had gone mad. Or someone was playing a game with him. Maybe it was the men who had thrown him over the edge of the cliff, he wasn't even sure when that had happened, he'd lost track of time. And now they were taunting him, enjoying his slow death.

But the man had been familiar. He concentrated on the voice, it dawned on him that he had spoken with a Southern accent. It wasn't his own voice but very similar. He tried to picture the face of the figure in his mind. He remembered the dark eyes, his own were green. The face was handsome but in a different way to his own. The clothing was plain, a simple white shirt with a brown jacket, the trousers were dark, not stripped like his own. The feet had been covered by custom made boots, they were his own.

"Ezra."

How did he know he was awake. He hadn't moved, there was too much pain to do that. Maybe his change in breathing had given him away.

"Ezra."

"What." Ezra whispered.

"You have to get up."

"Why?" He didn't want to move, he didn't think that he was capable of doing anything at the moment.

"You have to get back to town, if you don't your going to die alone. You don't want to do that. Do you?"

"But I'm . . . not alone . . . you're . . . here." Ezra opened his eyes.

His surroundings were in darkness. The moonlight shone through the large gaping holes in the cloud covered sky. He couldn't see the figure clearly but he knew he was there, probably laughing at him, he would be enjoying the suffering that he was going through.

"But I don't count Ezra. I can't tell your friends what happened. If you don't return they're going to think you ran out on them again. You will die a coward. That's how you'll be remembered Ezra. As a coward who ran out on his friends."

A tear ran down Ezra's left cheek. He wasn't a coward, he never had been and he didn't want this man or his friends to think that he was. 'Friends'. There was that word again, he wasn't familiar with it and yet this man who had claimed to be him had used the term so easily. Were they his friends. Did he want them to be his friends. No and yes. He didn't think they were but he had wanted a friendship with each one of the six men that he had worked with. Had. Now his mind was talking as though he was already dead.

"Get up Ezra!"

"I . . . can't." Ezra gasped.

"You can. You just don't want to."

"It hurts." His body was filled with pain. His skull felt like it had been split open. He had difficulty breathing because each expansion of his lungs caused the pain to burn through his side, stomach and chest. His left leg ached with a passion.

"I know Ezra, I know."

"How would . . . you . . . know." Ezra could feel his anger growing.

"Because I'm you."

There was a pause filled with silence.

"Now get up! Or do you want to be a coward and die alone!"

"Bastard!" The anger was evident in Ezra's voice.

"Maude would agree with you on that truthful statement."

"I can't get . . . up." Ezra moaned.

"You have a choice Ezra. Die a coward or get up, walk back to town and prove that you didn't run out on your friends."

Ezra knew he had to. Even though the man was arrogant, he was right. He didn't want to die like this, didn't want his friends to think wrongly of him. He had to move, to get back to town anyway he could. He made an attempt to take a deep breath before succumbing himself to the inevitable pain.

His first attempt at movement was to roll onto his left side. The pain registered in his mind instantly. He screamed at the agony that tortured him then lay on his side gasping for breath.

"Come on Ezra, you can do it."

"Just . . . give . . . me a . . . minute." His eyes were closed tightly together against the pain. He knew he had to keep moving, if he stopped now, he would never move again.

"Try sitting up."

"Well that's the . . . most obvious . . . move . . . isn't it." Ezra opened his eyes and looked at the smiling man before him. "Your enjoying . . . this . . . aren't . . . you."

"No Ezra, I'm not. Sit up!"

He lifted himself up onto his left elbow, a wave of nausea caused him to fall back onto his side. Ezra waited for it to pass then tried again. This time he succeeded. He paused in his movements for a few minutes before he continued. His next attempt would be to sit up. He pushed with his arms and felt the pain tear through his upper right arm but it didn't stop him. He knew there was a large rock behind him, it must have stopped his fall. But the barrier had caused considerable damage to his body.

Ezra continued to use his arms as much as he could. He felt the rock against his back and used his shoulders to help him move into a better position. Once he was there he let out the breath he'd been holding. Now if only he could stand up. He wiggled his toes then tried to move his legs. His left leg froze in place when the knee erupted in pain.

"That . . . hurts." He told the man sitting on the rock.

"Don't let it stop you Ezra."

"How the hell . . . am I . . . supposed to walk . . . on that!" Once the initial pain was over it wasn't too bad. He had laid on the hard ground for how long he didn't know. It gave his muscles and injuries time to become stiff making the pain of movement even worse. He was sure that once he started walking the knee would improve. That's what he was hoping for.

Now he had to stand up.

"Stand up Ezra."

It was as though the man had read his mind. But he had claimed to be him. If that was the case then he would know everything that he was thinking. He couldn't imagine having a discussion with himself. He had talked to himself before but he had never been answered by an image that claimed to be him. This was going to be hell. Maybe that's what he needed. He was stubborn enough to fight back and if fighting back meant walking back to town to shut himself up then he would do it. Now he was treating the image as though he was a real person. Maybe he was already in hell. That would explain everything. In that case he should just stay where he was.

"Stand up Ezra."

"I'm standing!" Ezra retorted.

"No your not. Now get up!"

"If you . . . were real . . . I'd kill you!"

"Stand up and try."

Ezra knew the man would be smiling. In his own sick way he was enjoying every moment of his suffering. This man could not be him. If he was then he was a very sick individual.

"Stand up Ezra."

"Can I have . . . a minute?"

"Stand up Ezra."

"Guess . . . that was . . . my answer."

He tried to relax his left leg to allow it to settle on the ground once more. He couldn't do it, the pain was too much. It overtook the amount of pain the rest of his body was feeling. He wasn't going to be able to make it back to town. He wouldn't be able to walk, he couldn't do it. He looked over at the man who was glaring at him. The expression was like his own. He looked away in shame. He was weak, a coward, the man was right. He was right.

"Stand up Ezra."

"I can't." More than anything he wanted to stand up, walk over to the man sitting smugly on the rock and beat the expression off his face.

"Coward!"

Ezra pulled his right leg under him and put his weight onto it. There wasn't a lot of pain. He relaxed only slightly at the thought that the leg hadn't taken any serious damage. He held his breath and pushed himself upwards. Pain tore through his head and upper body. A tidal wave of nausea took control of him. He doubled over as his stomach began to empty itself.

"Don't sit down."

A sarcastic reply came to Ezra's mind but he didn't voice it. If the man was him then he would know what he wanted to say. There was no reply to his thoughts. It was over in a few minutes. He was grateful for that, he wouldn't have lasted much longer with the pain the vomiting was causing to his stomach, side and chest. From his position he could see the swelling around his left knee.

"Aw hell." Was his only comment.

It had to be broken, smashed to pieces. The size of it and the amount of pain it was producing confirmed it. He wasn't going to be able to walk on it. But he had to try, if he didn't the man watching him would nag him to death. He couldn't take that. He tried to put a little bit of weight on the knee to test it. It wasn't pure agony but it was close enough. He gritted his teeth and applied even more of his body weight on it. He screamed more in frustration than in pain.

"Nathan will take care of you."

"Nathan's . . . not here!" Ezra yelled at him.

"No but he's in Four Corners. Start walking."

"My knee . . . is broken . . . I can't . . . walk!" He didn't realise he was so stubborn. People always told him he was but now he was finding out for himself.

"You've got one good leg."

Ezra couldn't help but laugh at that statement. It was exactly what he would say. He was beginning to believe what this man had told him. They were the same person.

"You want . . . me to hop . . . all the way . . . back?"

"If that's what it takes. Yes."

"You couldn't . . . perhaps . . . carry me?"

"You know I can't."

Despair filled Ezra's mind. He wasn't going to be able to do this. He couldn't walk away from his death. He was destined to lay back down and let death take him. He straightened his back and his green eyes rested on the dark pair that looked back at him. He could see the sympathy there and pity. He didn't like the pity. It was something he had always hated.

"I wonder what Mr Larabee would be thinking right now."

Ezra grimaced in disgust. He knew exactly what that man was thinking. He was always thinking it and he had no right to. He didn't know Ezra Standish, didn't know what he was capable of doing for other people. He saw what was on the outside and believed that was the real Ezra Standish. He hadn't taken the time to get to know him better.

"You never gave him or the others the chance."

"What?"

"You never gave them a chance to get to know you so what do you expect from them."

"Who's side . . . are you on . . . anyway." Ezra was shocked.

This person was supposed to be him and he was taking the side of the enemy. This was wrong. As he leaned against the rock resting his weight on his one good leg he began to think of what Chris would be thinking. Ezra didn't know how long he'd been lying at the base of the cliff but he knew it was long enough for Chris to start thinking that he wasn't coming back. Not because something had happened to him but because he had kept going, that he had run out on the group of men who had been hired to protect Four Corners. It was the last thing that Ezra would do.

"Yours. If you think about it Ezra you'll know that I'm right."

"I don't need to . . . think about . . . it. Chris Larabee doesn't trust . . . me or like me. None of them . . . do." Ezra could feel the sweat that stung his open wounds. He grimaced in pain.

"Can you blame them. You haven't given them a reason to like or trust you. You ran out on them once remember."

"I didn't run out on them . . . I hadn't planned on . . . staying . . . I only joined them . . . to get the gold . . . I went back . . . I've never done that . . . before." The Southerner explained to himself.

"It doesn't matter what you think Ezra. It matters to you what they think."

He was right. It was important to him what the other six men thought of him. It never bothered him that people thought that he was a liar and a cheat. It was even why he had been recruited in the first place. Larabee had thought that they might need a cheat, a liar who could lie his way out of almost anything. These personality traits had become useful to the group of lawmen. He had been able to use his skills to save other members of the team without them receiving any injuries to their person. But even then they didn't seem to appreciate him or his skills.

"Start walking Ezra."

Ezra no longer had the mental strength to argue. He twisted himself around so his right hip was pressed against the rock. He rested his bounded hands on the rock for support and took one step. His left leg managed to take some of his weight but he wasn't sure how he would go once he took his hands away from the supporting rock that was doing the job of his left leg for him. He tried another step. He was going to have to let go soon or he would just end up walking around in circles. Ezra lifted his hands up to his chest and took a step towards Four Corners.

He didn't fall flat on his face like he expected to. He actually managed to take a step. He took another and before he knew it he was walking with a profound limp. The pain was already causing the sweat to run down his face in large droplets. Ezra could feel a stinging sensation on his right cheek. He lifted his hands to feel the moist skin and when he brought them up to his face he could see the blood and dirt that covered them. He quickly wiped the sweat from his forehead to distract himself from the image. He knew what the dirt and blood that came from his face meant, any wounds that lined his features would become infected, if they weren't already. He looked over his shoulder to find the man following him. He instinctively stopped and waited for him. When the man reached his side he continued to limp towards town.

"And you said you couldn't do it."

"I haven't done it yet." Ezra chanced a glance sideways at the man who claimed to be him. "Where did you come from?"

"In here."

Ezra watched as he tapped his head. The body language indicated that he came from Ezra's own head.

"My head?" Ezra questioned him.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know why. Perhaps you do."

"No."

Ezra stopped questioning him and concentrated on what he was doing. The pain he was feeling easily caused his mind to become confused. The last thing he wanted to do was to trip over his own feet. His body could do without the extra pain a fall would give him.

"I'm not going to make it." Ezra stated simply.

"Yes you will."

Ezra ignored him and took a quick look around to get his bearings. He needed to know where he was. He would first return to the stream that he had camped by. Water was what he needed, to drink and to clean his wounds. He could feel the pain in his leg worsening. He had only taken twelve steps; he'd counted them as he walked. If it was this bad after such a short distance, how was it going to be after one hour, one day, or two days. What if it took him a week to walk home. He believed he would be dead before then. He wouldn't be able to last that long.

"Keep going Ezra."

"I'm going . . . I'm going." Ezra grumbled.

"Do you want to talk. It will help keep your mind off the pain."

"I know a . . . lie when I hear one." He smiled at the man. Even though he was arrogant and stubborn he instantly liked him. Maybe because the stranger understood him, knew what made him tick.

"It might help."

"And what am I . . . supposed to talk about?"

"Chris Larabee and the others."

"Why them?" Ezra had balked in his movements and jarred his knee. He gritted his teeth and waited for his body to collapse. It didn't. Maybe the knee wasn't as bad as it looked.

"You have unresolved issues with them that involve your past."

"Shoot me now." Ezra groaned.

"I'll do the talking then."

"Please do. Maybe we can stop and rest for a minute." He hoped.

"You only started."

"I'm the one in . . . pain here, agony actually. If I want . . . to stop and rest I will." Ezra growled at him.

"If you sit down now you won't get back up."

"I'll compromise with you . . . I'll stop every hour." he didn't want to argue so he hoped they could meet halfway.

"You haven't got a watch."

"I know why your here. Your meant to . . . torture me until I die. Or am I in hell now."

"No. I'm here because you want me here. Maybe you need help to get back home."

Ezra believed him. If it had been left to him he would still be lying where he fell, his hope fading at each sunset when no one had come to rescue him from his impending death.

"What if I don't want to go home." He put on his poker face and kept his eyes staring at the man who stood a short distance from him.

"Your poker face won't work with me. I know what your thinking. You want to go home, you just won't admit it to yourself."

"There is nothing to admit."

"Yes there is."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this!" Ezra stopped where he was and allowed his weight to flow onto his right leg.

"Keep walking Ezra."

"No. I need to rest." He looked around for a place to sit down so the pain in his body could leave him. Ezra knew it wouldn't but he was hoping for some reprieve from the pain. He began to walk towards a small group of trees in the distance. It took him longer than he expected. The pain made it seem as though time passed by as hours instead of minutes. The days would probably seem like weeks. His clothes were soaked with sweat and the cool breeze that moved through the trees didn't stop the heat from building within his sick body. He stopped and leaned against one of the smaller trees. He looked up at the moving branches and leaves that were green and full of life.

"Keep walking Ezra."

"I can't." Ezra admitted.

"Your not usually this weak."

Ezra didn't have anything to say. The words had shocked him. What he said was true, he had never been this weak. He had been in worse situations than this. And younger. As a child he had been left in the care of violent relatives. The injuries he had now were nothing in comparison to the ones he'd received during one of the numerous beatings he had been given as a child. So why was he feeling as though he couldn't manage the simple task of walking to Four Corners. Maybe he didn't want to return. He carefully lowered himself to the ground and groaned in pleasure as the pain in his body eased slightly.

"Admit it Ezra."

"Is it going to be like this all the way back to town?"

"Yes."

"Well I don't want to talk about Mr Larabee or the others and there is nothing to admit." Ezra closed his eyes and leaned his head against the tree.

"Your lying."

If it was anyone else Ezra would have attempted to get up to seek resolution for the remark spoken by the person before him. If this man really was himself then he would know that he was lying but he would never admit to anyone else that he was lying to protect his vulnerable side.

"Why should I talk to you about it. If you are who you say you are then you already know what I'm thinking."

"Who else are you going to talk to."

"There isn't anyone that I could talk to." Ezra told him. The sadness and loneliness came across in his voice.

Since a young age he had to deal with his problems on his own. There was never anyone to help him, no one that he could talk to. It had made him too independent to seek out the help he required when he was in trouble. He never spoke to anyone about his problems, not even strangers. But now he had found six men in Four Corners. His stubborn independence stopped him from seeking them out and allowing them into his life.

"There are six men in Four Corners that you can talk to."

Ezra knew that. "I can't talk to them."

"You mean you won't talk to them."

"I told you that I don't want to talk about this."

The man disappeared from his sight. Ezra stared at the empty space, he was sure that he had gone mad.

His mind wasn't able to linger on the event that had confused him into thinking once again that he'd gone crazy, that his mind no longer worked as it should. His pain ridden mind drifted off into darkness and rode a wave of delirious slumber. His nightmares were vivid. He was unaware of what was happening within his own mind and body. Pain didn't exist in his mind anymore, it was as though everything that happened had been a dream. He would wake up to a painful reality.

The night passed quickly without a change in the weather, it was as cold as it was dark. The sun rose to try and drive off the chill of the night. It would not succeed. Storm clouds began to drift across the sky to take control of the natural elements.

He woke up slowly as the pain drifted back into his mind. It broke the dreams apart and took control, finally making him aware of the serious situation that he was in. His eyes opened. The sight of his body before him elicited a groan of misery. He looked around in search of the man who claimed to be him. He saw him sitting to his left, the man was physically close to him. If he reached out he would be able to touch him, he didn't dare do it. He was afraid his hand would go straight through him. Was he actually a ghost.

"Am I dead?"

"No."

"Your a ghost then." This was hopefully a true statement, if it wasn't then it meant that he had really lost control of his mind. He was no longer sane.

"No. I am you."

"But how can you be?" Ezra was still confused. If this man really was him then wouldn't he know it.

"I don't know."

Ezra didn't want to look at him anymore so he looked down at his bloody hands. He hadn't even thought of trying to untie them the day before. Had it only been one day, he wasn't sure. He studied them carefully and decided not to bother trying to untie them today or even tomorrow. If he was still alive. The rope was caked with blood and mud, it was tight but not tight enough to cut off his blood circulation.

"Your not even going to try."

"You know I'm not good with knots." Ezra replied harshly.

He was angry at his hopeless situation. He hated Chris Larabee for sending him out here to be robbed of his only possessions and thrown over a cliff. There had been no real reason for him being out here, only Larabee's anger.

"Are you going to start walking."

"Don't start on me!" Ezra growled.

"If I don't you'll die here."

It was a simple statement that Ezra knew was true. He had to try, he had to get back to town even if it was only to make Chris Larabee pay for what he did. He would die later.

"It's not his fault."

"Yes it is." The anger and hatred was in evident in the Southern accent.

"Then what are you waiting for."

It was a challenge, Ezra knew it. Now he had to do something, he had to get up and start walking back to Four Corners. His attempt yesterday had been futile, he hadn't managed to loose sight of the rock that his body had collided with on his way down the cliff. Ezra tested his left knee, it was stiff but the pain wasn't as bad. Maybe he could do this after all. If he took it easy he may even have the strength to kill Larabee when he made it back to town. He smiled as the images played in his mind.

He stood up using the same movements as he did the day before. The pain in his body had lessened considerably so he started walking. He grimaced as he put his weight on his injured knee. He didn't wait for the man to follow him. He now knew the direction he needed to take. He frowned when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. If the man wasn't real, why could he hear his footsteps. He turned his head around to look for him and quickly stepped sideways when he came face to face with him. His full weight fell onto his left leg and he cried out at the pain that travelled up his leg into his side. He shifted the weight back onto his good leg and hesitantly took a deep breath. A small gasp of air escaped from his mouth and he gave up the attempt to fill his lungs with the fresh air that taunted him. He began to take short quick breaths to ease the fear that was growing within him.

"You'll be okay Ezra."

"Yeah, I will be." But Ezra was doubtful, he had never felt a fear like this before, not even when he fell through the air after being thrown over the edge of the small cliff. "You know me, always able to take care of myself."

Right now he wished he didn't have to. He wanted six men to come to his aid and take care of him, to assure him that he was going to be okay. He wanted someone to untie him and take care of his wounds. He needed, wanted the six men in Four Corners to help him. He needed the men he always denied he was getting close to, men that he wanted to call friends.

"Admit it Ezra."

"I don't need them." he lied to himself and the man who stood beside him.

"Yes you do and you know it."

Yes he knew it but why was it so difficult for him to admit. He felt it in his heart and soul. He wanted to end the life long loneliness that he had felt. He needed friends and a place to call home, he wanted it more than anything, more than life itself and now he was going to die without it. If he could finally admit it to himself then why couldn't he say it out loud. This man claimed to be him, it should be easy to say it to him but he couldn't. He was sure he would choke on the words if he tried but what stopped him was the fear of being rejected by them, what if they laughed at him, told him that he would never be considered as a friend. He would be hurt again, he didn't want that, he wouldn't be able to deal with the pain again.

When he first arrived in Four Corners he didn't believe it was a town he could stay in, it didn't look like it could become a home to him. He felt the same way about every town he had spent time in. But then Chris Larabee had hired him to help protect a small village. He had run out on the six men, something that he had done before but a feeling he had never felt during his twenty eight years of life - a feeling of belonging - made him go back.

Then something happened. Chris Larabee gave him a second chance. He decided to follow the feeling and stay but things didn't really improve. The six men seemed to tolerate him, they ate with him, had conversations with him, played poker with him but each of them treated him differently than the way they treated each other. Every time he delved into his skills to get them out of trouble they would jump to the conclusion that he was being selfish and saving himself, then once he explained things were okay again. They shouldn't jump to conclusions, they should know him well enough by now to know that he was doing it to protect them. He knew it was a lack of trust, he couldn't really blame them, he thought time would change the way they felt about him and he thought their attitude towards him was beginning to change. That was until the night Chris Larabee's anger changed everything.

"Tell him when you get back."

"Tell him what?"

"What really happened on that night."

"He wouldn't listen when I tried to tell him after it happened and he won't listen to me if I get back." His first attempt to explain what happened fell on deaf ears and it wasn't only Larabee who wouldn't listen to him. He didn't try a second time.

"He'll listen to you."

"I don't think so."

"You know his anger controls him, you need to give him time to calm down."

"He shouldn't have been angry in the first place." Ezra retorted. "I didn't do anything wrong. He assumed it was my fault without hearing my side of the story."

"Explain that to him when you get back."

"If I get back." Ezra muttered under his breath.

"You'll get back."

He had to stop, the pain was becoming to intense for him to go on. Putting weight on his left knee had become unbearable. He knew he wasn't far from the stream that he wanted to use to clean his wounds; he wasn't so sure about drinking it anymore. He couldn't go any further.

"You need to rest."

"I know."

"Then stop."

Ezra did as he was told. He wasn't use to following orders. He knew that his stubbornness was sometimes the reason for Larabee's anger but not that night. The leader had jumped to a conclusion, the blame and anger had been aimed at the gambler when it should have been placed elsewhere. Ezra's anger grew at the memory of that night's events. He started to walk again, his anger urging on him.

It was a mistake, his injured leg couldn't take anymore. It collapsed beneath him and he fell to the ground withering in pain. He waited for the man to show his concern but none was voiced. He waited a few minutes then rolled onto his side. He awkwardly used his hands to wipe away the tears of pain then opened his eyes. The man was not in front of him, he twisted his neck then upper body to look for him but he was no longer there. Ezra allowed his head to fall to the ground. He sighed and could hear the sound of defeat in his own voice.

He closed his eyes and hoped the men in Four Corners didn't accuse him of running out on them again, he didn't want to go to his grave a coward. He wanted people to remember him, to say something at his funeral. He knew they wouldn't find his body because they won't come looking for him. Darkness closed around his mind and shut out the disturbing thoughts.

He could feel the warmth against his face and the chill that racked his body. His handsome features frowned in confusion. How could he be warm and cold at the same time. Nathan would know but he wasn't here to help him. He moved onto his back and looked up into the blue sky. His mind thought of the other times that Nathan had taken care of his injuries, he was sure it was only because of his healing instincts, his need to help people. That was why he refused his help but Nathan continued to heal him. Ezra was a Southerner and Nathan Jackson had once been a slave, their backgrounds and upbringing had ruined any chance of a solid and true friendship. He didn't care about any of that now. He needed Nathan's help and he knew he would openly admit it, he would admit anything right now.

"Then admit it."

Ezra's body jerked in surprise and he let out a grunt of pain.

"I need them." A tear rolled down his face and dropped to the ground beside him. The dirt hungrily soaked it up and it disappeared as though it had never existed.

"Then get up and go to them."

"Now?" Ezra gasped.

"Yes."

Ezra had no idea how he was going to manage to get up, there was no support for him to use to his advantage. He continued to lie where he was while the fear began to build within him.

"Get up Ezra."

"Why can't you help me?"

"Because I'm not real."

"You keep saying that."

"Get up and start walking."

"You keep saying that too." Ezra couldn't help but smile, he knew the expression wouldn't last, it was going to be replaced by a visage full a pain.

He had to do it, there was no use putting it off any longer. He rolled over onto his right side and using his hands as support he pushed himself up into a sitting position. His face grew tight as the pain began to show on his features. He couldn't stop now, he had to keep going. He pulled his right leg up under him and kept his left leg straight out in front of him. It was going to take balance that he wasn't sure he had. He pushed up and put his weight on his right leg then stood up. It was difficult but he had managed to do it. He hopped around on his good leg for a few seconds before gaining his balance.

"You did it."

"Just." he wasn't sure if he would be able to do it again.

"Let's get going."

"It's we now is it." Ezra raised a blood dried eyebrow at him.

"It's always been we, we're the same person remember."

"How could I forget." he wasn't sure though. The man didn't look like him or dress like him. The only similarity between them was the Southern accent.

He put some weight on his knee and grimaced at the pain the movement brought him, his hope was fading fast.

"You'll get home Ezra. I'll make sure you do."

"Do you have a name?"

"No."

"Do you want one?"

"No."

"Yes you do, you just won't admit it." Ezra repeated the words the man had used often.

"Touche."

"Couldn't have put it better myself."

"Shall we?"

"Why not." he could see the stream in the distance, it would probably take a while to get there.

It was just over half a days ride to Four Corners but he no longer had a horse. To walk the distance with a bad leg was going to take a lot longer. Maybe a lifetime. The man who walked beside him was determined to get him there and Ezra was going to let him take his life into his hands. If anyone could get him home this man could and would. He hoped.

He could see the stream getting closer and his natural need for water kept him going. At that moment in time nothing else did. The pain in his body was getting worse but he tried to shut it out, he had to reach the stream. He licked his lips in anticipation and felt the raw flesh beneath the cracked and dry skin. He stumbled and bit back the scream that wanted to escape his pain racked body.

When he finally made it he allowed his body to fall to the ground then he crawled towards the water on one knee. The fresh scent of the small river assaulted his breathing passages and he hurried even more. He could feel the pain in his knee as it continued to scrape along the ground as he moved closer to the river.

"Don't drink too much Ezra."

He heard the soft voice but ignored it, he needed to drink as much as he could, he might not get another chance.

"Ezra, remember what Nathan said."

He continued to crawl, he could reach out now and place his fingers in the water that he knew would be cold to touch. He was looking forward to removing the heat in his body. He wanted to immerse his painful form in the cool liquid, the hope that it would take away the pain controlled him.

"EZRA! It will make you sick."

Ezra didn't stop, he couldn't, he needed the water.

"EZRA! What would Nathan tell you to do!?"

The use of Nathan's name stopped him. He turned his head to look at the man who was helping him to survive. His clouded green eyes glanced towards the water then back again.

"He would tell you to take small sips until your stomach can deal with it. Too much will make you sick."

Ezra nodded, the last thing he wanted to do was to be sick. The pain that would erupt from his damaged ribs would be excruciating. He wasn't sure if they were broken or cracked, he wasn't willing to find out. The pain was enough to tell him that something was wrong. But he did know there was no internal bleeding; he would be dead now if there was. His thoughts changed to the water in front of him. Nathan's voice began to echo in his mind. The gentle voice told him what to do, he refused to be stubborn and not follow orders, not this time, he wanted and needed Nathan Jackson's help.

He leant over the streams edge, his reflection looked back up at him. The waters gentle movements distorted his image making it look worse than it actually was. He saw the raw flesh beneath the dirt and dried blood on his cheek. He wiped at the blood stained features hoping to remove the offending filth from his face. It wouldn't come off, he needed water to clean himself. His unnatural habit of being imacuately clean took control. He became obsessed with being clean, he thought it would bring stability to his situation. He put his hands into the water then scrub at his face the best that he could with bounded hands, he ignored the pain it caused.

"Ezra. Stop."

He couldn't, he began to panic, his movements were out of control. He needed to be clean, he needed to be home in a warm bed with his friends surrounding him. But would they be there for him. He finally admitted needing them but did they need him, did they want him around or would they be glad to be rid of him. He was confused. He continued to scrub at his face and temple trying to get the blood and dirt off. He forgot about the thirst that had controlled him earlier, a new need had taken over his mind.

"Ezra. Stop."

He heard the voice and ignored it. He had to be clean, his mother would chastise him for his appearance. His Uncle would beat him for becoming so dirty. He had to get clean. His breathing came in short sharp breaths. He was panicking. The fear grew stronger and his efforts became more rigorous. Fresh blood began to seep from the wounds, if Ezra stopped to look he would see a tinge of yellow mucus on his hands. But he didn't stop to look, his mind had lost it's grip on reality, he was in a different world. Fear and delirium controlled his sick mind.

His mother's voice berated him, his Uncle's hand beat him. All because he was covered in dirt. It was normal for a child to get dirty while they played but not him, he was never allowed to become dirty. It was a habit that had become engraved in his mind. He now hated being dirty, sometimes his mind even imagined that dirt covered his clothing. He had to be clean.

Pain finally began to register within his confused mind bringing him back to the real world. A world full of pain, fear and loneliness. He smelt the water in front of him once again. His eyes focused on the stream and realised what he had done. He could see and smell the blood running down the side of his face.

"You need to calm down Ezra."

Ezra tried to do as he was told. He had lost control, he couldn't allow that to happen again, he would never get back to town. He turned his head towards the sound of the voice. The sight of the man comforted him in a way he was not use to. It was a feeling of comfort that he had never felt during his life.

"I don't know what happened."

"Your scared Ezra, it's only natural."

"I'm weak. Your were right."

"Your not weak Ezra, this situation would scare anybody."

"But I'm not anybody." Ezra looked away from him, his reflecting green eyes stared back up at him. He could see the pain and fear in his eyes. "I'm supposed to in control at all times, it's the way I was brought up. I can't let my weak side show."

"There is no one here to see that side of you Ezra."

"People won't help someone who's weak."

"You would Ezra."

Yes he would, he always did. He couldn't stand to see someone in trouble, someone who was weak and unable to protect themselves. It stemmed from his childhood. The people who beat him were always bigger, stronger and more violent. From a young age he had always protected the smaller children. As an adult he would never pull a con on men or woman who were poor. He would never cheat a man of all his money at the gambling table. If the person was rich, it was a different matter, they could afford to loose the money. The less off ones couldn't. He wasn't willing to make life worse for them. Sometimes he even made sure that they won, knowing that the money he allowed them to win would put a decent meal on the families table or a new pair of shoes or dress for their children. Doing that made him happy.

"Drink some water Ezra."

"A little bit?" Ezra asked doubtfully.

"Yes Ezra. Small amounts to start with."

Ezra nodded again like an obedient child and moved his face closer to the water. He closed his eyes so he couldn't see the fearful image that stared back at him. He felt the pain erupt throughout his body as he shivered when the cold water gently touched his lips. He drank a small amount of water like he was told then waited. He felt his stomach roll violently in protest and he quickly turned to the side as his stomach attempted to empty itself. It failed.

"Take another drink Ezra."

He accepted the encouragement and did as he was told. This time he felt the cool water flow through his parched lips and down his dry throat. He welcomed it and continued to drink.

"That's enough Ezra."

He stopped immediately.

"Clean your wounds."

He obeyed this man with as much vigor as he would stubbornly refuse to obey anyone else. Including his mother and Chris Larabee. This man was helping like no one else had. Something told him to trust this man, that he could trust him with his life. He carefully placed his face under the waters surface, the chill of the water invigorated him, it contracted the muscles around his skull and eased the pain he was feeling. He lifted his head and allowed the water to run down his face and neck. He felt the water become warm on his skin as his body heat drew the coolness out of the moisture. He revelled in the feeling as it ran down his back. He looked around to find the man sitting next to him.

"My hands?"

"I don't know what the water will do to the ropes."

"There already wet." Ezra told him.

The man nodded for him to continue.

Ezra did. All he could do was to rinse them in the water. The blood was too dry to be removed, he would have to accept it. He wasn't going to get clean, he would have to stay dirty. He cringed at the thought. He needed to get home. He wanted a hot bath and Nathan's help to clean his wounds. If they cared about him enough they may even sit with him and talk to him. Help him through his ordeal.

"Drink some more water Ezra then start walking again."

He silently groaned at the thought of walking again. His feet hurt, his knee screamed at him, telling him how serious the injury to his knee must be. His side and chest burned each time he took a breath. This was his chance to rest and now this man wanted him to start walking again. He didn't argue. Ezra Standish did as he was told. He didn't want to die while the others thought that he had run out on them. He had to get up and walk. Besides, this man who sat by him would not allow him to die out here. He would get him home, he was sure of it. The man knew the right things to say to get him angry enough to fight back. This man was going to save his life, he was sure of that.

Ezra didn't consider emerging his injured knee in the cold water in the hope of bringing the swelling down. He was also unaware of the infected deep cut along his side. He continued to walk on his bruised and cut feet, still unaware of the dirt and blood that covered his uncleaned feet.

He looked sideways at the man who walked with him. The man didn't return the look. Ezra moved his eyes back to the to the direction he was walking in. His leg was managing to take a small amount of his weight but he didn't know how it would stand would stand up to the torture. He tried to mentally measure the time it was taking him to walk by watching the sun move across the sky so he could determine the amount of time it would take him to walk home.

Home. Four Corners was now going to be his home, but it would be on two conditions. One; that he made it back. Two; Chris Larabee and the others would allow him to stay and become their friend. He was afraid that wouldn't happen. Chris would be angry when - no if - he returned home. Angry about what happened, even though it was not the gambler's fault. There would be also the fact that they would think he had betrayed them and run out on them. But he didn't, he had to get home and convince them that he had not betrayed them. In reality he would do anything for those men, even give his life to protect them. It was something else he wouldn't admit to out loud or to them.

"They won't ask you to leave."

"How could you know that?"

"I know what you want Ezra. I know what you really believe. You won't accept any of it."

"Such as?" Ezra raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You think they don't trust you but deep down you know they do. It's you who doesn't trust Ezra Standish. You think that you'll run out on them. You need to have more faith in yourself Ezra."

Ezra looked away from him. It was true about not trusting himself. It had been that way all his life. He knew it had a lot to do with his mother's trade. She had taught him everything he knew but not everything she knew. She had told him to look after number one. That was Ezra Standish. There had been many times when his mother had left him to take the punishment after a con had gone bad. She had run out on him, she was looking after number one. Herself. He was afraid that he would do the same thing to his friends.

"You know you wouldn't. You would do anything for those men."

"I know that but I don't trust myself."

"You say you would do anything and at the same time you say you don't trust yourself to stay. If you are willing to give your life for them then you do trust yourself. It's just something else you won't admit to Ezra."

"My heart thinks one way and my brain tells me something else."

"Your brain is your mother talking."

Ezra looked at the man and saw a smile crease his features. The expression made him look more familiar to him. He also knew the man was right. His willingness to give his life for his friends meant that he did trust himself. Why hadn't he realised that before. He knew that he would never run out on them, he would rather die than abandon them.

"How do I know they trust me?"

"Ask them."

It was a simple enough statement and the most obvious thing to do. He had to talk to them about his doubts, only one problem though. Talking about his feelings was the hardest thing for him to do, so far in his life he had been incapable of relaying his feelings to anyone; not that he actually had anyone to talk to about how he felt. Now that he did he wasn't sure he would be able to do it.

"You need a name." Ezra told him.

"Wade."

Ezra stopped in his tracks. He was too stunned to even notice that he had put more weight onto his injured knee. Now he knew why the man's appearance was familiar to him. He looked like his grandfather. Ezra had only met his father's father twice when he was a young child. He had been the only person in his life who had treated him like a child. He played games with him, made him laugh and allowed him to get dirty. He had liked the man instantly. On the second visit his mother had grandfather had a terrible argument and he never saw him again.

"That was my grandfather's name."

"I know Ezra, I'm you remember. I have your thoughts and memories too."

"You even look like him."

"You remember what he looked like."

"Wade." Ezra repeated the name.

"Don't change the subject."

"Do you think they would give their lives to protect me?"

"Truthfully Ezra, I don't know."

"I'll have to ask them." Ezra added to Wade's answer.

"Yes."

"I need to rest." He didn't know how long it had been since he left the stream, he'd lost track of time. It was no longer within sight. He looked up at the sun to see how far it had crossed over in the clear sky. He winced at the glare and looked away. His confused mind couldn't give him an answer.

Ezra clumsily fell onto his right knee then collapsed onto his side. He grunted in pain and made himself a promise to be more careful next time. He didn't want to keep adding to his pain. His eyes looked for Wade. He was sitting cross legged in front of him. Ezra smiled, he was glad he wasn't alone. He had a friend who wouldn't leave him.

"I won't leave you Ezra, not while you need me."

Ezra closed his eyes and felt the cool breeze gently caress his exposed skin. Hopes and dreams began to fill his mind as he drifted off into a darker world. A world where his hopes and dreams were shattered and his nightmares became a reality. He dreamed of this world often, nearly every night for over a year when he was fourteen. His mother had finally stopped leaving him with relatives and his hope of finally gaining a mother who would love him was shattered and his nightmare existence had continued. His dreams only stopped when he ran away. His mother was always able to find him, he didn't know how. She always managed to convince him into taking part in one of her schemes. He tolerated her knowing that when the con was over he could leave and be on his own again. He had become use to being on his own. It had been that way all his life, even when he was with people. But he was never able to fully free himself of her clutches.

Darkness surrounded him, night had fallen while he drifted in and out of an emotional, pain filled world. His eyes searched his immediate surroundings looking for his friend. He was no where to be seen.

"Wade?" The fear the suddenly squeezed his heart could be heard in his voice but there was no one to hear it. "Wade?"

He had left him. Wade said he wouldn't.

"Wade!"

No answer, just absolute silence.

"WADE!!" Ezra screamed into the night. "Wade." The last was spoken in a desperate whisper.

"I'm here Ezra."

Ezra whimpered in relief. "I thought you left me."

"Like everyone else?"

"Yes."

"Go back to sleep Ezra."

"You won't leave me again?"

"No Ezra. I'll be here."

This time his leg wasn't doing so well, he had woken up to find it twisted under his right leg, just as it had been after he'd fallen. That wasn't right though, he hadn't fallen, he'd been thrown over a cliff, hadn't he. He wasn't so sure anymore. He looked down at his hands, they were tied together. The raw flesh was filled with dirt, his hands were slightly purple but he could still feel them. Who had tied them? The men who had robbed him of his possessions. He remembered now.

Ezra looked around to see if any part of the surrounding land was familiar to him. It wasn't. Maybe he was going in the wrong direction. What if he was walking away from Four Corners instead of towards it. He stopped, he needed to think. He can't be going the wrong way, all of his efforts would be wasted. The pain he was enduring would all be for nothing. He wouldn't be able to tell the others that he came back, that he didn't run away. They would continue thinking that he betrayed them.

"I don't know if I'm going the right way." Ezra turned around, his movements were becoming frantic. His face was contorted with confusion.

"Stop and think Ezra."

He wanted to take a deep breath to help calm his fear but he knew it would hurt. There was already too much pain. He didn't want more. He didn't think he could take it anymore. The thought of the pain continuing caused his fear to grow even more. He could feel his chest tighten with fear.

"I don't know where I am."

"Take a deep breath Ezra and try to calm down."

"I can't, there's too much pain. You should know that!"

"Sit down and rest for a while Ezra then try again."

Ezra didn't argue, he was tired and his body was retaliating by the use of pain. His body was torturing him. He didn't know why, he hadn't done anything wrong. It was the men who had taken his father's watch. It had been given to him after his father had died. He was told it had belong to his father. It had been passed down from father to son and then to him. It had been Wade Standish's watch. The thought caused a tear to well up in his left eye. He blinked and the tear fell down his cheek. He was scared and in pain. He had to get back home, he had to get to his friends. He needed them, their help and Nathan's medical care. Without them he would die.

"Don't worry Ezra, you'll make it."

"I'm not sure anymore."

"Try again Ezra."

He slowly turned around making sure that he didn't put anymore weight onto his injured leg than he had to. His forehead creased up as something began to look familiar to him. The mountains in the distance, he had seen them before, passed the sight often. He turned his head to the left looking for another landmark that he knew would be there. A group of trees sat at the base of a hill. There would be a trail that would take a rider passed the trees, it would then turn to the East where Four Corners lay six miles further on. He knew where he was now. The fear retreated and his confidence grew once again. He was now willing to push himself to get home. If he kept going he should be home soon. Would they allow him to come back. He hoped with all his heart that they would.

He continued to walk with a limp until late in the afternoon, he had walked all day with little rest. He had surprised himself with his efforts. His only thought was Nathan Jackson, he needed his help and was willing to ask for it. He had ignored the pain in his body but could no longer do it. He would have to stop, he didn't want to but he couldn't go any further. The pain was becoming too much for him, his body was exhausted. He had to stop before he collapsed, if he did that he may not get up again.

He stopped and carefully laid down, he didn't look for any cover, he lay in the open. He looked at Wade who nodded back at him. Words were not needed, they were now friends, they understood each other. Ezra liked the man, he drew a comforting feeling from the man that no one else had been able to give him. Wade would say that he had never allowed anyone to give him that feeling before but that wasn't necessarily true. He had no memory of anyone wanting to make him feel wanted, cared about, even loved. His relationship with his mother always made him feel like a business associate instead of a son whom she loved. But now he had someone, he had Wade. He knew this man was his friend, the friendship that was offered to him was unconditional, it was what he had wanted all his life. A smile crossed his handsome features as he drifted off into another world of dreams and nightmares.

He made it, he was finally home. Ezra stood on the edge of town, he didn't want to go any further, he wasn't sure of what was awaiting him. Open arms or his marching orders. He expected the latter. He took hope in his courage and began to walk towards the clinic. Maybe if he faced Nathan on his own he'd be okay. The healer could take care of his wounds before Chris Larabee found out he was back. The town was quiet, the street fires were now cold embers. The sun would be coming up soon and the natural light would reveal the towns buildings and wake the sleeping occupants that lived within them.

He was nearing the steps that led to the clinic when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned quickly but saw no one. He waited but the noise didn't repeat itself. He sighed and hung his head, he was hearing things now. He had to get to Nathan, he would help him. He climb the stairs and made it to the top without any incidents. He used his elbow to knock on the door. It was a few minutes before he received an answer.

He looked at the dark features that stared back at him. "Nathan."

"Well look who came back." Nathan growled at him. "We thought you run out on us again."

"No. I was . . . "

"Chris is going to kill you when he finds out your back."

"Why?" Ezra asked him. He was afraid, he didn't want to be but he had hoped that they would help him. He was obviously wrong. "I didn't run out on you guys, I was robbed . . . I . . . "

"Ezra Standish!"

Ezra winced at the tone of Larabee's voice. He turned around to face his leader. He felt the fist connect with his already injured face. He fell to the floor and a cry of pain escaped him. He felt someone's boot connect with his ribs.

"I told you I'd kill you if you ever run out on me again." Chris kicked him again.

"I didn't run out on you!" Ezra yelled as he curled himself into a tighter ball to protect himself.

He could hear six voices accusing him of running out on them. Boots continued to kick him. His own voice kept screaming at them to stop. They didn't, they wouldn't. They were going to kill him. He screamed one last time.

Ezra jerked awake while the scream still sounded in his ears. He could feel his heart pounding. The fear still filled him but confusion stopped him from remembering the dream. He wanted to get home. He looked around at the surrounding darkness. If he got up now and started walking he would get lost. He closed his eyes and tried to ease his fear, he knew Wade would be nearby. He concentrated on the man who was helping him.

"Go back to sleep Ezra."

Ezra did as he was told. He would do anything that Wade told him to do. He trusted the man with his life.

The rain began to fall lightly as the man tossed and turned in his world of nightmares. The moisture began to soften the dried dirt and blood and wash it away revealing the nasty wounds and bruises that now marred the once handsome visage. The man's countanence was contorted in emotional pain as his feverish mind played with his fears.

Ezra jerked awake at the feel of the cold rain hitting his face. His confusion caused him to try and sit up, he fell back to the ground as the pain tore through him. A tremor racked his body in protest to the cold. A chill had settled into his bones causing them to ache. He groaned at the thought of more pain.

"You okay Ezra?"

"I don't feel so good Wade."

"I'm sorry Ezra."

"Not your fault." he tried to smile but he couldn't. He just wanted his torment to end.

"You need to get out of the rain Ezra."

"I don't think I can move."

"Yes you can. You don't have a choice."

Ezra nodded. He waited a moment then began the painful struggle to get to his feet. He felt a slight wave of dizziness and expected to fall back to the ground. He didn't. So far things were going his way, he hoped it lasted long enough for him to get home. He knew that if it wasn't Wade he would die where he was. His body would never be found. He finally stood erect and looked around at his surroundings. He found it difficult to see in the darkness. The sky was full of clouds that were still overflowing with soft droplets of rain. He tried wiping the dampness from his face but it was a futile effort because the rain continued to bath his face and body with water.

"Hurry Ezra."

"I can't hurry on this leg."

"Yes you can."

"But I don't know which way to go."

"Yes you do! Now stop making excuses and move!"

"You know, sometimes you sound just like Chris Larabee." Ezra growled at him as he began to make his way towards the protection that would keep him out of the rain.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant to be an insult." Ezra muttered.

His eyes opened but they saw nothing, he blinked repeatedly as he tried to clear his vision. The fog that drifted around his mind cut off all reality. He had no idea where he was or what was wrong with him. He had a feeling that he should be doing something, going somewhere but he couldn't remember. He gave up on trying to see, he settled his head back down on the soft ground and closed his eyes. He tried to remember where he was but couldn't. It was useless, he couldn't break through the thick fog that clouded his memory.

His features creased up as he realised he was alone and in pain. Where were his friends. Did they leave him. No, he remembered, he left them and didn't go back. He'd run out on them. But what was wrong with him. Why was there pain. He shifted his body to test it and clenched his teeth against the pain that answered his question. There was something seriously wrong and he didn't know what it was. His ears registered the sound of rain but he couldn't feel it on his face. He must be undercover. He knew he wasn't inside a building, the ground was damp and he was cold. Nothing covered his body to keep him warm.

He could smell blood and knew instantly that it was his own. The smell caused images to break through the fog. He could see the men who were beating him. Their faces belonged to his friends. Why? Because he had run out on them of course. They were angry at him, and showed him their anger by using their fists. Chris Larabee had told him once that he would kill him if he run out on him again. That must have been what happened but he had escaped their physical attack because he was still alive. Now he was injured and alone out in the middle of nowhere. But he wasn't alone. There was someone there with him. He forced himself to concentrate. His grandfather was with him. Wade Standish. He allowed the comfort of his maternal grandfather to help him drift back into a deeper sleep.

The sun broke through the trees and shown down on the figure that was huddled against a large tree trunk. The form was shivering uncontrollably. A slight moan escaped his bleeding lips. The man didn't awaken until the sun was high above him in the cloudless sky. The clouds had moved on into the distance but there would be more to replace them and bring more rain to the already soaked earth.

He was blind again but this time it was due to the sun shining in his eyes. He turned his head away from the painful glare and looked into Wade's eyes. The man looked so much like his grandfather. Ezra had never forgotten his face, it had been etched into his mind's eye and yet he couldn't remember what his own father looked like. He knew he had gotten his green eyes and dimples from him, his grandfather had told him that. He couldn't understand why he could remember the face of a man he'd only spent two days with and yet couldn't remember the face of the man he had spent the first five years of his life with.

"Grandfather."

"No Ezra, I'm you. Don't you remember?"

"Me?" It took a few minutes but he did finally remember.

Wade claimed to be him, that he'd come from his mind to help him get home. His eyes took on a distant look. "What will happen to you when I get home?"

"I'll leave."

"Do you have too?"

"I don't know Ezra. It'll be up to you."

Ezra nodded. He didn't want his friend to leave him. He trusted the man with his life. If the men in Four Corners didn't accept him back then he would still need Wade. Where would he go if he couldn't stay with the six men. He had no idea. He no longer had a horse or the money to buy one. They would not give him one, he would have to leave on foot. Would they even give him a coat to keep off the closing winter's chill. He didn't know. He was beginning to think that he shouldn't try and go home. He could walk in another direction and hopefully meet up with someone who could take care of his wounds until he was strong enough to get to the nearest town where he could win enough money to get himself back into his life.

But he wanted his friends to do that. He wanted them to take care of him like no one else had. He wanted Nathan to take care of his injuries. He wanted Buck and JD to sit with him and talk to him. He wanted Josiah's assurance that everything would be okay, that he would take care of him. He wanted Vin's presence so he would know that he was safe and no more harm would come to him. And most of all, he wanted Chris' acceptance of being back home and his forgiveness for all of the mistakes he'd made since Chris had hired him. He wanted his friends to surround him. He was afraid that they wouldn't and he would be alone. Wade said that he would leave once he was better. He forced the thoughts from his mind. If he kept thinking that way he would never get home.

He continued to walk even though his body was screaming at him to stop. His mind and heart refused to listen. He knew he was getting closer to home. His need urged him on. The fear he felt at being not accepted back into the group was even stronger. If anything stopped him now it would be that fear. Wade was walking by his side ready to encourage him if he faltered in his determination to get home. The rain was yet to return so Ezra was getting as much distance past him as his injured leg would allow. It wasn't much. His movements were slow, his body was weakening quickly. If he didn't get home soon he never would.

He didn't know how much time had passed, he had no recollection of the days that had gone by. For all he knew it could have been only two days or two weeks. No. Two weeks was too long, he would have died if it had been that long. It must have been only a matter of days. He would be home soon, if he didn't collapse and die first. He passed by another landmark that he was familiar with. He was getting closer and as he did his fear grew in intensity. He stopped, his heart was pounding in his chest, the sweat was running down his face and back.

"I can't Wade. I can't go home." Ezra whispered.

"Why not?"

"They'll beat me, tell me to leave town." Ezra looked at his friend. "I don't know what I'll do without them. I finally found people who were trying to be my friend and I wouldn't accept it. I pushed them away, wouldn't let them get close and now that I'm willing to them I made a stupid mistake and I've lost them."

"It wasn't your mistake Ezra. Larabee sent you out there, no one else."

"I shouldn't have made him angry that night."

"You didn't Ezra. You did nothing wrong. You'll realise that when you get home."

"What if they won't let me come back?" Ezra needed reassurance to continue. He feared that the dreams he had would become a reality. He couldn't loose these men, not now.

"You have to go back Ezra, even if only to prove to them that you didn't run out on them."

"What if they don't believe me?"

"They'll believe what they see Ezra."

He looked down at himself. He was a mess. His body was covered in dirt and blood. He winced at the sight of his wrists. His eyes travelled towards his knee. It was still swollen, the knee was pressing against the material of his trousers. There was no blood so the injury must be internal. He then looked at his feet. They were also covered in dirt and blood but he felt no pain coming from his damaged limbs.

"Keep walking Ezra."

Ezra did as he was told. His mind started to fill with a thin film of mist. Nausea started to gather and roll in his stomach. His head had been hurting but now it began to ache with a passion. He didn't think he was going to make it.

"You will Ezra."

He felt a slight hope that Wade had confidence in him. He didn't want to let his friend down. He didn't want to loose Wade as well as the rest of the men who had been willing to be his friend but the fear continued and so did his pain, both emotionally and physically.

When darkness came he wanted to join it. He wanted the pain to leave him. He knew he wouldn't be able to take much more. The only thing that kept him going was Wade and the fact that Four Corners was within sight. He could see the fires burning in the distance but he knew it would still take an hour or so to get there.

Wade stopped him from turning and walking away from the town he wanted to call home. He now knew that Chris Larabee wouldn't allow him to stay. He decided that he would have to approach one of the others first. Maybe they could hide him from the angry man until he was strong enough to defend himself.

He continued to walk, the town would have closed down by the time he arrived. The only thing open would be the saloon. The townsfolk would be sleeping in their beds. The local ranch hands would be drinking, the business men were probably playing poker. He couldn't help but smile at the thought.

He listened as Wade continued to talk to him. He spoke about how things could be if he allowed it to happen. The men had tried to be his friend, even Chris. If he didn't accept their friendship then there would be nothing to stay in town for. He needed the men in his life even if he hadn't known it. He accepted what Wade had said, he even admitted it out loud that he needed them. If they allowed him to stay he would also tell them.

It took more than an hour for Ezra to reach Four Corners. He stopped at the edge of town, the fires were no longer burning. The main street was dark and silent. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. His body flinched. He looked at the dark windows expecting to see a pair of eyes staring back at him. There wasn't. He turned at the sound of footsteps. There was nothing but darkness. His fear grew once more as he realised his dream was becoming real. He couldn't stop now, he wasn't going to walk away, he'd come too close. He had to find out if they were going to allow him to stay and accept his reason for not returning sooner.

He looked at Wade who stood beside him. Just looking at him gave him the confidence he needed to continue. He began to walk down the middle of the main street. His green eyes darted to the left and right as he limped towards his fate. When he reached the clinic he stopped again. The rooms were dark. Nathan was either asleep or somewhere else. He didn't even contemplate walking up the stairs, he didn't want to suffer the pain the exertion would cause him. His only other hope was the saloon.

He could see a man standing on the boardwalk in front of the saloon. The man's head was bowed so he was unable to recognise him. He knew by the man's clothing that he wasn't Chris Larabee. He kept moving, he refused to listen to his bodies complaints or feel the pain that had become worse since that morning. The man that stood before him was his only hope. The man turned away from him.

Ezra's heart sunk. The man must have seen him and refused to help him. Maybe he could ask for Nathan, if the man could at least tell him where Nathan was then he could get the help he needed. There was nothing left for him to do. It was not his only choice.

"Nathan?"

Josiah stood on the boardwalk in front of the saloon, a cup of coffee was held in his left hand. He had forgotten about the hot liquid that was now as cold as the night that tried to surround him, but the light from the saloon filtered out around his still form. If you could see into the grey blue eyes that were hidden under his large hat you would see the unshed tears. His heart was filled with sorrow at the death of their brother. It was the only explanation.

They all knew, even Chris, that Ezra wouldn't leave the group of men who were now like family without a reason. And there wasn't one. He may have been angry at Chris' reaction to that bitter night nearly two weeks ago. The Southerner knew he had a home here, the remaining six men were his friends, they believed he would come back. He hadn't, he had to be dead and his body was lying in a ditch somewhere. He lowered his head as the first tear finally escaped. He wanted to cry for his lost friend, he couldn't, he was the one that was holding the group together.

Ezra had been due back six days ago, they had searched for him. Telegrams had been sent to nearby towns but no one had remembered seeing a red coated gambler. Chris Larabee had suffered more than the others. They had been torn apart. JD still cried at the loss of his friend, he was still young enough to show the feelings the rest of the men held back. Josiah knew they wouldn't cry, they were use to death, it was a part of life, but they hid their anger and feelings of loss from each other.

Chris felt guilty, there was no sadness yet, he wouldn't allow it. He had sent Ezra out to patrol a cattle ranch which was a four days ride from Four Corners. Normally Ezra wouldn't have argued, the prospect of playing poker with the ranch hands would have gotten him moving before Chris finished giving him his orders. The ranch though was deserted. A complaint had been made to Judge Travis that someone was using the private property to graze their cattle. He wanted it checked out. None of the men wanted to go. Chris believed Ezra gave him an excuse to send him on the job alone. He was told to watch the place for a few days then come back, he wasn't to approach anyone, just watch then come back. He didn't come back and they knew it wasn't by choice, something stopped him from coming back to them.

Now Chris regretted it, especially now that he really knew what had happened that night. He blamed Ezra when it wasn't the gambler's fault. Ezra died thinking they were angry with him for something that he didn't do. Another tear fell from Josiah's left eye. He knew that he needed to morn, he had to accept his friend's fate. There was nothing they could do except continue to search for his body.

His mind thought about everything Ezra could have been if given the chance and opportunity. The man had a good heart and intelligent mind. He had a quick sense of humor that drew people to him, his smile and laugh was contagious; had been Josiah corrected himself. The man had a lot to live for but now that life was over. The other men had been willing to work hard at pulling him into the family. It was hard work because Ezra rejected any sort of friendship or human contact. He showed no emotion and it took a lot to cause him to loose his temper and when he did he was deadly with a cold glare that would equal Chris Larabees'.

He looked over his shoulder into the brightly lit saloon. Five men sat at one table cloaked in a shroud of silence, sorrow, despair and guilt. Josiah had tried talking to them but none of the words he used comforted them. He couldn't even comfort himself. They hadn't eaten or slept much during the last six days. None of them had expected the Southerner's death to hit them so hard. They cared about him, considered him to be part of the family but somehow they thought they would be able to deal with his passing. This was something different, one of the men blamed themselves for his death. They was no body, nothing to tell them how he died. They didn't no if his death was quick or slow. It was the not knowing that made it harder for all of them.

"He's not dead yet." Josiah angrily spoke to himself.

They had given up too easily, he knew it and they knew it but what other explanation was there. He hadn't returned. The only thing that would have stopped him coming back was a physical barrier. They knew it wasn't an accident, they would have found his body and his horse.

"Nathan?"

Josiah dropped the cup he was holding, he failed to notice that the coffee splashed onto his trousers. He turned slowly fearing that the voice he heard was part of his imagination, his hope that the gambler was still alive. His eyes filled with tears at the sight of the blood and dirt covered figure before him. The man's sweat soaked hair clung to his scalp. Dry blood covered half of his face and shirt. His hands were tied in front of him. He favoured his left leg and his feet were bare. He looked like death walking.

"Nathan. I need Nathan's help." Ezra croaked as he struggled to continue standing.

"Ezra?" Josiah stared at him in disbelief.

"Where's Nathan?"

"NATHAN!" Josiah yelled as loud as he could. "NATHAN!!"

He rushed forward and grabbed Ezra's arms. The badly battered form before him looked as though he was about to collapse at any moment.

"I need Nathan." Ezra leaned heavily into the man that was now supporting his weight.

"He's coming Ezra, he's coming." He heard the rush of feet behind him.

Nathan didn't hesitate at the sight of his injured friend, he had to act quickly. "Josiah! Pick him up and bring him to the clinic." Nathan was still moving, he knew Josiah would follow his orders and carry Ezra to his rooms. The others would also follow them.

Nathan's fear ran wild, Ezra looked close to death, he didn't know how the younger man was still standing. Yes he did, it was the Southerner's stubbornness and refusal to allow anything to beat him that got him home. He just hoped that it wasn't too late for Ezra. He ran up the stairs and opened the door, he rushed to the bed and pulled the covers back knowing that more would be needed to get him warm. He turned to the door and took a few seconds to look at the protesting form in Josiah's arms. Ezra was arguing with him.

"We have to wait for Wade." Ezra spoke into Josiah's face. He had lost sight of Wade when Josiah forcibly lifted him off his feet and rushed him to the clinic. "Wade said he wouldn't leave me." Ezra looked around for his friend, his efforts were becoming frantic.

"I'll send one of the guys out to look for him. Okay." Josiah told him as he tried to lie him down on the bed. The Southerner continued to struggle against him. The larger man was surprised by his friend's strength. "What does he look like Ezra?"

"My Grandfather." Was all Ezra would say.

Josiah turned to look at the stunned faces that were trying to grasp the reality that Ezra was still alive.

"I'll go." Buck told him. He would look for a stranger. Someone that hadn't been in town earlier that day or week. He also had another reason for volunteering; he couldn't face seeing Ezra in the state that he was in. He was shocked and happy to see him but once he got a closer look at him his heart had fallen back into the pit of despair it had been released from, if only for a few seconds. He left quickly and shut the door quietly behind him.

"JD, boil some water for me please, we're going to need a lot of it." Nathan ordered the youngest member of the group. "Josiah, cut those ropes off his hands then help me with his clothes."

Nathan was about to undo the first button on Ezra's trousers when he felt damp hands grip his weakly. He turned and looked into Ezra's glazed eyes.

"Nathan, I need your help. I won't argue with you. I'll do everything that you tell me to do. I need your help Nathan. Help me. Please." Ezra pleaded with him.

Nathan only just managed to understand Ezra's muttered words. The man was terrified that he wouldn't help him. "I'll help you Ezra." He squeezed the hands that held his then kept them still so Josiah could cut the ropes.

Once it was done he removed the rope from the flesh of Ezra's wrists. It was difficult due to the skin that had stuck to the rope. Nathan had to pull gently, this caused the skin to tear from the flesh of Ezra's wrists. He heard an intake of breath but no voiced complaints.

"I'll be more careful Ezra." Nathan told him.

"Do what you have to do Nathan. I won't refuse your help. I need you. I need all of you."

"He's delirious." Josiah smiled down at him but it was a forced physical emotion.

Nathan looked up at the preacher. Josiah knew his spoken words were truthful. He had felt the fever that burned through Ezra's damp clothes. The heat had caused him to begin sweating by the time he reached the clinic with his burden and the night was cold. He couldn't understand how Ezra had survived for so long without anything to protect him from the late winter's chill. Maybe Wade could explain. He wanted to know who Wade was.

"Ezra." He looked into the emerald orbs that were watching Nathan. Ezra didn't look at him. "Who's Wade?"

"A friend." Ezra whispered.

"Did he do this to you?"

"NO!" Ezra yelled at him. "Wade's my friend. He would never do anything to hurt me." Ezra began to struggle against the two men who held him. "Wade!" he looked around the room, he ignored the men who stood to the side watching him. "Wade!"

"I'm here Ezra."

"Wade." Ezra relaxed and turned his head to smile at his friend. The gesture was returned.

"Let them help you Ezra. That's what you want, remember."

"Josiah thinks you did this to me." Ezra told him then turned to glare at Josiah.

"He has a right to think that Ezra, he's worried about you, they all are. They're your friends."

Ezra nodded in acceptance, his friend was correct. "Sorry Josiah. Wade helped me to get back home."

Josiah smiled at the use of the word 'home'. Ezra wouldn't use that term when he was in a healthy condition. "Is he here now?"

"Yes." Ezra frowned in confusion, why ask such a question, surely he could see Wade standing next to the bed.

Nathan and Josiah didn't say anything. They knew he was delirious. It had happened before when a gunshot wound that Vin had received during a failed attempt by some men to rob the bank had become badly infected. He had thought that his mother was in the room with him. The others followed the two men's example of silence as they watched their friend's blood covered face.

When they removed Ezra's dirty clothing they stood back and appraised the damage. Ezra was unaware of their scrutiny, he was mumbling to an unknown person standing beside him. They hid their shock and fear from the men in the room. Nathan's heart broke once more. They had lost the gambler once already, now he feared they would loose him a second time. He wasn't willing to ask the others to leave the clinic, he didn't know if Ezra would have much time left. Once he assessed his injuries he would know more.

"Ezra." Nathan gave him a serious look. "I'm going to have to clean you from head to toe and scrub your wounds clean." he hesitated a moment and saw the understanding in the gambler's green eyes. "It's going to hurt Ezra. A lot."

"I need you to help me Nathan."

"I'll try and be as quick as I can Ezra." He pulled a blanket up to cover Ezra's lower body.

He had seen the head wound and knew there was a bad injury under the dry blood and dirt on Ezra's right cheek. There was a deep cut along his side that would require stitches. He was also covered with smaller abrasions and bruising.

"JD, is that water ready yet?"

"Just about Nathan." Everyone could hear the sadness in JD's voice. He felt the same as the rest of the men in the room. They knew their friend could die again.

"If you want you can go and find Buck. Let him know that Wade is here with Ezra." Nathan told him.

The youngster eagerly agreed with the healer and after giving Ezra a reassuring smile, even though he didn't feel confident about Ezra's recovery, he quickly left the clinic. He was afraid to stay.

Nathan turned back to Ezra. "You ready Ezra?"

Ezra turned his fearful gaze to Wade who nodded. He then looked for Josiah's hand and gripped it with the little strength he had remaining in his body. He felt Josiah return his grip. He nodded at Nathan to indicate that he was ready. He didn't want to suffer any more pain but knew that he didn't have a choice. His eyes moved slowly towards Josiah who smiled back at him and he jerked back at a memory that surfaced in his mind and pulled his hand from Josiah's. These men had beaten him when he returned home. They then demanded that he leave. They didn't accept his reason for not returning home on time.

"Ezra? What's wrong?" Josiah asked him.

"I . . . "

"It was a dream Ezra."

"A dream?" Ezra turned to look at his friend. "It didn't happen."

"No Ezra."

"A dream." Ezra thought his short statement would explain everything to Josiah. He didn't see the confusion in the preacher's face. He took his hand once more when he felt the first bolt of agony hit him when Nathan began to clean his face.

"Nathan! Aren't you going to give him something for the pain?" Vin stepped towards the bed.

He had stayed with Chris knowing that his friend needed his support. The sight of Ezra's injuries would be tearing him apart. His shoulders had slumped under the weight of the guilt. But Chris wasn't the only one feeling guilty. None of them had volunteered to go with Ezra, they allowed him to go on his own. They were all responsible for what happened to him.

"No." Nathan didn't stop in his administrations on Ezra. "It would take at least twenty minutes for it to work. I'm not waiting that long."

"But your hurting him Nathan!" Vin could hear the whimpers of pain that escaped Ezra.

"I don't have a choice Vin. If you don't agree with what I'm doing then you can leave." The healer growled at him.

"Nathan . . . "

"Vin!" Josiah's voiced boomed through the small room. He felt Ezra's hand loosen at the sound of his anger but he grip it tighter and pulled it towards him. "It's okay Ezra, I'm not angry at you. I'm your friend, I want to help you."

Ezra looked towards the source of the larger man's anger. Vin was glaring at Nathan. The anger in the sharpshooter's eyes terrified him, he thought it was aimed at him, that the usually quite man just wouldn't look at him. His clouded green eyes searched for Wade. He found him standing next to Chris Larabee.

Wade was looking at Chris who was staring at Ezra. The Southerner hesitantly returned the look. There was no anger on his leader's face. This surprised the gambler. He expected to see anger and hate. But instead he saw guilt and sorrow. He turned back to Nathan as more pain assaulted him. He didn't think it was going to be this bad.

"Wade!" Ezra's pain sounded in his voice.

"I'm here Ezra."

"I can't fight . . . anymore . . . I can't . . . Wade . . . "

Josiah and Nathan could see the fight leaving Ezra's clouded eyes.

"Stay with us Ezra!" Josiah growled at him and began to wipe the damp hair off his forehead.

"I . . . can't . . . "

"EZRA!" Josiah was now terrified that he was dying. " I won't let you go. Ezra stay here with us. Please. You have to fight it."

" I can't . . . it hurts . . . too much . . . too . . . long . . . can't."

"Ezra."

Ezra turned his head and felt someone grip his chin and pull his head back. "Ezra!" Josiah tried to get his attention while Nathan continued to work on him. He could hear Vin pacing the room behind him.

"Ezra."

He could hear Wade calling him but the hand that held his face in a gentle grip wouldn't let him go and he didn't have the strength to pull away from him.

"You need to rest Ezra. Close your eyes and go to sleep. You don't have to fight anymore. Your friends will look after you now. We'll be here when you come back to us."

Ezra didn't argue, he was tired, too tired. He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him away.

Ezra drifted in and out of consciousness. He never opened his eyes or spoke. He had fought for too long and could no longer do it. It was someone else's turn. The fever was still burning within his body. There were times he didn't know where he was, the voices that he heard were unrecognisable. His nightmares caused him to toss and turn in his darkened state. When he was lucid he could feel the damp cloth that constantly wiped his face and body. Gentle voices tried to sooth him. It's what he wanted. His friends were taking care of him.

He could hear voices now. Buck and JD were talking to him. He rolled his head towards the sound of Buck's voice. His eyes stayed closed, it would take too much effort to open them.

"Ezra? You with us?" Buck spoke softly into the Southerner's ear.

"Buck . . . "

Buck had to place his right ear close to Ezra's mouth so he could hear him. He could feel the gambler's hot breath as it caressed his cheek.

"Yeah it's me Ezra." Buck looked over his shoulder at JD. "Can you get some of that tea Nathan made for Ezra."

"Wade?"

"He's here Ezra." Buck waited for Ezra to say something else but there was only silence coming from the injured man. "Ezra, I'm going to sit you up so you can drink some of this tea. Nathan said it would help ease the pain."

There was no protest, verbal or physical when Buck gently sat him up. He allowed Ezra to lean against him so he could take all of his weight. He took the cup from JD and placed it against Ezra's healing lips. They opened slightly to allow the fluid to flow into his mouth and down his throat.

"You drink as much as you can Ezra. Stop when you've had enough." Buck told him.

After a few more sips of the luke warm tea Ezra closed his mouth to indicate that he didn't want anymore.

"That's okay Ezra, don't drink if you don't want it." Buck carefully laid Ezra back down onto the bed and pulled the fallen covers back up to his chin. "Better?"

There was no response from the sick form in the bed. Buck continued to talk to him like he had been doing for the past three days. He held the gambler's hand and wiped his face with a damp cloth. He was careful not to touch the deep wound on his face. Nathan had told him that it could leave a faint scar, it was going to depend on how well it healed.

"Nathan fixed you up real good Ezra. Got all the dirt off you, your nice and clean now. We know how you like to be clean. He fixed your injuries and Josiah gave you a shave. You had quite a beard growing there, never seen you with that much hair on your face. Not going to let you forget it either when you get better. And we've all been taking turns to sit with you and take care of you." He felt JD give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "So you don't have to do the fighting anymore Ezra. We'll look after you, make sure you get better no matter how long it takes. You hear me Ezra?"

"Thank . . . you . . . "

"That's okay Ezra. It's what friends are for."

"Friends?"

"Yeah Ezra, friends."

Someone was washing his fevered skin. The cool water felt good on his skin. The sound of dripping water helped him to relax. He wanted to open his eyes to see who was with him but his eyelids were too heavy. His next attempt was to try and raise his hand. The person with him gripped it gently and placed it back down at his side.

"Take it easy Ezra." Chris told him.

The voice of the man Ezra thought would be angry at him caused him to flinch away from his touch. "Didn't . . . run out!"

"I know Ezra . . . I know." Chris put the damp cloth away. It was time to talk. "None of us suspected you of running out. Not even me. We knew something had happened to you. We looked for you for six days but couldn't find you, we didn't even find your horse. We sent telegrams out to different towns but no one had seen you."

"Didn't run . . . out . . . " Ezra repeated.

"I know you didn't Ezra."

"Didn't . . . run out."

"You didn't run out on us Ezra." Chris wiped the damp hair from Ezra's face. "A man doesn't run out on his friends."

This time he was able to open his eyes, the image before him was out of focus. He blinked his eyes a few times and after each time the image became clearer. It was Josiah.

"How are you feelin' Ezra?" Josiah sat back down. He had just finished shaving the younger man when he noticed the movements of a man that was waking up.

"Terri . . . ble."

"Nathan says your getting better. Your fever has come down some and the infections in your wounds are clearing up." Josiah smiled down at Ezra. "You'll be playing poker again before you know it."

"Was . . . Chris . . . "

"Chris, he was here yesterday. We're taking it in shifts to stay with you. You haven't been left alone since you came back Ezra."

Ezra managed to smile and winced as the healing scab on his cheek cracked in a few places.

"Careful there Ezra. We're going to have to make sure that no one tries to make you laugh. Nathan wouldn't be too happy if you opened up the cut on your cheek."

"Where's . . .

"Nathan will be here later. He checks in on you every couple of hours. He hasn't been getting much sleep. But he doesn't mind. With you not arguing with him is making him enjoy looking after you. He knows it won't last." He placed his hand over Ezra's mouth. "Don't laugh."

"Thank you . . . Josiah."

"Your welcome Ezra." Josiah picked up one of Ezra's favorite books. "Want me to read to you?"

"Please."

Ezra jerked awake and found himself in a darkened room. It took a few moments for him to recognise his surroundings. He was in Nathan's room. He allowed himself to relax. He could hear someone breathing and turned his head towards the sound. He could see Vin sitting in a chair next to the bed. He was watching the door, he was protecting his friend. Ezra smiled and felt his cheek break again. He had to remember that.

"Vin." His voice croaked in the silent room.

"Ezra!" Vin jumped out of his chair and sat on the bed next to the gambler. "You feeling any better?"

"Bit."

"Good. You know you scared the hell out of us for a while there pal."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault Ezra." Vin told him. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Ezra frowned in concentration. "Fell . . . "

"Don't worry if you can't remember, there's plenty of time for that." Vin waited a moment and looked into his friend's eyes. They weren't as clouded as they had been. "Want something to drink?"

Ezra nodded his head, he was thirsty. "Water." He didn't want any of the foul tea Nathan had made. The pain was bareable now. He would have some next time.

"Where's Wade?" Ezra asked after he'd drunk some water.

"Stepped out for a minute Ezra." Nathan had explained to them to go along with Ezra when he talked about Wade. Ezra had gotten quite upset when he thought Josiah had accused Wade of hurting him but then they found out that Wade wasn't real. He was real to Ezra though. "Said he would come back for a chat later." Ezra seemed to accept this. "Why don't you go back to sleep Ezra."

It only took a few minutes for the gambler to go back into a peaceful slumber. His nightmares had stopped a few days ago.

"Ezra." Nathan used a gentle voice at first. He knew he was waking. "Ezra, wake up." He gently shook the gambler's shoulder. "Ezra."

"Hmm . . . "

"I've got some soup for you."

"Uck . . . "

"Are you arguing with me Ezra Standish, 'cause if you are, it's good to have you back." The gentle healer looked over his shoulder and smiled at Chris.

"Noooo . . . " Ezra groaned in defeat.

"Then wake up, I want you to eat something." Nathan ordered him.

"'Kay . . . "

Nathan heard Chris' chuckle. He was glad the gunslinger's guilt had eased. "Hurry up then Ezra, I haven't got all day."

"I do . . . " Ezra told him.

"Ezra!" Nathan growled at him.

"Sorry." Ezra forced his eyes open and looked up at Nathan. "Nathan."

"Morning Ezra." Nathan smiled down at him. "I'll help you sit up." Nathan put a strong arm under the Southerner's back and lifted him up. He heard Ezra's grunt of pain. He shifted some pillows behind him then adjusted the one under his knee. "There's not a lot here Ezra so it won't take you long, then we'll have a talk." Ezra nodded and screwed his face up when he smelt the soup. "Just a sip to start with to make sure your stomach can handle it."

Ezra took his time eating the soup which was fine with Nathan, it gave him the opportunity to study his patient. He could see the improvement he made everyday. They all could. He checked the wound on Ezra's face, it was healing nicely. He would examine the rest of his injuries after the gambler finished eating. It took a few more minutes before Ezra claimed he couldn't eat anymore. Nathan believed him.

"You did fine Ezra." Nathan placed the bowl on the side table then turned back to his friend. "You up to me checking your wounds?"

"Think so . . . " Ezra yawned.

Nathan pulled Ezra's head forward. "The wound on your head was nasty, it would have given you a serious concussion. The one on your face is healing, it became infected like the rest of your wounds but there clear now. The bullet wound on your arm was just a scratch. It didn't get infected, it was the only one though. You got back to us just in time Ezra. Another day and you wouldn't have made it."

"Wade helped me."

"Wade did a good job Ezra."

Ezra looked over at Wade and smiled. "Yeah he did."

"I'm going to look at your stomach now Ezra." Nathan saw the confusion on his face. "There was a deep cut along your side, I had to stitch it."

"I didn't know . . . "

"That's alright Ezra." Nathan lifted the nightshirt and began to remove the bandages. "You had a couple of broken ribs too Ezra." Once the bandages were gone he carefully checked the wound. It too was healing well. Next were the ribs. He could see that Ezra's teeth were clenched against the pain. "There all fine Ezra." He pulled the blankets back to reveal the swollen knee. "No bones broken Ezra, the swelling is already coming down but you won't be walking on it for a while though. Guess you'll have to sit all day playing poker." Nathan pulled his nightshirt back down and covered him with the blankets. "I'll help you lie down then Chris wants a word."

Ezra yawned again. "Am I going to be alright Nathan?"

"Your going to be fine Ezra. It was touch and go for a while. You had a bad fever because of the infection, it hasn't gone yet. A few more days and it should be, then you'll just need plenty of rest, you can do that in your own room."

"Thank you Nathan."

"Any time Ezra." Nathan patted his shoulder then moved away from the bed.

Ezra watched as Chris came forward. He remembered that he'd been here before but not what the conversation was about. He pushed himself back into the bed and ignored the pain. All he saw on Chris' face was a look of reassurance, there was no anger.

"Ezra." Chris pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. It creaked under his weight. "The first thing I want to say is that we know that you didn't run out on us. I know you didn't run out on us Ezra."

"I didn't . . . "

"I know Ezra. We looked for you, but we couldn't find you."

"You looked for me?" Ezra was stunned, he'd thought they'd believe he'd run out on them and that they wouldn't allow him to come back. But Wade had been right, they were his friends, they had been looking after him like friends do.

"Yeah. We thought you were dead Ezra. We knew that there wasn't any reason for you not wanting to come back and besides that's not you. If you were going to leave you would tell us first. The only explanation was that something happened to you. Do you remember what that was Ezra?" Chris could see the memory flash across Ezra's face.

"Some men robbed me, threw me over a cliff. Wade was there when I woke up, he wasn't one of those guys. He helped me get home, if it wasn't for him I'd still be there." Ezra explained.

"Did you get a look at them Ezra."

"No, it was raining . . . I fell off my horse . . . hit my head."

"We'll telegram the towns around the area, ask the sheriff to keep an eye out."

"They took my grandfather's watch Chris. It was the only thing I had. He gave it to my father who gave it to me."

"I'm sorry Ezra. You know if we could get it back we would." Chris told him.

Ezra nodded. "I thought that you wouldn't allow me to come back, that you thought I'd run out on you."

"You thought wrong then Ezra." Chris knew the Southerner was insecure about his position in the group. He hoped this unwelcomed incident will make him feel a part of the group.

Ezra was finally at home with his friends. They were taking care of him. It was the way he wanted it to be. They accepted him back. They never believed for a moment that he'd run out on them. Not even Chris. He thought the man would hate him, he didn't. Nathan had taken care of him, he was helping him to recover from his wounds. Buck and JD spent all their time talking to him. They couldn't help but make him laugh. Nathan constantly yelled at them for causing the gambler extra pain. Ezra didn't mind. Vin sat with him, he was a silent companion but just having him there helped Ezra a lot. Josiah read to him, and shaved him every morning. He was grateful to the older man for thinking of his physical appearance. Chris sat and shared his dinners with him, they also talked about the friendship that now existed between Ezra and the rest of the men. Ezra finally admitted to needing them.

"Ezra."

Ezra turned towards the voice that spoke to him. "Wade?"

"You okay Ezra?"

"I'm fine Wade."

"You were wrong weren't you Ezra."

"Very wrong Wade."

"You going to be okay?"

"Yeah I am. I have my friends and a home now." Ezra knew that Wade wanted to say something.

"I have to go now Ezra."

"Couldn't you stay a bit longer."

"No Ezra. I'm not part of this world. I have to leave."

Ezra watched as Wade moved towards him and place a hand against his cheek. He felt a tingling feeling. It flowed through him. He felt a tear escape from his left eye.

"Grandfather?"

"Yes Ezra."

"I thought you weren't real." Ezra was shocked.

"You needed someone that could be tough on you Ezra, if you knew who I was you would have argued with me."

"But . . . " The sensation was gone, his grandfather had removed his hand.

"It wasn't your time Ezra. You needed help."

"They took your watch grandfather."

"The watch isn't important Ezra. You are. Life has plans for you, your a good person Ezra, you need to let that side of you come out. Stop living your mother's life and live your own."

"She wouldn't let me see you again."

"She only let you see me because I was dying."

"You were dying?"

"I would have told you but she didn't give me a chance Ezra."

"That's my mother."

"But I got a chance to help you and I took it. I got to know my grandson and I'm proud of you Ezra."

Ezra smiled. "Will I see you again?"

"Not for a while Ezra. I'll come for you when it's your time. Good bye Ezra."

"Good bye Wade." Ezra forced himself to smile at his grandfather. He watched as he slowly dissapeared from his sight. "Good bye."

The End

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Stand Alone Ezra Standish Stories