Call and Fold Part 6: Blindsided

[the_summoning_d]

Title: Blindsided (Call and Fold 6/9)
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash, angst, lack of sexing
Pairings: Chris/Ezra, Buck/JD, Ezra/JD, and, uh...some Chris/Buck appeared, apparently of its own free will.
Disclaimer: I make no attempt to pretend that I own the Magnificent Seven.
Summary: Our boys return to Four Corners, and Ezra decides to return the favour for JD.

This one goes out with love to kashmir_heroin, who inspired me to get off my lazy ass and write. I meant to have it up sooner, but then some random bank robbers appeared in the middle of the chapter. And I know I promised sexing: I'm sorry! It didn't want me to write it, and it soon became clear that I had to choose between adding sexing and completing the fic some time this year...

Part Six of the Call and Fold Series

The air is oppressive over Four Corners, much as it has been for the last fortnight. Ever since Chris, Vin, Josiah and JD rode out, people have been on edge. The town is vulnerable with only two of the seven there to protect it.

Buck is sitting on the chair in front of the jail, legs crossed in front of him and hat tipped forward over his eyes, when Nathan walks up with a massive grin on his face. Buck straightens in his chair, hopeful.

"Riders comin' in from the north. Looks to be our boys." His grin widens in response to the unspoken question; "Five riders."
"Hell yeah!" Buck says enthusiastically, coming to his feet in one swift movement. The two of them walk together down the street, ready to greet their brothers. The five riders enter the town in a cloud of dust, and there's no mistaking that red coat.
"Well I'll be damned," Nathan looks pleased; "They actually talked the stubborn cuss into comin' home."

Buck casts an appraising eye over the group out of habit: no visible injuries. Josiah is contemplative and Ezra is as inscrutable as always, but Vin and JD look smug as hell. And Chris - Buck looks back again to make sure he's seeing this right - is smiling. Not smirking, or grinning evilly, but an honest-to-god smile.

"Good to have ya back, pard," Buck says as Ezra dismounts, and receives a swift gold-toothed grin in return.
"Yep," Nathan agrees; "Been gettin' downright inconvenient, carryin' all this money around without you takin' it off us at the poker table." This comment is met with widespread laughter.

And just like that, everything's back to normal.

Except that it isn't. Back's got his suspicions about why Ezra ran, and if they're right - which he's pretty damn sure they are, he knows Chris far too well to doubt that - then there's only one reason why he would have come back. So for the next few days, he keeps an eye on things.

The more he watches, the more certain he is about what's going on. Josiah knows something's up - he seems kind of confused and worried about it. So does Vin, and from the satisfaction in his manner he probably set the whole thing up. Nate and JD he's not too sure about. Yet. He'll have to talk to JD.

The biggest change he notices, though, is in Chris. No-one who didn't know him well would notice it: the change is almost imperceptible. But to Buck's eyes the gunslinger is as close to whole as he's been for a long time.

And that's when Buck stops looking. It's pretty clear to him that no harm has come of it, and whatever a couple of adults choose to do behind closed doors is none of his concern. He contemplates giving the traditional 'hurt him and you'll have me to deal with' talk, but frankly he's not sure which one to give it to. Both, maybe? Seems more even-handed than any other approach.

It's a sunny morning maybe three weeks after they came home, just past dawn, and Buck's sitting in the saloon with his feet propped up on a table and his hat tilted low over his face. Of course that'll only last as long as it takes Inez to realise that his dirty boots are on her furniture, so he's savouring it while he can. Vin is nursing a mug of coffee in the seat beside him.

Inez's eyes have just landed on him when her attention is mercifully diverted by Chris' arrival. Buck watches from the shadows of his hatbrim as Chris walks over to the table, looking for all the world like he hasn't just come down the stairs instead of through the door. Buck would bet his bottom dollar on which room he'd been in.

"Mornin', boys," Chris says, pausing at the table on his way past.
"Mornin'."
"Vin, you'd better get going on patrol soon. Nate's already back." As he heads through the doors he calls over his shoulder; "Buck, get yer damn boots off Inez's table."
"S'pose I'd better head out," Vin says after a while, smirking as Buck shrinks away from the saloon manager's glare.
"I'll...drop by the jail," Buck decides, hastily swinging his feet onto the floor; "Maybe check out the new wanted posters."

Vin tosses off a lazy salute as they part ways and heads for the livery, leaving Buck to amble over to the jail. He nods at JD on his way in: the kid's sitting at the desk with a mug of coffee and a copy of the Clarion.

"Mornin', Buck."
"Mornin', kid. New wanted posters about?"
"On the shelf over there. Next to the kettle."

Buck takes the pile, perches on the edge of the desk. The usual assortment of small-time crooks and wanna-be gunslingers: no familiar faces. There is one, though...one that rings a bell in the back of his head somewhere. He frowns, concentrating.

"Seen Chris about?" JD asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Seen him comin' down from Ez's room," Buck's mouth replies before his brain has time to engage. JD chokes.
"Aw hell!" Buck mutters as he realises what he's just said; "I thought you knew!"
"I..." JD coughs; "I knew. I just didn't know you knew. How do you know?"
Buck snorts; "Chris is easier to read than he'd like to think. 'Specially when you've known him as long as I have. How in the hell d'you know?"
"I don't know," JD says firmly; "I'm the sheriff - if I knew I'd have to do something about it. So I don't."

That's not an answer; not to the question he asked, anyway, although it does explain a lot. He'd still rather like to know how it is that JD knows what's going on. He would've thought that JD'd be the last to figure it out - he's smart enough, but a little too naive to notice something like this without a pretty big hint. He takes a breath to ask again, but pauses, taken aback by the evaluating gaze being directed at him.

"It..." JD clears his throat awkwardly, his expression an odd mixture of caution and hesitant hope and something else less easy to identify."It don't bother you none then? Two men bein' together like that?"
Buck shrugs; "Way I see it, if two people are happy together it don't matter much. 'Course if either of 'em hurts the other I'll be wantin' a word with him, but that's another story. More to the point, it bother you?"

JD gives a tolerant, knowing sort of smile, and Buck is abruptly struck by the feeling that there's more going on than he knows about. "I ain't as innocent as you think Buck. I knew 'fore anyone else, 'cept maybe Vin. Ain't nothin' wrong with it."
"An' you figured all this out on your own, just like that?"
"Not...exactly."
"How then?"

JD looks at the ceiling for help and, finding none there, turns his gaze to his boots. A swift glance at the door and he brightens, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like 'oh, thank god'. "Mornin', Josiah!"
"Looks like trouble at the saloon," Josiah says without preamble. He turns to leave, striding quickly away, and the other two follow.
"Don't you think I'm gonna let this go," Buck hisses, prodding his young friend in the back. JD cheerfully feigns deafness.

When they reach the saloon, the trouble turns out to be four drunk cowboys making a nuisance of themselves. Two are baiting the other patrons, spoiling for a fight, while the others make increasingly crude propositions to an unimpressed Inez. Buck steps up to the latter two, while JD and Josiah move to defuse the incipient brawl.

"Play nice, boys, the lady ain't interested," Buck says warningly.
"Jus' lookin' for a good time," one slurs, glaring balefully at him through bloodshot eyes. The other two don't feel much like cooperating either, and a full-scale fight is on the verge of erupting when a shout interrupts them.

"It's a diversion! They're after the bank!" Chris' voice rings out from the street, and suddenly their drunk cowboys are stone-cold sober with guns in hand. The one nearest the bar vaults over it: wraps an arm around Inez's throat and jams a gun against her temple. "Drop 'em, or I'll splatter 'er brains all over the place!" he shouts.

"Hijo de puta!" Inez spits, making a spirited attempt to elbow him in the gut. He tightens his grip and she gasps, hands flying up to tug at the arm choking her.
"Now I'm sure you don't want to do anything foolish," Josiah says softly, taking a step forward. He stops dead as the man cocks his gun. Inez growls.
"Drop your guns," he repeats.

Then without warning a gunshot breaks the silence and he's falling backwards in a spray of blood: his gun discharges uselessly into the wall as Inez dives away. Buck looks up at the stairs to see Ezra - disgruntled and not quite awake, barefoot and stripped to the waist - standing at the top of the staircase with his Remington in one hand and Colt Conversion in the other. In the blink of an eye the others have drawn their guns and the other three would-be robbers are down too.

"Come on, we gotta get to the bank!" JD says, running for the door. They follow him out, only to dive for cover as shots from the bank's smashed windows pin them down. Buck ducks behind an abandoned cart with Josiah: sees JD with his back pressed against a barrel and Ezra flat on the ground behind a water-trough.

"Six men," Nathan yells from a little way down the street; "We got 'em trapped in the bank, but we can't get 'em out."
"You get the ones in the saloon?" Chris calls out.
"Deader'n a lamb in a wolf pack," Buck shouts back; "Vin about?"
"Already gone. Mighta rode back if he heard the gunshots, but I doubt he did."
"Anyone got any dynamite on 'em?" Nathan calls hopefully. Various negatives are the only reply, and the sharp report of a gun as JD fires at an exploratory head peeking out of the bank.
"Be some in the general store," Josiah murmurs beside Buck.
"Who's got the best chance of gettin' there, you reckon?"
"JD or Ezra I'd say."

Buck crawls round to the other side of the wagon, trying to get close enough to talk to Ezra and JD without the aspiring bank robbers overhearing. "Hey!" he calls hoarsely in an attempt to shout and whisper at the same time; "You hear me?"
"Loud and clear."
"Yep, we hear ya, Buck."
"One of you's gonna have to make a break for the store, grab some dynamite, an' the other cover 'im. Only way to flush 'em out; we can't get near. Ez?"
"I can't cover anyone - my gunbelt is in my room and I am rapidly running out of ammunition."
"Maybe we both oughta go," JD suggests.
"It does seem more likely that one of us will make it if they have two targets," Ezra agrees.
"Alright," Buck raises his voice; "Cover, boys...NOW!"

On his cue JD and Ezra make a break for it, the rest of them popping up to provide cover fire. He sees Ezra stumble and curses silently - he'd forgotten the gambler was barefoot. One of the robbers cries out and slumps limply over the windowsill - five down, five to go. When he looks back, JD and Ezra are nowhere in sight.

There is a long moment of silence. Then a fizzing stick of lit dynamite sails in a neat arc across the street and rattles to a halt on the front porch of the bank. It blows the door to splinters and takes a fair portion of the front wall with it. Chris is already running across the street with Nathan on his heels, before the men inside have a chance to gather their scrambled wits. Within moments the fight is over; three more men dead, the remaining two unconscious.

"We got 'em all!" Chris calls back to them. Buck gets to his feet with a satisfied grin.

The grin is wiped instantly off his face when Ezra appears in the doorway of the general store, his hands and forearms spattered with blood. "Nathan!" he shouts, a frantic note in his voice; "Get over here! JD's hit!"

He makes it to the store in time to see Nathan leaning over the injured young man, Chris and Josiah on his heels and Ezra hovering nearby.

"Buck, run up to my clinic and set some water to boiling," Nathan says decisively; "Josiah, you help me lift him."
"Get to it, boys," Chris agrees, standing aside to make room for them; "Ezra, go put some clothes on and we'll drag these dirtballs to the jail."

The hours that follow are long and painful. Buck sits by, feeling frustrated and helpless, as Nathan digs the bullet out of JD's leg. After what seems like an eternity Nathan declares that he's done all he can do and heads to the jail to ensure that their prisoners aren't in immediate danger of dying.

"Didn' even see it comin'..." JD mumbles. His eyes are dull and glassy, a feverish heat to his skin.
"Weren't nothin' you coulda done, kid," Buck reassures him, laying a hand on his shoulder; "Now get yerself some sleep - you ain't goin' anywhere for a while."
"Mmm...'kay..."

Buck doesn't move even after his breathing has evened out and slipped into sleep. He's determined to be there if he's needed again, and right there in that chair is where he needs to be. He dozes intermittently, sprawled uncomfortably in the rickety wooden chair. Nathan comes back and leaves again several times; once he sees Chris as well. He supposes the others came by without waking him. He's quite thoroughly lost track of time by the next time he wakes, but it must be late because the curtains are pulled and the lamp has been lit. He doesn't want to move - he has finally, against all the odds, found a halfway comfortable position and has no intention of giving it up easily.

Thinking himself alone with a sleeping JD, the sound of a voice takes him a little by surprise. There's no mistaking the accent and inflection; Buck feigns sleep to give the southerner a little privacy.

"On reflection we were lucky...things could have ended in far more dire straits." A pause, a sigh. "Really, I would hope you have the good manners not to get yourself killed before I have the opportunity to repay the favour I owe you. That would be most inconsiderate."

If Buck were a dog, his ears would have perked up. Favour?

"I'll do my best." The reply is weak but clear, faintly amused; "How you plannin' on repayin' me?"
"Oh, an equal exchange would be fairest, I'd think."
"I...You don't have to...I can handle it!"
"So you say. And yet I can't help but notice that you still haven't said anything."
"I was waitin' for the right moment!"
"Believe me, the right moment never comes. I had..." Ezra is uncharacteristically hesitant, a hint of self-doubt; " I thought you might have learned from my mistakes."
"Ez..."

Buck wouldn't have thought that Ezra would suffer such a familiar form of address. But what really shocks him is the tone JD says it in, adult and knowing in a way he would never have imagined the kid capable of. The bed creaks, and he can't help himself - he has to crack an eyelid open and see what the hell is going on.

JD is upright and leaning forward, Ezra sitting on the edge of the bed. They're close - too close for Buck's liking. He gives a loud, false snort and makes a show of waking up. When he sits up and opens his eyes there's a far more acceptable distance between them.

"'Lo, boys." He cocks his head at JD; "You feelin' any better?"
"Oh yeah. Still hurts like hell, but I think I'm gonna be okay."
"Well then, gentlemen, I'll leave you to your own devices." Ezra pauses at the door; "Oh, and JD? You have the perfect opportunity - try not to waste it. If you take much longer Vin and I may have to take matters into our own hands..."
"Ezra!" JD starts to object, but the gambler is already gone.
"Right," Buck says, and the younger man casts him an apprehensive look; "You ain't runnin' away this time - you're gonna tell me what's goin' on."
A long, contemplative silence. "No," JD replies eventually; "I ain't."
"JD..."
"No, listen Buck. I can tell you some of it...but some ain't mine to tell, some you ain't gonna like, and some...some's just gonna get people hurt. S'complicated."
"Then tell me what you can. How'd you find out?"
"Was talkin' to Ezra one night. We'd been drinkin' a bit, an' we both let a bit more slip'n we meant to. Next day I just sorta saw it."
Buck's eyes narrow; "An' what'd you let slip?"
"I..." JD goes red, struggling for words.

An awkward silence follows and Buck watches, feeling a nasty suspicion start to grow. He's certain he's right - he's spent most of his life watching for little signs like that - but it's not easy to come out and ask something like that. The sensible thing to do would be to wait and watch, see if he gives anything else away.

But he wouldn't be Buck Wilmington if he did the sensible thing. He clears his throat, hesitates a moment, then damns the risk and asks quickly before he loses his nerve; "There...ever been anythin' 'tween you an' Ezra?"

The horrified silence and look of panic are all the answer he needs; "Sonuvabitch!"
"No, Buck, it's not-!" the door slams and he slumps back on the bed; "...like that. Damn."

Buck storms down the stairs and makes for the saloon, his anger overriding the little voice insisting that JD is more than handy enough with his gun to repel any unwelcome attentions. Turning into the street, he almost collides with Vin coming the other way.

"Watch yerself pard..." he stops as he catches sight of Buck's expression; "Somethin' wrong?"
"Where's Ezra? I'm gonna kill him."
"Aw hell! Buck, calm down." He moves to block the taller man's attempt to walk past him; "Hey, hey! You don't wanna do this."
Buck stills and looks at him like he's lost his mind; "No, I'm fairly certain I do. Now get outta my way."
"Buck!" Vin grabs his arm; "Goddamnit, Buck, listen to me! Ezra'll probably shoot you, then Chris'll definitely shoot you, and if you survive all that JD's gonna finish you off. Now calm the hell down!"

Buck glares, but the smaller man isn't backing down. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders vaguely what Vin knows that he doesn't.

"Now here's what you're gonna do," Vin says in a tone of quiet command even Chris couldn't have matched; "You're gonna go think on this some 'til your mind starts workin' again, and then you're gonna sleep on it. This ain't helpin' anyone. Then tomorrow, when you reckon you can be sensible about it, you're gonna have a quiet word with Ezra somewhere private - you ain't having this out in front of the whole saloon. Got it?"
"Yeah," Buck concedes reluctantly; "But I can't promise I ain't gonna shoot 'im."
"Just so long as you remember there's gonna be plenty of folks linin' up to shoot you if you do. And I'm gonna be one of 'em."

Vin turns sharply on his heel and heads for the saloon; probably to warn Ezra. For a long time Buck just stands there. After a while he does as he's told, heads back to his room in the boarding house. He paces the floor uselessly for a while, mutters obscenities at the window, then eventually flops onto the bed and stares blankly at the ceiling.

Now he's calmed down a little he's starting to think he might have overreacted. Maybe. Maybe he shouldn't have got so fired up so fast, but the thought of someone - anyone - taking advantage of the kid makes his blood boil. Isn't right to mess about with someone who doesn't know any better.

But...Ezra wouldn't do that, would he? Con an idiot out of a small fortune, fleece the other patrons of a poker game without a second thought...sure. This, though? Buck didn't think so. And word was he'd been the perfect gentleman with whatshername, that Chinese girl Nathan talked him into buying. And JD's not helpless, he knows that, it's just hard to stop being protective of the kid.

Buck frowns, trying to figure out why the idea riles him so much. The thought of Chris and Ezra together doesn't bother him at all, not even when he thinks back years to long lonely nights on the trail without another soul for miles around. Nope. So what is it, then?

He gives up. Something is very wrong when a man can't make sense of his own mind.

The next day Buck studiously avoids thinking about the situation. Vin knows, which means Chris knows, and he sure as hell wouldn't be comfortable around JD or Ezra under the circumstances. So he spends the morning helping Josiah in the church. Around noon he ventures to the saloon for some lunch, managing not to make eye contact with anyone.

He's just resolved to go out for a ride to clear his head, absently petting his horse on the nose as she waits patiently for his mind to return to the task at hand, when he hears footsteps behind him.

As a child, tucked up in bed while his mother and the other girls went about their business, he'd noticed that everyone's footsteps sounded different. He could tell all the other members of their merry little band without even looking. Vin, for example, was almost completely silent. The only giveaway was the slight sound of his buckskins rubbing off each other as he walked. JD on the other hand was so loud you couldn't miss him, the same speed and energy in his stride as in everything else.

He cocks his head slightly, listening. An unhurried pace: each footfall confident and precise, light but certain on the ground. Buck winces slightly and turns; "Afternoon, Ezra."
"Good afternoon, Mr Wilmington."

'Mr Wilmington' - that isn't a good sign. Abruptly he wonders what the hell is wrong with him: he likes Ezra. He would have said they were friends. With a sigh, he gets right to it.

"I, uh...Vin talk to you last night?"
"Yes; we had a most interesting conversation. I hear that you did too."
Buck winced: "He tell you 'bout that, huh? Listen, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I was pissed last night and shootin' my mouth off. Wasn't thinkin'."
"It's quite alright. I hardly expected you to be overjoyed. Furious, overprotective, possibly murderous? Far closer to the reaction I was anticipating."
"Yeah, yeah, I just wanna know what the deal is now. I mean, now you an' Chris are...y'know. JD don't seem upset. Smug, more'n anythin' else."
"He should be, since he is mainly responsible for convincing me to come back." Ezra gives a fond sort of smile; "I hardly think he'd be heartbroken. Much as I care for JD, there was never anything more to it than mutual comfort over the seemingly unattainable."
"Seemingly... I knew it! Who's JD moonin' over?"
Ezra gives an evil grin; "Why Buck, you are losing your touch! You can't tell?"
Buck folds his arms, frustrated; "No!"
"Then think," Ezra smirks at him; "Who does JD spend most of his time with? Who is he most eager to impress? It's really rather obvious."
"And you just figured it out like that, huh?"
"No, as it happens he told me. But believe me when I say that nothing short of torture will convince him to tell you."
"Why not?"
"Think, Buck. I'm sure it'll come to you."

He's halfway out the door when something clicks inside his head and he stops short. Slowly he stops, turns, sees Ezra grinning gleefully at him.

"I...you don't mean..."
"I knew you'd get it eventually."
"But...aw, hell!"
"Is it so hard to believe?"

Buck gapes soundlessly - he knows he looks like a landed fish, but he doesn't care. He can't quite comprehend what he's hearing. Very carefully, he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. In. Out. Once he no longer feels like he's about to take a panic attack, or possibly pass out, he turns again to make his way to the saloon. And get drunk. Very drunk.

It's more a feeling of presence than any sound which alerts him to Ezra suddenly standing immediately behind him. "Oh, and Buck?" he says sweetly. Distinct overtones of steel enter his voice; "You know now. And if you hurt him in any way, the most excruciating torments of Hell will seem like a reprieve from what I intend to do to you. Do we understand each other?"

Buck swallows hard and nods: he doesn't doubt it for a moment. Then he makes his way unsteadily to the nearest source of whiskey. He understands - the question now is what he's going to do about it.