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Trembling, my hands run across your body as unobtrusively as possible, well aware that you could have been shot, killed… left me without the other part of my damned soul.
You push me away impatiently and I watch you walk away to stand by the creek, staring into its depths, the occasional glimmer of a minnow attracting you for a split second, but not long enough to get the thoughts of why you're in this hell out of your mind.
There's nothing for me to do, so I do nothing.
+++++
I'm lying near you – not nearly far enough away nor near enough to you – I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all but instead I clench my jaw and realise I must get over this foolishness of being infatuated with Wyatt Earp.
Why, Morgan and Virgil see it easily – why do you think your brothers have always disliked me? Why can't you see what they do, Wyatt? Do I want you to? Do I want you to know how I feel? They see it in my eyes; they know that the only thing that makes my eyes light up is a man called Wyatt Earp. Otherwise my eyes are dead and flat, as they should be – as they have always been, and as they always will be. I know I deserve nothing more.
Kate used to wish I could do better by her, I know, but I couldn't. She wasn't you.
I turn, putting my back to you, hoping that if I can't see you, not even out of the corner of my eye, this conundrum will no longer exist.
It doesn't work. I didn't really expect it to.
I close my eyes, curl tighter into myself and I force myself to sleep.
++++++
Here I am again, lying on this hard ground, staring up at the black, inky sky, looking at the millions of stars overhead and I look over at you, and you're looking back at me.
I stare back up at the night sky, swallowing hard. We may be alone out here, having left our companions behind after routing the Cowboys, but I still need to get myself under control. Just because we're alone doesn't mean –
"Doc?" Your voice cuts through my thoughts and I sigh.
"Yes, Wyatt?" I strive to keep my voice even. I mostly succeed, I think. This is utter folly, and nigh impossible to keep from my dearest friend. But telling Wyatt, telling him how I feel and having him walk away – the thought doesn't bear thinking of. For Wyatt is my only friend and I will keep him as such at any costs to myself.
"You okay?"
I grin in spite of myself, falling easily into my usual mode of speech. "Fine and dandy, Wyatt. The accommodations are less than satisfactory but a man must do what a man must do."
You fall silent and I continue to stare up in the heavens, wondering what it would be like to live up there, but I fear I'm sadly undeserving. The holy mother church has not approved of any of my activities unless they benefit her, and trust me, my activities have benefited no one but myself.
I can't even seem to feel sad that I shall pass from this world and no one will care, no one will remember my name after a year or so.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Wyatt?" I speak without thinking, and close my eyes in resignation. I could have not answered and my friend would have assumed I had drifted off into slumber.
"We've been friends a long time, haven't we?"
"Indeed. Some would say too long, Wyatt, but I beg to disagree." I try to keep my voice light.
"I disagree, too."
I glance over and see you crawling towards me. "Whatever are you doing?"
"Coming over there, Doc."
"I see that."
You're sitting next to me now so I sit up and look at you, same as you're looking at me. Your eyes are steady and the firelight flickers across your hair, shadowing your face slightly as you open your mouth to speak. You fall silent when I begin to cough, and I hunch over, the breath driven out of me by the devil himself – or is old Nick a female? Regardless, he or she is dancing on my chest and I can't seem to catch my breath for long moments.
I know without looking that there is blood is on the cloth I have pressed to my lips, and I hate this. I hate it.
Nothing I can do though but ride it out, and I do, leaning against Wyatt, the coughing too harsh to do anything with myself, and I'm thankful to have Wyatt there for me.
My ears are roaring and my chest hurts as Satan's cloved hooves are kicking me, and who knows, perhaps they are in all actuality.
Slowly, the roaring in my ears subsides, and I hear you talking quietly to me. "It's okay, Doc. We'll get through this like everything else."
I feel a blind moment of absolute rage at the fact that there will be no 'getting through this' but I tamp it down, unwilling to mar this moment and instead I wheeze, "You know that's not true, Wyatt."
He looks surprised and shakes his head slowly, still looking at me. "No, Doc, I don't reckon I do." He looks as fierce as he ever has and I nod, a smile on my lips, unwilling to let him know that I somehow know I shall not live much longer.
"You're absolutely right, Wyatt." He looks surprised and I murmur, "Never argue with a man with a gun."
He laughs hard and shakes his head again. "Doc, I been thinking. Morgan –" His voice catches a little and he shakes his head angrily almost before going on. "He used to think things that none of us ever dreamt about. I mean, we were always practical, but he was a dreamer. Used to talk about… what it'd be like to die, what you see, and all…." Wyatt falls silent for a moment, slipping into reverie, perhaps thinking of 'what could have been'.
"Wyatt," I say slowly. "What could have been's never did anyone any bit of good. For you see, regrets can colour your life until they eat you up. I know."
"You got a lot of regrets, Doc?"
"Oh, indeed. I think I've got my fair share," I answer, laughing quietly.
We sit in silence, me still leaning against Wyatt's more substantial frame, soaking up his nearness to keep me warm in my loneliness. Suddenly, he speaks, and I jerk, realising I had allowed myself to start to doze.
"You know you're my only real friend?"
"Why –"
"Listen to me, John." His use of my first name causes my mouth to shut with a snap, and I blink, blinking at him uncertainly. "I know a lot of men. I've been proud to fight next to some of 'em. Some of 'em ain't nothing but snakes." Laying his hand on my leg, causing a slow burn through my body, he goes on, oblivious to the effect he's having on me. "But you've always stood by my side, through thick and thin. Why? Why, Doc?" He truly sounds bewildered, and I realise now is the time for Lady Truth regardless of my own desire to deny her.
"I love you, Wyatt. I always have. And I always will." I clear my throat. "I apologise for that. For not only –"
"What?" Wyatt moves away from me and stares into my face. He leans towards me and I stare back at him, looking into his eyes. "But you and – Kate – and –"
"A man may partake of a sip of water in a desert, Wyatt. It does not mean he is sated nor satisfied."
"I never knew you took up with men, Doc," Wyatt sounds truly lost and I grin, unable to help myself.
"There are no 'men', Wyatt." He stares at me, uncomprehending. "Only you."
He shakes his head, staring into the fire, silent for a long moment before he says, "I can't do –"
"Nor do I expect that of you," I say promptly. I had hoped, yes. Expected? No. Never. I wait, hoping he'd speak, but when he doesn't, I said softly, ever so softly, "Have I lost your friendship, Wyatt?" I can scarcely breathe.
"No!" Wyatt denies it instantly, the eyes I know only too well looking in my face. "Never, Doc. We'll always be friends. Always."
"And for that I am grateful," I manage to push out around the huge lump in my throat. Funny how I've never been afraid of dying. But losing the right to call Wyatt my friend absolutely terrifies me.
"Let's get some shut-eye, Doc." Wyatt crawls back over to his bedroll and I lay down, my chest still aching from the episode earlier. I cough shallowly, and curl into a ball, trying to ignore the ache.
+++++
As we're riding, I'm well aware of Wyatt's eyes on me, puzzled and yet… curious. I wonder why. I've racked my brain, thinking about this over and over and cannot understand why he would be looking at me like this. When he assured me that we were still friends, I believed him. I, a perpetual cynic, believed my friend. Wyatt is not a coward, nor is he a liar.
+++++
"Doc?"
I look up over the campfire between us to see Wyatt's eyes upon me. "Yes, Wyatt?" I set my gun aside and fold my hands, waiting. For what, I'm not sure.
"Have you ever… ah… hell, Doc." Wyatt laughs uneasily.
"Have I what?" I ask, curious.
Wyatt blurts out, "Ever wanted any other man but me?"
I would laugh if I could – I would not hurt his feelings for the world – and as it is, I cannot smother the smile that splits my face. I pick up my gun again and resume cleaning it. "No, Wyatt." I bend my head to peer at the grips. "I have not ever wanted any other man other than you. And I'm positive I never will."
"But… what's so special about me?" Wyatt asks quietly, and I look up.
"You are the best friend I have ever had. You are, indubitably, the most stubborn, hard-headed, brave man I've ever known," I recite that to him in a monotone, then look up with a smile. "Of course, some would call those flaws in a character, wouldn't they?"
"Doc, you –" He grins and shakes his head at me. "You're a character."
"Me?" I grin, and go back to my task, relieved at the easy banter we have fallen into.
A few moments later, Wyatt once again says my name. "Doc?"
"Yes, Wyatt?" This time I don't look up, expecting more teasing.
"I really… I want you to know something." I look up, worried. He stammers, "If I was going to… it would be with you."
"Why, thank you, Wyatt." I am pleased. Those halting words warm my heart. Sad, isn't it, that the one in love appreciates any crumb of affection or caring given by the one who isn't in love? I smile ruefully and set my guns aside, picking up a small book out of my pack and begin to read, trying to lose myself in another tormented soul's writings.
"Whatcha reading, Doc?"
"Edgar Allen Poe, Wyatt." My eyes sweep the page as I read, and I lose myself in the story.
The evening passes uneventfully.
Later that night, as the winds pick up, I begin to cough and try to shelter myself from the sharp wind that seems to take my very breath from me. I cannot seem to stop the hacking that reverberates throughout my body.
"You okay?" Wyatt's voice startles me at first. I thought he was asleep.
"Just…" I wheeze. "This damn cough… the wind."
He gets up and brings his blankets and tosses them down next to me. I watch, bemused, still wheezing and trembling from the coughing. Calmly, he pulls me into his arms, pressing my face against him, and all I can think about at first is that he's protecting me. Later, as my infernal coughing eases, I'm aware that he's stroking my hair. I hesitantly wrap my arms around him, and he feel him sigh. "You know, Doc," he says in a low, quiet voice, "I do care about you."
"And I you, Wyatt," I whisper. This is so much more than I ever hoped for. I know that's incredibly heartbreaking in a way, but I'm just satisfied with what I have right now.
"Doc?" Wyatt's voice is soft and I glance up, the full moon illuminating him clearly. "Can I… touch you? I want to…" My face must have shown him how startled I was, for he rushed on. "I can't get you out of my mind, Doc. I've tried. But damn… everything you are – everything – is calling to me. You're… what… I need… what I want." His voice is stronger and he says, "I don't know when I realised this, but damn, Doc, I do love you."
"Touch me, Wyatt." That's all I could say… the fact that he said he loved me couldn't sink in yet. I couldn't believe yet.
His lips covered mine and I almost could not respond – it was so perfect, so right… at that one moment – that one moment in time, I felt as if I could live forever. And maybe I would.
As our hands began to explore, our mouths never left each other, and before I quite knew it, we were naked and moving together, our bodies so hot the wind would not, could not, cool us.
His hard cock nestled against mine as we pressed together, and I shivered, not in fear, nor from the cold, but from pure undeniable lust and love. I felt his hands cup my ass, and I could feel my orgasm building. God not so soon, I prayed, but of course by then it was too late. I realised he had orgasmed along with me, and I slumped into his arms, breathing heavy but thankfully not coughing.
"God, John," he said gently, placing a kiss on my forehead. It seared my soul. "I love you, you know that?"
And I believed.
For time immortal, I would be this man's. Regardless of what lie ahead… I would never stop loving Wyatt Earp.