Chapter Text
Tombstone, Arizona
October 26th, 1881
Headline from The Tombstone Epitaph
THREE MEN HURLED INTO ETERNITY IN THE DURATION OF A MOMENT
Dr. John-Henry Holliday, D.D.S.
“Doc, you’re hurt.” Wyatt rushed to my side after he helped Louisa lug Morgan into the house. I looked down and sure enough there was a tear in my shirt and my side was bleeding.
Somehow, now that I had perceived it, the wound began to throb like a bitch and I nearly toppled over. But Wyatt held me up, his hands steady on my arms to keep me upright. My chest constricted and I was thrown into a fit of coughing that only aggravated the wound, and thus a vicious cycle began.
“Goodfellowe is on his way.” Wyatt muttered to me as he sat me on the sofa and took off my coat. My shirt stuck to my chest with sweat as Wyatt peeled it off me and began tending to my wound. I knew Goodfellowe would want to check on Morgan first, considering his wound was the most serious, then Virgil, and I would be last. It was just a graze, so the bleeding wasn’t terrible. But it still burned.
“You could’ve at least let me drink some first!” I cried out, gripping the throw pillows as Wyatt soaked a rag in whiskey and held it to my side. My body instinctively convulsed even though I knew Wyatt was helping me.
“Easy, Doc! Easy…” Wyatt pressed gauze to my wound and began to wrap bandages around my middle. He held a safety pin between his teeth as he worked, brows furrowed in concentration. He pinned the bandages in place with a grunt, satisfied with his handiwork.
“Thankfully it was just a graze, it’ll heal on its own, you’ll be ok.” He gave a soft smile under his mustache and I couldn’t help but smile back, even though it still hurt like hell. I tried to stand, but my side stretched and the wound flared. I hissed as I slammed back down onto the sofa.
“You need to rest.” Wyatt was kneeling on the floor now, between my legs, as he placed a gentle hand on my thigh. It was only then that I realized what position he was in, and suddenly I was very distracted from the pain.
I could hear the clatter of Dr. Goodfellowe tending to Morgan as he entered through the front room and hurried down the hallway to Morgan’s bedside. Heard Louisa prattling on about how we just killed three men down by that old corral. But I didn’t really pay attention, because Wyatt was holding me.
“You’re not shot are you?” I asked, searching all of Wyatt’s body that I could see. He held out his arms and inspected himself.
“Not that I know of.” He stood and sat next to me on the sofa, sighing and taking off his hat.
“Hell, Doc. What the fuck did we just do?” He picked up the whiskey bottle that had been forgotten on the floor and took a long drink. He handed it to me, and I accepted gratefully.
“Started a war, I reckon.” I kept my voice steady as Wyatt’s hand snaked its way back to my thigh. I looked over at him, studying his face as he kept his eyes on the entryway to the front hall, where Dr. Goodfellowe had run past not a minute before.
“He’ll be tending to Virg next.” Wyatt whispered, “But I’ll have him take a look at you too before he heads out.”
“I’m fine, Wyatt.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, taking another swig of whiskey. My hand came out of my hair damp with sweat.
“Better safe than sorry.” Was all he responded with, squeezing my thigh. I settled my hand over his, lacing our fingers together. He was so warm, but not like the warmth outside that made me sweat and feel disgusted with myself. He was warm like a gentle summer breeze, a blanket on my coldest night, a good book and a glass of whiskey on a rainy day.
“I don’t think we’ll ever be free, Doc.” Wyatt said, his hand squeezing mine again like he was using it for stress relief.
“None of us are ever truly free from anything,” I looked at him, muffling a short cough into my sleeve, “No sins of mind or body, nor crime of passion. At least not until the moment we part from this mortal coil.”
Wyatt cupped my face in his hand. I hadn’t had the chance to shave, so my cheeks were a bit stubbly, but he didn’t seem to care as he leaned in to kiss me. The aches in my body were instantly forgotten, my grip desperate as I held him.
“I’m just glad you’re ok.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to mine. I kept my eyes closed, relishing the feeling of him touching me. It wasn’t very often Wyatt initiated the contact between us, so I always made sure to savor the moments when he did.
A few minutes later Dr. Goodfellowe came in to check on me, bringing Lou and Mattie with him. Wyatt left to check on Morgan and Virgil, so that left me alone on the sofa again as Goodfellowe unwrapped my bandages to assess the damage.
“It’s just a graze. Keep it wrapped and clean and you’ll be ok.” He repeated what Wyatt had said as he rewrapped it, securing it once more with the safety pin. I nodded.
“Will do.” I coughed as Goodfellowe packed his bag and left the room. Lou followed him, but Mattie remained.
She stared at me for a good long moment, making me shift uncomfortably. As cordial as I was with Mattie, that didn’t mean I liked her.
“Doc,” Mattie took a few steps closer, lowering her voice, “May I speak with you.”
“I suppose I can’t refuse. I am stuck here for the moment.” I gestured to my wrapped middle, and then to the fainting sofa pressed up against the wall.
“Please, don’t let me keep you from sitting.” I took a swig from the whiskey bottle to dull the throb in my side. Mattie shook her head.
“No no. I won’t be long.”
It was not a moment after she said that, that I felt a crisp, hard slap across my face. A moment passed, as I processed that Mattie had just hit me, before I looked at her face and saw the tears running from her red rimmed eyes, eyes similar to my own.
“You bastard.” She whispered, her teeth clenched with a barely controlled burst of rage. I stared at her, my stance tense.
“You stay away from Wyatt,” She continued, “I saw you- I SAW YOU-”
She caught herself, covering her mouth with her hand and clenching it into a fist. I could see the anguish in her eyes as she pinched her brow.
“I saw him, what he did- he-”
“He what?” I wrestled myself to my feet, clutching the neck of the bottle in my hand. The other rested on the gun still strapped to my shoulders. Mattie’s eyes darted to the gun, then back up to mine. The fear permeated her scent nearly as much as the laudanum.
“What did he do, Mattie?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and level. No need to get into one skirmish after another just yet.
“Stay away from him. God knows he won’t do it himself. If you…” She took a breath.
“If you love him-”
“And what do you know about love?” I snapped at her, taking a step forward. She stumbled back a pace, clutching her hands at her chest like some frightened doe.
“The only love you have is with that damn opium bottle so don’t act like you know what’s best for Wyatt.” My voice lowered as Mattie seemed to steal her resolve. She clenched her jaw.
“I love Wyatt Earp,” I told her, “More than you could ever know. He is my friend.”
“Friend?” Mattie let out a burst of laughter, sick ugly laughter before tugging on the ringlets of her ponytail over her shoulder.
“Friend- yes friend, that’s what you are!” She sang, “Just a really, really really good friend, yes Doc? Say it.” She huffed.
“Say you’re just his friend and nothing more. Tell me I didn’t see him kiss you like he should be kissing me. Say it Doc.”
I said nothing. Instead I held up the whiskey bottle in my hand, and let it go. It shattered on the floor, loudly, and Mattie flinched. But I didn’t stop staring at her. Not until Lou rushed into the room to find us standing there, the glass scattered on the floor and a damp stain embedding itself into the wood.
“Oh- Pardon me Miss Lou it seems in my haste to stand I lost my grip. I’ll buy you a new bottle.”
“Doc-” Lou rushed forward and gently coaxed me to sit back down again, “Please stay here for the night you are in no shape to move right now.”
“Thank you, kindly. Could you please tell Kate where I am and not to worry?” I beseeched Lou in my kindest tone. She smiled and nodded.
“Of course.”
As she left, Mattie followed her, keeping her head down and her eyes averted. I sighed as I closed my own.
I wasn’t going to sleep a wink tonight.