No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended.
Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains m/m themes and violence
Title: Tennessee Waltz
Series: Magnificent Seven
Status: WIP Part 7/9 Sequel to Fall From Grace
Archive: Yes to EBoS
Pairing: Ezra/Buck (some other pairings, suggested pairings, unresolved longings and jealousies)
Date: May 2002 - November 2003
Disclaimers: Don't own these characters, MGM and the rest do. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred.
Warnings: slash, H/C, extreme violence, m/m hanky panky, drug use, nudity, coarse language, adult themes
Spoilers: Season 1 & 2
Summary: Chris tries to spare Ezra the blood on his hands.
The train carriage jolted and Chris pushed Buck off him with a sudden shove, letting Buck think it was the sudden stop of the train that had woken him and not Chris growing tired of Buck lolling about and drooling on his shoulder.
Buck blinked around blearily, causing Chris to kick him with his boot.
"Get up, we're here."
JD and Nathan were busy coaxing the horses from the last box while the rest of them milled around, what belongings they needed slung in saddlebags over their shoulders, somewhat at a loss for what to do now that they'd got here at last.
Ezra had a three day start on them as he'd made the train and they'd missed it, having to wait for the next one, and they weren't sure how to find him in such a big city, where one flamboyant gambler hardly stood out against the crowds that swelled in and out of the saloons, gaming houses and brothels that ran the length of Main Street.
Vin nudged him and Chris turned, seeing a tall figure backed up by a couple of hands step out from the billowing clouds of steam.
"Speers," Chris touched the brim of his hat by way of greeting.
Speers looked unimpressed, giving Larabee a cold, hard once over.
"Heard you and your posse were coming back to my city, Larabee. I don't want any trouble."
"Not here to give it."
"That's not what I heard. Heard one of your regulators has gone rogue and is meaning to cause trouble in my town."
"His wife and child were murdered in your town, Tom" Buck reminded angrily.
"Don't matter. You might have been a friend of Jimmy's but I can't turn a blind eye to a vendetta going down and you know it. If me or my friends find him first he'll be treated like any other troublemaker in town."
"You wouldn't -" Buck surged forward but his friends kept him back.
"Sorry, Buck, but you know I've got a job to do, and I aim to keep the peace."
Buck struggled again then settled, though Josiah still kept a big hand on his shoulder.
Chris turned back to Speers.
"Who told you we were coming?"
"Somebody called Travis. Sent a Telegram."
"No, his son's widow. Said you all up and left her town unprotected, said you were on a fool's errand, trying to save a known criminal from himself."
Chris ground his jaw tightly. "Ain't like that. Man's grievin' and he wants some justice on the ones who killed his wife and kid."
"Not here he doesn't. Ain't justice he's after, it revenge, and you know it."
"You going to arrest 'em then? The ones who did it?"
"With no witnesses, just hearsay?" Speers shook his head. "Sorry Larabee. Best you can do is find your man before I do, because if I find him I'm likely going to have to hang him."
And with that Speers turned and left them all fuming and muttering amongst themselves.
"Shouldn't be too hard to track Ezra," Vin reassured. "If he sticks to his habits."
"He'll know you're coming after him," Chris shook his head. "He knows the way you work."
"And he ain't one of your damn bounties," Buck snarled.
"Not yet," Vin shot back cruelly, rankled.
"Enough!" Chris stopped them. "Josiah, you take JD and Buck and see if you can't get us some rooms. Vin, Nathan, come with me and we'll see if we can't scare up somebody who might know what Ezra's been up to these past few days."
Ezra was sitting quietly in the wooden chair, staring at nothing in particular, listening to the tiny tune tinkle away from inside his watch as it rested open gently in his palm, his thumb stroking the tiny lock of hair that was curled inside it. He heard the tall clock chime the hour down the hall and he snapped his watch shut.
He stood in front of the mirror, strapping on his Derringer rig and testing it several times, satisfied at last with he way the tiny gun snapped into his palm with the merest flick of his wrist. He tucked away his Derringer, slipped his watch deep in his pocket and shrugged on his coat. He wore black from head to toe and he brushed the sleeves and shoulder of his black coat. Adjusting it in the mirror, judging it suitable mourning attire for a young gentleman such as himself, washed up in this town of thieves and sin. He should fit right in, only he wasn't thinking to leave his mark, rather he was thinking on letting the town swallow him whole, as he had nothing left to give it, or anyone else.