TOO  QUICK  TO  DIE

PART TWENTY-NINE:

He stood in a wide puddle, mud plastered front and back to his clothes, mud caked all through his hair, mud so thick on his face that the whites of his eyes were startling in its midst.  The Commander of the Armies of the North.  Caroline, her gown equally brown from the knees down, her arms slathered with mud up to her elbows, stood nearby, looking at him.

"Welcome to the desert," she said, her voice almost breaking with a strange half-chuckle/half-sob sound.  It was all ridiculous. How could it possibly rain three times a day in a desert town? How could she be IN a movie? How could she love this man so much, this man who went and durn near got himself killed every 15 minutes?  Truly, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both.

"You ok, Merifield?" Doc Wallace asked.

"I will live."

"You don't KNOW that!" Caroline hiccupped, wiping at her face, succeeding only in smearing mud across her cheeks.

"I will," he said, stepping closer to her, his boots squishing deeply into the mud. "I have you to live for now."

"You...you do?" she hiccupped and sighed at the same time.

The rain had slowed for a while, but suddenly the skies opened again and a huge downpour began. He put his hands on her shoulders, tipping her chin up with his muddy fingers. "You are beautiful...even now," he smiled, his teeth white like his eyes in a field of brown.

"You...you're beautiful, too," she murmured. She meant it. He was. No matter what, he was, to her, simply the most beautiful man in the world...in any world.

He smiled again, lifting his own face to the beating rain, letting the water wash the mud away. Seeing what he was doing, she, too, smiled. It would be like standing together in the shower. There was no way she'd ever get all the mud off the two of them with Doc's little basin of water. So she tipped her face, too, and, holding hands as they faced one another, they stood there in the pouring rain as the mud sluiced down their clothing, turning the puddle around them ever-thicker with it.

Cort watched from the fountain, remembering how concerned he'd been that Maximus had no one waiting for him. He was glad, really glad for him.  He wanted all his counterparts to be as in love as he was.

As suddenly as the downpour had begun, it stopped. Maximus turned, looking over toward Cort. "You need anything, Brother?" he called.

"I need outta here!" Cort hollered back, grinning. "Go on inside! I'm fine!"

....................................................................

As soon as the door slammed behind Bud, Rachel burrowed through the chest of drawers in her room to pull out the extra skirt and chemise and shirtwaist she had found and changed into them.  Then, she left her room and returned downstairs, where the apothecary was spending time arranging the glass jars on the shelf and taking inventory.  It was still pouring down rain outside.  She went to the front window and tried to look down the street but the fountain wasn’t visible to her from that vantage point.  She tried to remember what happened next...would there be a fight when the rain was done?  Somehow the sequence of events were escaping her now... except for one. 

Her fist tightened on the curtain.  She should have stayed with him...not that a pregnant woman would have been much of a hindrance to anyone with more energy and determination.  Sighing, she leaned against the window.  She couldn't define it, but it seemed her muscles were stretching in ways she had no words for, and that wore her out.  Or maybe it was the stress of the day, the downturn of shock over the failure of the warp to rescue them from Sid. 

Mr. Forsyth was largely wrapped up in his own thoughts and left her alone to think for the most part.  When it looked as if the rain would continue unabated for longer than she had hoped, Rachel began to walk along one side of the long rows of wood and glass shelves and examine the contents.  Every known article and ephemera she could imagine was tucked away in the little bins, neatly arranged, some labeled, some not.  Despite the old fashioned atmosphere, everything had the shininess of new.  Large apothecary jars were filled with grains or dried herb, candy, bottles of elixir, advertisements that promised miraculous cures.  She found herself smiling over the lugubrious titles of some of the potions.  It all seemed so odd to her 21^st century sensibilities of short and sweet, cut to the point labels. 

“Not a day for taking a walk out there,” Forsyth said.

Rachel made some noise of agreement.  She didn’t feel like talking much.

Finally the rain did relent and she wrapped her shawl around her head.  She was going to make good on her promise to come back.

Others in the town agreed that it was a good time to come back out, making her return to the fountain a bit more difficult by standing in her way so that she had to find circuitous routes between them and the large mud puddles, but at last she returned to find Cort still tethered. 

He was sitting on the low rim at the base of the fountain, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, trying to rest a little. He must've dozed some as he didn't recall just when the rain stopped, but jerked his head up when he felt Rachel's skirt brush against his legs.

"Darlin'?" he said tiredly, looking up at her face.

Something about the set of his jaw, the way he husbanded his shoulders had informed her of his discomfort in more than just his being waterlogged, but it wasn't until he turned his face up at her that she saw the red streaks on one cheek...a long smear of red on his neck.  Blinking, she stood frozen, wondering how that could have happened while he sat in the rain.

"Darlin'?" he repeated, watching the expression change on her face. "What's wrong?"  She was staring at his face and unconsciously he raised his hand to touch his cheek.  "Ow! These? Is this what you're looking at, Darlin'?"

"What happened?"  She breathed.  She managed to work her way down to her knees, forgetting the muddy-sludge at her feet.  "Who scratched you?"'

"It's nothing," he protested. "Just one of the women in the bordello."

Rachel's hand went to her neck, probably to choke the scream that threatened to escape.  Her eyes went wide and she could feel the blood drain to her knees.

"Say that again?"

He saw her face turn white and grabbed her shoulders. "No, Darlin'! NO! Not what you think!

It really is all right. Ratsy dragged me to the saloon after you went to rest. I kinda figured he might, you know. But when they got me upstairs to that room, Sid was sitting there calm as you please by the window, waiting for me. And...and...they...."  His head turned as he looked back toward the saloon.

"Why did I have a feeling Sid was involved?"  Rachel murmured, and leaned on his arm.  "Are you all right?"

"There was another man there, one of Herod's. Didn't see him at first and he kind of, well, hung me up on the wall...."

"Hung you up!"

"Not to dry, I'm afraid."

"Do I really want to hear the rest of this?"  Rachel squeaked.

"Fastened my chain over a high hook," he explained.  "Like a deer carcass."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, wondering briefly if he was not pulling her chain to soften a blow.  "So when does the tramp that did that to you come into this?"

"Then. She came in then. When I was...hung up."

Rachel stared at him for a moment.  His words were brief and spoken in a light tone, but she knew him well enough by now to hear the distress he had experienced. 

It didn’t matter what the whore did.  All she needed to know was if he was hurt. 

"Did they hit you?  Are you all right?" she repeated, cupping the injured cheek.  She couldn't stand the thought of him so vulnerable!

"Nothing more than usual," he said softly.  "I'm not sure just what Sid had planned, but Maximus came in and stopped it. He," he looked toward the doctor's small building, "he was the one they hurt. I didn't see it. Ratsy was dragging me back here, but they knocked him out, threw him into the street just a bit ago."

Tears slid down her cheek. She didn't know what else to say, or what else to do, but cry over the abuse heaped upon them all.  Rachel looked around to see if she could find the General where Cort said he would be, but only saw mud and mean-faced people casting them furtive and dark looks.  "Where is Maximus now?" she asked, pulling Cort closer, kissing his brow.  "Do you want me to go find him?"

"He's all right," he replied, a quiet smile coming into his eyes. "Caroline came. They both were covered in mud but they stood there...together...in the rain and let most of it wash off. I was glad."  His lips briefly found hers, warm and soft.  "I wanted...." He kissed her again, ignoring the stares. "This. I wanted this for him."  He continued nuzzling her cheek with his nose.

"Traded the whore for a broom-pusher, I see."  It was Sid, passing by on his way back to Herod's house. "Or can you actually tell the difference?" He eyed Rachel. "IS there a difference?"

Cort's teeth clamped and he lunged for Sid, but his leg tangled in the chain that stretched from him to the fountain and he fell on his knees. "That was...graceful," Sid smiled, then continued toward the steps up to his porch.

"The same kind of difference Brianna saw in Maximus," Rachel yelled after Sid.

Sid paused on the lowest step, turning slowly to look back at the fountain.  Even more slowly he cocked his head, fixing his gaze on Rachel. "When the egg hatches, I shall have the hen for dinner."  Then he went up the stairs and inside the house.

Yeah, yeah, so what else is new?  Rachel fumed, feeling strangely resigned to Sid’s threat.  As if she didn’t think of that every second ever since her arrival!  But she couldn’t think about that right now: Cort seemed to find it harder and harder to regain equilibrium, wincing with pain, trying not to wince in front of her, trying not to wince while making every battered muscle move to get back to her.  She helped him return to his seat beside her, took his hands and placed them on the mound of her belly.  "Let me hold you.  Rest easy," was all she could think to say, wrapping her arms around him.

Hope moved under his hands.  His gaze rose from his hands to Sid's door.  "He'll not get her. I won't let him."  He looked at his wife. "I can't rest easy, Rachel. Not so long as Sid's free to do what he wants. We have to find some way to stop him."  He looked at the door again. "We just have to."

"Something will happen," Rachel replied.  "We'll ask Bud.  He should know something by now."

........................................................................................

Doc Wallace smiled as the sopping couple entered his front door.

"Sorry," Caroline said, indicating the puddles they were leaving in their wake.

"Never you mind, now," Wallace said. "Won't hurt nothin' here."  He eyed Maximus. '''Spect the rain's done gone and got you all woke up now, eh?"

"'Spect so," Maximus replied then grinned down at Caroline, whose eyes had widened at his choice of words.

"Next thing you know, you'll be slipping in contractions here and there."

"I doubt that," he winked at her.

"How's your head?" Wallace asked.

"Better. I think the rain helped that as well, Doctor. The cool water felt good."

"Well, best get upstairs and change outta them wet things now," Wallace added. "Don't want you catching your death."

That sobered Caroline and she looked up into Maximus' face. "No, we don't want that."

Side by side they climbed the stairs and stood for a moment just looking at each other, every stitch both of them had on completely soaked. Caroline reached up, sliding her wig off, holding it out a bit, all its curls gone as it dripped steadily on the floor. "Looks like it might be ruined," she sighed.

Maximus slid his fingers through her own short waves. "I have gotten used to your hair the way you naturally wear it, Caroline." He kissed the top of her head.

"What about your suit?" she asked. "You only have the one."

"I shall make do with my other pants and that extra shirt from now on. There is not much longer for us to remain here anyway."

"I hope," Caroline added under her breath, then turned her back to him. "Unlace me?"

He smiled, finding the concept pleasurable, and paused to kiss the nape of her neck before his fingers found the top bow.  Slowly he pulled the laces looser, kissing his way down her spine until he reached her corset.  He let the dress fall to the floor around her feet and set about, very seriously, unlacing the white corset.  "Worse than armor," he murmured as the lace knotted.

"You have no idea how hard it is to breathe in this thing," she said, her ribcage delighting in the freedom as he let the corset slide to the floor atop her dress.

"You have many...layers," he commented.

"You'll find your way," she said, her lips curving slightly.

"I am sure I will."

She turned to face him, wearing only a thin chemise. "But you are wet, too."

"So I am. What do you suggest?"

But she was already unbuttoning the small mother-of-pearl buttons that ran down the front of his shirt.  "Oh," she cried softly after his shirt was open. "Your bandaging is wet, too."

"Later," he said, his voice getting suddenly hoarse. "We can rewrap it...later."  He forgot himself and moved to lift her. "Aaaaah!"  His teeth bit down on his tongue.

"There are other ways for me to get on the bed, my love."  She sat, one leg curled under her, an arm extended to him.

He blew out a couple of breaths to clear the pain he'd caused himself and sat facing her, his left hand on her thigh, his right cupping her chin. For a long time he simply looked in her eyes, then slowly leaned forward and  kissed her lips.  His hand found the hem of her wet chemise and began to slide it up.  She lifted her arms and he pulled it little bit by little bit up her body as though unwrapping a treasured gift. When it was off, when she sat there before him unclothed,  her arms still raised, he put his hands up around hers and slowly let them trace down the outsides of her arms, coming to rest on either of her hips.  Gently, he pushed her back on the bed, his large hands now sliding up her ribcage, cupping her breasts. "I love you, Caroline Fitzgerald Wood," he whispered.

"Please do," she smiled, barely able to speak.

........................................................................................

Now that the whole pile sat in front of him, none of it seemed worthwhile.  Ammo, automatic weapons, wires...all of it looked pathetically useless in the face of Sid’s utter ownership of the medium in which they were now ensconced. 

Still in the shelter of the barn, Bud crouched in front of the ‘package’ Chuck had sent to him; an occurrence he was grateful for, considering how it was apparent that they could warp things in now, but not warp a damn particle out.  He instructed the warp tech to point that out to Terry when he saw him again, and shut down the laptop to begin ‘plan B.’  He kept thinking that in a day, a miniature sort of Armageddon would be unleashed by Ellen by way of the canisters of gunpowder the Kid had kept in his place.  But Sid knew the movie as well as any of the team did, and there was enough in that to make Bud wonder if it would matter now, since practically every patented situation had been undone.  This was why they never went into the beginning of a movie, he reminded himself.  So many things undone, so many variables that unraveled when unplanned elements were introduced. 

On the other side of the coin, the plan now was to try and reduce whatever variables Sid could use against them.  He would have preferred that Terry came along – it wouldn’t be easy putting things into place without several Terry’s to help, but the man and his friends did not respond to their pages and Bud was getting antsy.  The rain had stopped as he looked at the items, checked them over, separated them out, all the while thinking he had to get back soon, reviewing the notations he had made to himself in the previous times he’d been left to wander about.  There were plenty of viable nooks, plenty of unprotected spaces...just no man power.  If only Maximus had not been so ridiculously drugged!  And the fact Sid had taken no interest in him at all bugged him.  By all appearances, he merely wanted the baby, and Sid was nothing if not...focused...when he decided to get something.  But Bud was not about to leave anything to chance.

Oh, God, was he tired!  He’d love to be back at his apartment, so he could sink himself into the couch and turn up the music until it was so loud it made the neighbors shriek with fury.  He’d love to go dancing, swinging a lady on his arm...maybe Dana would like to go to the dance hall he’d found one weekend...it featured a rocking big band...

On impulse, he flipped open the laptop once more and toggled the communiqué.

“Any joy?”  Terry’s voice crackled through.

“Any joy?” Bud asked, incredulously.  “I’m sitting here with a pile of heat that would make the ATF green with envy, ready to do battle with a psychotic son of a bitch, and you want to know if I have any joy?”  He knew what the man meant, but he was in too foul a mood to play along.  “I’ll feel joy when every bit of that blue nanogoo is sinking into a pit of acid.”

“I’ll take that to mean you have what you need,” Terry replied. 

“What we need, you mean,” Bud corrected.  “What we need is your lazy ass in here.”

“Erm...soon.  Not to worry.  Soon.  Just not right now.”

“What’s the problem?”

“No problem.  Just...refining some details of our own.  Dana is...well, she’s doing the refining.  It's just taking time.”

Time.

“Well, what time do you want me to check back with you?”  Bud sighed, rubbing his eyes.  “It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do, especially if I’m going to be doing it by myself.”

“Just...do as we planned.  If we’re lucky, we may not need plan B,” was Terry’s cryptic answer.

“Oh, swell,” Bud groused.  “So what I do may not matter anyway.  You sure know how to cheer up a guy.”

“Just think nanogoo in acid thoughts.  I have to go.  Over and out.”

ON TO PART 30

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