TOO  QUICK  TO  DIE

PART THIRTY-TWO:

"Maximus? Are you here?"

"Behind the crates, Caroline," Maximus called softly, standing enough so she could see his head.

"Bud said you two had put the Kid on ice," she commented, walking toward the end of the large stack of boxes.  She made her way to the dim corner. "Good Lord, Maximus! Is he dead?"

"Laudanum," he shrugged. "I have no idea how much. Bud just sort of poured it in his mouth out of the bottle."

She knelt beside the young man, touching his face. The Kid was out cold.

Maximus squatted beside her. "What did you mean 'ice'?  We have him on straw as you can see."

"This," she smiled. "It means just this. Taken out of circulation and tucked away in some out-of-the-way corner."

He did not know what she meant by 'out of circulation', but he caught the general idea of what she was trying to explain.  Settling back into the straw some distance from the sleeping Kid, he held out his arm toward her and she came, nestling close beside him. "I am supposed to stay here all afternoon. Both Cort and Bud think it would be wise for me to avoid Sid for the day."

She rested a palm on his chest. "Shall I avoid Sid with you?"

"I thought that might be the best thing," he agreed.

She eyed the Kid, not really feeling comfortable with him there despite his rather deep state of unconsciousness, but cuddled as closely into Maximus' side as she could, tucking her head under his chin. "Not such a bad way to spend an afternoon," she murmured.

The hour set for Maximus to fight the Kid came and went. Cort watched Sid stalking toward him, his boots kicking up little puffs of dust.  "You!" Sid snarled, stopping less than two feet from in front of where Cort sat on the saloon steps. "You know where he is!"

"Who?" Cort asked, smiling innocently up at the nanotech.

"The goddamned KID!" Sid bellowed. "What did you do with him?"

Cort held up his chained hands. "What could I possibly do with anybody, Sid?"

Sid grabbed the chain in the middle, yanking so hard Cort flew forward onto his knees in the dirt, his chin smacking down before he could get his hands out. He crouched there, groggy for a moment, and Sid took his boot, pushing him over onto his side.

"You...," Sid began, but whatever he was going to say or do was cut off abruptly by the swift approach of Bud and a flying fist that impacted his jaw with a loud crack! Sid staggered back somewhat, perceptively stunned, his hand flying to his mouth where a small spittle of blue appeared.  Bud stood in front of him, legs spread in an attack posture, the hand with which he delivered the right cross shaking, his facial expression livid with fury.

“You want to try that with a man who doesn’t have his hands bound?”  Bud snarled.

Sid stood there, his knuckle pressed to his lip, his lids half closed as he stared at Bud. "It was you, wasn't it...Wendell?"  He paused deliberately before saying the name.  "You're the one who's hijacked the Kid."  Licking his lip for a moment, he cocked his head. "Where've you got him stashed?"  His eyes went down one side of the small town and back up the other.  "The General, too.  Did you load the Roman with laudanum again?"

“Go back to your spider hole,” Bud answered, ignoring Sid’s questions.  “Before I decide to blow things up right now.”

Cort had rolled onto his hip and was sitting, shaking his head, trying to clear it. Bud stood close to Sid, his hands in fists.  Both of them were shocked when Sid threw back his head and laughed.  "God," he chortled, "but the two of you are amusing.  It almost pains me to have to kill you."  Then he turned and went into the saloon, leaving Bud and Cort staring at each other in amazement.

This time Rachel decided to raid some of the other kitchens in the area for food, instead of the apothecary’s pie-safe that always seemed to carry the same kind of food again and again.  There was only so much cold fried chicken and potatoes she could take.  She was really craving something sweet, something rich and cold...

In an outbuilding that must have been connected to the saloon, Rachel was attracted to the smell of such sweet things that it seemed like gold in fragrance form: cookies.  Glorious cookies!  She cried and spilled salty tears upon them as she gathered up five, ten, twelve of them, thinking back to the small kitchen in Montana where she had spent many an hour creating batches of Tollhouse for Cort when he got in from working the range.  The ones she stashed in a fold of her reboso had no chocolate chips, but they were rich in color and smelled like heaven.  There was cured ham there, too, and pickled eggs, which she passed over at first, but then decided to fish a couple out for Cort.  The cook had abandoned the steamy outbuilding in favor of chasing off a couple of dogs that had managed to eat a portion of the meat pie sitting out to cool, running back into the saloon to complain to the people there.  However, the way Rachel was feeling about what she was missing, what she was having to deal with, she felt prepared to fight like a dog herself for whatever she could get to alleviate the fear.

So pleased was she with her heist, she almost did not notice Sid leaving the street, her eyes falling upon the two men at the steps of the saloon. 

“Sid hit him again, didn’t he?”  Rachel gasped as she hurried toward them, confronting Bud as he helped Cort to his feet.  “When is this going to stop, Bud?  When are we going to hear from Terry?” 

The look Bud gave her made her wish she had bit her tongue, but bewilderment and fatigue and stress and fear were rising up in her; anger and distress over the beating of Cort were all she felt and the raw edges of it found Bud a singular target at the moment. 

“He’s working on something,” Bud said, voice low, and his tone told Rachel he did not want to have to answer that question again.  “It’s done, Cort.  What next?” 

Cort got to his feet, his left hand gripping his chin, his right reaching for his wife. "I...," he started then stopped a moment, moving his tongue in his mouth. He'd bitten it hard when he hit the street. "I...," he began again, then just centered his gaze on Rachel, blinking rapidly five or six times as he gathered her toward him. Mindless of Bud or passing townsfolk, he said, "I love you, Rachel. God, how I love you!"  The sight of her standing there, so tired, so very, very pregnant and so in danger, just filled him to his brim and he needed to hold her, needed the feel of her against him.  He kissed her hair, pressed his lips to her ear. "I love you, my Darlin'."  He pulled back just enough to see her face again. "I...," but his jaw was working too hard with the emotions that the sight of her had caused to surge through him and all he could do was pull her close again and try to hold her with the limitations of his chains. "Damn!" he murmured. "Damn, damn, damn," as he couldn't hold her the way he wanted, as even his attempts opened up the scrapes on his wrists.  He wanted to lie on the pine needles with her in the freedom of the night. He wanted this whole thing...over. He wanted his wife back and his baby in his arms.

Rachel vaguely saw Bud salute them both before departing, forgot the bundle of food she carried as Cort tried to pull her close, pulled him close in response, burying her face in the crook of his neck, whispering back to him.  It hurt that he hurt, hurt that he was restricted, hurt that there was little else she could do but bring back salve for his wounds or food for his sustenance.  She was right back to where she had begun before: wanting nothing more than to set him free, and still unable to do so.  She gasped hard for a couple of moments, knowing this time Sid would never allow it to happen.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she murmured, reverting to her habit of stroking the back of his head, at the nape of his neck, her cheek laid against his sideburn.  “At every turn, he does something to you and I can’t do anything to stop him.”

He liked the feel of her hand on his head, his neck.  He looked at her, his eyes radiating love. "I have to believe, Darlin', I just...have...to believe that we are meant to be together, you and me and Hope. I promised you, I promised her that we would. I have to believe that that matters, that we matter." He touched her hair some more. "Like at the end of the movie when I was sitting on those steps, empty as I'd ever been, so empty it was beyond enduring, and you came, Darlin' ...you came. Everything just looked so lost, so hopeless, but you were there like some gift just put right there in my hands. It's like that now. It's all so lost and hopeless, but not just for me this time, for both of us, for all three of us. But that's what we've got, Darlin'. We've got...us. And it's got to matter, it's just got to. I can't give up on the believin' that it does. Someway, somehow we don't even know about...it's going to be all right." His fingers slid down her cheek. "And you and I will have those pine trees again, have the moon again, and I can lie beside you and feel you next to me...again."  His hand paused just under her jaw line. "I need you to believe that with me, Rachel, ok? Hold onto it with me. No matter what it looks like. Just keep holdin' on." He kissed her again. "I'm never letting go of you.  Not you, not Hope.  Never.  I promise."

He had said those words before, but she never tired of hearing them.  Somehow, whenever she was away from him the words faded until they were just ghostly echoes. Hearing his voice in her ear infused her with strength again and she knew, she knew very well he would die before letting go of her.

“I’m not giving up,” she replied, pressing against him as much as she ever could, “It just always seems whenever I can’t be near you or hear your voice, the hope begins to fade.  I’m so weak, aren’t I?” she added with a helpless laugh, then met his gaze, nose for nose.  “I’m not letting go either.  Not as long as I have you and Hope.”

He smiled a little sweet, tender smile. "Together. We'll hold on together, Darlin'."

She longed to press more tightly to him, body, mouth, skin, but she could feel his muscles tremble slightly from weakness and pain, could feel the slightest wince as she kissed him in return.  There was a slight crunch of the food in her reboso as he pulled her close again, so she indicated she needed to step away.  Gently nudging him to sit on the edge of the walk, Rachel began to bring out what she had found for him, extracting what she knew would give him the most joy.

“Ta dat ta da!” Rachel triumphed, holding up the slightly crumbly cookie for him to see. 

A sparkle lit up his tired eyes. It wasn't even so much the cookie itself, which looked mighty good, but more the fact that this woman loved him so much that she would find it for him in this terrible little town, would manage to get it and bring it to him. "You are a wonder and a half, Rachel Wells."  He didn't even ask where she'd gotten it. That didn't matter. All that counted was that in this single moment out of time, his wife was there with him and she was smiling as she held it out for him.  As he took it, a large piece crumbled off one side and he managed to bend and catch it before it hit the ground. When he straightened again, his smile was wider.  "Got it!" he announced proudly then stuffed it in his mouth.  With determined care he didn't let the slightest trace show on his face that it hurt a bit to chew it.

It didn't work though, his attempt to pretend that Sid’s violence had left no mark and the pain of seeing it returned to Rachel.  And all she had was the salve she had been keeping with her for his hands.  What she wouldn't give for some tea tree oil or something to soften the sting!  She put her hand on his chest, a sign that she could read him quite well.  “You don't have to eat it now, if you don't want to,” she said.''

"I do want it," he said, still chewing carefully. "It's good. Not as good as the ones you make," he smiled, "but good. I'm enjoying it." He took another bite, this time a bit smaller. "Can't believe you found it."

When he'd swallowed the last bit, he told her about Maximus and the Kid being in the barn so there wouldn't be any contest between them in the street today. "That's why Sid was so angry.  I imagine he was hoping the Kid would kill Maximus."  He drew in a deep breath. "So that leaves just Ellen and me at 6. She's going to use the ink. Should be fine."  He looked toward the saloon doors. "If Sid lets it, that is." 

Rachel nearly laughed aloud at the thought of Maximus and Bud dragging the Kid away.  “I may just have to go check in on them, to see how they have him trussed up,” she said and then sobered at the thought of the upcoming fight with Ellen.  “Sid will never let it be fine.  Somehow, I’m not worried about Ellen.  It's what he’s got planned in the shadows that I fear.”  She looped her arm in his, met his eyes.  “I’m not going back to the room now.  Whatever happens, I’m staying here with you.”

It was what Sid might have planned that sobered Cort, too. He didn't want her standing there, watching him get gunned down. He didn't want her to have that memory etched in her mind and he truly thought Sid would try something deadly this afternoon while he stood alone in the street.  "Darlin'," he tried, "don't you think you...."

“No.”  She held his gaze, shook her head.  “You and I have been through too much for me to go and sit in a little room and wait for fate to play itself out.  Don’t ask me to do that.  Whatever happens to you, happens to me, no matter where you’ve sent me.  I’m staying here.”

Looking in her face, at the set of her chin, he knew it was no use arguing further with her.  He loved her all the more for it despite being sick with worry for her at the same time.  "All right, Darlin'," he said, touching his forefinger to his lips then gently pressing it atop hers. "I understand."  He looked at the clock. It was getting on toward 6 and Ellen had come out on the walk, looking uncomfortable. Doc Wallace was waiting on the porch of his office.  Sid, not shot in the side of his neck as Herod had been, was standing just inside the saloon doors, his lips curving upwards in a pleased smile. Ratsy approached Cort and began to unchain him. Cort kept his eyes locked on Rachel's as Ratsy let the chains fall in a small heap near the side of the steps.

It was not until Ratsy held out the old gun for him to take that Cort looked away. "Thank you, Ratsy," he said, thinking that now Ratsy would also not have to die.

Ratsy handed him one bullet again and Cort took it, loading the gun. It was live. He'd just have to miss Ellen by an inch or two, make it look good.  His gaze moved to Sid.  He knew well and good that Sid knew all about the red ink, so what did the nanotech have up his sleeve? This was too perfect of a chance to make it look like Ellen had gotten off a shot at Cort before she'd been hit. His eyes roamed the rooftops. So far none of Herod's men were in sight. That didn't mean they weren't there.

He wanted to kiss his wife again but Ratsy was shoving him out into the street. He mouthed, "I love you," then had to turn away and walk to his position.

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

“Ready, luv?”

Deidre kicked aside the pile of clothes at her feet as Terry entered her office and closed the door behind him.  She had exchanged the loose gauzy slacks and top for desert camo, tying her red tresses up in a obi-like bow at the nape of her neck.  Terry was dressed the same, the colors of sand and stone accentuating his tanned face, making his aqua-colored eyes stand out even more.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”  Terry asked.  He seemed a bit nervous, although Deidre was sure that it was only because he wasn’t around anyone else at the moment to wear the wall to hide it. 

“Yeah,” she replied, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.  He’d already asked her several times in the course of an hour, but she and Dana had been too busy with their own preparations for annoyance to set in.  “Do you not think I can do the job?”  The withholding of impatience lasted all of two seconds.

“Yes, yes,” he answered, trying to be nonchalant.  “I just want you to remember, if things go pear-shaped, we’ll have to depend on Chuck and Tim to help pull us out and they...”

“Do you really want to be stuck alone in there, with me out here?”  Deidre countered, stepping up to him so that she looked directly up into his face.  She allowed one corner of her mouth to slide upward in a smile.  “It may be one way to escape unwanted attention, Mr. Thorne, but I’d have to say its the most desperate.  And suicidal.  You’ll have better luck in tying me back onto that thorn tree down in Peru.”

His only answer was to stop the smile with a swift hard kiss.

A knock sounded on Deidre’s door, and they broke away in time to answer together.  Scully’s smaller frame appeared.

“Well, I’m not going to complain about wearing comfortable things like this.  God knows I’ve had to load up more ridiculous outfits, but this...” Scully said, indicating the camo-wear she had donned, “wouldn’t we do better getting into the spirit of the time period?”

“Like a corset and wire-frame bustle with layers of petticoats?”  Deidre asked with amusement.

Dana’s eyebrows quirked up in response.  “Can’t be any worse than wearing a full metal jacket from a bad sci-fi movie and fighting off computerized dominatrix Playboy Bunnies that run amok between programs while my partner gets his yaa-yaas out...” she glanced up from that particular reminiscence with a look of chagrin.  “Sorry.  I’m still plotting payback for that little travesty.  So we’re just going to wear camo, shoot down who we have to, and get out?”

“I don’t plan for us to be there any longer than we have to,” Terry replied as he led them out of Deidre’s office.  “Bud’s got his own particular assignment, Dee and I will spread out to try and provide cover and you...well, for you, I have the piece you’ll need to execute your objective in the warp room.”

Tim and Chuck were already finalizing the powering up of the warp when they arrived. Laid out on the floor were the armament and ammo they were planning to take in.  Terry bent to pick up one small pistol and hand it to Scully.

“Ever been on safari?”  He quipped.  “That will be for your vaccine.  See, here...” he took the vial that had been given him in the laboratory and showed it to Scully, inserted it into the specific chamber and clicked it shut.  “It will be as though you are shooting to anaesthetize an animal.  The only trick is you will have to make absolutely certain you have a good clear mark on Sid.  Once he figures out what you’re trying to do, he’ll make that dominatrix Playboy Bunny seem like your best friend in playschool.  Still want to handle this?”

Scully took the loaded gun and holstered it with a perfectly calm look.  “I’m ready,” was all she said.

They also had packed a medical emergency kit, as Scully knew she may be called upon to use it.  It was not certain if Rachel would need to worry about giving birth in such a situation, but the pack was equipped with the best portable items they could stuff into it.  Loading up this gear, Scully, Terry, and Deidre swallowed one of the patented pills made to acclimate their bodies to the warp and stepped into the chamber.  Scully said not a word once the chamber doors closed, but she looked around once with a slightly apprehensive look on her face.

“Has anyone ever not made it out of a movie?”  Scully asked, and jumped somewhat as the whine of the machine began to surround them.  She was not afraid of the warp itself – during her first visit to NanoCorp, Terry had given her the chance to experience it herself.  But by the grim looks on Terry and Deidre’s face and the thought of what might happen should the vaccine miss its mark...or worse yet, have no effect on the cybernetic being...made Scully wonder if she was doing a smart thing by coming along after all.

Terry and Deidre did not answer her question; only held hands as the warp took hold of all three.

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

Maximus and Caroline lay back on the hay, cuddled together in companionable silence.  He watched the dust motes in a beam of late afternoon sunlight that shown through a wide crack in the wall. The motes floated lazily, comfortably in the still air and his mind began to float with them, recalling days spent in his father's stables when he was a boy.

Suddenly the sunbeam split apart with a slight crackle and separate sections of light filled the space all around the couple on the hay. Terry landed on his knees, Dee just a bit behind him, holding onto his belt and managing to keep her feet despite an awkward position. Scully, though, was draped completely across the legs of the astounded General.  "What...?" he gasped, his hand reaching instinctively for his sword hilt but finding a gun butt instead. His wide green eyes stared into the even wider blue ones of the FBI agent.

“Oh my...,oh my God!”  Scully gasped, pushing herself up and off the General’s legs.  “I’m so sorry!  Are you all right?”  She rose up, panting from the warp.  “Good Lord, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that!”

That Caroline was shocked was a very mild way of describing the expression on her face when suddenly into their quiet nest another woman was deposited rather unceremoniously upon Maximus' legs. She sat up quickly, watching with her mouth open as the red-head scrabbled to her feet. Then she caught sight of Terry and Dee.

“Hello Maximus, Caroline,” Terry said, giving the gladiator a small nod.  “This is Dana Scully.  She’s from the government and she’s here to help us.  Got here as soon as we could,” he added.  He was already clambering to his feet and checking to make sure all of their equipment was in place.  The medical bag lay off to the side, still closed, but askew.  Dana scrambled to pick it up and check the contents.

Maximus blinked twice, but he was used to taking the measure of rapidly changing situations in a split second. "Terry," he greeted in return. "Your arrival is most welcome."

Caroline snapped her mouth shut.  Did nothing perturb the man?  "This would be the cavalry, I presume," she added. She rose, brushing straw from her skirt.  "Didn't hear the bugles sounding the charge, though."  Then she smiled.  She was really glad to see them. "You got some ace in the hole, Terry?"

“Where we at?” Dana asked in general, clicking the medical bag shut and starting a check of her armament.

“In the barn,” Deidre replied. “She’s our ace,” she answered Caroline, pointing to Scully, who obliged by holding up the pistol that carried the reformulated vaccine.  “Where’s Bud?”  Now that they had arrived, they did not want to spend much time explaining themselves. 

Maximus was on his feet, too, checking quickly on the Kid, who seemed to be stirring a little. "Bud is somewhere in the town," he supplied, "locating the positions of Herod's men. I do not know exactly where he is at this moment."  He reached for his pocket watch then remembered. "My watch is broken." He didn't go into how.  "What time is it now?"

“We were hoping to fall in about six o’clock...” began Terry.

Scully saw the Kid as well and interrupted.  “Who is he and what’s happened to him?” she asked pointing at the prostrate and unconscious Kid.  “Why is this man out cold?” 

"Laudanum," Maximus said softly.

“Laudanum?”  Scully’s eyes grew large once more.  She pried open one of his eyelids to observe the dilation of the pupils, checked the pulse at his carotid artery.  “He seems to be okay.  Will probably have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, though.”

“Why did you kidnap the Kid?”  Deidre asked Maximus.

"Sid was arranging it so the Kid and I would have the first fight today. Cort thought it would be best if Bud and I kidnapped him and I stayed out of sight here. It seemed the only way to ruin Sid's plans."  He turned his head quickly toward the front entrance of the barn. "If it is almost six, then Cort will be in the street facing Ellen."  He looked at Terry. "A perfect target."

“Shall we go loud?”  Deidre asked of Terry, who began by opening the barn door and surveying the outlying town.  Using a pair of binoculars, Terry scanned the rooftops closest to them.  Just his luck!  He caught sight of Bud on the roof of one building, creeping quietly behind one of the riflemen as he positioned himself to take aim at people in the street below.  “You’re right,” he murmured to Maximus.  “We’ve got moments left and Bud’s already in action.”  He glanced behind to check on Scully, who had the vaccine pistol in hand.  “Need I point out which one is Sid?”

“I think I’ll be able to figure it out,” the FBI agent replied.  “What are you going to do?”

“Give us about five minutes to get into place and then try to get close,” Terry instructed her.  “You’ll be on your own until we’re able to take out some of the men.  The goal for the rest of us is to get Cort and Rachel back to the barn.  We’re not going to be able to take out all the shooters, but if we can get them back here, we can try again with the warp.  Ready?  Go...”

Cort stood alone at the far end of the small town, preparing to start his walk toward Ellen. His eyes flicked from Ellen's distant, grim face to Rachel's worried expression as she stood, clutching one of the posts along the front of the saloon's porch.  Before he took a step, he closed his eyes. "God, please, don't let Rachel have to watch me killed."  Opening his lids, he scanned the roofs and balconies. Herod's men were blatantly moving into position.  He caught a brief glimpse of Bud on a roof.  One man...against how many?  Breathing in deeply, he blew the air slowly out his mouth, flexing his fingers. His bicep and shoulder muscles ached even when he held them perfectly still.

Ellen started her walk.  He took a step, then another, willing himself not to crane his neck to seek out the men with rifles aimed at him.  It would do no good.  He had one bullet.  His eyes found Rachel again on his third step.  She looked pale to him.  Someone called out a nasty joke from the side of the street. He ignored it and kept walking slowly straight ahead.

Rachel stepped up on the porch to see over the heads of people filling in the gap where Cort had walked to meet his final fight, feeling a slight movement in her pelvis once more – Hope moving again.  But it was such a tiny movement, almost as if...

She felt a small trickle begin down her legs.  Water.  Not much.  Or blood.  She couldn’t look now!  Feeling life drain from her face, she leant against one of the wooden columns of the porch, her muscles beginning to shake.  Something was happening now – a twinge.  The trickle continued, steady, warm, pooling in her socks and shoes.  She dared not look down to see if the liquid had reached the mud-caked wooden planks of the porch, hoped desperately everyone was too busy watching the death walk to notice her dilemma.  She saw Cort look her way, his eyes glinting with concern.  She held very still, her eyes moving to Sid, who sat watching her husband like a cat about to pounce upon its prey.  He was not watching her, thank God! 

Then, came a second twinge, a little harder than the first.  Hope kicked again.  She was ready to come.

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