Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hand me that rifle, Joe. The best we can do for ‘im right now is put ‘im outta his misery.”

The deep lines between Hoss’ brows spoke of how much the deed would hurt his tender heart. Normally, Adam wouldn’t fault him for it. The steer couldn’t go on with a leg busted that bad—not on a cattle drive that was only half over, at any rate.

In fact, normally, Adam would’ve been the first to take up the rifle; to get the miserable deed done and over with so his brothers wouldn’t have to.

Normally… 

As Hoss raised the rifle with reluctant hands, Adam felt his insides go cold as ice. It’d been a year already. One whole year. You should’ve been over it by now, don’t you think?

Normally, he would’ve told the cynical voice to shut up—he’d gotten pretty good at shutting it out since… Well, since East Gate and… and everything…

At that moment, however, the ground seemed to shift. Because he was raising the gun, curling his finger around the trigger.

Bang! The long-buried memory exploded in his mind. A slight stumble was enough to get him to Hoss before his brother could fire.

The trigger. Don’t pull—

“Hoss, stop.”

Confusion swirled around the lines of pain as Hoss started, glancing back. “Aww, come on, Adam, you know we gotta—”

Don’t pull the trigger. Don’t—

Cold beads of sweat began to line his forehead; his brain raced as he wet his lips. Dry. The sun would only get hotter from here and everything was so dry.

Always too dry out here. Too… The trigger. Don’t pull—

“There has to be another way. Look,” Adam began, keeping his hand wrapped tightly around the barrel of the gun, “we can still help it, just like we do at the ranch.”

Hoss shook his head. “Yeah, but we ain’t at the ranch. Ain’t no way we can heal ‘im probably on a cattle drive.”

He was acutely aware of both his brothers’ stares narrowing on him, studying him. Wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

Well, what is wrong with you, Cartwright?

He couldn’t say. Not now. Not when his heart was beating for fast he could barely breathe. Not when everything was shouting at him to save them all while he still had the chance.

Save them. Save yourself.

Save—

“Come on, Adam, let go, will ya? Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

The rifle moved; Adam’s mind screamed. A desperate cry of survival. “Hoss, stop!”

“Adam, what in tarnation—?”

“Adam,” Joe tried from somewhere off to the side, his tone cloudy with emotions Adam couldn’t identify, “what’s your problem, huh? Can’t we just get this over with?”

“No, we can’t.” Can’t, can’t, can’t pull the trigger! “There has to be another way—”

Guns.

No guns, no—

When Hoss began wrestling the weapon away, Adam only clung to it tighter. “Dadburn it, Adam! Why can’t ya just let me—?”

“Because if you shoot her, we’ll never be able to get out of here!”

A silence settled over them, heavy and suffocating. Words once spoken can’t be taken back. Adam was reminded of this when he heard Joe suck in a breath; when Hoss’ grip on the gun briefly faltered.

Because now they all knew. They understood, and the worst of it was Adam wished they couldn’t. For so long, he’d wanted them to understand, to know what he went through out there. To be able to relate. Now, he wished more than anything that they would look at him like he was crazy. Like they didn’t understand a darn thing he was saying.

And yet, they did.

After all, isn’t that what you always wanted, Cartwright?

One year. One whole year and still that desert haunted him. One year. You’d think you’d have gotten over it by now…

Sure.

Like it was a smoldering branding iron, Adam released the rifle. Schooling his face into a neutral expression, he forced himself into a slow, steady retreat—no matter how loud his brain screamed at him to turn and run.

“Never mind. Just…” He shook his head, not daring to look either of them in the eyes. He knew what he’d find there. He’d seen it all before. You don’t need their pity.

They’re just concerned, that’s all.

Sure. Or maybe they still think you’re insane.

Shut. Up.

Waving a dismissive hand, Adam turned away. “Never mind.”

He didn’t look back; didn’t answer when Joe called out after him.

Yet, he couldn’t help but flinch when he heard the inevitable gunshot.

Oh, and here you thought it was over.

Didn’t you?

Heaving a sigh, Adam retreated to Sport, finding relief in simply stroking his friend’s mane.

“Shh,” he whispered to the steed, though whether he was trying to soothe the horse or himself, he couldn’t tell. “It’s all right.”

Some scars never fade, I guess. How unfortunate.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he sucked in a long, slow breath.

Unfortunate…

“Adam?” If one more person said his name like that—in that careful, treading on eggshells tone—he was going to…

What? Came that haughty voice from within again. You’ll kill them like you killed me?

I didn’t—

Banishing the old argument to the depths of his tormented mind, he looked his father in the eyes, determined to play it cool. Because if he acted like everything was fine, he might be able to convince his mind that it really was.

“Is everything…” Ben’s gaze held that studious glint, ever-knowing. “… All right?”

“Fine.” With a tug, Adam mounted Sport, then risked a glance at Hoss and Joe. “We lost one of the steers.”

“I know,” Ben replied with a grim nod. “I heard the shot.”

“Yeah.”

As his father sucked in a breath, Adam felt himself holding his own. “Adam…”

Adam. Adam. Adam.

Are you sure you’re all right, Adam?

Adam, you spaced out again.

Hey, Adam, I’m not trying to pry—honest—but you seem a little…

Ben seemed to backtrack after that. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam noticed the way his pa appeared to be sizing up the situation. “Son… you’re sure you’re—”

“I’m fine, Pa. Now, are we going to get this drive moving again? We’ve lost enough time already, don’t you think?”

He didn’t wait for Ben to reply. He couldn’t.

Not without completely falling apart. Again.

Like you did back in that desert. Remember that?

Urging Sport forward, he put as much distance between his family and himself without abandoning the herd altogether.

Shut. Up.

‘Course, you remember. Everyone does.

Just… Adam closed his eyes again, only briefly this time. He didn’t have time for this; had to focus on the drive. Just…

Shut up.

Please, just…

Would it take another year? Two? Three? How long would the memories haunt him? How long would he have to worry about triggers popping up out of the blue like this? 

Some scars never fade. Just remember that.

Just… 

… shut up.

Chapter Text

“Where are you two fellas headed?”

It was a simple question—almost too simple. Just like a gun: simply made, yet loaded and deadly.

Not for the first time, Adam wondered why people couldn’t mind their own business.

Because everyone has an ulterior motive, right?

Right, Cartwright…?

That voice… It seemed a part of him, now. Always there, never leaving—no matter how many sleepless nights he spent trying to banish it from his mind.

Didn’t I tell you? You can’t escape me.

Or yourself.

Pursing his lips, he did his best to ignore the taunts. The sooner he and his brother could get back on their way, the better.

Hoss, for his part, didn’t seem to feel Adam’s sense of hurry, smiling and falling into that neighborly “I trust everyone” attitude Adam had come to despise in the recent months. His middle brother had always been the most outgoing of the Cartwright offspring in certain ways, and it was once a trait Adam greatly admired. That genuine smile bestowed upon the surliest of strangers; the easy conversation and relaxed demeanor…

It used to bring a smile to Adam’s face. Nowadays, he didn’t really like to think about when or why it changed.

Sticking out his hand, Hoss grinned at the waystation master. “I’m Hoss Ca—”

“And I’m Adam. We’re just passing through.” Not taking the time to dwell on—or even acknowledge—the confused look Hoss shot his way, Adam nodded at their horses. “Now, how much to feed and water the horses so we can be on our way?”

The elderly owner nodded and named a price. “You fellas in a hurry?”

Adam forced himself not to wither under Hoss’ scrutinizing stare as his brother drawled, “Well, I didn’t think we were. And if we are, we sure didn’t use to be.”

“It’s been a long journey,” Adam explained. “We’re just a bit anxious to get home.”

Nodding again, the station master gestured toward the barn. “Feed’s in there.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, handing the man his payment.

“I suppose everyone has that drive to get home sometime or another.” The man’s chuckle grated on Adam’s nerves, but he couldn’t really say why. “And some folks can’t seem to get far enough away from it! Where’s home for you two?”

Alarm bells went off in his brain so fast, he couldn’t be sure of their cause at first.

“Just where are you headed?”

“Back… I hope, eventually, back home… the Ponderosa.”

Flashes of East Gate plagued his mind and he shivered. Because of you.

No, the voice shot back. Because of you.

Because you can’t get over yourself, Cartwright. It’s like I said: I’m the better man.

Adam’s nails bit at his palm as he clenched a fist. You’renot even real.

Not anymore. You made sure of that. Remember?

How could he forget?

How can I forget when you’re always there to remind me?

Kane’s twisted grin would forever be branded on his mind, Adam knew that. He just wished it would stop picking the worst possible moments to show itself.

Resisting the nagging urge to squeeze his eyes shut, Adam tightened his grip on Sport’s reins.

“The great Ponderosa. Oh yes, I’ve heard of it. Who hasn’t?”

“Not too far from here, actually,” Hoss replied with a smile. “Virg—”

“Virginia.”

The stranger glanced from Hoss to Adam. “City?” 

“State.” Adam could’ve kicked himself as soon as he said it.

Both his brother’s and the station master’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s… a long way off, ain’t it?”

“Now you can see why we’re in a bit of a hurry. Thank you again. Come on, Hoss.”

Without another word, Adam led Sport into the barn, all the while trying not to drown in the hurricane of memories threatening to consume his mind.

What a brilliant answer, the voice sneered. A brilliant answer by a brilliant mind.

Oh, just shut up…

Hoss joined him a few minutes later, taking just long enough for Adam to wonder what he was saying to that stranger.

Telling him your names, no doubt.

Shut up.

And where you live…

I said—

So he can come and find you.

Stop it!

You’re too rich, Cartwright. And that’s only one of your many issues. Everyone knows the Ponderosa. Your daddy made too big a name for himself.

I said, shut—

But if it makes you feel better, you just go ahead and hide behind your witless excuses—

Shut up!

Only when bolts of pain shot through his hand did he realize he’d slammed it into the side of the stall.

“You all right there, Adam?”

Startled more than he’d ever care to admit, Adam whirled around, half expecting to find Kane staring him down with that blasted rifle in his hands.

What’s the matter, Cartwright? Mind playing tricks on you again?

Blowing out a sigh, Adam forced his eyes into an exaggerated roll and turned back to Sport. After all, it was better to come off as annoyed at his brother than scared of his own shadow.

Right…?

“I thought I told you not to sneak up on people like that.”

Even with his back turned, he could practically see Hoss’ shrug. “I guess you did, at that. Though, I didn’t know walkin’ into a barn counted as sneakin’.”

The whatever on the tip of Adam’s tongue was quickly swallowed in favor of saving what little remained of his dignity. The last thing he needed right now was to sound like Little Joe on a bad day.

A thick silence settled over the two as they fed their horses—so thick, Adam found it difficult to breathe.

Or maybe that wasn’t due to the silence…

“So,” Hoss began, clearing his throat and cutting through the tension, “all that nonsense back there… What was that, anyway?”

Yes, Cartwright, explain your madness to your brother. I’m sure he’ll understand.

Shut up.

“Do we have to disclose our full backstory to every stranger we meet on the side of the road?”

“No, I suppose not, but what’s wrong with being neighborly?” Hoss was treading lightly and trying not to show it, yet Adam could tell by the sound of his voice.

He’s walking on eggshells. They’ve all been walking on eggshells since—

Adam stroked Sport’s mane and silently counted to ten. “We’re not his neighbors, Hoss. We’re just strangers passing through. Can’t we do that without constantly drawing attention to ourselves?”

“Now, what d’ya mean by that?”

Chubb whinnied, but Adam didn’t dare look back. He could control his voice just fine, but he couldn’t say the same for his face. No need to give yourself away.

No need to make him worry again.

Again…

Right.

He drew a slow breath. Control. He was the one in control.

So why does it still feel like I can’t make a move without Kane giving me his permission…?

“Do you realize we get in more trouble telling people we’re Cartwrights than anything else?”

“That’s… true, I guess. But don’t ya think that might be a bit of an exaggeration—”

“Face it, Hoss, it happens all the time.” Somehow, his hands had found a brush because he realized he’d been rubbing down Sport for a few minutes now. “You tell a stranger you’re a Cartwright and immediately their twisted mind starts to turn. The Ponderosa is too big, too well-known. The next thing you know, someone’s taking advantage of you, or holding your medicine for ransome, or bushwhacking you in the middle of the desert and then—!”

The previous tension paled in comparison to the silence that followed his outburst.

As Adam tightened his grip on the brush, he finally let his eyes slide shut. When will it end…?

Haven’t I suffered long enough?

That laugh… It echoed in the back of his mind on repeat. Over and over without rest—without even the smallest reprieve.

If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times…

Stop it.

You can’t escape me, Cartwright. It’s a waste of energy to even try.

Right.

How could he forget?

“Adam…?”

“Adam.”

“Adam!”

Never before had he grown so tired of hearing his own name. Not when they said it like that. Like he was just a cracked pane of glass waiting to shatter.

“Adam, are you all right?”

“Come on, Adam, talk to me.”

“You can’t go on like this, Adam. It’s not fair to us and it’s not fair to you.”

Yeah? Dropping the brush, he snatched up Sport’s reins. Well, what do you want me to do about it?

“Talk to us.”

I’m trying.

“Just tell me how I can help.”

I’m trying.

“It might help to get some of it off your chest and out of your mind.”

I’m—

“Forget it,” Adam muttered as he led his horse toward the open doorway. “I’m ready when you are, but take your time.”

Hoss’ gentle hand on his shoulder both stopped his advance and sent shivers down his spine.

Look at yourself. Scared of every shadow, just like a skittish barn animal.

His brother’s steady voice successfully banished the one tormenting his mind—for the moment, at least.

“You wanna talk about it?”

For a moment, Adam considered the offer. For as long as he could remember, he’d always been able to talk to Hoss. They had a special sort of bond that made confiding in each other easy—even easier than talking to their own father sometimes.

So, maybe… Maybe he’d understand. And even if he didn’t, he would listen.

Hoss always listened.

But do I really want him to hear what I have to say…?

Tell him, the voice taunted, returning again with a vengeance. Tell him how you sank so low out there you couldn’t even recognize yourself. Heck, you still don’t recognize yourself, do you?

Adam shook his head. You made sure of that, didn’t you?

“No,” he finally told his brother.

Hoss nodded, understanding lining his face. “Well, you know I’m always here if ya changer your mind.”

With a nod, Adam tried to move forward, but the gentle grip on his arm tightened ever-so-slightly.

“Not everyone we meet’s out to get us,” Hoss began slowly. Even out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see the pain lacing his brother’s bright blue orbs. “You know that… right?”

Adam jerked out of the light hold, though the gesture was weak and half-hearted at best. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Then, he led his horse out of the barn before Hoss had a chance to preach him a proper sermon.

It’s never going to be the same again, is it?

Not as long as I’m around, Cartwright.

Too often, he found himself playing the “what if” game. A dangerous sport that led to sleepless nights, guilt, and far too much regret for one man to handle alone.

What if he’d stayed with Joe in East Gate?

What if Joe had gone with him?

What if he’d just kept quiet about all that money in the first place?

What if, what if, what if?

What if I’d killed him when I had the chance…?

Oh, but you did. Don’t you remember?

I didn’t. I couldn’t have— wouldn’t have. I…

None of it mattered now, anyway. The past can’t be changed.

And if it could, what makes you think you’d get to be the one to change it?

Right.

Still…

It sure would be nice, though.

With a sigh, he mounted Sport and gave the station master one final glance. He simply sat on his porch chair and gave Adam a nod. Again, he wondered what else Hoss had told the man.

It sure would be nice…

Chapter Text

“There!”

It took Joe shouting in his ear to pull Adam back to reality. As the thick sheets of rain continued to stuff his head with cotton, it was all too easy to zone out.

The gaping hole in his side wasn’t doing him any favors, either.

Biting back a grimace, Adam nodded, urging Sport forward and following his little brother toward the cave. How the kid had spotted it in the storm, he’d never know.

Maybe if you weren’t so distracted all the time, you would’ve seen it, too.

Doubt it.

Somehow, the cave was just tall enough to fit their horses, and just deep enough not only to give them adequate shelter from the rain but to add a somewhat creepy feeling to the atmosphere.

Joe was at his side mere seconds after he dismounted. “You all right, Adam?”

His smirk fell short, he could just tell by its feel, and he nodded once more. “Fine, Joe.”

I’ll be just fine…

“You don’t look fine,” the kid shot back with a frown and it was all Adam could do to keep from rolling his eyes.

"All right, I'm not fine then. Help me sit down over there, will you?"

As Joe aided Adam in his descent against the wall, he chattered a bit, trying to fill the blaring silence.

Breathe.

Just breathe so you don't scare him more than you already—

The hiss slipped out before he could bite half his tongue off in a vain attempt at stopping it.

"I'm fine," he told Joe's worried face. "I'll be fine..."

Always so sure of yourself, aren't you, Cartwright?

Oh, shut up.

He was already fighting a bullet to the gut, he didn't need to fight the voice as well.

That's the last thing I need right now.

The voice had gotten pretty good at sticking around; at popping up during the worst possible times.

And Adam was getting pretty bad shooing it away. What used to be a relatively easy task had become damned near impossible as of late.

You're weak, Cartwright. That's why.

You always have been, always will be.

Right…

"Adam?"

Snapping back to attention was his only indicator that he had been on the verge of getting lost again. Lost in his own thoughts, in the torment that just wouldn't leave him alone.

In the shroud of that voice...

"What?"

You know what.

Joe's brows creased. You're gonna give that kid elevens before he's even twenty five.

"You zoned out on me for a second there."

He tried for a laugh that ended as a grimace and Adam braced himself for the next wave of pain.

Because Joe was reaching toward his wound…

It was going to hurt like hell, he knew that from experience. He also had practice in not letting the pain show, no matter how hot or sharp it grew to be.

"Looks like it went clean through," Joe observed after a few moments—moments that felt for all the world to Adam like hours. Long agonizing hours.

It was all he could do to bite out a reply. "That's good."

"Man, those guys came out of nowhere."

They always do.

I did, didn't I, Cartwright?

Shut. Up.

Maybe you would've seen them coming if you’d stop spending so much time trapped in your own mind.

Right. And who trapped me there, exactly?

Who?

Who?

"Adam...?"

Blinking didn't do much but simulate life, even though Adam had felt dead inside for some time now.

"I'm still here, Joe. Always have been."

The look Joe gave him was less than reassuring, but his baby brother kept on working all the same. Tying parts of his jacket around Adam's stomach; hurrying to staunch the bleeding before it got any worse.

And running his mouth double time to keep the eerie silence at bay.

Any silence with Adam in the room these days was far from comfortable—he knew that for a fact. After all, he wasn’t comfortable in those hesitant, cautious silences, so why would any of his family be?

Just another thing you have to fix…

Thunder clapped outside, a cruel reminder that they were stuck in that blasted cave for the foreseeable future.

“I think…” The amount of concentration on Joe’s face was almost painful to look at. “I think I got it under control before it could get worse… Hold on a second…”

Worse? How could it possibly get any worse?

You really want me to answer that, Cartwright?

At last, Joe sat back on his heels, wiping a bloody hand across his forehead. "There. That should hold for now."

As he studied his brother’s handiwork, Adam wondered when he would stop getting ambushed in the desert.

We weren't even carrying any cash this time.

Do you really think rustlers are going to stop to think about that?

"Thanks, Joe," he managed through a sigh, shifting into a more comfortable position. Or, trying to, at least. "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. They didn't even graze me."

"Good." Adam let his eyes flutter closed for a moment. Just a moment… When he opened them, Joe was gone.

A mere glance to the side revealed the kid had just gone to check on the horses, soothing his precious Paint, but the jolt his sudden absence had sent through Adam lingered on.

You never should’ve left him back at Eastgate.

Maybe then, none of this would’ve happened.

Shut—

Try as he might, Adam couldn’t reconcile with the odd contrast that had taken over his life lately: the need to be left alone, and the overwhelming, almost panicky urge to not be deserted.

To not be left alone in the desert to die with no family or friends or—

You're fine. It's fine. Joe's fine…

Speaking of the kid… Joe had wandered around a bit, making his restlessness known before plopping back down beside Adam.

"I'd build a fire, but..." Joe jerked his head at the mouth of their stoney prison.

"It's okay." And it took a good portion of his already dwindling energy to keep the edge of pain out of his voice. "I don't think we'll be here long." At Joe's you've got to be kidding me look, Adam couldn't help but chuckle. A poor choice, considering it rattled his throbbing wound. "The power of positive thinking."

"Oh." Joe slumped, elbows resting atop his knees. "Right. Figured you were gonna say something dumb like that."

Much as he wanted to slap that smirk off Joe's face, Adam restrained himself, flashing a smirk of his own instead and praying to God it didn't look more like a grimace.

"Even if you hadn't been shot," Joe went on, a pinch of worry still swirling around his overly casual tone, "we would've had to stop anyway. I couldn't even see my hand in that storm."

As a shiver wracked Joe's lanky frame, it occured to Adam that he should probably feel guilty. The kid's only source of warmth was wrapped around his midsection and Adam couldn't have snaked off his own jacket if he tried.

Yet, the guilt wouldn't come. It couldn't seem to push itself through the thick layers of unease, of anxiety… of foreboding.

When he closed his eyes, he could feel it. The dense air, the suffocating heat. The sweat pouring down his face and neck—

"Maybe I should just leave you be."

Adam glanced at Joe, snapping out of his thoughts again. What good is thinking anyway?

"You keep zoning out on me." And there were those furrowed brows… "You didn't even lose that much blood."

"My mind's just on… other things, I guess."

Joe snorted. "Yeah, I guessed."

"Like how we're going to get home and all that."

"Sure." Joe didn't believe him, but they both pretended he did.

They were always pretending these days, weren't they?

Pretending everything was fine.

Pretending Eastgate never happened.

Pretending everything was going to go back to normal. Eventually.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Like you pretend I'm still alive.

The second Adam felt his fists clench, he let them go. There wasn't any reason to heighten Joe's concern.

Like you pretend you didn’t k—

I didn't kill you. You know that.

I know a lot of things, Cartwright. I know you still feel guilty about it, about everything.

And you and I both know I'm never going away.

"Shut up."

Joe shifted beside him. "I wasn't saying anything."

Damn.

If he could just keep the battle inside his head, then everything would be a little easier, but reality was so hard to weed out of the noise inside his mind these days…

"Just ignore me, Joe," he sighed, giving the bridge of his nose a good pinch.

"You know," Joe cocked his head, "if you keep telling me to do that, pretty soon you won't exist anymore."

Maybe that's for the best.

"So, I guess it's a good thing I don't listen to you."

"You never have."

"Aw, come on. I listened to you sometimes."

"Right. When it didn't matter. And when it did matter, you didn't."

A shrug was the best Joe could offer. "What can I say? I was sort of a spoiled kid."

"If you take the words 'was' and 'sort of' out of that sentence, you'll have a perfect statement of fact."

"Ha ha. Funny, Adam. Hey…" He turned toward the entrance. "I think it's letting up."

"Already? It can't be." Too good to be true. Too good to be—

Never trust anything that seems too good to be true.

“Yeah, looks like it. Usually I hate it when you’re right, but I think we might not have to stay here long after all! Just like you said.” Jumping to his feet, Joe continued, “I'm gonna go out and try to see where we are. Maybe we're not as far from home as we thought.”

The hope in Joe's eyes was akin to a physical blow to Adam's chest, which had begun to struggle at doing its job.

"Don't go out there, you'll get completely soaked."

A weak argument at best, proven all the weaker when Joe flashed that grin of his.

"I'm already wetter than a fish, Adam. Can't get any worse than this." To prove his point, he ran a hand through his sopping curls.

And Adam's chest burned. That old unease returning full-force, the foreboding that had made its home in the back of his mind ever since—

The dusty, sweat-soaked shirt tugged at his side as he shifted. Tying it tight like that used to keep out the dirt and grime, but now it only worked to rub his skin raw.

Don't go out there. Don't—

There was a reason why not, a good reason. One he just couldn't seem to remember.

But Joe was already halfway there. Halfway out of this hell, yet halfway to—

"Joe, stop, come back!" He hissed, keeping his voice low because…

Because why?

"Come on, Adam, I'm just gonna check things out. I swear, I'll only be a few minutes."

"It's not a good idea," Adam pressed, fighting to keep his chest working.

How were they expected to breathe in here when the air was so hot and thick?

“Just getting a breath of fresh air before I keel over in that oven…”

“Well, don’t take all day about it.”

Joe's brows dipped again. "I'll be real quick. I don't get why—"

Why?

"Just..."

Just stay.

Why?

"Just don't, Joe. All right?"

Why?

"Why?"

Breathe—

Why?

That laugh... It just wouldn't leave his mind alone.

You know why, Cartwright.

Stumbling out of that heat trap.

The rifle being shoved in his face.

That inevitable, powerful…

“I’m cutting your food and water rations in half as of today.”

Joe's next step was the final straw.

… Click of the gun.

"Because!" Adam's shout echoed off the cave walls. "Because he's waiting out there! He's always waiting out there, and if you go out, he'll get you!"

The air went from thick to unbearable as thunder rolled in the distance, followed by a streak of lightning.

It lit up the cave and Adam could see.

There's nothing out there but rain, you imbecile.

The sweat trailing down his back was just droplets of rainwater.

And his tightly tied shirt was Joe's jacket covering his wound. Not keeping out the dust of the desert.

Not… 

"Damn it."

The whisper split the silence as reality came crashing down on top of him.

"Adam?" Joe's voice didn't tremble; it didn't bleed with pity; it wasn't cautious.

It wasn't even worried. After all, Adam had put a stop to that a long time ago.

"Quit worrying about me, will you, Hoss?"

"I'm not an injured calf you can fix, Joe."

"Just... let it go, Pa..."

No, Joe's tone was just curious.

And Adam could tell it was taking everything inside his little brother to keep it that way.

“Forget it, Joe.” He didn’t even have the strength to force a smile. “It’s just the blood loss talking.”

“I don’t think you lost enough blood for that.” Conflict painted Joe’s face. To stay or to go. That’s the question, isn’t it?

Go, just go.

That way he could get his mind back under control in peace.

Peace? When’s the last time you had peace? 

Then, instead of pressing out into the rain, Joe cleared his throat. “Have you ever… Well, have you ever thought of… of talking about it?”

A dry, mirthless chuckle escaped Adam’s lips. “More times than I can count, believe me.”

“Then…” And there was that curiosity again, that confusion. “… why don’t you?”

“It’s not that easy, Joe.”

“But it could be. You just gotta take that first step.”

“Sure… Sure. Maybe some other time…”

“Well,” Joe said with a shrug, flashing a ghost of a smile, “I’m always here to listen… For whenever you’re ready.”

Adam found his mouth too dry to make any sort of reply, so he simply gave a nod. Joe took this to be the end of the conversation, though he lingered a moment more before going out to brave the storm.

Which, Adam realized, truly had begun to let up.

Right.

When was his storm going to let up? The one that swirled around his mind every hour of every single damn day…

Not as long as I’m around, Cartwright.

You're stuck with me.

Perhaps he should just resign himself to his fate.

That’s it, Cartwright. It was so much easier back when you let me call the shots.

That’s only because you left me no choice.

You always had a choice. And you used it to kill me.

I didn’t—

Slamming his eyes shut, Adam clamped down on the voice.

Silence was a luxury these days, a luxury he had to fight tooth and nail for every day.

Shut. Up.

Just…

The sigh that cut through his throat sounded more like a choked sob, making him beyond grateful Joe was still out in the elements.

Don’t let them see you break.

You can’t let them see you—

The laugh echoed across his brain again. All he would’ve had to do was open his eyes and he’d see the maniac who went with it.

So, he kept his eyes screwed shut.

Just for now. Just until Joe came back.

You can’t let them see you break.

Oh, Cartwright…

They already have.

Chapter Text

His fingers twitched, his skin still burning from pressing so hard. White-knuckled thumbs had dug into the thin, suntanned flesh—that delicate scarf of skin that made up the neck.

It had been so easy, so satisfying…

His fingers remembered piercing that delicate scarf, though his mind still refused to accept it. To accept the way the blood had flowed down in thick rivers; the way his thumbs had applied enough pressure to crack the man's trachea. He hadn’t known he’d possessed such raw strength…

No, his brain wouldn't accept any of it—and didn't even know, really, why his feet had him running for his life. Through the vast, dark desert. Over thick sand dunes and around jagged rocks.

Away. He just had to get away.

Away from the bleeding, choking man.

He can't be choking. You killed him. How can he be choking?

Adam didn't know. All he knew was that slowing to a stop would be akin to signing his own death warrant. Even when his legs burned and his lungs constricted in pain, he would have to keep running. Keep—

"Going somewhere, Cartwright?"

The voice stopped him cold. Darkness clouded the outskirts of the desert and all he could see was a vast spread of landscape. Endless, endless landsc—

But how…?

Heart hammering so that he could hardly catch a breath, Adam whirled around, scanning the darkness like his life depended on it. Maybe it does.

A laugh echoed somewhere off to the right and he turned.

Nothing.

How…? He had seen the blood; had felt the man's life drain away as his hands pressed down and squeezed.

"I told you," the voice said, its familiar tone making Adam's skin crawl, "you can't escape me, Cartwright…"

No…

"Or yourself."

And then, there he was, hovering inches away from Adam's face. Kane stood tall and strong, not a trace of blood in sight.

Even through the foggy darkness, he could see that Kane was smiling… And laughing.

Closing his eyes, Adam sucked in a breath, willing the face to be gone when he opened them again.

And yet, there he was.

No matter where he turned, Kane was there.

"I'm always here, Cartwright. You might have killed me, but you'll never get rid of me. I can promise you that."

I didn't kill you! I didn’t—

He wanted to shout it, to scream it in Kane's face until his throat was raw and ragged.

Instead, he closed his eyes again and dropped to his knees.

Wake up…

He didn't try to pinch himself, to start small like that. Like normal people. No, he went for his own neck, dragging his nails across the tender skin and down the front of his chest in a desperate attempt to escape.

The hand-shaped bruises on Kane’s neck jumped and danced as he continued to bark out that cruel, sickening laugh.

Wake up!

Wake—

—Something pulled Adam out of the dark arms of sleep, ripping him away from its claws with a jolt. He didn't have time to feel any gratitude for the fact that he hadn't cried out this time.

That face…

The adrenaline was already shoving him out of bed in a tangle of blankets that he quickly kicked to the side.

That face…

He had to get away, had to wake up, had to—

Stumbling, Adam braced himself against the doorframe, taking a few seconds to catch his breath.

You are awake.

Right…

Waking or sleeping, it didn't matter much these days. That face haunted him either way.

"I don't want to kill you, Kane, I just want to get away from you!"

A slow, cold shiver trickled down his spine.

He needed light.

In the darkness, everything looked the same. In the darkness, he couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed; if he was still dreaming or had managed to escape the vivid nightmare.

In the darkness, he was trapped.

The fire in the hearth cast a low glow across the living room furniture, making the shadows dance with every crackle and flicker. Easing himself down on the settee, Adam welcomed the last vestiges of light. His hands still trembled too much to have lit the lamp in his room with any kind of success, so this would have to do.

It had been more than a year since Eastgate. Don't you think you should’ve been over this by now?

In the beginning, the dreams hadn't spared him even a single night of peace. Toward the middle of that long year, the night terrors had waned, though maybe that hadn't been as good a thing as he liked to believe. He supposed that was about when he'd started hearing the voice in his head. In one way or another, Kane continued to haunt him from beyond the grave.

Adam couldn't tell which was worse, the nightmares or the voice.

You never were that sure of yourself, were you, Cartwright?

Sucking in a sharp breath through his nose, Adam let his eyes close for just a moment. Just a single moment. Too long and he might begin to feel that familiar prickling against the back of his neck. Like someone was hovering mere inches behind his shoulder. Watching, waiting…

"Are we just supposed to stare at each other all night, then?"

“At least until I'm certain you won't be able to escape, Cartwright.”

"Yes…” Even now, he could still feel the sting of the ropes that had once chafed his wrists every night. “… because that's exactly what I was about to do."

"Go right ahead. I enjoy watching you struggle."

Chest hitching, his eyes shot open and he risked a quick glance over his shoulder.

Nothing.

Like always.

Adam took another breath, slower this time.

Did you honestly think I'd be there? After you squeezed the life out of me?

I didn't kill you.

The voice was quiet after that, refusing to comment further, but Adam knew it was only a matter of time before it would strike again.

I didn't…

Part of him wanted to say it out loud, clinging to the irrational thought that if he gave the words a voice, Kane's ghost might actually hear them.

Then, maybe he would go haunt someone else.

But Adam had never believed in ghosts. He did, however, believe in the rapid deterioration of the mind, in psychological trauma, in insanity.

I'm not insane.

When you quit telling yourself lies, maybe I'll start thinking about leaving you to rest.

Go away.

You can't escape me, Cartwrigtht.

Adam almost laughed at the familiar words. They were the ones he heard most often. Instead, he clamped his jaw shut and pursed his lips tight.

I know.

Lest he really begin to sound insane.

I know…

For a time, he'd been able to trick himself into believing he was getting better. The dreams had been fading and the voice wasn't so bad, really. Somehow, he had been getting better.

Hadn't he…?

Maybe not.

He couldn't tell if that thought sounded more like Kane or his own voice. It was getting progressively harder to tell the difference between the two.

Still, hadn't he been getting better? Somehow…?

The last time he'd endured that particular nightmare had been at least five or six days ago. Maybe even a full week.

If that’s not progress, I don’t know what is.

That afternoon had changed everything.

Something deep inside him, the part that would have him biting his nails down to the quick with worry if he paid it any mind, had hissed in his ear the morning, whispering that maybe he should make Joe or Hoss go with Pa instead.

But he had been the one to work with his father on this contract, so it only made sense that he would be the one to meet with a potential buyer for their latest herd of cattle in Virginia City.

Adam closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, allowing them to rest shut for only a mere handful of seconds before fixing his gaze back on the dying fire. The longer he rested his eyes, the more time the face would have to materialize in the darkness, which is why sleeping might not be an option for the remainder of the night.

He would have grabbed a book if he thought he would be able to concentrate, but as it was, he couldn't stop thinking about the trip. About Virginia City and that man. The one with the smiling eyes and the genuine manner.

The one with his name.

It shouldn't have thrown him for such a loop, but until that moment, Adam hadn't heard the name spoken aloud since that first week after the… incident. His family had said the name a few times, sure, and it was always bouncing around in his head, and yet, to hear it again like that… To shake hands with the man while he said it—as he spoke the short, four-lettered word—had shaken Adam's world more than he would ever care to admit.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cartwright. I trust your journey into town didn't give you too much trouble."

The fire crackled and Adam felt himself flinch.

"If you can call a leisurely ride beneath a clear blue sky ‘trouble,’ then no more than usual,” Pa had replied with a chuckle. “And please, call me Ben. This is my oldest son, Adam."

The stranger had stuck out his hand then and grinned. "William Cain. It's a pleasure to meet you both—and to do business with you."

"Well," Pa had chuckled once more, "the pleasure's all ours, but we've hardly done any business yet, so what do you say we get to it?"

William Cain.

Spelling it differently in his mind like that was just one of the methods Adam had employed in his vain quest to distance himself from the situation.

It shouldn't mean anything. It's a common name.

For some reason, that thought sent shivers down his spine. How many more people were out there with the last name of his tormentor—or first name?

If you don't sort yourself out, Cartwright, you'll soon find you won't even be able to leave the house for fear of that very thing.

Yeah? And who's fault is that?

I don't know… Whose is it…?

Gaze trained on the fire, Adam felt an odd exhaustion wash over him as he slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.

I really don't know anymore…

"I just really don't know," he whispered.

He remembered the way he had steeled himself against the rising flinch as he shook hands with Cain. William. Call him William.

He remembered the way his father had eyed him with that cautious, walking on eggshells stare Adam had come to despise in his family.

With any luck, he tried to reassure himself, recalling the way his own smile had faltered for only a second or two, you'll never have to see the man again.

For the crime of doing absolutely nothing, Adam was ready to condemn the man to a life without his friendship or company.

Pity, Cartwright. He seemed sort of like the kind you'd enjoy sharing a drink with.

Shut up. Sucking in a breath, Adam pried his hands away from his head, needing to see again. To see every creeping shadow and find the source of every abnormal creak. Just shut up and stop pretending like you know a damn thing about me.

That laugh echoed through his mind. That taunting, barking, horrible laugh.

You still don't get it, do you? Of course I know everything about you, Cartwright. I am you.

Someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room, he was sure of it. That, or Adam's lungs had taken a page out of his mind's book and stopped obeying him; stop working properly.

He waited for air, for his lungs to fill again, but none came.

The cold night air was slapping his face before he even realized he'd stumbled outside. Hat on his head and jacket clamped between his fingers, Adam was grateful for the unconscious habit of grabbing his things before leaving the house.

The yard was cool, dark, and quiet—and it was quieter still in the barn, where Sport was waiting for him with expectant eyes.

Almost as if the animal had known he would come along eventually that night.

Without air, he readied his horse. Without air, he climbed into the saddle. Without air, he nudged Sport into the yard, making one final attempt to fill his burning lungs.

Only as he rode down the path and away from the ranch did the sweet relief of breathing wash over him. If he hadn’t been having enough difficulty telling the difference between the voice and his own thoughts before, he sure was now.

Sure?

Adam scoffed, the evening breeze whistling across the sheets of sweat that still coated his neck from the nightmare.

When was the last time you were sure about anything?

He couldn't say—didn't know.

With a sharp pang deep in his chest, Adam realized he didn't know much of anything anymore.

And he hadn't for a long time.

He didn't know what he'd hoped to find in town that night.

A distraction, maybe. Enough light and noise to drown out the silence the voice had left him with since the start of his journey. Peace of mind.

Yeah. Right.

Peace had been an elusive little sprite for the last year or so, and despite riding into town more times than he could count, Adam had yet to find peace in Virginia City.

He had found a tall, cold glass of beer, however, and he brought it to his lips, resting the smooth edge of the mug against his chin as he surveyed the saloon.

Enough drunks were still milling about even at such a late hour. A man who still seemed to have half his wits about him plunked a miserable rendition of Red River Valley on the piano, flanked on either side by two painted ladies, both of whom looked like they wanted nothing more than to collapse in a soft bed.

Adam took a slow sip of his drink. Maybe he would stay there all night. Maybe he would take another ride through the hills, with only the trees and the stars to judge him.

Maybe he would…

He didn't really know.

Just take it one minute at a time. Just one minute—

"I have to say, I didn't expect to see a friendly face here at this hour, but it's sort of funny…" Adam knew who it was standing there even before he glanced up. “…You were on my mind tonight, oddly enough."

William Cain smiled down at him and suddenly, Adam knew exactly what—or who—he'd hoped to find in Virginia City that night.

Maybe it was out of pure curiosity, or a self-destructive need to fight pain with more pain, but he welcomed the opportunity to face the demons that had been gnawing at him for the past year and let them have at him.

"Mind if I join you?"

With a wordless gesture, Adam invited the older man to take a seat at the table. The bartender brought him a drink, and it was only after a few minutes of silence that Adam was able to find his voice again.

"What brings you here so late?" He forced a chuckle, fingers tightening around his mug. "Any sane person would be fast asleep in bed."

The man's own chuckle was filled with a genuine gaity that Adam found himself envying. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Adam took another drink, making a mental note to order something a little stronger on his next round. "Well, maybe I'm not sane."

"Maybe I'm not either, Mr. Cartwright," the man offered with a grin Adam tried to match. "After all, I'm about to buy that herd of yours for a rather outrageous price, aren't I?"

Adam gave a small shrug. "I don't recall twisting your arm in any particular direction. And here, it's just Adam."

The man nodded, still smiling as he took a sip of his drink. "Will. Only my Ma called me William—and only when she was upset."

"Will it is," Adam said, managing a wry smile as the chuckle he was trying for died in his throat. "You, uh, said I was on your mind…?"

The shift in tone was thick enough that Adam could practically feel it, like a fog rolling in over the lake. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could get lost in it… Maybe then he wouldn’t have to think.

Will took a long drink, then he sat back and fixed his companion with the kind of stare Adam felt in his very soul.

"You know, I can't say for sure. I was taking in the sights around town and you came to mind." His chuckle was soft. "I honestly never expected to see you any sooner than tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, I'd be lying if I said you hadn't crossed my mind once or twice, as well."

"Any reason in particular?"

"Couldn't really say."

Liar.

Adam hid his grimace behind another drink.

There you are…

I've told you, Cartwright, you can't get rid of—

"You know, I've seen eyes like yours before." Glancing up, Adam saw that a heavy contemplation had settled on Will's face.

"Dark and ruggedly handsome?" But the lack of humor in his tone made the small attempt at a joke fall flat and Adam drowned it in another drink, only to find he'd reached the bottom of his glass.

Will's answer sent shivers down his spine. "Haunted."

With a flick of his hand, Adam motioned the bartender for another drink. "Whiskey," came his hoarse request, and within minutes, he was downing the burning liquid.

The knowing look Will gave him made Adam want to order a long row of shots, far as the eye could see.

"I'm right, then… aren't I?"

Swallowing, Adam savored the warmth of the whiskey as it flooded through his chest. "I've found the answer to that is rather subjective—and it changes frequently. Let's just say you… reminded me of someone," he added, feeling the sudden urge to explain.

Always over explaining yourself these days. Always quick to make sure everyone—

A chug of whiskey washed away the voice. For now.

Will hummed, nursing his own drink. "If I were to guess, I'd say that someone wasn't the pretty banker's wife you met once upon a summertime."

Feeling his lips curve upward ever so slightly, Adam shook his head. "Unfortunately."

Another hum. A knowing nod. Then, Will took a drink.

As Adam kept a tight grip on his glass, he found the whiskey wasn't the only thing burning his throat.

"Where’d you see them?" he couldn't help but ask. When Will tilted his head, Adam clarified. "The eyes."

Will stretched, his arms coming to rest folded across his chest. "I saw them about, oh… about fifteen years ago, now. I'd been through a particularly rough patch of life and had thought enough time had passed. Thought I was fine." A scoff as the man shook his head. "Then, I walked by the mirror on the way out of my hotel room. That's where I saw them—and I mean really saw them—for the first time. Scared me so much, I ended up having to pay the hotel for a new mirror and the doctor for a new hand."

His chuckle was still genuine, but this time when it rang out, it had lost some of its vigor.

"What'd you do?" Adam barred his mind, trying not to think of the last time he'd looked in a mirror…

"I kept on living, I guess," came the humored response.

"No, I mean." Adam took a short breath. "How did you move past it?"

"I didn't." Though Adam hadn't quite known what kind of answer he'd been expecting, that certainly wasn't it.

"Adam," his companion said with a heavy sigh, "there's no simply moving past the kind of thing that happened to me." He flashed a grin that didn't quite meet his eyes. "I won't spare you the gory details. It sounds like you have enough demons of your own to wrangle."

Adam gave a small snort at this, forcing a half-grin as he ignored his racing heart.

Laugh or you'll cry. Isn't that what they always say?

"So," he began after downing the last of his whiskey, tone as empty as the gaping hole in his chest, "there's no hope for any of us then, is there?"

"I didn't say there's no hope," Will countered. "I just said, I never moved past it."

Same difference.

Agree to disagree.

Adam couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe you haven't looked in a mirror recently, but your eyes don't seem all that haunted to me."

Will smiled as if he alone held the key to the world's greatest secret. "They aren't."

"I think I need another drink for this because you're not making a lick of sense."

"Let me take a wild guess," Will began, that knowing smile tugging at his lips once more, "and you tell me if I'm heading in the right direction. Whatever's haunting your eyes like that is something you've been trying like hell to forget. The trouble is, you can't wrangle your demons while trying to forget they exist at the same time. Just when you find they’re starting to fade from your memory, one of them jumps up and bites you right in the chest. Sound familiar, or am I completely off track?"

"I think," Adam said with a slow nod, "you hit the nail right on the proverbial head."

He took a minute to look at the man. To really look at him. At those smiling eyes and sun-worn skin. At those relaxed shoulders and that confident tilt of the head.

It was an older version of the kind of man he used to see in his mirror every day before—

"The key is letting them go."

Adam met the man's eyes again and found himself locked in a stare he wasn't sure he wanted to break.

Even as his throat continued to constrict, Adam tried to keep his tone casual. "That sounds an awful lot like moving on to me."

"Oh, the demons don't leave once you stop trying to wrangle them and let go," Will clarified. "They keep trying to get at you as best they can. The trick is learning to live with them. Figure out what riles them up, then find a way to live with that without destroying yourself. If you stop giving them your attention, pretty soon they'll get bored and leave. It might take a while, but I will tell you one thing: the harder you cling to them, the longer they'll stick around."

A scoff burned the back of his throat, but Adam couldn't force anything past his lips but a low whisper. "I'm not clinging to my demons."

"No?" Will shook his head. "I didn't think I was, either, but let me ask you this: how many times a day do you find yourself thinking about whatever happened to you?" Before Adam could even open his mouth to answer, Will pressed on. "Now, I don't mean triggers. You said I reminded you of someone, and only a few minutes after I met you this afternoon, your eyes glazed over with a handful of ghosts that have been with you ever since. Well, I suppose you can't help what happened this afternoon, but what about since then?"

"I'm… afraid I don't follow."

Will rephrased his question with a calm patience Adam had felt in himself once upon a long time ago. "Since this afternoon, how many times have you dwelled on whoever it is you saw when you heard my name?"

Adam's chuckle was dry and he kept his grip on his glass despite its empty contents. "You make it sound like I'm doing it on purpose. Like… Like I enjoy thinking about it. I can assure you, I'm not the one bringing these memories to the forefront of my mind."

Then, who is, Cartwright?

You are.

"Maybe not." Will gave a slight shrug. "But it sounds to me like you're the one keeping them there."

Spikes of pain shot through his gums as Adam clenched his jaw. It seemed like both Kanes were intent on blaming him for it all, somehow.

Maybe he shouldn't have ventured into town after all.

Only, there wasn't any malice in this Cain's voice. No blame, no condemnation or judgment. Just a calm statement of fact.

"What would you have me do?" Adam asked after a sigh. "It's not like I can just turn off the memories."

"No." Will's smile began making its valiant return. "But I've found it’s nearly impossible to think about two separate things at once. And I mean really think about something. Go ahead, give it a try."

Despite the concept sounding so obvious a child should have been able to figure it out, Adam found himself testing the waters. He mentally ticked through yesterday's To-Do List while simultaneously trying to remember a poem Inger used to put to a soft lullaby and sing to him. The result was a jumbled mess that only added to the pounding headache he hadn't even realized had started pulsing in the back of his head.

Will's smile widened, almost as if he could tell by Adam's face that the experiment had failed. "Now, to my point. When I released my hold on my demons all those years ago, they still stuck around, so I ignored them by thinking about something else. Something a whole lot nicer, like a memory of my mother, or the my son's face when he won a scholarship to Harvard. And I don't mean just a short flash of memory. I'm talking about the deepest, fullest recollection of that memory you can conjure—one that fills almost your whole mind. I think you know the kind I'm referring to."

Adam felt himself nod, having found the air in the saloon suddenly very stale. His mind whispered that it couldn't be true, that the solution couldn't be that simple.

One whole year of demons and it couldn't have always been that simple…

"On top of that," Will went on, "there's nothing quite so healing as telling someone you trust about it instead of stuffing everything down where you think it'll just disappear, but let me tell you, if you stuff old papers and secret letters in a box and bury it deep beneath the ground, it'll still be there for you or someone else to dig back up down the line."

"I'm guessing you told someone?"

Will nodded. "After about five damn years of letting the pain chew me up from the inside out. I told my father, God rest his soul, and while doing that didn't chase the demons away, it made dealing with them a whole lot easier."

Adam wanted to nod, to snatch up the shiny lure of hope before Will yanked it away; to dare to believe that things could get better.

Instead, he heard a bitter laugh escape his lips. "Funny, I thought you were trying to tell me to move past it, not relive it."

"Not move past it," Will clarified. "You're not listening. I said, learn to live with it. You can't do that until you acknowledge that whatever it is actually happened, how it hurt you, and why you can’t seem to let it go. There's no better way to do that than by telling someone."

For the first time that night, Adam didn't have anything to say; couldn't find an argument to shoot back at the man sitting oh-so calmly across from him.

"It's not going to be easy, I can tell you that right now," Will said after a moment. "But, over the years, I've found that the things that are the most worthwhile in life rarely are. In the end, the choice is up to you. I can only tell you what my own experience taught me and let you go from there."

Slowly, Adam felt himself begin to nod, lips pursed in a tight line.

You're not actually thinking something like that will work, are you? That familiar, haunting laugh echoed through the back of his mind. You tell someone and they'll see my side of it, Cartwright. They'll realize how crazy you really are.

Shut up.

Another peel of laughter.

I'd have thought you would've known by now, that doesn’t work on me—

Shut up.

Rather than give into the shiver that was threatening his spine, Adam blinked, brows dipping ever so slightly. That wasn't Kane's voice, or his own…

"Just shut up for a minute, will you, Adam?"

It was Joe's.

Leaning into the memory, Adam saw a thirteen-year-old Joe shove him lightly onto the settee.

"You're not the only one who knows how to get stuff done around here, so just sit down and shut up, okay?"

"Yeah," Hoss chimed in with a grin. "You get some rest and let us handle things for a while."

The longer he dwelled on the mental image, the harder he tried to recall what had gotten him feeling so poorly at that time. Pa had been gone on business in San Francisco and… maybe Adam had caught some sort of twenty-four hour bug? He couldn't remember. All he knew was that he'd pushed himself to the limit and his brothers—bless them—had taken over his work load.

Only when Adam blinked Will's smiling face back into focus did he realize a small grin was tugging at the corners of his own lips.

"What?" he felt the sudden, self-conscious need to ask.

"I told you it works, didn't I?" Before Adam could even ask how he could possibly have known what had just happened, Will gave a short nod. "Your eyes are a little less haunted already."

At a loss for how to respond, Adam heard a low chuckle gradually bubble in his throat. Motioning to the bartender one last time, he ordered two more drinks, sliding the second across the table.

"You're a guest in my hometown, you're about to buy a large chunk of my father's livestock, and…" Adam chuckled once more. "…I think you might have just saved my life. The least I can do is buy you a drink."

Will took the offering with a smile and a nod. "Many thanks."

"I think I should be the one thanking you."

At this, the man shrugged. "What's the use of surviving a hardship if we don't use it to help pull our fellow man out of the same dark pit?"

Adam raised his glass. "I'll drink to that, Mr. Cain." Even the simple act of uttering the name aloud felt liberating and his grin widened. "I'll drink to that."

The ride back to the ranch that night was quiet, and for the first time in over a year, Adam found himself enjoying the silence. The voice would return, he had no doubt of that, but for now, he would take it one minute at a time.

"I look forward to seeing that ranch of yours," William had said, shaking Adam's hands as they parted ways.

The great Ponderosa. Yes, I’ve heard of it… Who hasn’t?

Adam had buried the memory with Inger's poetic lullaby and the voice had been silent ever since.

The house was just as still and quiet as he'd left it hours earlier, though the grandfather clock told him it wouldn't stay that way for very long. That was just as well. Maybe he could catch his father for a moment before his brothers came down.

Before he lost his nerve; before the resolve burning inside him faded to ashes…

The book on the coffee table was as good a companion as any while he waited and Adam settled into his favorite chair by the fireplace. He almost didn't hear the telltale creak of the first stair, and when he glanced up, there was Pa, concern sparking in his aging eyes at the sight of his son.

"Couldn't sleep?" His father was trying to be conversational and Adam could tell it was taking no small amount of effort to keep his tone nonchalant.

Adam flashed him a slight grin. "Not really, but I'll live." Pa's attempt at a smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "How're you?"

His father gave a short nod and adjusted the cuff of his right sleeve. "Good."

He didn't return the question. Hoss and Joe had learned early on not to direct that particular morning greeting at their oldest brother, and Pa had soon followed, all of them giving up in that area.

Closing his book, Adam sighed and leaned back into his chair, savoring the look of pure surprise on his father's face when he said, "Me too."

It became very clear very fast that Pa didn't know how to respond, or maybe he couldn't find a way past his shock, so Adam gestured toward the settee.

"If you have a minute, there's something I'd like to tell you." As his father took a seat, Adam huffed. "Something I probably should've told you long before now, but I… I didn't know how."

The way his father was looking at him so patiently, so intently, made him feel like he held the secret to world peace.

"And…" Pa began, his voice gentle. "You do now?"

A small smile tugged at Adam's lips and he shook his head. "No. But I'm still going to try."

Pa stayed silent, settling in and waiting for him to continue. Adam took a breath. He could already feel the tension building in his chest; the familiar ache of his heart beginning to hammer against his ribcage.

Another breath had him closing his eyes, but only for the briefest of moments. If he could be done hiding from this, maybe he could move on. If he could get at least part of the story out in the open, maybe he could… no, not move on… learn to live with it.

Somehow, he would learn to live with it.

After all, nothing truly worthwhile is ever going to be easy…

Right.

He let himself steal one more stalling breath before prying open the floodgates.

"I won't waste time on the earlier details," Adam began slowly, choosing his words with more care and deliberation than ever before. "It's probably better if I just jump right into the thick of it, anyway. I guess… Well, I guess it all really started when he shot the mule. She was our only real way out of there…"

He didn't clarify anything, didn't start the story by setting up the scene and the key players, yet somehow, Adam knew that his father knew. Knew what he was talking about, knew how it was killing him just to talk about it.

At several points in the story, Adam felt his tongue dry up. There were times he couldn't manage to squeeze any words out of his tightening throat or think past the thick fog trying to cloud his brain.

And somehow, he managed. Pa was patient. More so than you deserve for waiting so damn long to do this.

Adam ignored the thought, shoving it away as he pressed on. If he didn't tell it now—all of it—then he knew he never would. The tightness in his chest didn't go away, and yet, as he got further into his telling of the tragedy, he felt… lighter.

And the voice remained silent.

When he choked on his words one final time, his throat and chest constricting until he was certain he would suffocate like Kane—

—hedidn'tsuffocatebecauseyoudidn'tkillhim—

—Adam felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap around him and almost immediately, he melted into his father's embrace.

"Thank you, Adam. I'm so proud of you," Pa whispered, voice barely audible. Yet, Adam heard it.

He heard every word.

For more than a year, he hadn't felt like the kind of son that would make a father want to utter those precious words, and he still wasn't sure how long it would be until he felt worthy of hearing them, but in that moment, Adam savored the declaration, holding onto it with every fiber of his being.

Finding his reservoir of words suddenly empty—he'd used them all up on his story—he sucked in a steadying breath and gripped Pa tighter. His year of turmoil hadn't come to an end, he knew all too well that the voice would be back soon enough, but he had decided then and there that he was done going through it all alone.

Joe's stone flew out of his hand, skipping across the lake with a soft plunk, plunk, plop.

"Sometimes, I wonder what would've happened if I'd gone with you that day."

Stiffening only for a moment, Adam forced himself to relax again as he glanced up from his book. "Now, how many times has Pa told us not to dwell on the things we can't change?"

That put a guilty little smirk on his brother's face and Joe shot him a look. "Then I guess we're all just hypocrites because Pa does it, too. I've seen him, deep in thought with his brows creased when he thinks no one's looking."

They were talking about it these days.

Adam heaved a small sigh and leaned back against the fallen log that had served as his couch for the better part of the afternoon. Hoss and Pa were off a ways, engaged in a game of horseshoe, their lunch all but abandoned. The impromptu Sunday picnic had been Hoss' idea. Adam hadn't realized how much they all had needed something like this.

A quiet afternoon of togetherness.

Pulling a leg up to his chest, Adam rested an arm atop it and studied Joe. His youngest brother's shoulders were relaxed, but Adam could sense the tension that still wrapped his soul.

"Still," Joe said, reaching for another stone to skip, "I wish I would've gone with you instead of sticking around for that stupid trial."

"I don't." Adam's confession was soft, yet firm. Confident.

Joe glanced back at him, dark eyes sharp and questioning.

"It wouldn't have done any good, I don't think," Adam explained.

"You don't know that."

"Maybe not, but I don't see how you being there would've made that much of a difference."

Joe was silent for a moment and Adam could tell he was trying to decide whether to lash out or keep riding the wave of calm until it died.

Calm, apparently, won out in the end because Joe's response was quiet. "I could've helped you."

"Maybe." Giving up on his book, Adam sucked in a breath. "Or, maybe he could've used you against me—to hurt me more than he already did."

They were talking about it now. A few days after he'd finally caved and told his father, his brothers started finding out little bits and pieces. Now, the subject was an open book they would all close someday, but not until each of them had a chance to heal.

Adam had been a fool to convince himself that he was the only one being affected by his own mental torment. He knew that now. After all, Joe had been the one to find out first; had been the one to think his oldest brother died in the desert without even getting to say one last goodbye.

He knew that still stung Joe every so often. Joe never said anything directly, but Adam could tell.

"Maybe," Joe whispered after a long moment. Then, he flung his stone into the lake with a little more force than necessary.

He got four skips out of that one and Adam couldn't help but feel a little impressed—and proud. It was nice to see that all those long hours spent trying to teach a younger Joe the delicate art of skipping stones hadn't gone to waste.

"Maybe," Joe repeated, abandoning his search for another rock and wandering over to where Adam lounged just above the bank. "I still wish I would've gone with you, though," he went on, plopping down on the ground just right of his brother. "So you wouldn't have been alone. I don't know… I just… Just wish I'd made a different choice, that’s all."

Not even bothering to mark his page, Adam closed his book and gave Joe a soft smile.

He could've continued his lecture, using logic and reason to convince his brother that dwelling on the past never did anybody any good. Never.

Maybe we are a family of hypocrites after all, came the wry thought, but Adam couldn't bring himself to feel condemned by it.

Because at least his inner voice sounded like his own again, not some odd mix of…

Well, he didn't need to think about that right now.

And he didn't have to lecture. Joe didn't need that. Not right now…

With another breath, Adam took a second or two to let his gaze wander over the sparkling water of Lake Tahoe before fixing it on Joe.

"I've wondered what might've happened if I'd made a different decision, too. If I would've stayed with you in Eastgate rather than riding off on my own." Adam paused, focusing on keeping his shoulders relaxed even as Joe's began hunching up to his neck. "I've wondered that more times than I can count… We could both keep on wondering, even though we both know it won't accomplish a single thing. Hell…" He threw in a brief chuckle to ease the tension building in his chest. "We probably will, anyway. But… I know what you're trying to say and I appreciate the sentiment more than you know." Smiling, Adam nudged Joe's knee with his foot. "Thanks, Joe. I mean it."

The tension lingered in his brother's shoulders, but Joe returned the smile.

"Hey!" Hoss' shout danced across the breeze. "If you two are done lazin' about over there, we could use a couple more hands in this next game!"

“I had a feeling it’d only be a matter of time…” Adam gave an exaggerated sigh. "He knows I'm no good at that game."

To his surprise, Joe was hitting him with a sly grin. "You wanna know what I think? I think you're a skilled horseshoe player who just doesn't like the game, so you don't put in any effort."

"Or maybe, I'm just bad at it."

But Joe was shaking his head. "I saw you beat Ross Marquette once like it was nothing. Are you trying to tell me that was just pure luck, plain and simple?"

Adam felt his own lips turn up in a matching grin. "Well, why don't we get over there and you can find out when I wipe the floor with you."

"Oh no. This time, I'm on your team."

A laugh bubbled in the air. A warm, refreshing sound that Adam was pleased to realize came from him. By the look of Joe's face, he was surprised, too.

It had been a long time since he'd laughed like that. Since he'd let himself laugh at all.

Seconds later, Joe was joining in the laughter. Across the way, Adam caught sight of Pa out of the corner of his eye. He was more than smiling.

He was beaming.

Climbing to his feet, Joe held out a hand. When Adam took it, he noticed how secure it felt. How secure he had begun to feel these days.

He wondered, not for the first time, why he hadn't taken his family's outstretched hands sooner. All he had to do was reach out…

… And they would be there.