This is *all* Timberwolf's fault. Y'see, she posted a little message on a list, and *wham*, this happens! So, *thank you* Denise, for the inspiration, and welcome to my first ever B/E fic.
Please note that in the latter sections, // signifies thoughts, oh, and the quote is from 'Romeo & Juliet' (although I suspect most of you will know that).
For: Joe and Katy - 'cos I promised.

Warmth and darkness.

The window was open, only half-way, but enough to allow what little breeze there was to waft into the room. Every few minutes it tugged gently at the open, lightweight drapes, twisting and ballooning them inwards like pale ghosts before dying away and leaving them to sigh gently back from their dance.

Despite the breeze the air was warm and sluggish, covering everything in a vaguely claustrophobic humidity, faintly damp and irritating, making skin prickle, clothing and linen restrictive, sleep difficult.

Difficult? Tonight, here, in this room, impossible. An impossibility only partially attributable to the weather.

Moonlight and silence.

The moonlight was intermittent, bathing the room in pale wash when the ragged banks of cloud broke for long enough to allow it. It limned the two figures on the bed in silver, sculpting hollows of light and dark, casting stark shadows and bringing features into harsh relief. It bleached the colour from them, making it impossible to distinguish the differences in skin tone, hair and eyes. An observer would have seen only two languid forms, one almost in a sitting position against the wooden headboard, arms draped loosely around the neck and shoulders of the other, who lay back against his chest, dark head almost on his left shoulder.

Two faces, one looking towards the window, occasionally illuminated by the unforgiving moon, the other in dark shadow as it faced into the room.

A deep breath.

The moon-washed face closed its eyes and leaned further back against the headboard. "You're going to do it, aren't you?"

Silence.

The eventual response from the shadowed partner was to lift his hands from the sheet and trace a delicate pattern on the forearms laid across his chest. "Don't."

Another breath, deeper.

"But you are, aren't you?"

The fingers still for a moment. "Yes."

At that single word, the moonlit face contracted into a grimace, the arms tightened, seemingly involuntarily, against the body held so close against him. "Please..."

"Don't...."

"Why? Why would you choose to do this to yourself? To us? Why?" The words are tight, hoarse, spoken rapidly from a throat constricted by emotion.

"You know why."

A swift, pained quirk of the lips -- not strong enough to be deemed a smile. "You're too decent, that's the problem."

"If I was decent, we wouldn't be havin' this conversation."

A sigh - resigned and heavy, stopping just short of a moan. "I may have the fancy clothes and the schooled manners, but you're the gentleman here... goddamn you to eternal Hell."

The dark head lifts from his chest, turns. Eyes lock. "I think he already has, Ezra."

It was still dark when the footsteps trod softly down the wooden stairs, carefully avoiding the loose boards that might creak and give him away. He knew every one of the potentially traitorous steps, and deftly avoided them, stepping from side to side on the staircase. He carried his jacket and hat, the warm, heavy air making his shirt stick to him without donning extra clothing and adding to the discomfort.

The saloon was familiar territory and negotiating the obstacle course of tables and chairs presented no problem to him, even in the darkness. He knew the layout of the large room as well as if it were his own home.

Home is where the heart is.

Over the past five months, this place had become his home, and his heart now resided here with an ease he had never expected and never experienced before, but it was all too late. He had found his way home too late.

He swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat, the rush of dread and fear that threatened to choke him, and silently slipped out of the back door, locking it securely behind him. He might as well give the key back. He wouldn't be needing it any more. Couldn't be needing it any more. He looked down at the solid metal key in his palm, feeling a rush of crushing rage and futile self-pity.

Everything he had ever wanted was symbolised by that key.

All those years of rootless wandering, never quite admitting to himself how lonely or afraid he was. The affable, jovial, fun-loving rogue on the outside, skilfully hiding an emptiness inside that no-one and nothing had ever quite been able to fill.

Not a cavalcade of females, soft, smiling and willing.

Not countless adrenaline-fuelled gunfights.

Not even the comradeship and loyalty of the other peacekeepers, although they had given him some peace and happiness, some grounding and sense of belonging here, in this dusty frontier town. He had convinced himself that that alone was enough. Enough reason to remain here, at least for now. Friends to watch his back, to laugh and drink with, to share with. Enough. More than he deserved.

Until five months ago.

Five months ago when he had spent the first night in this building, upstairs, with Ezra.

Just the thought of it made him smile. The irony of it! The irritating, barb-witted, honey-drawling, southern con-man, whose carefully constructed faade had fooled them all. Who would have believed that those jade green eyes and those fancy clothes could have hidden something so precious, and hidden it so well.

One night. One night of slightly too much whiskey and slightly too little caution, and Ezra's guard had slipped - just a little, but enough to let an accomplished seducer like himself slide in under the defences.

That normally impregnable armour of acerbic comments, verbose language and unreadable expressions had given way just enough to reveal something of the heart they disguised, and in doing so had unleashed something neither of them could have contemplated.

Not just sex, although God knew that was better than either of them had ever dreamed, and Buck was a connoisseur judge in that department, but it was more, so much more than that. A meeting of minds that seemed to fit together, compliment one another, a meeting of wandering souls that found a home in each other, and a meeting of hearts that spoke to each other with no need for words.

The answer to the unspoken questions each of them had been asking for so long they had both given up hope of finding the answers - who am I? Where do I belong?

And the answer had been there all along - together.

All those years and they had found the answer a couple of weeks too late. The irony of it made him nauseous.

He squeezed the key tightly in his palm before pocketing it and turning away from the door.

Too late. All too late.

From an upstairs window, a half-concealed figure retreated from view and watched him disappear into the shadows across the street.

Almost two miles west of where Buck was melting into the shadows of Four Corners, two figures were hidden behind a stable that marked the edge of a small, neat homestead. They sat in the black shadow of the looming building, huddled together, their voices low whispers that dissipated into the darkness.

The young girl was crying - soft, muffled sobs that shook her frame.

The young man, his arm tightly around her trembling shoulders, tried to quieten her - terrified that they would be discovered.

"Ssshhh! C'mon Luce.... quiet, darlin'... s'okay."

Blue eyes snapped upward to his face, awash with tears caught by the moonlight. "No Luther, it is not okay..." She gulped, hitching her breath, her fingers twisting in the sodden linen handkerchief she clutched. A low wail escaped her, despite her frantic efforts to prevent it, and she flung her arms his neck, sobbing into his shirt.

"Lucy, please don't! C'mon, honey, ssshh... don' let your Pa hear you." He held her tight, stroking her back in the same way he would a frightened horse, a feeling of helpless rage washing over him at his inability to ease her misery. "Luce, please... Come on. Don't waste this little time we got together honey, please," he whispered into her hair, "I'll think of somethin' - I swear!"

She lifted her head, her eyes searching his in the darkness, and he almost shivered at the look of desperate hope in them. As if she read his mind, the spark of hope dimmed, to be overshadowed by an expression of resignation. "You can't do anything Luther... no-one can."

"Don't say that! I love you Lucy, and I'll think of something!"

She sat up a little, wiping her eyes with the sodden handkerchief, her shoulders bowing under the weight of hopelessness she felt. "What are you going to do, Luther? Go up against him? Challenge Buck Wilmington to a fight? He's..." her voice dropped a little in a mixture of awe and despondency, "...one of the seven."

Luther sighed. He knew he couldn't take on Wilmington with a gun - hell, if he did Larabee or Tanner would take him in a blink, he'd be dead before he hit the ground. Not that they would even need to get involved - Buck Wilmington was a gunfighter, Luther Cross was a farmer - not exactly competition. He couldn't even take Wilmington in a fair fight - the man was a good four or five inches taller than him, and outweighed him by a margin that would make any such challenge laughable. But he had to do something! He couldn't just stand by and let this happen!

"We could run away," he said suddenly, "sneak out now, tonight!"

She looked into his eyes again, her expression faintly accusing. "How far do you think we'd get? You think they're just going to let us go? Pa would be after us in a heartbeat, and Buck's got Vin Tanner to help him - they say Tanner can track anything, anywhere. Don' think he'd have too much trouble trackin' an ol' buckboard and two mules, d'you?"

"I could talk to your Pa - ask him again."

She shook her head. "Won't do no good, you know that. And Ma agrees with him - I gotta pay for what I done..." A small hitch broke the flow of words, "... Ma says I'm real lucky, most girls in my position end up in places like Wickes Town," she shuddered at the thought, "I can't shame 'em any more'n what I already done Luther... I'm a sinner whose been given a chance to redeem herself - if I go 'gainst that... I'll roast in hell for sure..." She shivered at the prospect.

"But I love you Lucy."

"I know Luther, I love you too - I'll never love anyone else as long as I live!" Fresh sobs broke from her throat, and Luther wrapped her in a strong embrace.

It would be dawn in an hour or so, and this would be their last opportunity to be together.

At that moment Luther Cross hated Buck Wilmington more than he had ever hated anyone or anything.

Hazy sunlight, fighting its way through low pale clouds, cast a strange greyish-yellow light into the room. The day promised to be hot and humid, heavy with the threat of storms that fail to materialise, fed by hot, dry winds from the plains, dust-laden and gritty.

In the empty gloom of the saloon, Inez's soft footfalls made almost no noise on the stairs. Carefully, she placed the laden tray she was carrying on the floor outside the closed bedroom door, and knocked softly.

"Se-or Standish? Your breakfast." Her voice was quiet, but she knew he would hear her. She knew he wouldn't be sleeping. Just like she knew how much he dreaded the waiting day.

With a soft sigh and a shake of her head, she retreated back down the staircase to the kitchen, her dark eyes clouded with worry.

At the sound of the knock, Ezra's eyes opened from the light doze he had drifted into, and, with a stab of panic, he realised it was light outside. The bright green eyes closed again, as if pretending he couldn't see the light would somehow make it recede. It didn't. He sucked in a huge breath, steeling himself for the first movement, the first action that would begin the day. The first in a series of actions that would all lead to an inevitable consequence he still couldn't bear to think about. He climbed out of bed and walked to the window, leaning on his hands for a moment, looking out.

The brassy light gave a slightly surreal countenance to everything, pale and watery, heavy with... what?

Foreboding, Ezra thought with a slight shiver. Unbidden, a Shakespearian quote loomed in his mind.

A glooming peace this morning with it brings, the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head...

"Wonderful," he said to himself, "being maudlin and melodramatic before breakfast is a guaranteed way to ensure a pleasure-filled day."

He rubbed his aching eyes with one hand, feeling as if his head were full of sawdust, his heart full of ice. Lethargy seemed to seep through his limbs, making him feel weak.

Oh God, how was he going to get through this day?

With another deep sigh, he turned from the window and went to retrieve the breakfast tray from outside the door. Normally he would have attacked Inez's fluffy scrambled eggs and warm, fresh biscuits with relish, but this morning he simply set the tray on the dresser and poured himself a cup of strong black coffee. Sipping the hot brew, he stared at his reflection in the small oval mirror that faced him, and mentally lectured himself on his duties for the day.

Smile. Look happy. Converse with people. Tell some amusing anecdotes - proper of course, as befitted a southern gentleman. Support Buck. Smile.

He tried an experimental smile in the mirror - a practice run. He almost shuddered. His mouth turned upward, his chin tilted a little, but the effect was more chilling than reassuring. The eyes that looked back at him from the mirror were empty and hopeless, devoid of anything that could remotely be connected to a smile, rendering his face a contradictory mask.

Pursing his lips, he mentally conjured up a poker game and tried again. The smile was smaller, tighter, the chin more firmly set, and now the eyes were shadowed by their customary mask of indifference - unreadable, devoid of emotion.

Better.

If he couldn't display a dishonest emotion, perhaps he could be more successful at hiding an honest one.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Inez pummelled the dough ball on the floured table with supple fists, her face set in a grim line, her shoulders tense, her dark eyes narrowed with temper. Again and again she punched the round of bread dough, venting her frustration on its soft elasticity, pounding at it while her mind whirled.

She owed them.

All of them, but especially Ezra and Buck. Ezra had given her a job here, a roof over her head, respect and friendship. He had given her a chance, when he could have simply thrown her out.

Buck had saved her from Don Paulo, fought for her, defended her against her past demons and given her a fresh start. For all his flattery and bluster, he was a good and honest man, who valued life and laughter and whose loyalty and honour were above reproach, and there were precious few of those men in this part of the world.

Between them, they were more trouble than a was good for a body, but she felt an overwhelming affection for them both. Particularly now. Her arms stilled for a moment and a small smile flittered across her pretty face.

They thought she didn't know, of course. Thought she was unaware of how their relationship had changed - grown and developed into something much deeper and stronger than the loyalty and courage which had initially bound them all together. The smile widened a little. Men! They always thought they were so good at hiding things, but she had yet to meet one who could successfully hide anything from a woman when it came to matters of the heart. Oh, they covered it well enough to fool the others, but not her. She knew - had known almost before they both did - it was there in their eyes, both of them. She knew how many nights Buck spent here, upstairs, creeping out just before dawn, trying to slip silently back across the street to his own room at the boarding house. She shook her head. As if he could be silent on those feet!

Her absolute confirmation, if any were needed, had come in the renewed efforts that Buck had made to flatter and romance her at every possibly opportunity. She responded as she had always done - with a quick retort and a smile, but her heart had warmed to see him trying so hard to create a wall of misdirection to protect Ezra and, more importantly, his relationship with Buck.

She knew what would happen if news of the two of them leaked out. The 'respectable' people of this town would hound them out, or worse; and she would do anything in her power to prevent that happening. She had seen how quickly a reputation could be shredded - one moment respected and trusted, the next scorned and derided, and all because someone in a position of influence decides in should be that way. She had been branded a thief and a liar - had been forced to flee her home, her friends - even her native land - all on the word of a jealous, angry, spoilt man who exerted influence. No-one had given her the benefit of the doubt, until she came here where a silver-tongued gambler and a relentless charmer had given her a second chance, and believed in her when no-one else did.

She had always believed that love was a gift from God, whatever package it arrived in - and here, on the edge of civilisation, that gift was to be cherished and protected because the chances of it surviving out here were pitiable.

She picked up the bread dough and reshaped it, slapping it down onto the table with a grimace.

She owed them.

She had to do something.

Buck left the sanctuary of his rented room and made the short walk up the street to the jail house. It was still early, the town only just beginning to rouse itself into the normal routine of the day.

Gloria Potter's new helper at the store was sweeping outside the storefront, and Buck was reminded vividly of Vin, dressed in the same white apron, sweeping the same stretch of boardwalk when he first arrived in Four Corners. So much had happened since then. The young man smiled at Buck and nodded in greeting, and Buck tipped the brim of his hat to the youngster in response.

"Good morning Buck!" Gloria's voice could be heard clearly from inside the store.

"Morning ma'am."

"Ready for the big day?" She called out, laughter lightening her voice.

He nodded and smiled, quickening his pace a little.

"Here comes the groom!" shouted Joseph, as he unlocked the door to the telegraph office, winking broadly.

Buck smiled again, thankfully ducking into the door of the jailhouse. Chris Larabee sat in one of the straight-backed chairs, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His hands held a small, leather bound book, which he appeared to be reading intently. His posture was relaxed and calm, but Buck Wilmington knew better. Very little escaped those shrewd green eyes, and even less that agile mind.

The blond head turned as Buck closed the door. "Morning Buck."

"Morning Chris."

"Whiskey's on the table," Larabee said quietly, taking in his oldest friend's tense stance and harried expression.

Buck looked at the almost full bottle, and almost succumbed, but shook his head. "Don't think I oughta start just yet - might need it later." There was no humour in the statement, just a hollow tone that made Larabee narrow his eyes a little.

"Sit down, Buck."

Wilmington sat, dragging his hat from his head and clutching it in his lap, unable to meet Chris's eyes.

The jail's only occupant, a James' ranch cowhand who had drunk so much the previous evening Vin had locked him up for his own safety, lay snoring softly in the furthest cell, still dead to the world. Buck glanced across at the sleeping form and envied him. He would happily have changed places.

Chris was watching his friend closely, but remained silent. They had known each other a long time, were used to each other's habits and moods, could read each other well. Chris knew Buck was working up to say something. He also had a pretty good idea of what that something was.

His patience was rewarded after a moment or two, when Buck took a deep breath. "Chris, I don't love her." The words were soft, but filled with a rawness that almost made the blond flinch.

"So why are you marryin' her today?" Chris knew the answer to that question, but he also knew that Buck needed to say it, to work it out for himself.

"You know why."

"That isn't an answer."

Buck looked at him, his dark blue eyes accusing. "I got to Chris - you know that! She's gonna have a baby for Chrissakes!" His voice was rising, and he suddenly glanced around, fearful that he would be overheard. "My baby," he said quietly.

Larabee shrugged. "If you think that's a good enough reason..."

Buck's jaw clenched. "No, no I don't!" he hissed, "but it's the only one I got!"

Chris put his head on one side, regarding his friend with a frank stare. "You sure about that?"

Buck sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Lucy ain't a bad girl Chris - she's bright, and funny, and full o' life, but... but I don't love her! I never did! Hell - it was one night! One stupid night, too much beer and not enough sense, and we're both gonna end up paying for that for the rest of our lives!"

He took a deep breath, trying to voice the futile rage that seemed to fill him. "I don't think she wants this any more'n I do! She ain't said nothing, but I can see it her eyes - it's like... like it's hopeless, like we're both caught in this trap..."

"So don't do it," Chris said quietly.

"You're acting like I got a choice," Buck's voice was a brittle rasp, "which I don't! 's my responsibility, she's my responsibility... I ain't some wanderin' no-good, and I ain't gonna run away and leave that girl to face this on her own... I owe her that much!" His head dropped forward, "I gotta marry her Chris, if I don't, that sweet girl will end up being treated like... like..." his voice trailed off, his breath catching in his throat.

Chris said nothing. He didn't have to.

"Like my ma," Buck said at last.

Josiah Sanchez finished replacing the last of the spent candles, and stood back, admiring his efforts. He had risen early, swept the little church, collected the prayer books and bibles into neat stacks, tidied away the tools, nails, sandpaper and other utilitarian objects that always seemed to litter the place, and even dusted the mis-matched pews and simple wooden altar. A church should look neat for a wedding. He had also sweet-talked Mary and Mrs Potter into providing a few simple floral decorations to brighten the place up a little, and had hurried to finish his cleaning duties before Four Corners two most formidable female residents arrived - having no wish to be the object of disapproving looks when they spotted the dusty floor or scattered nails.

A wedding. He smiled broadly. He had conducted several funerals since arriving in the small town, but this would be his first wedding.

The smile faded a little when he thought of Buck marrying in this church. The big man hadn't actually said so, but Josiah had gained the distinct impression that this marriage was an act of chivalry on Buck's part, owing to Lucy carrying a child. Whatever failings Buck Wilmington may have had, a lack of honour wasn't one of them, and his determination to 'do right' by Lucy was endearing. Many others had started married life in similar circumstances and gone on to live happy and satisfied lives together, and Josiah prayed fervently that Buck and Lucy would be so blessed, but he couldn't help the nagging feeling of doubt that edged at the back of his mind.

His contemplation on the mysteries of life was interrupted by the loud creak of the door swinging open. He turned, fully expecting to see Mrs Potter or Mary Travis, and was momentarily surprised to see a young man standing in the doorway. Josiah recognised him vaguely, but it took a second or two of frantic thought before a name came to his lips.

"Come on in Luther."

The skinny young farmer dragged his battered hat from his head and walked slowly down the centre aisle of the church, looking weighed down by problems that no-one his age ought to be carrying, Josiah thought.

"What can I do for you, son?"

Luther stood, shifting his weight from foot to foot, unable to meet Josiah's eyes. At last he screwed up the courage to face the big preacher and speak.

"You're a man of God, ain't ya?"

Josiah nodded. "I do my best."

"So you believe that marriage is...is..." he searched for the word, "..sacred?"

Josiah nodded again, his mind ticking over, trying to work out what Luther was trying to say. Josiah knew that Luther had been sweet on Lucy Garrett, but her father had put a stop to them seeing one another as soon as news of Lucy's pregnancy had leaked out. The town had been alive with gossip for a couple of weeks, but Buck had asked Lucy to marry him, mollifying her father, and the townsfolk had rapidly gone from sniping gossip to chattering about plans for the wedding. Luther, it seemed, had been forgotten in the fuss.

"Them things they say... at a weddin'..." Luther continued, his voice strained.

"You mean the vows? The wedding vows?"

Luther nodded. "If'n ya lied when ya said 'em... if ya didn't mean 'em... that'd be like breakin' the law... it'd be a sin.... it'd be wrong, wouldn't it?"

Josiah frowned. "Yes son, that would be very wrong." The preacher waited, wondering what Luther was getting at, but deciding to let him form his thoughts in his own way. He reached over to the stack of prayer books, and opened one, turning to the pages containing the marriage service. He held the book out to Luther. "How well do you read, son?"

Dark blue eyes sparked at Sanchez. "I c'n read just fine!" he snapped, taking the book from Josiah's hands and scanning the pages. Finally, he looked up. "Would it be okay if I borrowed this for a while?"

Slightly taken aback, Josiah nodded. "Of course - just return it when you've finished with it."

A serious expression set across the young man's face, and he clutched the book, turning on his heel and walking as fast as decency would allow back to the door. He was just about to vanish from sight, when he remembered his manners, and turned back to Josiah. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Any further musing Josiah was tempted to do was thwarted as the sound of chattering was swiftly followed by the appearance of Mary and Gloria Potter, bearing armfuls of flowers. Josiah donned his most charming grin and prepared to act as assistant to two of the town's most worthy, but most wearing, females.

Ezra stopped in the hallway outside Buck's room, his hand clenched into a fist, ready to knock on the door. His arm froze half-way. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to compose himself. He was good at this, for Christ's sake! He was a con-man, a chameleon - he could convince anyone of anything. He could school his expression, modulate his voice, adapt his body language. He could do this.

He could.

Try harder Standish, he commanded himself. Concentrate.

Squaring his shoulders and carefully composing his features into what he fervently hoped was a neutral expression, he raised his fist again and knocked softly on the door.

"Come in!" the muffled voice came from inside.

The fragile faade Ezra had constructed shattered the moment he opened the door. The carefully controlled expression fell away and, unable to hide his surprise, his jaw dropped a little.

"Mr Wilmington... you look...", Ezra fumbled for the correct word, "...exceptional.."

Buck smiled at the compliment. Dressed in a brand new suit, starched white shirt and neatly knotted bootlace tie, with carefully combed hair and an expertly trimmed 'tache, the lanky gunslinger cut a very fine figure.

"Thanks... I think!" He smiled quickly at Ezra, but couldn't meet his eyes. He let out a long, shaky breath, and Ezra noticed, with a sharp pang of anguish, that Buck's hands were trembling.

Ezra swallowed. "Are you ready?"

Buck's head shook in response, and something very like fear flashed in his eyes. "Not even close."

"Are you quite sure you're alright?" Ezra asked quietly.

A wry smile lit Buck's features. "Honestly, Ezra? No... no, I ain't alright... in fact, at this minute, I feel 'bout as far from 'alright' as it's possible for a body ta get... but I guess I've survived worse than this..."

Ezra quickly checked the hallway for signs of anyone, then closed the door. He turned wide eyes to Buck's face, searching the dark blue eyes for the truth he always found there. "I'm not going to say this again Buck... please don't do this! I'll do whatever you say, go wherever you want to go, I'll do anything, but please, please, don't do this..." His voice sounded foreign, even to his own ears, a strained, gritty whisper that had to fight its way out of his throat. "This is our last chance Buck - our very last chance... I'll do anything not to lose you... I've never begged anyone for anything in my entire life, but I'm begging you now... please, please don't do this..."

Buck winced at the pain in Ezra's voice, at the agonised words. He felt his eyes fill up with unshed tears of frustration and anguish. "Hell Ezra, if I could think of a single way outta this, if I could think of a single thing I could do that would mean I didn't have to do this - I do it in a minute, but I can't! If I had any other choice, I'd take it..."

Ezra nodded. "I'd expected no less from you," he said with a quick flash of his famous grin. He took a deep breath. "In which case, I have decided that, in order to give you and your new wife the best possible opportunity of happiness together, I shall, after a respectable interlude of course, leave Four Corners," he paused, the flow of words halted by Buck's stricken expression. Unable to help himself, Ezra reached out and took both of Buck's hands in both of his, his eyes locking onto Buck's with a honesty that few had ever seen on the gambler's face. "I know how much you love me, and you can be in no doubt of how sincerely that love is reciprocated, but if I can't have you, I think it only fair that I give you a chance to try and forget me..."

Buck's voice was no more than a whisper, his jaw set in a hard line. "Forget you?" The dark blue eyes looked straight into Ezra's soul. "I vow Ezra," he said slowly and carefully, "I will be 'forgetting you' every single day for the rest of my life..."

Inez hurried along the street to the little church, pulling the black lace mantilla over her hair as she went. There seemed to be quite a few people making their way along the dusty boardwalk in the general direction of the church. She wasn't unduly surprised. Buck was one of their peacekeepers - jovial, outgoing, popular - not just with the ladies - and many of the townsfolk would be wanting to wish him well. She quickened her pace even more, stopping just short of a run - she was late. It had taken longer than she had anticipated to prepare the saloon for the reception to be held after the church ceremony. She had prepared the food, with help from several of the townswomen, making sure that Buck's favourite Mexican dishes were included, and she and Nettie Wells had even conspired to produce a wedding cake - a surprise for the newlyweds. She should feel happy, excited, joyful, but she didn't. She felt nauseous and her stomach roiled.

She wasn't at all sure she was up to this.

Making final adjustments to the mantilla, she walked up the steps and into the church.

There were already quite a few people inside, dressed in their Sunday best, seated on the hard-backed pews. She nodded a greeting to Gloria Potter, who sat with her two children and her new store assistant, who looked vaguely uncomfortable in his starched white shirt and slightly too-tight jacket, buttoned up securely despite the stifling heat inside the building.

Mary Travis motioned for Inez to come and sit beside her, and the young widow moved up slightly, causing Billy Travis to fidget and scowl at his mother. "Stop that Billy!" Mary said quietly to the little boy, "and sit up straight." Billy Travis was not enjoying this at all. His Ma had made him have a bath and put on his church clothes - and it wasn't even Sunday! He had already been scolded for scuffing the toes on his newly-polished boots, and told he was not allowed to sit with Mr Larabee near the front of the church. He was fed up with this whole wedding thing and Mr Wilmington wasn't even here yet.

Inez bowed her head to pray, and Mary looked hard at Billy and placed a finger to her lips, motioning him to be quiet. When Inez crossed herself and raised her head, she smiled a little uncertainly at Mary. "The flowers are beautiful," she whispered.

Mary and Gloria Potter had placed huge bunches of wild flowers on the window sills and raised altar. Their scent and colour, complimented by the shimmering candles, transformed the simple little church. It looked beautiful.

Mary nodded her thanks, and looked around the rapidly-filling room. "Looks like the whole town is turning out," she said quietly.

Chris Larabee, JD Dunne and Nathan Jackson were all seated in one of the front pews. Chris had even abandoned his signature black and wore a grey and white striped shirt under his suit. JD was fidgeting even more than Billy Travis, turning around to look for Buck's arrival every few minutes. Many people had thought that he would be asked to be Buck's best man, but Buck had explained that he could not choose his new 'adopted brother' over Chris, his oldest friend, or vice versa. In the interests of fair play all around, he said, he had asked Ezra. Not that JD was overly concerned - he would have dreaded making a speech anyway - Ez was much better at all them fancy words.

Vin Tanner sat at the back of the room, on a single chair near the door. He didn't like being inside at the best of times - and being inside a church crammed full of people was not his idea of a good time, but he couldn't let Buck down. Vin felt distinctly uncomfortable - he had bathed, washed his hair and even shaved. Dressed in a clean shirt and bandanna and minus his buckskin coat, he still felt oddly out of place amongst all the Sunday best suits and dresses - like a weed in flower bed. If it had been anyone else apart from Bucklin, he'd have made some excuse to be out of town, but for his friend he would put up with a little discomfort.

Across the aisle, Luther Cross sat, still clutching the book Josiah had loaned him. His face was white, pinched, and he stared hard at the floor, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the dryness in his throat.

Where the hell was Wilmington?

By the time Buck and Ezra emerged from the boarding house, the street was almost deserted. They walked side by side, so close as to be almost, but not quite, touching. Ezra was breathing hard, trying to ignore the rising sense of foreboding in his chest, feeling more like a condemned man on his way to the gallows than a best man on the way to a friend's wedding. Buck's mouth was a thin line under his neat 'tache, his dark blue eyes unreadable under the brim of his hat.

The church came into view and Wilmington suddenly stopped.

Ezra's eyes snapped up to Buck's face. He wanted to scream at him; don't do it! Don't do it! Just keep walking, straight to the livery - but he didn't. He placed a steadying hand on Buck's visibly shaking arm and looked straight into his eyes.

"I love you," he said steadily and quietly.

Buck let out a long, shuddering breath. "Oh Jesus Ez..." he searched the gambler's face, trying to find the right words, "There's so much I want to say to you, but I ain't got the time or the words now ta say any of it..."

Ezra shook his head. "No need..." he said with a small smile, "all that needs to be said already has been, between your heart and mine."

Buck's eyes locked on Ezra's. "I love you, Ez."

"I know."

With the gentlest of pressure, Ezra guided Buck to take another step forward, and the two of them crossed the street and entered the church.

Buck swept his hat from his dark hair as he walked through the door, taking a huge, steadying breath and forcing a smile as every head turned towards him. He caught sight of Vin, seated alongside the door, who dipped his head and smiled in greeting, and Buck smiled back. He began to walk towards the figure of Josiah, standing behind the lecturn, and nodded in greeting to all the familiar faces, who all smiled encouragingly at him. He spotted Inez, sitting next to Mary Travis, but the beautiful young Mexican seemed to be praying, her head bent, her face hidden behind the black lace mantilla she wore. JD was beaming at him fit to burst, fidgeting on the front pew. He locked eyes with Chris, seeing sympathy and compassion in his oldest friend's green gaze. The few steps up the centre aisle of the church seemed to stretch interminably, and Buck sank down gratefully on the front pew, Ezra sitting down next to him. Buck looked up at Josiah, who smiled and winked warmly at him, and suddenly he felt cold, despite the stuffy heat of the packed church.

Ezra's hands were shaking so badly as he placed his hat under the pew, he clenched them into fists in an attempt to quell the trembling. He was smiling, but anyone who knew him well, knew the smile for what it was - a deception. Buck sat next to him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from him, and Standish felt his heart freeze inside his ribs. He looked at the cross on the altar and said a silent prayer, not for himself, but for the man next to him. Help him, please.

Suddenly, the ancient piano, borrowed from the hotel and already badly out of tune before being moved, launched into the introduction bars of the 'Wedding March' and an expectant murmur spread through the congregation.

Josiah motioned for them all to stand and beckoned Buck and Ezra forward. Ezra closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to carry through the greatest deception of his life.

The bride had arrived.

Inez turned, along with everyone else, to watch the bride walk up the aisle. Lucy Garrett did not look like an excited, happy bride. Her face was white, her eyes round, wide and fearful. She wore a simple, pretty dress of lace-edged linen, which was only partially successful at hiding the growing bulge of her pregnancy, and a short lace veil. One hand was looped through her father's elbow, the other clutched a bouquet of blossoms and wild flowers. She was shaking so badly that the flowers were shedding their petals at her feet.

All eyes were on her as she walked on her father's arm. She didn't turn her head, she just stared at Josiah, who was smiling warmly at her, encouragement lighting his eyes.

Buck couldn't breathe. His muscles seemed to have seized up or weakened. His arms felt like lead weights, but his legs shook uncontrollably. Oh dear God, what had he done? What was he doing? Standing here, in front of the whole damn town, about to say a lot of things he didn't mean and sure as hell didn't feel - about to promise some poor girl that he was going to love her for the rest of his life, when he knew how much of a lie that really was. He didn't want Lucy Garret. He wanted the man who stood beside him, whose scent of sandalwood soap and fresh cologne filled his head, his senses, his very soul. The man whose heat he could feel jumping the distance between them, the man he wanted to share his bed, his love, his life with. The man who could never be equalled in his arms or in his heart.

Ezra's pulse was pounding so loud in his skull it was almost painful. He could feel the sweat trickling down his spine, under his shirt, tracking the same path Buck's fingers so often did. Had done, he corrected himself. No more. He closed his eyes at the thought of never sharing his bed with Buck again, feeling his heart contract painfully in his ribs. The stuffy and oppressive atmosphere inside the packed church was beginning to make him feel nauseous, the tension racking his mind and body almost intolerable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lucy found herself standing in front of the tall preacher.

Josiah's eyes lifted from Lucy and faced his assembled congregation with a broad smile. "Dearly beloved..."

"...we are gathered together here, in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman..."

Josiah could convert the Devil himself with that voice of his, JD thought. It rolled out of the big man's chest, past that granite jaw, finally emerging in tones deep, rich and warm as summer honey. Commanding, that described Josiah, commanding. JD hoped Josiah would marry him and Casey one day- if he ever worked up the courage to ask her.

"... which is an honourable estate instituted of God in paradise, at the time of mans' innocence..."

//Oh God Ezra, I'm so sorry, and I hope you know how much I love you. Oh God Lucy, what have I done to you? I'm so, so sorry. Ma, I'm glad you didn't live long enough to see the sorry fool I've made of myself, but I'll be good to this girl, I promise. I'll try and give her everything she wants... except love. She can't have that, 'cos Ezra already has it...//

"...signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church..."

//She ain't yours Wilmington, and she never will be! She's mine, she says so and I say so! You might be bigger 'n me, more important than me, and have the other peacekeepers on your side, but that don't make you right! I don't care about it bein' your baby - don't matter who fathered it, it's who's gonna love it and raise it that matters! You don't have the right! She ain't yours and she never will be...//

"..which Holy estate Christ adorned with his presence and with the first miracle he wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is commended to be honourable among all men; and therefore not to be taken unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly..."

// Wanton. That's me, my Pa said so. Wanton. Little better than a whore. I'm bein' punished for my sins, made to marry a man I don't love. I love you, Luther. I will love you for ever. I wish it was you standing here. I don't want this! I don't want Buck Wilmington, I want you! Help me Luther, please!//

"... but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God..."

//I love you, Buck. Reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly - oh yes, and passionately, wantonly, recklessly, shamelessly, and, as it transpires, hopelessly...//

"...into which estate these two persons present come now to be joined..."

//I'm sorry, Lucy. I'll try girl, I swear I will, for the sake of that baby if for nothin' else, but I know I shall always want Ezra in my arms, just like he's in my soul and in my heart.//

//Madre de Dios, perdoname, por favor.//

//She ain't yours, Wilmington! An' if I gotta die to prove it, well, so be it.//

"...Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together; let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his peace..."

Josiah paused for effect, letting the words roll out over the congregation. He took a breath, then...

"NO!"

"STOP!"

Two voices cried out at the same instant from either side of the church.

There was a moment of complete silence, everyone frozen in shock.

Every head turned to the two figures who had both jumped up from their seats, every pair of eyes fastened on one of the two horrified faces.

To her astonishment, Inez found herself staring not at Josiah, but at the young man on the other side of the church who had leapt from his seat and shouted at precisely the same moment that she had done. Their eyes, frantic, scared but determined, met, and something flashed between them - they were on the same side.

Inez, ignoring the burning gaze of everyone in the church, shifted her gaze to Buck's astonished face. From somewhere, she found her voice.

"He loves me! He has promised to give his heart only to me!" she cried, so terrified at what she had done she had no need to pretend - her shaking was completely genuine. "He has told me so - many times!" She waved a dramatic arm in a wide arc, encompassing the congregation, "you have all heard him! All of you! He has pursued me ever since I came here..."

There was a vague murmur of assent from all around her. Everyone had seen Buck flattering Inez in the saloon, everyone had heard his banter and compliments, and everyone had witnessed him fighting Don Paulo to save her life. It was entirely probable that he had won her heart and promised to marry her.

Encouraged by Inez's bravery, Luther cleared his throat. "If Lucy takes them vows, she'll be lyin'... I know she don't mean what she's sayin...she don't love him an' she don't want ta be married ta him... an' lyin' in church is a sin... you told me so!" His wide eyes stared accusingly at Josiah.

Buck felt as if time had stopped. He gazed, open-mouthed, at Inez, his thoughts a mass of confusion, his body frozen. He couldn't respond. It was as if he had forgotten how to speak.

Lucy's stared at Luther through adoring eyes that filled up and overflowed with tears of gratitude. Luther was so brave! He had promised he would help her and she had doubted him. She would never doubt him again.

Ezra's heart was pounding so loud in his chest he was sure everyone must be able to hear it. His thoughts whirled. Who was that young man? And what on earth was Inez on about? What was going on here?

Inez didn't love Buck! She knew there was nothing genuine in Buck's overblown flattery and frankly embarrassing remarks - she always treated their encounters as a duel of verbal wit, not a declaration of anything serious...

Suddenly, in a flash, he understood, and felt his heart soar.

She knew! Inez knew about him and Buck! He had to fight to resist the smile that threatened his features. He had always liked and respected the fiery, beautiful young Mexican - now he would be in debt to her for the rest of his life.

Josiah recovered his composure after a few moments, and held up his hands in a calming gesture. "I think perhaps we should pause for a moment..." he said steadily, then shifted his gaze to the couple in front of him. "Perhaps the interested parties could join me in private for a few moments - I think there may be some things we need to discuss before proceeding..."

Epilogue

The storm had passed over, but the thunder could still be heard, growling in the distance, and the rain beat a gentle tattoo against the window. The widow was open, only slightly, but the cool breeze flowed in through the narrow gap, bringing with it a refreshing scent of clean air and rain.

The storm had been a welcome respite from the overpowering heat and humidity of the last few days, breaking just as darkness fell, with torrential rain and a loud, angry display of thunder and lightning. The relief was almost palpable, the cool rain washing the town free of the choking dust and stifling heat, alleviating the sticky, unpleasant feeling of heat and tension that had built up until it was almost unbearable.

Buck felt it on the skin of his arms, a cool counterpoint to the heat of the body he held so close against his chest. They were quiet now, in marked contrast to a short time ago, lost in the sensation of each other, the scent, taste, feel of each other, rolling and twining together in the tangle of bed sheets, a tangled mass of sweat-slicked limbs and overwhelming need, the noise of their passion drowned by the storm outside.

Buck still needed - the urgency was sated, the heat of desire rescinded to a warm glow for the moment, but he would always need Ezra, here - right here, in his arms, next to his heart.

Ezra lifted his head and searched for Buck's face in the dim room. "Are you alright? You're very subdued."

Buck smiled, shook his head, and hugged Ezra hard against him. "Nah... just thinkin'..."

"About what?"

There was a pause, and dark blue eyes clouded for a second. "About how close we came to losing all this..."

Ezra gave an involuntary shudder. "Frighteningly close... however..." He smiled and Buck wondered again how he had ever imagined he could go on living without that dimpled grin in his life. "...All's well that ends well."

And it had ended well. Josiah had still conducted his wedding, albeit with Luther Cross taking Buck's place, with the agreement of all concerned. It had taken Josiah, Chris and the silver tongue of one Ezra P Standish to convince Lucy's apoplectic father; but eventually, after his daughter's heartfelt pleading, some splendid dramatics on Inez's part, and a long conversation with Sanchez on the sanctity of truth in marriage, Caleb Garrett had relented, and it was a smiling and euphoric couple who had eventually left the church as man and wife. Luther had made Buck a solemn promise, which Buck believed without reservation, that he would love and raise Lucy's child as if it were his own, and the sheer delight radiating from the young farmer's face when he looked at Lucy convinced Buck that a child with two happy, loving parents was far more fortunate than a child with two unwilling, if biologically genuine, ones. The newlyweds were now en route North, to start a new homestead farm away from the chattering tongues and gossip of Four Corners, where no-one would be any the wiser about their expected baby's parentage. A fresh start - for all concerned.

Inez's selfless act had also yielded an unexpected bonus. Buck no longer had to be quite so careful about being seen, sneaking in and out of the saloon - everyone assumed that he was visiting Inez, and turned a blind, often amused eye to the lanky peacekeeper's comings and goings at odd hours.

They were still careful of course - discreet, circumspect and watchful, fully aware of what an incredibly close call they had suffered.

Only Inez was taken into their confidence - as she had already guessed anyway, it seemed pointless to continue denying it to her, especially after her display in the church.

Buck had waited for five nights after the wedding debacle, before sneaking out across the road to the saloon. So desperate had they both been to be together, Buck had scarcely made it inside the door of Ezra's room before the southerner had launched himself into his arms and all but torn his clothes off.

A few minutes later, with Ezra's warm, smooth body writhing beneath Buck's hands on the bed, and they had been interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

Springing guiltily apart, Ezra had grabbed a bedsheet and wrapped it around himself at an only half-successful attempt at decency and had opened the door, to find a smiling Inez standing outside, holding a tray containing sandwiches, a bottle of good whiskey and two glasses.

She had taken in Ezra's dishevelled state, his dark, dilated eyes and face still flushed with passion, and a wicked, amused grin had lifted her mouth. She had raised her eyebrows at him. "I thought you might be hungry," she had said devilishly, tilting her head to one side.

Ezra had returned the grin. "Two glasses?"

"Well, unless you were planning to throw Se-or Wilmington out of your bed before you drank it, I thought it only right."

He had taken the tray from her hands, and met her sparkling, merry gaze. "Thank you Se-orita - and I don't mean just for the food..."

She had shaken her head. "A favour for some friends... nothing more."

"Oh no - a lot more than that. It means a great deal to me.. I mean to us, that you would do something so incredible to help us keep our secret."

"Your secret is quite safe with me Se-or," her dark eyes had sparkled at him, full of laughter, and she turned on her heel, walking away down the hall. After a couple of steps, she had half turned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "...For so long as you both shall live," she had added, with a smile.