Can You Hear It?

by Cookie

Finally got this thing finished, it only took about 18months! Anyway, thanks to those from the U-FFW Group who sent help all those months ago - much appreciated. Apologies for poor grammar, spelling etc...


1]

I've heard people say that you can hear it coming. Moving through the air as it seeks out its target. Well, when I strolled along the boardwalk that day - I didn't hear it.

He'd seen me pass by the saloon doors; he wanted to talk with me. He'd crossed the street to catch up with me, stepping behind me he called out my name.

"Mr.Larabee!"

I turned to face him. He just looked at me.

I didn't hear the screams, or my name been shouted as Vin sprinted past me and after his prey. I didn't hear his name been yelled, even though I knew it emanated from between my lips.

All I did was see.

See him stare at me with those oh so beautiful eyes. I could see the look of pure astonishment in them. I could see his head look down towards his chest, and then come back up to look at me. I could see what he felt as the crimson stain slowly started to seep through the once pristine white shirt to peek out from behind his jacket.

All I could see was him. Falling. Ever so slowly, like the ground was sucking him down towards her.

Now I was feeling. I felt the hardness of the wooden floorboards as I knelt next to the man I had loved since I first saw that cocky gold-tinted grin of his. I felt his soft hair as I cradled his head in my lap, waiting for help. I felt the sticky heat of blood as I placed my hand on his chest and pushed. I pushed as if I could push it all back into him. I could feel his heart beating. Slower and slower. Labouring at every step.

I could smell now. A stench that seems to invade me all too often. A smell that should come with a warning label. But this time it was mixed with a fragrance I wished would never leave me. Pure Ezra. I could smell the lavender and sandalwood. Then the slight muskiness of the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The man that was dying in my arms without knowing how much I loved him.

Then those eyes were staring at me. Looking right into my heart and soul. He spoke, ever so quietly, the Southern drawl weighing down each word.

"I... I didn't hear it Chris. I tho, thought you were s, supposed to hear it"

I didn't hear anything then. No feeling, no smell. Nothing.

You don't hear it coming you know.


2]

I sit in the corner of Nathan's clinic, waiting. It's been several hours since a bullet meant to kill me, hit Ezra instead. A tortured lifetime since that piece of lead drove its way into his chest.

I stood and watched as Nathan dug it out and stitched everything up.

"Wait," we were told. "Nothing more I can do," he said. "Up to Ezra now."

So I waited.

I prowled and listened as Vin told me of some misguided, revenge seeking fool, now residing at the undertakers.

I practically growled as I saw Josiah cool down Ezra's fever hot skin. I wanted to push him away and run my fingers over the perfect satiny body. To feel him against me. To worship each tiny piece of him. But all I could do was slouch and look on, hopelessly, as with each passing minute, he failed to improve.

I knew he was going to die. Everyone else I've loved had - why not him?

I'm not a man renowned for my patience. I must leave now. I've stayed here too long without being able to have him.

I need some relief. Not only from the unremitting tension of waiting, but from my own lustful needs.

I drag myself from the morbid scene and methodically take care of things.

Clean, I go to his room. I try not to think of myself as being perverse as I lay on his bed and inhale deeply the scent from his pillows and covers. Oh how I could spend a lifetime, lying here, with him.

Seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, touching all that makes one Ezra. P. Standish.

How long I slept on top of his bed I don't know. Long enough to appease my craving, nowhere near long enough to soothe my heart.

I didn't want to go back to the clinic. I knew he was dying - so why stay and watch?

But I'd twice been denied telling someone how much I loved them before they died. It wasn't gonna happen a third time. I had to be there when he breathed his last.

And before that happened, I had to tell him. He had to know. He must know.


3]

I take a deep breath and hold it in, trying to get my heart to stop its rapid beating.

Releasing it slowly I open the door to Nathan's clinic.

My eyes scan over those present in the room, without particularly seeing them.

At this time they are unimportant as the task I need to complete controls me.

I take a suddenly vacated seat next to his bed. Without conscious thought my hand hovers a hairsbreadth away from his face, but does not touch.

It moves slowly over his mouth, just about feeling every slow exhalation.

He's still alive - for now. I must not take any longer. I must tell him.

I don't care who overhears me, and I do not care what they may think. He must know before it's too late.

As my hand moves down to linger close to his heart, I lean forward.

I take a breath, inhaling his scent. My eyes close for a moment as I luxuriate in it.

And then, letting out a gentle breath, I whisper to him, "I love you Ezra."

I look up to see his eyes flutter open and look straight at me. I lean over him slightly and ask, "Ezra? Did you hear me Ezra?"

With almost a satisfied smile on his face, his eyes flutter closed once more.

"Ezra? Ezra!"


Epilogue

"Ezra? No. No. Don't leave me!"

"Ezra!" I spring forward in my bed, the scream of his name choking in my dry throat.

As I sit up in the middle of my bed, sweat soaking through the strewn sheets that have entangled my legs, I hear it.

Through my shuddering gasps for air in the coldness of my cabin - I hear him.

"I'm right here Chris."

The softly spoken words penetrate through the hammering in my ears.

"I'm not going to leave you."

As my breathing starts to calm I feel his strong arms gently encircle me and slowly lower me so that I am resting in his embrace.

I can smell that aroma of his that always tantalised my senses whenever it drifted my way. But this time it is mixed with the passions of our earlier lovemaking.

I rest my head on his shoulder, and with the aid of a sliver of bright moonlight, I see, right before me, the scar left by the bullet that so nearly took the life of the man I love, and my life with it.

Then, finally, as I relax into the comfort of his arms, and my eyes close, I hear it. So loud and clear. As if it was yelled in my ear instead of being murmured gently.

"I love you to Chris."

The End


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