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Jake wiped his mouth. "Fuck, we spend a lot of time in here. I'm never sick. But since I started up with you I'm fucking throwing up all the time, or holding you when you do it."

Tor looked startled and then laughed, a harsh brittle sound that made Jake wince.

Jake brushed his teeth and went back into the bedroom getting a clean shirt. The cops were off to one side talking quietly. As Jake buttoned his shirt the Boss came over.

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"I'll call Becket. Your bail will be posted as soon as they have the paperwork ready."

Jake was stunned. "You don't even know what happened, and you're sending your lawyer to take care of me?"

"I know you. That's enough."

Jake nodded his thanks at him and moved toward the cops, ready to go back to town. Tor moved in front of him.

"Gotta go, Tor." Jake's voice was low.

Tor nodded and put his hands on Jake's waist. "I know." He kissed him, slow and sweet, and Jake let him, not caring who saw.

He needed this.

"I don't want to go," he whispered.

"I know."

They broke apart and Jake turned to the cops, ignoring the uncomfortable looks on their faces. "All right then, let's go."

Jake led the way through the house and out into the yard. A glance told him that if everyone who lived and worked there wasn't standing around watching then it was damn near it. He paused, fighting the urge to just turn around and go back into the bunkhouse.

He didn't want to leave in handcuffs.

Bobby Hearn caught his eye and nodded at him. Jake nodded back. Bobby was a good man, and Jake was pretty sure that the marks on his face were telling him and everyone present the story they needed to hear.

The Boss stood next to him and said, "Becket will meet you in town. We'll get you home as soon as we can, Jake."

Jake nodded at him and said, "Thank you, sir."

He walked to the cruiser and waited while one of the cops opened the back door for him.

Everyone in the yard was silent and still, so when Tor spoke everyone heard it.

"Jake."

Jake looked up and saw Tor standing in the doorway of the house, tall and strong, arms across his chest. They stared at one another for a long moment, telling each other things that they didn't have words for.

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"See you at supper," Tor finally said.

Jake nodded and got in the back of the car, hating the sound when the door slammed shut.

He watched Tor go back in the house and knew that anyone who wasn't watching him sitting there was watching Tor's back as he disappeared.

The drive to town started out silent, the two men in front not saying anything to him or each other. The younger one, the one who had started to figure him and Tor out before they’d made it perfectly obvious, was driving. The older guy eventually turned around and looked at him.

"You wanna talk about it, Mr. Taggart?"

Jake smiled a little. "Aren't you supposed to record it, or something? Don't get me wrong, I'm willing to talk about it, just don't know how gossipy you want me to be."

The man laughed and said, "Well, let's just wait then. How 'bout I talk to the kid here and you listen? Sort of telling my partner what I think?"

"That'd be fine, sir."

The cop shifted around in his seat so he was facing sideways, letting Jake hear as best he could over the noise of the road and the static of the police band radio.

He glanced back at Jake and addressed him directly, before turning to the driver, who was wearing a small grin. "So, me and Luke here, we were just getting ready to find us some coffee and a nice piece of pie this morning when we get a call about a fight goin' on behind Prince's Parts and Supply. Well, that was a surprise to us, 'cause we've never had any sort of trouble there before. So off we go. Except when we get there all we find is a pile of people standing around and two guys looking pretty banged up. 'There's our fighters,' I say to Luke. But I'm wrong, it seems. These two, they were fightin' all right, but not with each other. They say a cowboy was in and was starting a fuss about the prices and crap like that and he got so he needed to leave. They say they walked him out and he didn't much take to their help.

"Now, I'm writing this down and I'm looking around and I'm seeing stuff that doesn't add up. Why would a hand be kicking up about prices? He's not paying for it. And I see the box with Gillian's address. So he didn't even load the parts. And then there's the fact that the two twits can't get straight which one of them got hit first. So I go talk to Prince. All he'll tell me is that yes, there was a discussion in the store and that the cowboy left when asked. Won't tell me what it was about.

"We have to go pick the guy up, Neale's got a broken jaw and we have a complaint to deal with. So we call for another cruiser to transport the two we have to the hospital and then the lock up, and we head out to Gillian's to pick up one Jake Taggart."

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Jake was looking out the window by this point, just taking it all in. The cops weren't watching him now, and he shook his head a little. At least the idiots didn't have time to get up a decent lie.

"We're driving, trying to get it straight in out heads, and then the information request on Taggart comes through. Got a record for intent to harm, with some other charges tacked on."

Jake stared out the window, feeling ice in his gut.

"Thing is, he's been out of jail for a damn long time and never got in any more trouble that we know of. So when we get to the ranch we talk to Gillian, who is pretty upset to think that his number one man has been fighting. By the time we find Taggart cleaning himself up in his room, we find out that Doug Gillian is just pissed that Taggart could be hurt."

The cop turned in his seat again and looked at Jake, who forced himself to meet his eyes.

"Was gonna ask you why they tried to beat you up, but then your man let us know, didn't he?"

Jake looked out the window again. "Yeah, I guess he did." His voice sounded hollow to his own ears, like he was talking from the bottom of a cave.

"Well, we'll just take the statement when we get to town, then. Try to get you home in time for supper."

Jake swallowed hard, his throat suddenly constricted.

They took his official statement at one of the desks in the office, with Becket right there.

He'd been waiting when they'd rolled into town, check book in hand to pay Jake's bail.

Jake told them his side, keeping his anger under wraps, his voice as even as he could.

When he was about done and ready to sign the paper they laid in front of him, a door opened and a doctor came out.

"He's got the pain meds into him, and they wired his jaw at the hospital," the doctor said to the deputies. "Do you really have to keep him here, though?"

The cops nodded and said, "If he wasn't admitted he's ours until his bond is posted.

Hopefully we can get a judge to sign them all off this afternoon, and clear them out. Mind you, if any of them insist on pressing charges…"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know what happened; Neale's pretty banged up. Not sure he's gonna press charges though – he wouldn't even tell the guys at the hospital what started the fight, and usually we can't shut them up."

The cops smirked. "He's most likely none to proud of it."

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The doctor looked puzzled, but just left a bottle of pain pills with them and left.

Becket stood up. "Now, let's go see if we can round up a judge, shall we?"

Jake was put in a cell, immensely relieved that there was a drunk tank in a room separate from the main cells. He was pretty sure that being in the same room as Whalen and Neale wouldn’t be good for anyone. The cops apparently thought so, too.

He waited for hours before finding out that of the three judges the town employed, one was in court and one was returning from vacation to cover for the third, who was in hospital. He would have to stay the night.

He ignored his supper when it was brought to him. The thought of food made his stomach ball up and he knew he'd never keep it down all night. He was being surrounded and assaulted by crushing memories of the time he'd spent in prison, and when sleep finally came he had nightmares.

He dreamed of long hallways that lead to dark corners where a man could be hurt. He saw himself in a cell with Tor outside talking to him, but he couldn't hear. He dreamed that the man in Tor's pictures was with him in the cell and they were fighting, the man/child holding something important in his hand that Jake needed, but he couldn't see what it was. He dreamed that Tor was sick in the night and needed him, and he couldn't get to him in time to stop him from dying of the pain in his belly and his heart.

He woke up covered in sweat, thinking about Tor. Tor was alone too, fighting his own memories. And Jake couldn't help him from where he was, and he was supposed to be home for supper. Tor would be mad, and oh God, how did it get so fucked up when less than two days ago they were on the bed fucking and happy, and so ready to just be?

Jake wrapped the blanket tight around him and waited for morning.

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Chapter Eighteen

Becket dropped Jake off at the ranch around mid–morning the next day.

Jake went into the empty house and headed straight for their room, needing desperately to take a shower and get out of the clothes he'd slept in. He walked into the room, his shirt already gone and his pants undone, longing for hot water. He’d shower, then find out where Tor was. He needed to know that Tor had gotten better sleep than he had.

He was almost to the bathroom when he saw the envelope on the bed. On his pillow, actually, with his name written on it.

He sat down and stared at it, not wanting to read what was inside. He felt a tickle in his nose and swore. No goddamn way was he going to cry over a letter. No fucking way, not after the last two days.

He pushed a hand through his hair and reached out for the envelope, tearing the side open carefully. He sat on the bed and read, his heartbeat racing in his chest, his arms feeling numb with the weight of the single piece of paper.

Jake,

I gotta go.

Can't take this shit, can't deal with you getting hurt, me getting beaten up, people hating.

Can't deal with the damn pictures, can't stand thinking of you in that place.

I'll be back.

Tor

Jake put the letter back in the envelope and stripped off his clothes and went to take his shower. He stayed in until the hot water ran out and stayed in awhile longer. When he began shivering more than he was shaking, he got out and dried off. He dressed and went to the office.

The Boss wasn't there, so he just sat in the easy chair and waited.

He heard a door open behind him and listened to the careful footsteps.

"When did he leave, Doug?"

The Boss sighed. "Last night, when it was clear you wouldn't be home. He asked me for some time off and just left. I couldn't make him stay, Jake."

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Jake nodded. "I know. How much time?"

"He didn't say."

"Goddamn him."

The Boss didn't have an answer for that.

"He take a truck? Horse?"

"No. Just put on a jacket and walked down the lane. He looked bad, Jake. Like he was lost."

Jake stood up and left the office, heading to the porch. The Boss followed him, saying,

"Jake, he'll be back."

Jake stopped, but didn't look back. "Yeah."

He went back to the bunkhouse and lay on the bed. He was too tired to sleep, so he stared at the ceiling for awhile and finally rolled over to Tor's side of the bed and opened the drawer of his nightstand. The pictures were there, which made him feel better. He took them out and looked at Tor's younger self, noting all the differences and similarities. He turned the photo over and saw that someone had written on the back.
Me and my boy
. Not Tor's handwriting. He flipped the other picture over, but it was blank.

He sighed and put them back, feeling a wash of guilt at the snooping. He lay on Tor's side of the bed, inhaling the scent from his pillow until he thought he would go mad and finally levered himself off the bed.

He wandered around for a bit and went into the stable. He talked to River, groomed the horses that looked like they could use it, and finally started cleaning stalls. He was just finishing up when a quiet voice behind him said his name and he turned to look at Bobby Hearn.

"Hey Bobby." Jake wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and leaned on the shovel he'd been using.

"They treat you okay in town? I mean last night." Bobby looked concerned and worried, and Jake felt guilty for making everyone edgy.

"Yeah. It was…well, it was awful, but the cops were okay to me and they tried real hard to get me home last night."

Bobby leaned on the stall door and sighed. "Took Julie out for supper last night."

Jake raised a brow at the change of topic. "I'm sure she liked that."

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"She did. What she wasn't so keen on was all the talk around us, 'bout how two of the town's favoured sons turned out to be jerk offs who pick fights with people outside honest businesses." He looked Jake in the eye and gave him a tight smile.

"Yeah," Jake said slowly, "not too many people care for that as dinner conversation." He wasn't exactly sure what Bobby was trying to tell him, other than the town actually seemed to know who had started the fight, and that it wasn't him.

Bobby sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Jake…shit. Julie, she's got close family in the same sort of situation you're in. And she's real upset about what happened to you, and the more I listen to her the more I understand. It just ain't anyone's business, and now the whole freaking town knows, and it just ain't right."

Jake nodded. "No, it isn't. But that's the way we have to play it now."

Bobby growled in frustration. "Look. It isn't any of my business either. Just want you to know that Elias and Hound and me, we're doing a lot of talking to people here. Makin'