Falls Chance part 18b

 

 

 

The morning sun was getting hot on the grass when they
reached the gate of the home pasture, and Flynn leaned down over
Leo's neck to open it. Dale drew in his reins and backed Hammer a
little, and looked past the gate with Flynn, seeing the green,
battered jeep standing in the yard outside the house. He recognised
it at the same moment he saw the shock on Flynn's face.



"That's Emmett."



Dale took the gate from him and watched Flynn take Leo across the
yard in a steady trot to the barn where he swung down and knotted
Leo's reins to the tethering ring in the wall. He was up the steps
and into the house before Dale reached the barn, and by the time Dale
tethered Hammer and followed him into the kitchen, it was empty.
There was no sign of breakfast laid out at what was always breakfast
time in this house. Flynn's boots were uncharacteristically abandoned
overturned and scattered by the door and Dale paused for a moment to
heel off his own, before padding into the family room, uncomfortably
aware of his dusty jeans and shirt. Usually he and Flynn would have
stripped in the kitchen's bathroom before going into the house.



A few voices were coming from the landing upstairs and Dale climbed
the stairs slowly, his stomach tightening. Too much was wrong, the
signs were not good. Paul's voice came from above him on the landing,
unusually low but firm.



"- Emmett knows what he's doing and he's not worrying. He hasn't been
that bad."

"Where would he pick up flu or anything like that out here?" Flynn's
voice was just as muted but fierce, and Dale knew the tone. "He
hasn't been into town for weeks, no one's been out here but us."

"Honey, people do just get sick." Paul moved into sight at the top of
the stairs, gave Dale a faintly harried smile and came to meet him,
giving him a warm hug that took no notice at all of dust and combined
greeting with a good deal of reassurance.



"Hi. Don't look so worried, Riley wasn't too well last night. Which
probably explains why he was wound up enough yesterday to sneak off
by himself."



"I said that wasn't normal for him." Flynn muttered, pushing a hand
through his hair.



Paul moved a little to let Dale up onto the landing, and through the
open door of Riley's room, Dale caught a glimpse of Emmett's green
dust jacketed figure sitting on the edge of Riley's bed, intent on
something in his hands. A tube, running to a clear pack of liquid
hanging up by the bed. Dale recognised it with an icy jolt of alarm.
Paul's hand was still on his waist and he squeezed, his voice calm.



"Dale, it's all right. It's quite normal for Emmett to do procedures
out here in people's homes that you'd usually see done in hospitals.
He just wanted Riley to have the fluids, he got dehydrated during the
night."

"I'm used to knocking IV nails into people's walls." Emmett
commented, glancing across the landing and giving Dale a brief
smile. "I heard you two were out doing the far west run. The wild
land."



Flynn had gone to lean against the door post, looking down into
Riley's room. His arms were folded over his chest and his face was
set and expressionless. Paul patted Dale's hip where his hand rested,
making Dale look at him.



"It's all right. Go and change those clothes. Emmett, I'm going to
make coffee and a proper breakfast, come down and join us when you're
ready."

"Sounds great." Emmett let the tube go and Dale came slowly closer to
stand beside Flynn at Riley's door, his mouth drying and his stomach
twisting viciously as he saw inside. Riley was stripped at least as
far as the waist and his tan looked darker against the white of the
sheets. The bright patchwork quilt that covered his bed was pulled up
to mid chest and several towels were spread around him, bearing
testament to a difficult and uncomfortable night, and the room
smelled faintly of disinfectant. Riley's eyes were closed and he lay
very still, abnormally still for Riley. His hair damp and darker than
usual against the pillow, his face a nasty shade of white and grey.
Even from the doorway Dale could see the dark shadows under his eyes,
making them look bruised. A chunky plastic tap was in the back of his
hand, taped down, and a tube ran up to the pack of clear fluid Emmett
was checking beside the bed.



"He's asleep." Emmett said to Flynn, getting up. "It took a while to
stop the vomiting, he's worn out and he's dehydrated, but the fever's
under control now."

"It can't be flu." Flynn said grimly. "I've lived out here long
enough to know how and where we pick up bugs. We've got no sick stock
I'm aware of, no contaminated water, unless it's Crypto-"



"If it was Crypto or any of the other waterborne bugs he'd be
streaming diarrhoea, and he's not, so I'm not so worried. This could
be food poisoning, gastroenteritis from one of your calves, could be
anything." Emmett said calmly, closing the green army rucksack at his
feet and getting up. "I've taken blood, I'm going home to run the
tests and I'll call you if I see anything else, and I'll be back this
evening to see how he's doing. Right now he needs sleep and fluids,
and he's getting both."



"Thanks." Flynn said just as shortly but sincerely. Emmett touched
his shoulder as he passed him, and headed downstairs. Flynn moved
quietly past Riley's bed and took the rocking chair that stood beyond
it, leaning with his elbows on his knees, close to the bed, his eyes
fixed on Riley. His hands were tightly clasped between his knees.
Clasped because he was forcing himself to keep them back, not to
touch or to disturb Riley's sleep. Dale stood for a moment, eyes torn
between Riley's white face and Flynn's granite one, knowing there was
nothing he could do or say that would be of any help to either of
them.





















Jasper had gone out to do the bones of their daily work – the
checking of the sheep and cattle herds, the checking of the water and
food supplies. It was what had to be done, irrespective of weather or
any other event, and it was characteristic of Jasper to go and do it,
unseen and unnoticed, freeing up the other two to be with Riley. And
there was a generosity there typical of Jasper: Dale knew without
hesitation that Jasper would find it no easier to leave Riley right
now than the other two would. But his example was something Dale
could follow.



He left Paul feeding Emmett and slipped away to make a start on the
now familiar yard work, putting Hammer and Leo, groomed and fed, into
the corral, and cleaning the stables before he checked on and watered
the horses in the stable paddocks. Hard, physical work that kept his
body busy and which killed dragging time, but did nothing at all to
blot out the sight of Riley's white-grey face or the tube running
into his hand, or the anxiety marked strongly on both Flynn and
Paul's faces despite Paul's attempts to be reassuring. This had
happened so suddenly, the change in Riley was so extreme it was
alarming, and Riley was so naturally lively, animated and
irrepressible – the sheer stillness of him was unnatural and it
nagged at Dale relentlessly all the time he worked.



"I'm going down to look over the mares," he said through the kitchen
doorway some hours later. Emmett's jeep was gone from the yard and
Paul was sitting alone at the empty table. It wasn't often that Paul
did nothing: Dale was used to seeing him occupy his hands most of the
time, whether it was with cooking, or writing, or simply maintaining
the kitchen, a room he spent a good deal of his time in and which was
his favourite room of the house. He looked up at the sound of Dale's
voice and shook his head, managing what was, for Paul, a distinctly
weak smile.



"No. Leave them for today. You saw them yesterday afternoon and you
must be tired."

"I don't mind." Dale said without trying to return the smile. Paul
stopped trying too and held out a hand.



"Well I do."

Dale went to him and Paul grasped his hand, looking up at him more
searchingly than was comfortable. Those soft eyes saw a great deal;
Dale never underestimated Paul, who was astute in ways the others
weren't.



"You got him to come home, didn't you?"

"He was worried about Riley." Dale said awkwardly.



"I'm sure you both were." Paul said dryly. "It's all right honey.
Jasper took one look at Riley and knew he wasn't feeling well. He
didn't get into any trouble, we had him in bed and asleep by seven. I
thought he'd sleep it off until he got sick around three this morning
and couldn't stop."



Dale wasn't aware of his face changing as the impact of that went
home – all of this and where did I have Flynn? Out messing around
with me in the middle of nowhere, when he was needed here, when he
would desperately have wanted to be here - but Paul must have seen
something. He pushed his chair back away from the table and put an
arm around Dale's waist, pulling Dale down to his lap. The trained
impulse hit immediately to flinch, to ball up, to move away in
alarmed embarrassment because men didn't do this.



And you don't even know why, Aden. It's habit, nothing more, you
don't even try to think before you do it! Forget the crap, think
about what's real for pete's sake! Do you actually have an opinion on
this instead of a lot of acquired bigotry?



Dale took a deep breath and turned instead to face Paul, deliberately
returning the hug and feeling the sudden and surprised tightening of
Paul's arms around him in response. Not just a kind gesture; it was
the first time Dale realised it, although there was inestimable
warmth and comfort in Paul's arms. But this too was something that
Paul did to seek comfort as much to give it; a turning towards a
trusted friend in the way that all this family did when they were
afraid or unhappy, and the understanding arrowed through Dale,
obliterating any sense of effort. Knowing that, how was it possible
not to put your heart into your arms? Where would you find someone
cold enough to not want to comfort Paul any way they could?



Paul's eyes were probing and very acute when Dale sat back, and he
put a hand up to touch Dale's face, brushing along his cheekbone
before he pushed Dale's hair back out of his eyes.



"How about we make a decent meal?" was all he said; as comfortably
and calmly as though this was any normal day.

"I don't know you'll get anyone to eat it." Dale said uncertainly.
Paul put him on his feet and got up, heading for the pantry.



"If it's there, people will eat. And when I'm stressed, I cook. It's
very calming. Chop two of those for me?"

Dale caught the bag of onions Paul tossed to him and turned them over
in his hands, somewhat embarrassed. It seemed such a stupid, banal
thing to have to admit.



"…..Paul? I – I've never lived anywhere there wasn't a canteen. I
have no idea what to do with these?"



"Then this is a very good time to learn." Paul took a knife and a
chopping board out of a drawer and set them out beside him. "Bring
them here and I'll show you."









*









Riley didn't stir throughout the evening, which to Dale lasted
several years. The silence in the house was terrible. This house was
never silent in the evenings, and there was a tangible hole where
Riley should have been. Jasper came in, showered and Paul went
upstairs and brought Flynn down, who sat at the table with them while
they all picked at a meal. Their concern was tangible. Dale's own was
thudding, awful, and swallowing anything was impossible. Flynn across
the table was doing little better, and Dale could read in his face
and his shoulders where his mind was. Working, nagging at the
problem, looking for the slightest foothold in it.



"It is not 'flu." he said eventually, putting his fork down. "I don't
care what Emmett says. There's been no one here to catch anything
from."

"No sick animals." Jasper said quietly. "I checked the lot. The
vaccination logs are up to date, and I handle the cattle herds which
are the most risky ones, Ri doesn't have that much to do with them
day to day."



"Which leaves water." Flynn sat back, looking across the table at
Jasper. "Where has he been working this week? He took one of the rams
up to the ewe pastures yesterday, he took out two of the two year
olds for me,"

"He came back wet on Monday," Paul said abruptly. "About mid morning.
He'd been up to look at the flocks out on the other side of the wagon
crossing on the river and he said some of the sheep had trampled down
branches to stand out in the river, it was turning into a mud bath.
It took him a while to clear."

"That'll be it." Flynn pushed straight to his feet, heading into the
pantry. Paul got up too and followed him, pulling an empty jam jar
and lid from the shelf to give to him.



"Be careful, it'll be dark in an hour."



Flynn didn't answer, taking a jacket from the back of the door and
shouldering into it as he headed down the porch steps.



"There are parasites in the water sometimes." Paul said to Dale,
starting to collect dishes since it was apparent no one else was
going to eat anything more. "Picked up from the animals. If it's
that, it's not serious."



And he has to do something, no matter how pointless. Yes Paul, I
know.


Although Emmett hadn't thought it was likely from Riley's symptoms.
Dale silently got up to help, watching Paul fill a glass of water and
head upstairs. One of them had been with Riley for most of the day,
even though as far as Dale knew, Riley hadn't woken.



Jasper went outside to lock up, and without intending to, Dale found
himself heading upstairs, moving softly along the landing towards the
open door of Riley's room. The glass of water was on the table beside
Riley's bed, untouched. Paul was sitting in the rocking chair and
Riley was asleep, although Paul had pulled back the covers, stripping
him from head to foot. Bare chested, slim in the white shorts that
was all he wore, he was not still now. He twitched and murmured every
few seconds in his sleep and Dale could see the flush on his face. It
was so unlike Riley it was awful to watch. The IV pack above the bed
was half empty and Paul was lightly holding Riley's hand, protecting
the tube that ran into the back of it, although his fingers gently
rubbed and stroked rhythmically back and forth over Riley's
knuckles.



"He's getting hot again." Paul said softly, seeing him. "Emmett's due
back in an hour."


Emmett had expected the fluids to help more than this. Dale stood for
a while, fear acid in his stomach and throat, hands in his pockets to
prevent himself giving into the impulse to touch, to do as Paul did
and get hold of Riley in some way that reassured him that Riley was
still there. There had to be something to do. The feeling of
impotence, of inactivity, was unbearable.



Come on Aden, you've a brain, use it. There has to be something.



It flashed to him in the memory of something Flynn said at dinner.
Dale left Paul sitting where he was and with no one to see or to
question it, he went quietly through the side door on the landing,
closed it behind him, and went up the short flight of stairs to where
the computer stood at the desk in the small office.



They didn't password protect it. Dale felt a sharp surge of
affection for the four men who owned this computer as he accessed
what he wanted. None of them were particularly IT literate and they
didn't really see much need for it, plus they trusted by simple word
of rule, that it stayed out of use unless it was genuinely needed.
Dale opened up a couple of his familiar search engines, starting to
run the information he wanted, quickly and accurately, sinking into
the detached work mode where he could drink in and filter information
at speed. Obsessive, compulsive, ritual speed that increased as the
familiar skills began to kick in. There had been many times when
A.N.Z had booked him on a flight to a company he knew nothing of the
products of, where he had the length of the flight to gather the
knowledge he needed, and gathering and organising data was an old,
old habit. No matter what the information. Dale followed link after
link, taking in the data, cross referencing it and reeling it away,
until he reached across the desk and picked up a pencil and paper.
The statistics he scribbled were roughly drawn, juggled through a few
basic equations, and ended as the sound of a jeep was audible below
in the yard. Dale got up, turning the computer off.



He could hear Flynn's voice in the hallway below, low and grim.


"If we're going to need to take him to the hospital at Jackson , then
we're going now, Emmett. It's more than two hours, and two hours is a
long time."

"At the moment a hospital can't do anything for him that you're not
doing here, with a lot more quiet and a lot more attention." Emmett
said calmly. Dale came out of the stairwell, looking through the
doorway of Riley's room. Paul was still sitting beside Riley. Emmett
was sitting on the side of the bed and Flynn was leaning in the
doorway. Jasper was a few feet behind him, tall and angular, and gave
Dale a brief look of welcome, beckoning silently with his head for
Dale to come and join them.



"If he needs a hospital I'll call the air ambulance out and it'll be
twenty minutes," Emmett was saying, "But we're nowhere near that
point yet. And this still doesn't look to me like Crypto, Flynn. The
fever says he's burning off infection. The blood tests were clear
apart from the high white cell count, there's no parasites, he hasn't
picked up tetanus or anything like that. I'm going to strip him and
see if there's any local infections we're missing- ears, sinuses,
cuts or grazes gone septic-"

"Blood tests wouldn't pick up Leptospirosis unless you were
specifically testing for it." Dale said softly. Emmett glanced up at
him.



"Weil's disease? That's very unlikely."

"The probability, based on the terrain, the weather and the stock
using the river, is higher than it seems." Dale cleared his throat
slightly, aware of the others looking at him. "There were five cases
reported last year in Montana from a group who were rafting. Often
misdiagnosed because the early stages look-"

"Like `flu, yes," Emmett said dryly, "Is this an internet diagnosis?"

Flynn moved. It wasn't much of a movement, in fact it was hard to say
exactly what he did do, but suddenly he appeared a good deal taller
and more obvious in the doorway. Dale gave Emmett a half smile,
knowing his tone and familiar in dealing with it. Most specialists
resented a consultant offering information.



"The relative probabilities of a bacterial etiological agent such as
Shigella, Giardia, Cholera or Escherichia Coli are based on
dysenterial presentations, not infective presentations. Leptospirosis
is infective, it's a recognised RWI, it is the correct time of year
and would be based on an infected animal not yet symptomatic. And
Flynn is right that the odds of water or stock related causes of
illness are higher than any others under the circumstances out here.
It's a mathematical probability."



"I'm sure he's got no cuts or infected ears or anything like that."
Paul said with conviction. "I'd know, and Riley would tell me. So
much as a graze on him and I know."

"Leptospirosis is waterborne?" Flynn said. Emmett nodded.



"Well yes. But very rare. Ridiculously rare, and the circumstances –
it's extremely unlikely."



"No." Dale said simply. "Likelihood is mathematical. It can be
assessed and predicted, and the probability is there."

"We have nothing to lose in testing for it?" Flynn asked Emmett.



Emmett shook his head, starting to ease Riley's t shirt off. "No, if
it'll make you any happier. There's a lot of other far more likely
things I'm going to look for too if I can have some space. Paul, give
me a hand?"



Paul came to help him, and Dale felt Jasper's gentle hands take his
shoulders, guiding him away. He went, unpleasantly aware that Riley
had not woken, despite being handled and moved.













It was over an hour later when Emmett left with the blood samples he
was taking to the hospital lab in Jackson , capable of far more
complex tests than he could manage in his own small lab, and Flynn
sent Dale to get ready for bed. On his way back from the bathroom,
Dale caught sight of Paul, still fully dressed but asleep on his bed,
having been up with Riley through the previous night.



"How long will Emmett be?" Dale asked when Flynn turned out his
light. Flynn pushed the window sash up, letting the cool air into the
room. It reminded Dale sharply of the early hours of this morning,
out on the plateau, a memory that grabbed hard at his stomach despite
his worry.



"Not long." Flynn stooped, dropping a kiss on Dale's forehead. "Don't
worry. Riley's as tough as they come."

Dale didn't answer and Flynn paused, resting a heavy hand against his
face. His eyes were hard to look at: Dale felt the well of emotion
and looked away, aware of the painful gentleness of Flynn's voice.



"Dale. Don't worry. I saw Paul nurse Philip through a couple of
illnesses Emmett thought would kill him, Paul knows what he's doing.
Get some sleep, we're watching him."

The effort it took not to catch Flynn's hands, hold on to him, or to
plead for him to stay, was extreme.



Dale tried for a while to rest, watching the faint light on the
landing from Riley's room, slightly comforted by the knowledge that
Flynn was there sitting with him. Eventually he slid out of bed and
pulled jeans back on, hesitating in the doorway to his room. In his
experience, Flynn had ears like a lynx for people out of bed.
Tonight, once Dale took the plunge, padding noiselessly to the stairs
and down towards the kitchen, it was without interruption.



The kitchen wasn't its usual pristine self: the difference was
painful. Paul hadn't had the time or the will to deal with it.
Knowing from experience how he liked it and how it should look, Dale
automatically started work, finding a sense of calm and orientation
in the doing of it. He had been at it for several minutes when he
heard Jasper's voice through the open kitchen door.



"Dale?"



Dale paused, dish in hand, and went to the doorway. Jasper was
sitting on the swing on the porch, amongst the basket chairs and pots
of plants, one knee up in front of him, arms bare in a t shirt
despite the cooling evening.



"Can't sleep?" he said mildly.



"No."



Jasper held out a hand. Dale held up the dish.



"I'll finish the-"



"Come here."



Dale put the plate down on the kitchen table and without bothering to
put boots on, walked barefoot out onto the porch.



"How did you think to look up Leptospirosis?" Jasper asked calmly.



Dale shrugged, uncertain how Jasper would see the commandeering of
the computer and embarrassed at his own temerity in mentioning
it. "It was what came up when I searched. I – used the computer
upstairs? Statistically the chances were good. You don't always need
to know much depth about the material if you can take it in and cross
reference it- more looking for patterns. That's at least something I
can do."



"I'm very glad you can." Jasper looked across at him. Hatless, brown
arms bare, he was relaxed against the corner of the swing, dark hair
down over his brows. His deep voice was more liquid than Flynn's, and
always easy. Like when fishing with him – there was a kind of ease to
being with Jasper without the pressure to talk. Dale leaned against
the porch rail, arms folded, aware that one hand was tapping its
fingers rapidly in a staccato rhythm, and feeling his chest tighten
with a whole maelstrom of emotions he was not at all prepared to deal
with.



"........ I was going to say I'm not used to feeling powerless." he
said after a while, awkwardly. "But you'd think after six months of
practice I'd be better at it than this? I - saw David out on the
plateau."



If Jasper was shocked, he didn't show it, simply using one booted
foot to rock the swing slowly. "Did he have anything to say?"



Dale dug in his pocket for his half of the rose quartz crystal.
Jasper took it when Dale held it out, turning it gently over in his
palm.



"David dug it out." Dale said tentatively. "We were up on the
plateau, out by the mine and the ruins? He said we were sleeping
almost on top of the mine. Flynn- Flynn told me about the stone
properties."



Jasper looked up, eyebrows raising. "Flynn?"



"He said you told him - and that David knew. You don't think it's
weird at all that I've–"



"Seen David?" Jasper said gently. "No. You're a very perceptive
person. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't find in time that you
see other people or hear or see other things out here. There's a lot
of memory stacked on this land."



Which suggested that Jasper himself had seen and heard other things.
Jasper palmed the stone, leaned over and took Dale's hand, pulling
until Dale gave way and sat down on the swing beside him.



"Why don't you calm down a little, and tell me what's bothering you
about David?"



Dale tucked one leg under him, drawing the other up and hugging it
unconsciously. It took a moment to find the words and organise them.



".........David said something I didn't understand. He said I was the
one who wasn't-"



It was so humiliating it was hard to say. Dale forced it out with an
effort.



"-doing it properly. I didn't understand what he meant at first."



Jasper went on rocking the swing, voice tranquil.



"You two came back a lot earlier than I expected."



Dale took a breath, willing himself under control. "Flynn…."



Staring at each other on the plateau in the early morning. The
crackle and warmth of the fire and the crush of Flynn's arms…..
lying on the grass by the fire under the weight of Flynn's arm with
the length of Flynn against his back…



"He was worried about Riley."



"He was worried before he left." Jasper pointed out. Dale looked up,
another chunk of anxiety and confused information welling up.



"I realised how you do it. You don't bother him, you know how to be
quiet enough not to get in his way, it's the only way you can help."



"As I said, you're a very perceptive person." Jasper said calmly.



"I know it's none of my business –" Dale said roughly. "Who am I to
try? Even you and Paul-"



"If we can't help, at least we know enough not hurt more." Jasper
interrupted quietly. "Paul and I have both tried, and neither of us
have ever succeeded like you have."



The simplicity with which he said it was stunning.



Neither of us have ever succeeded like you have.



Dale was silent for a minute, trying to find a way to say it, the
things he had been thinking all night and all day, to Jasper who
loved Flynn and understood him, and would be able to understand.



"There's – there's some things a brat can say, aren't there? To a
Top, that another Top can't."



"I think so." Jasper said mildly. "I think how those things are heard
are different if they come from a brat. Riley goes too directly to
the most sensitive parts of Flynn, but he gets more leeway from Flynn
when he does it than anyone else would get. And Flynn knows it's not
meant to hurt. Riley just knows Flynn too well."



That was it. Dale dropped both feet to the porch and bent over them,
hearing himself say it straight from the heart, with more pain than
he'd thought was possible.



"Jas, what do I do that's much good for anyone?"



Jasper's hand came over his shoulder, a light arm resting around him
and the swing went on rocking slowly, back and forth.



"I have to find something to do with myself. and some way to talk to
ANZ." Dale said through his hands. "I need to pull myself together
and get out of here, it's way past time I should have gone. I should
have left with Jerry."

"Why?" Jasper asked calmly.



Dale steepled his hands hard against his face. He was shaking; Jasper
could feel the tremors running down through the swing. Calmly, he put
both hands on Dale's shoulders and felt Dale automatically clench
against him.



"I thought you were trying to trust us?" he said mildly, not letting
go.



"Maybe I'm not cut out for this." Dale said too tersely for Jasper
not to hear the emotion behind it. "Maybe I'm not whatever a 'brat'
is, maybe this is all just some ghastly bloody mistake-"

"Shh." Jasper said, pulling until Dale gave way and lay down against
him, head and shoulders in his lap. He resisted at first, but as
always, once you insisted, he came willingly to whatever comfort you
offered, as though starving for it. Jasper held him, rubbing his back
firmly. "Utter nonsense. You're tired and you're scared, and that's
enough."

"That's too easy an answer." Dale said, muffled in his stomach,
although he didn't try to move. Jasper stifled a smile and found
Dale's chin, lifting it to look directly at him.



"Which of us is the Top?"



Flynn asked that too, and the knowledge always came with the same
relief, the same release, except tonight there was a wash of pain
that came with it, that was overwhelming. Dale would have pulled out
of Jasper's arms, save that Jasper held him too tightly to move,
voice not changing in the slightest.



"Which of us is the Top?"



The grasp and the tone were gently relentless and so kind that Dale
felt the sharp sting of tears in his eyes and a rush of emotion he
had no time to stifle. Hours worth of high emotion, and too much
confusion to handle.



"You." he said out loud, and the rush swept out of him, handed over,
surrendered.



"Right." Jasper said, rocking slowly and holding him closely, taking
no notice of Dale's shaking or the gulping that was the best Dale
could do towards releasing tears. "So let me handle it. You're not
running anywhere. I won't let you. You don't just have Flynn. You
need to rest, and you need to let me do the thinking for a while.
It's going to be ok."











*









It was shortly after two am when Emmett's jeep pulled up in the yard
again, and nearly two thirty when Flynn came downstairs, stretching
his neck stiffly as he walked. He was still in the dusty shirt he had
worn all day, still unshaven, and he headed straight for the kitchen
sink, soaking both hands and running them through his hair to slick
it back before he washed his face and then drank several palmfuls of
the water. The kitchen door was open, and when he stepped out onto
the porch, Dale lay asleep under a blanket on the swing.



He needed a lot of sleep, and Flynn thought he always slept as though
exhausted. He worked until he dropped, Dale; he had no concept of
when to stop or of pacing himself. He just gave and tried until he
ran out of steam to continue. Flynn crouched by the head of the
swing, looking down at Dale's sleeping face for a while. Limp, and
his face was more than slightly tense, but so deeply asleep that not
even Emmett's jeep or the cold of the night air had disturbed him.
Flynn found himself wondering whether Dale had ever slept like this
in his hotels or offices, safe enough to let go so completely, with
that half curled, vulnerable hand above his head. Flynn slid his
fingers gently through Dale's dark hair, easing it back from his
face. It was something they all did automatically: he, Jasper and
Paul, and Flynn thought sometimes it was more than just an absent
caress or gesture of affection. It was almost as if they physically
reached out and tried to brush back Dale's barriers, an attempt to
see him more clearly, to reach him more closely.



"Riley any better?" Jasper said softly from the far end of the porch.
Flynn looked up.



"Some. Paul cooled him down, he's not so restless. It is
Leptospirosis. Dale was right."



"So Emmett said." Jasper came down the porch to lean on the rail
nearby. "I thought he was taking it pretty well, considering."



"He's giving Ri the first antibiotics now. He said caught this early,
it should be a fairly quick and easy job. And that the Jackson lab
was staggered anyone had even thought of it." Flynn straightened
slowly. "Did Dale tell you how he came up with it?"



"Probability and statistics." Jasper said dryly. "I suspect he can do
things with the computer we haven't even thought of. He hasn't been
asleep long, I didn't want to disturb him by moving him. He was
pretty upset, it took a while to settle him. And no, I didn't come
and get you. There are three of us, you had your hands full and I'm
quite capable of handling him."



He waited a moment, watching Flynn take one of the porch seats near
to Dale.



"You didn't get to the south west fences."

"No." Flynn glanced up at him, and then back down at Dale. "No, we
didn't."



Jasper opened his palm. Flynn looked at the rose quartz stone, then
almost guiltily up at Jasper.



"Yes. He gave one to me this morning. I put it up on the nightstand
by Riley. I thought it might help. Supposed to attract healing, or
you've said something like that in the past."

"I didn't know you were even listening at the time." Jasper said
gently. "You two slept last night on top of the quartz mine."

"Yes. Dale climbed down there at five am this morning."



Jasper saw Flynn look again at Dale with an expression that held as
much chagrin and bewilderment as sheer discomfort.



"I – need to talk to you two."



"What's wrong?" Jasper asked softly.

Flynn didn't answer. Jasper, watching him, had a sudden image of a
much younger man, not much more than a boy, wrestling with a
conscience and a temper very badly combined.


"You used to look like this when you were about to go and confess
something to Philip." he said lightly. Flynn winced.



"Don't."



Paul appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, slightly bleary eyed and
still fully dressed.



"I need tea. Do you two want anything? Riley's temperature's down,
he's asleep and Emmett's going to sit with him for a while – in fact
unless he gets another emergency call, I think he'll probably stay
the night."



Jasper got up and came into the kitchen, and Flynn followed, softly
closing the door to keep their voices from disturbing Dale.



"I didn't know how annoyed Emmett would be with Dale once he gets
past the idea he's got a reportable case of Lepto on his patch." Paul
said, getting mugs down from the cupboard. "Someone's been cleaning
up in here?"

"Dale." Jasper said when Flynn raised his hands in denial. Paul
nodded, filling the kettle.



"Well I could see it wasn't either of you two, everything's in the
right place. At the moment Emmett's mostly concerned with Riley and
he isn't thinking about much else, but it isn't easy being out-
diagnosed by a CEO with no medical knowledge, using a computer. Do
you think there's anything Dale couldn't turn a hand to?"



"I suspect if it's got an identifiable pattern – by Dale's
understanding, not necessarily anyone else's – he can pick it up and
figure out a plan of action." Flynn said, taking the mug of tea Paul
handed him. "All he'd say he was doing is filtering a lot of other
people's information and reducing it down to testable conclusions.
It's easy to underestimate how bright he is."



"In very specific ways." Jasper added. Paul sat down at the table and
Jasper put his tea down, standing behind Paul and gently sinking his
hands into Paul's neck and shoulders, massaging. Paul let his head
drop forwards, relaxing with a wordless sound of comfort.



"When I came back this afternoon," Jasper said calmly, "There was no
work left to do here. Not just the stables and the yard and the basic
watering. The feeds were out and sorted, the yearlings have been
moved to the next paddock and the grass where they were has been
watered and seeded, I'd take a guess that several of the fresher two
year olds were exercised, and the corral's been raked over on the
rough patches. I didn't give instructions or help with any of that, I
don't know if anyone else did."

"I didn't." Paul stretched his shoulders while Jasper worked them,
propping his head on his hands at the table. "Dale came back mid
afternoon and said he was going out to look over the mares, and I
told him then to stop, but the rest of it he did by himself."



"I've been trying to tell him, he more than earns his keep." Flynn
said, taking a seat next to Paul, who looked up in surprise.



"He doubts that?"



"I've had the 'what am I good for?' speech this evening," Jasper said
calmly, "And that he wanted to leave. Although mostly what he was
telling me was that he was tired and upset and didn't know what to do
with it. He's scared stiff for Riley and he's worried about you. He
said he doesn't do 'powerless' well."



"We all feel powerless about Riley, but it isn't as bad as it looks."
Paul said with compassion. "Dale's pretty much always lived within
institutions - I doubt he's really seen or had anything directly to
do with anyone sick before."

"It's part of a much wider context." Jasper heeled out the chair on
Paul's other side and sat down, leaning long arms on the table to
look at Flynn more pointedly than Flynn had ever seen him look
before. "He's worrying about a lot of things. Isn't he? Like why you
two came home early this morning, and why you came back one hell of a
lot better than when you left. I haven't seen you turn it around this
fast since we lost Philip."



Flynn disappeared into his mug for a moment, drinking tea. Jasper,
who was used to them both, waited until Paul, who had been looking
from Flynn to Jasper, reached across and swiped the mug out of
Flynn's hand, putting it out of his reach. Flynn took a short,
exasperated breath and propped his elbows on the table, running both
hands through his hair.



"Ok. All right. I confess. I just wish I knew where the hell to
start."