Disclaimer: I don't own much. Dialog stolen from movie but they can have it back after you've read them.

Chapter 12

"So Charlie… I've heard some things. Mayhap they were rumors. Mayhap they were not…" Doc stared her down. He saw her squirm uncomfortably in her seat. This was just what he wanted, a rise out of this harlot.

"What does this mean to you? It matters not. I don't even know you and you don't know me," Charlie said distastefully.

"It does matter, dear. I believe whole-heartedly that it matters that you murdered your family," Doc's steel eyes sharpened in her direction.

"You don't know anything," Charlie's lips tightened.

"I know everything."

The spectators were silenced by this accusation and the tension in the air was felt by all. Did they all really house a murderer? Was it the truth? Of course they had to believe their friend over a stranger.

Charlie stood from the table angrily as Doc turned in his chair to face the red head. Her green eyes were full of flames and she was seething. Her right arm swung up and down heavily against his cheek.

Doc had a slight grin on his face as he watched her storm out of the house.

The others had wide eyes and their jaws were dropped. What had they just witnessed?

"Well thank you ever so much, Doc. You just ruined my dinner. Congratulations," Allie said through clenched teeth. She stood up and threw her napkin in her chair, "I'm going to sleep."

XXXX

Charlie stormed down the street anger flowing through her veins. She wasn't angry at him. She just couldn't stop thinking about that dreadful night. She wouldn't allow Doc's words to bother her. He was a random guy that she met a couple days ago. Yes, she was appreciative of his looks but that said nothing of one's mind. He has a right to say what he wants and if making accusations lightens his load, then why shouldn't he?

All Charlie wanted was to cease thinking.

She reached Rusher, her gorgeous white horse, and swung herself up.

"Let's ride, baby," She ushered him forward and let his hoofs take her into a fantasy land. It was a land where evil didn't exist and no one felt a thing. People simply existed. They just were. They had no troubles or worries. People died as expected but it wasn't a terrible thing. People didn't do things for their own advantage. They helped each other because that was their nature.

Out of the blue, hundreds of hoofs were pounding against the dirt. Charlie opened her eyes for they were closed as she was dreaming. A team of cowboys were galloping towards her. She hadn't realized she wasn't in the burg anymore.

Rusher whinnied as he ran faster and faster. He sensed his master's fear and the need to get her away from the horde of cowboys intensified. He sped towards them.

Charlie's eyes were wide and the wind stung them. Streams of salty tears flowed to the side. She wailed and could not stop. Her emotions were too strong and all she wanted to do was moan. Her actions of the past were unforgiveable so who could she blame but herself?

She cried while she wailed. They were tears of shame.

The pounding of the hoofs was brought to a standstill. The horses were all in a line and there was nowhere for Rusher to run. The cowboys cheered as the horse came to a halt a few yards in front of them.

Johnny Ringo jumped of his own horse and strolled over to the crying woman.

"I see you. You don't need to cry," Johnny said with a look of love planted on his face, "I'm here."

Charlie quieted her sobs and slid of her horse into his arms. She clutched the only man who knew all of her troubles, the only man who understood her actions to some degree.

"Take me," she whispered, "Take me somewhere where I won't feel again."

Johnny looked into her stunning green eyes, the eyes he lusted for. They were full of aching pain and he wanted to relieve it.

"Stop running," Johnny told her, "Settle with me. All you do is keep running when all you have to do is be with me. Forget my brother. I'm bad but he's worse and he deserved all that you did to him. I forgive you. Forgive yourself."

He took her by the hand after she allowed herself to be unlatched from his shirt. She wanted to let him take her. She knew he could give her what she needed the most.

She looked past his head at the navy blue sky amazed at how quick it changed colors. The moon was big, full and bright.

The rest of the cowboys had dispersed, many going back to town, many to get drunk and high. She smiled at the man before her, a sad heart-wrenching smile.

"Take me," Charlie repeated miserably.

He did.

XXXX

Doc Holliday was drunk. He sat at the saloon piano in The Oriental with a weirdly joyful Kate sitting behind him, swaying from side to side as he played Chopin.

Billy Clanton, a drunk cowboy, sauntered over to Doc. He stared at him a moment before speaking, "Is that 'Old Dog Trey?' Sounds like 'Old Dog Trey."

Doc looked up at him while still playing the piano. His eyes were blood shot and lazily hung open, "Pardon?"

"Stephen Foster. 'Oh, Susannah,' 'Camptown Races.' Stephen stinking Foster."

Doc looked back to piano, "Ah, yes. Well, this happens to be a nocturne."

"A which?"

With slurred speech Doc spoke," You know, Frederic fucking Chopin."

XXXX

Curly Bill Brocius wandered in the night, high as a kite. He saw the large moon, the same one Charlie was staring at. He brought out his guns and started shooting.

Marshall Fred White exited the saloon to calmly unarm him. High men were dangerous when handling guns. And this was a town matter so it was his duty to stop him. It was, after all, a town matter.

"Well, Howdy, Fred!" Curly Bill said.

"Hand those over, Curly. Hand 'em over," The Marshall was a little worried but he had to do his duty.

Why, sure, Dad. I'm only funnin'. Here you go. Fred? Come on now. Fred?

It all happened in a flash. Curly Bill couldn't think. What had he done? Jee, Is he all right? A crowd was around him in no time. They wanted to hang him. No, they wanted to give him a trial.

Doc was watching the spectacle. He saw Wyatt talking down to Ike, the bumbling idiot.

The cowboys wanted Curly to be turned loose.

"All right, you die first. Get it? Your friends might get me in a rush, but not before I make your head into a canoe," Wyatt told Ike.

"He's bluffin'. Let's rush him."

"No… He ain't bluffin."

Ike was telling the posse to get back. He was telling them that Wyatt really would kill him.

Doc was looking at Billy Clanton. "And you, music lover, you're next."

Billy laughed, "It's the drunk piano player. You're so drunk, you can't hit nothin'. In fact, you're probably seein' double."

Billy was right Doc concurred. He was drunk. He wanted to drink all of his sorrows away. Despite all of this, he wasn't a bad shot, "I have two guns, one for each of ya."

All Doc could think, though, was how beautiful Charlie was probably looking right now. Her red locks falling in front of her face as she perhaps thought of him too. She may be angry at him at this very moment and he truly felt bad. He pushed the thought aside as he let the events before him play out. It doesn't matter whether she murdered her family or not, good reason or bad. He wanted her and probably could never have her.

He wanted to relieve this pain. So that night he would take Kate to their hotel room and lock the door. He would do what he did best to escape reality. It would take him to a place where heartbreak, death and consumption could never exist. Pure, unrelenting ecstasy.