If it were but a name…

…lowly lifestyle. Had I any such notion that the hard earnt money and precious time I bestowed upon you as a child would be of so little worth to you in the present, I have doubts it would have been offered. Why must you insist on keeping such 'pedestrian' company? Really, Ezra – you disappoint me so.

Please, as my only son – see sense,

Your always loving Mother,

Maude

Barely having processed the final word, Ezra crumpled the off white parchment tightly in his fist, the elegantly looping writing disappearing into an indecipherable ball of creases as he tossed the paper towards the slowly burning fireplace with all the fervour of emotional hurt.

To think she was his mother. In all her cutting, spiteful, vindictive glory.

The half scrunched ball of paper fluttered over the dying embers, smouldering as the burning coals immediately alighted on the waxy paper, before rolling back out of the fireplace to grace the thick, exorbitant carpet of his room.

Ezra stared at it.

It shifted gently as the draft that crept under his door wafted beneath its creases. Smoke rose from the crisping edges and drifted gently about his room.

With a mortally betrayed huff, Ezra slipped off the foot of his bed, stalked the three steps across the room and stooping, he swept the offending object off the floor – intent on sending it straight back to complete its fiery doom.

Arm still extended, fingers itching to let the paper fall to the calling flames, Ezra stopped.

Huffed.

Grumbled.

Hmmd.

And sighed in defeat as he carefully smoothed the warm missive, until it was once again flat, if somewhat more creased. He folded it neatly in half and then half again. Sauntering across to his desk he tucked the letter and its vitriol content into the front jacket of his day ledger, and pressed the book back into its nook, out of sight.

Because she was his mother.

He sighed again, his content mood of the earlier evening thoroughly shattered. Flicking a fistful of cooling water over his to warm cheeks – it wasembarrassing, having his way of life called into light by his own mother – Ezra discarded his previous notion of turning to sleep.

It was barely 3am and poker games aplenty would be continuing without his presence in the hallowed hall below his room. The familiarity and financial benefit of a hand or two would easily see his spirits once again rise.

The sun was just starting to broach the eastern windows of the saloon, dawn steadily approaching. Ezra tossed back the shot of 'rotgut' as a rather inadequate balming agent for his smarting pride.

Looking down, face impassive, he took in what had to be his worse hand of the entire evening – well, morning. Already he was six hands lost – and three of those consecutively!

Lady luck had taken her leave of him this morning and fortune laughed at his puny mortal distress. It seemed he was not to benefit – either financially, or spiritually from his beloved cards this day.

Already all in, the last of his on hand coin glistening in the dim morning shadows of the bar, Ezra did as Ezra seldom ever did – he folded.

Throwing his cards to the table in disgust, not trusting his luck to shine should he bluff, Ezra gave the game up for lost. He got to his feet amidst the strangely disbelieving and quite pitiless laughter and comments of the three men he had been engaged with – he had after all, taken each of them to the cleaners on more than one occasion.

Snarling the men into silence, with a venom that for all his scathing wit, he was not usually known to process – Ezra stalked from the game, weaving between the mostly empty tables and shouldered roughly through the batwing doors, stepping outside, blinking into the rosy fog of early morning.

He stretched, feeling muscles and vertebrae stretch and pop. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, Ezra moved away from the saloon, hoping that the gentle lope of an atypical quiet morning stroll might quell his rising temper.

He set off down the dusty street, breathing deeply and shutting his eyes as he forcibly sought enjoyment and peace - and went down in a staggering, windmilling cartwheel of arms as his ankle overturned in the pothole he'd failed to notice.

He sat still for an instant. A silent, immobile statue of disgust, disquiet and desolation. A deep breath. Two. And then the rising red that had been fluctuating since the wee hours of the morning rose up and engulfed him.

A fit of such pique had not escaped the sophisticated southerner in any of the years since his early childhood. Still seated on the ground where he had toppled, Ezra let loose. Not caring about noise levels, the early hour or his own precious reputation, Ezra raged.

He ranted and raved, cursing such filth and obscenity that several nearby curtains lifted to find the source of such fury, and then dropped – only to be raised again in disbelief as they confirmed that the early morning disturbance was actually their very own cultured and classy Ezra Standish.

Many covered the ears of their still sleeping children and soothed the tears of their rudely awoken young ones. Yet, no one dared approach, no one dared to even exit their dwellings.

Ezra slowly ran out of steam, and akin to a toddler throwing a colossal tantrum he eventually fell silent, slumped in his patch of dirt road as he stared glumly at the sky. Sanity bled back in, his out of control fury at the lack of control, slowly morphed into the more adult response of slowly burning and tightly held anger.

He eased himself to his feet, brushing away the layers of dirt and dust from his fine silk shirt and hand stitched pants. Gentle weight applied to his ankle proved that a trip to Nathan's clinic might not have been unwise, although the thought didn't even cross Ezra's mind.

He was tired; exhausted in fact – he'd been up an uncharacteristic 24 hours plus, having returned from delivering a prisoner to Eagle Bend only the morning before and not having yet sought his bed – his early morning plans to do so, thwarted by his mother's noxious letter.

His trusted comfort of the cards tables turned from him in a phenomenal streak of bad luck. The financial setback easily overshadowed by the perceived humiliation and shredding of his dignity before the establishments patrons.

Of course, then to add salt to the wound, in a spectacular display of clumsy stupidity, he'd taken a wild, graceless fall in the main street of all places – before all and sundry! (The fact that the street was deserted had yet to make a considerable difference to his ire).

Not to mention the complete humiliation of losing his careful cultured cool and turning to behaving like a particularly monstrous two year old throwing a temper tantrum!

And, beneath it all, so deep it didn't even factor into his angry recounting, was the underlying sting and hurt of his own mother's spiteful words.

Exhausted, injured, humiliated, disgraced, shamed and upset he turned and stalked – hobbled- back up the street towards the privacy of his room. Incensed anger burning like painful hot embers just below the skin, seeking a target, any target, the first available targ-

"Morning, Ez – Whatcha done to ya l- " Came the softly concerned Texan drawl from the mouth of a nearby alley.

Ezra spun, hard green eyes, flaming jade with the wrath of the insulted. "My name is EZRA! It's Ezra! Ez-ra! E-Z-R-A. Ezra. Get it through your dense skull, Mr Tanner! You may deign to accept such an uncouth moniker as 'Vin', however,I will not abide being called "Ez", like I'm some long haired louse from the other side of the river. Ezra! Or Mr Standish if you prefer. If you are too stupid to unders- … "

Ezra looked, actually looked, at the friend he was verbally flambéing and he immediately trailed off into silence as he registered the unfounded hurt glinting in the soft blue eyes. Vin's rapidly paling face dropped under the venomous tirade as he pulled back into himself, his withdrawing almost a physical spectacle. Without a word he melted back into the yawning alley, and before Ezra could even think of something to say, the young tracker was gone.

Ezra stared at the empty spot that his friend, his best friend had just disappeared from and blinked in dismayed stupefaction. His voice, so different to the biting, cruel mocking of seconds ago, was soft with fierce regret and self-loathing as he said to the empty air – "God. Vin. I- I just. I'm sorry. Dammit – I'm an idiot. World class jackass! "

"Well – I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Ezra spun towards the heatedly scolding voice and then stumbled, yelping as he tried to balance his weight away from his recently acquired ankle injury.

Nathan, looking down at him from his second story balcony rolled his eyes, concerned exasperation replacing the disappointed anger across his face. "What have you done n- No. Just – Just stay there. I'm coming down-"

Ezra shifted uneasily as the approaching healer frowned at him in lingering displeasure. Trying to head off the scolding he could see coming should Nathan manage to relocate him to the clinic, the Souhtherner said convincingly, "Don't trouble yourself Mr Jackson –It's just a twinge. I shall find Mr Tanner forthwith and offer my apolo-"

"Ezra. A twinge with you could be indicative of a broken ankle – you're coming upstairs. Besides, I very much doubt that Vin wants to see or hearanything from you right now." The medic reached the still reluctant gambler and with a put upon sigh he tugged one of Ezra's arms up and over his shoulder and wrapped a strong arm about the smaller man's waist. Ignoring the indignant squeak, Nathan mostly carried the silently fussing Southerner up the stairs and into his clinic.

He dumped the man onto the nearest cot and turning, dragged a nearby chair across the small expanse and dropped down onto it. Looking up, he took in Ezra's defensive posturing, arms crossed tightly, face impassive, eyes flinty and masked as they stared anywhere but at Nathan.

Sighing, Nathan spoke, "Which foot?"

Ezra swallowed, but didn't answer, gaze stubbornly directed towards the window.

Nathan looked at the impressively blank face and then down to the two booted feet dangling between his own knees and he reached for the left, knowing he'd guessed right when Ezra flinched and hissed through his teeth.

Despite his continuing ire for the cruelty he'd just witnessed, Nathan was gentle as he eased the foot up and onto his lap, fingers working carefully at the laces as he asked nonchalantly, "So. Want to tell me how this twinge happened?"

It looked like Ezra was setting in to ignore him for the long haul – a protest to his forced seeking of medical aide or a manifestation of the guilt Nathan had heard earlier. Whatever the case, a silent Ezra was completely unnatural and quiet nerve-wracking and so Nathan continued to speak as he pulled the tight laces free, "Well – How about you tell me why the hell you'd speak to Vin like that. Vin! Of all people…"

Ezra eyed the door, and then his gaze dipped to Nathan's hands as he seemed to contemplate answering. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was intending to say was cut off by a pained hiss as Nathan started to ease the boot off, the southerner grimacing and instinctively pulling back from the pain.

Stilling his ministrations, the healer looked up, one hand supporting the boot, the other settling on Ezra's knee as he murmured, "Easy. Breathe it out – you've certainly done a good job of this. Easy…"

Before he could decide on a course of action, the rattling of the staircase and then thumping footfalls on the outside balcony heralded the arrival of what sounded like a herd of elephants.

The door opened to admit JD and Buck.

Bouncing over to inspect todays walking wounded, JD explained, "We just swapped patrol with Josiah and then Mrs Potter said she saw you dragging Ez up here – thought you might need some help."

Ezra's lip curled at the 'dragging' comment, but he didn't argue or complain, which had Buck drawing his eyebrows together in consternation and JD saying in awe, "Wow. It must really hurt."

Nathan, seeing the look stewing in the recesses of Ezra's eyes, interfered, "JD, take that bowl and fetch me some cold water – the colder the better. Buck, help me with this boot, his foots already swollen."

JD, happy to be useful, dashed off to do as asked and Buck copied him, stepping forward with a look of questioning to Nathan. The medic indicated above the boot, saying, "Just hold his leg still – I'm going to pull the boot off in one move if I can."

Buck took hold as directed and Nathan changed his grip on the boot and said, "Ezra? Breathe." And tugged, the boot reluctantly releasing it hold on the swollen foot with a soft pop that was mostly drowned out by Ezra's chocked back snarl and heavy breathing as he tried to get the pain under control.

Nathan gently peeled Ezra's stocking off, revealing a mass of swollen flesh, already starting to discolour to mottled blues and blacks. Buck swore in sympathy and rested a comforting hand on Ezra's shoulder which was promptly shrugged off with a dirty look.

Buck raised an eyebrow at the atypical rudeness and turned to Nathan, asking, "Who soured his milk?"

As he manipulated the sore ankle, Nathan answered as best he could, "I'd say it has something to do with the unfamiliar feeling of raging guilt eating away at him-" at Bucks questioning look, the medic expanded, "I overheard him say some particularly nasty things to Vin this morning."

"Vin?" Buck looked flabbergasted.

"Vin." Nathan confirmed, with a reproachful look at Ezra as his ire was rekindled.

Ezra dropped his gaze as Buck continued, in pure Buck manner, "How could you? Vin? It's like hurting a baby bunny rabbit. No – like hurting a hundred baby bunnies. Did he give you the eyes – did he? I bet he did. There's nothing quite like them to make you feel like a guttersnipe. Believe me - I know. What were you thinking Ezra! He's like…and then… and even after all that, you st-"

Ezra, hissing through clenched teeth as Nathan touched on a particularly sore spot, finally broke his silence. Gesturing wildly with his hands as he exclaimed, "I know. Alright! I know. I am lower than low. Pond scum. A terrible, horrible person. World's biggest idiot. I can't believe –"

Buck had mostly been taking the piss - Vin was a big boy and quite capable of defending his own good name, but as he stared open mouthed at Ezra- cool, aloof and 'oh so perfect' Ezra vilifing himself without mercy, the ladies' man finally had to break in and ask with a hint of dread, – "Ezra? – What the hell'd you say to him?"

Ezra fell silent again. And then, with a sigh he answered, "I may have implied- no. I called him stupid."

The smile dripped of Bucks face, all thoughts of joking fleeing at the rising tide of fury that splashed across his sensibilities. Serious this time as he asked, "Ezra! How could you? That's- That's just –I can't even- What the hell did he do to warrant you saying something like that to Vin, of all people?"

Ezra slumped in defeated shame as he answered hollowly, "Nothing – absolutely nothing. I think he called me Ez…and I just – lost it."

Nathan, who had only heard the tail end of Ezra's awful comment to Vin, and hadn't been aware of the subject matter, looked up from his treatment of Ezra's ankle, confused and startled, "What do you mean – he called me Ez – Are you telling me that you ripped Vin's dignity and pride to shreds because he called you Ez! For god's sake – we all call you Ez – Ez!"

Ezra sighed, dropping his eyes in shame as he answered, "I know. I'll apologise. Beg, grovel – whatever is required. I'll fix it. "

Buck added, "Damn right you will. What the hell made you act like such an idiot anyway?!"

The southerner gazed out the window again as he answered, "Let's just say that I am having a particularly bad day – and Vin bore the fallout."

Placing the ankle up on a pillow, to elevate it, Nathan asked, "What do you mean, 'day'? It's barely morning – what are you doing up anyway – What happened to 'Suns up, Ezra's down.'"

The medic looked a little more closely at the flagging southerner and saw the tell-tale paleness, and dark circles ringing fatigued green eyes.

"You haven't been to bed yet – that's what, more than a day? No wonder you're irritable. " He stated, sure of his conclusion, and Ezra's sleep deprived state allowing things to make a little more sense, if not make them any more acceptable.

Intending to say something along those lines, Nathan changed his mind at the completely broken look on Ezra's face, instead saying – "Ezra – It's Vin. Explain and apologise and Vin will accept it. Even when he maybe shouldn't-"

Nathan turned to Buck, "Go and see what's keeping JD – and if it's Casey Welles, drag him up here by his ear. Just don't spill the water. You -" he turned to Ezra, but was cut off by the cluttered footfalls on the stairs and JD's re-entry.

Already talking a mile a minute, JD placed the bowl of water the bench, "Sorry! Sorry. Ran into Chris – He's looking for Vin. Do any of you know where he is?"

JD stared in confused concern when Ezra dropped his head into his hands with a terrified wail of, "Oh gawd. Chris is going to kill me."

Chris didn't kill Ezra, although it was certainly a close call. Watching the vein throb at his temple, steam billow from his ears and his eyes hardened into the 'If you actually said what I think you just said – I will kill you' glare, it was quite possible to imagine Ezra becoming full of buckshot at any second.

But a few deep breaths, several choice words and a timely reminder of his own rash words on particularly bad days (from an unusually brave Buck) soothed the wild beast and he simply ordered Ezra to "Fix it – soon."

And although he got Ezra's adamant word that he would indeed fix the problem he had caused with his cruel, yet unmeant words, Chris still left the clinic in search of his best friend.

No one knew Vin better than Chris, perhaps not even Vin. And while the gunslinger knew that the Texan would forgive Ezra in a heartbeat, once he was aware that the words hadn't been meant, until then it was quite possible that Vin would just pack up Peso and light out for the familiar security of his solitary mountain existence.

And that would be inconvenient for Chris, because it would be he who would have to saddle Pony and trek out into the dark, cold terrain and attempt to track his elusive friend into territory that no one knows as well as Vin.

Then he would have the even more difficult job of convincing Vin to return home with him. No doubt running the gauntlet of issues stemming from Vin's neglectful childhood of abandonment and belittlement.

At which point Vin would either believe him and come home. Or not believe him and remain in the mountains, leading Chris to also move to the mountains until he successfully pushed the message home.

Chris had long ago decided that it was easier to just skip all the mountaineering and corner Vin in town before he even had a chance to leave.

The fact that he stumbled across Vin seated in their spot on the boardwalk and not halfway into the sunrise on Peso was a definite win in Chris's book. He took it to mean that his lessons of self-worth were hitting home to his best friend. Or Vin was just finishing his coffee before hightailing it.

It was hard to tell when coffee was involved.

He sat in the seat beside the tracker. His seat. Except when Vin stole it with a sly grin – and then he'd just knock Vin's hat off and slump into the other. Vin's seat.

This morning Vin was quiet. Quieter even than usual. Which was to say that he was absolutely silent. And his sometimes sly, often shy and occasionally bright smile was not offered in greeting.

Chris looked across at him. Vin avoided his gaze. Chris turned and faced him. Vin looked out across the street. Chris cleared his throat pointedly and Vin h'mmed awkwardly.

Well – their silent communication was off the table. Damn. Meant he'd actually have to talk.

"Was up talking to Ezra before."

"Up?"

"In Nate's clinic."

"He alright?"

"Decent sprain – painful. Nathan wrapped it."

"Hmmm."

"Ez was a bi-"

"Ezra."

"Ez. Ez wants to apologise."

"Wants to-"

"Beg, grovel, plead forgiveness."

"Ez?" *Snort*

"Ez."

"Why?"

"…What- What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why does Ez wanna apologise?"

"Because he's sorry-"

"Why's he sorry?"

"Because he didn't mean what he said."

"Ya know what he said?"

"Yes. And he didn't mean it."

"Why'd he say it then?"

"He was – Nate says he's tired, hurt, and irritable."

"Oh. Didn't mean it?"

"No, he didn't mean it!"

"He's sorry?"

"Yes. He's Sorry."

"How bad's his ankle?"

"Bad sprain – Who said it was his ank-"

"Saw him go over. Never heard so many pretty words in all my life."

"You saw him fall over?"

"Yup, right there in the main street-"

"Share."

"Nope."

"Vin!"

"Nope."

"Vin…"

"Nope."

"Oh for… Go and see Ezra."

And Chris got his sly, shy, bright smile.

Nothing heralded Vin's assent to the clinic, his footfalls silent on the staircase and landing. Only the soft hesitant knock on the door alerted the men inside that they had company.

Ezra sat up a little, hoping that it wasn't Chris returning after having not been able to find Vin.

The relief that swamped him when Buck opened the door to reveal Vin was extremely short lived, fleeing in favour of hollow guilt when he realised that Vin wouldn't meet his eyes.

He almost wished Chris was back to finish the job – it would be no less than he deserved.

Nathan, sensing the sudden tension in the room simply mouthed 'fix it' to Ezra and herded the oblivious Buck and JD from the clinic, leaving the two alone.

Ezra's gaze followed Vin as he lingered in the doorway, and then hovered in the empty expanse of the room before padding over on silent feet to sit stiffly on the edge of the chair that Nathan had vacated.

Vin looked anywhere but at Ezra's face. The window, the door, the floor, the bandaged ankle…

Ezra looked nowhere but at Vin's face. Skittish blue eyes dancing about the room, disbelief and expectation of cruelty at their depths.

Ezra, already needlessly warned against his flowery language simply said it as he meant it. "I'm sorry, Vin."

Vin nodded erratically and not at all convincingly and picked at the blanket near Ezra's waist.

Ezra's sighed inaudibly, cursing his stupid mouth and wanting to make his point properly and sincerely, he grabbed for Vin's hand.

Vin flinching away startled them both.

Ezra pulled back like burnt, his eyes widened as he realised the extent of damage his betrayal had done to his friend.

Vin finally looked at Ezra and saw the shame, guilt and abstract horror at the hurt he'd caused. And realised that there was no betrayal.

This time it was Vin who reached for Ezra, and he set their clasped hands on the bed between them with a softly spoken "Sorry".

Ezra's gaze snapped up in disbelief, "Why on earth are you sorry – I'm the idiot here…"

Vin shook his head, although Ezra was comforted by the shy smile directed his way, "Just meant about pulling away – don't want you to think I'm – Aw hell, I don't know. Sometimes I just can't help it. Doesn't mean anything."

Ezra's reply was quiet, "It does though, doesn't it – even if it's instinctual, the fact that your instincts tell you to protect yourself from me…I am sorry Vin. Really. I didn't mean it – I just. Everything got the better of me. I promise - I won't give you cause to ever feel that way again, instinctively or not."

Vin relaxed in the seat as he replied, "I know. Wanna tell me what the everything is? "

Ezra gave Vins hand one last squeeze and let go as he groaned in disgust at how petty his behaviour seemed in hindsight, "It was just one of those days – lack of sleep, A letter from mother, losing hands at the tables- all seems rather trivial now."

Vin snorted in understanding, "A letter from your Mam. Guess that helps 'splain things – and then that ankle on top of everything else-"

Moaning in embarrassment, Ezra complained, "You saw me fall over – and everything else after?"

Vin grinned, "Yup. Was mighty impressive, Ezra."

The southerner grimaced at the word and said, "I'm sorry Vin – I was an idiot. Call me Ez if you would like to. I – I actually kind of like it."

Vin pinned him with that blue gaze, eyes shining as he contemplated, and then answered, "Nah – I think I'll respect your wishes – won't call ya 'Ez' no more."

Ezra opened his mouth to argue, but closed it in capitulation, it was after all, the bed he'd made himself.

A clattering outside announced the arrival of the rest of the team, Josiah back as well, and apparently filled in on the details if his gentle smile in their direction was any indication.

Nathan moved to check Ezra's foot while Chris and Vin stared silently at each other in a totally non creepy way for a good minute and a half.

Buck chimed in with, "So, you two all made up?"

At the same time JD asked, ""So, did ya make him beg and grovel, Vin?"

Sly grin back, Vin answered, "Oh yeah – there was lots of begging and grovelling – should check his knees for bruising Nate. Isn't that right….Ezzie?"

Ezra choked on the cup of water he'd been sipping and most of the others, knowing what the argument had been about, brayed with laughter.

Ezra coughed and spluttered, but answered amidst the echoed Ezzie's "Really, Mr Tanner! – Just…please. Ezra. Ez. God, Ez please! Just not Ezzie."

Chris broke in with, "Oh, I don't know Ezra…I think Ezzie's got a bit of a buzz to it – In fact, I quite like it."

Vin grinned in triumph as any and all remaining tension leaked out of the room, Ezra complaining and griping while the others teased him.

Unable to resist, despite the knowledge that the ensuing fire would no doubt burn him, Vin lit another patch, saying, "Well – In that case, I wouldn't want you to be disappointed….Chrissie!"

And took off out the clinic door, howls of laughter, thundering footfalls and cries of outrage following him into the morning sun.

Fin. Just a little bit of angsty humorous fluff for ya'all. Enjoy and please review if you did so : )

I don't use a beta - it's just me, and while I do the best I can, mistakes inevitably escape my notice...so please, if you happen to notice a glaring spelling or grammatical error - let me know. Thanks.