Usual disclaimers apply. The Magnificent Seven and all related 
characters aren't mine as of yet, but if CBS decides they don't 
want them again, I won't be making any promises.

Short story brought on by reading all of Katie's stories in one 
stretch at two in the morning. This is how most of my Sentinel 
stuff comes to be, honestly, and it can be a scary trip at times. 
Watch your backs. A sleep-deprived majik with a word 
processor and internet access can be hazardous to your mental 
health.

Small smarm warning. C'mon, did you expect otherwise?
________

Putting Faces With the Names or
Jock Steele Never Wrote About This Part



All he knew was that he was cold and wet and hurting. His 
mind refused to work things out any more than that, and 
frankly, he wasn't all that sure he wanted to remember what 
exactly had led to the current situation. Bits and pieces 
involving guns, horses, and what had probably been one 
spectacular gunfight were all jumbled in his head and he'd 
learned a while ago that trying to sort them out only made his 
head hurt worse than it already did.

If he thought about it, which he wasn't particularly inclined to, 
he could hear people nearby; voices carrying on hushed 
conversations, the sounds of boots scraping against the dirt as 
someone stood and walked away, the crackle of a fire, the 
restless shifting of arms and legs into more comfortable 
positions. He had a feeling he knew these people, and the 
worried tone he could hear in their voices said that they 
probably knew him as well. He couldn't for the life of him 
remember a damned thing, though.

The sound of the fire distracted him occasionally, and in his 
more lucid moments he tried to understand why it was so dark 
if there was a fire lit nearby. It took some careful thought 
before he realized that his eyes were closed, and even more 
deliberation before he decided he wasn't in any hurry to open 
them. Whatever was out there could wait a while until he was 
feeling better. At least until he remembered where he was and 
what he was doing there.

Gradually, the sounds faded into soft breathing and not-so-soft 
snores, the fire dwindling down to the occasional crackle, a 
horse nickering softly a distance away. Someone was still up 
and about - keeping watch, some part of his mind decided, and 
he figured that made sense.

He drifted, and when he was next semi-aware of his 
surroundings he felt hands at his chest. Whatever they were 
doing there hurt like hell and he arched away from them 
instinctively. Hands at his shoulders held him steady, though, 
and a familiar voiced kept up a constant stream of 
reassurances, none of which fully permeated the fog that 
seemed to cloud his mind, but which calmed him nonetheless. 
He relaxed, feeling security in the words and, more 
importantly, the voice, and drifted away to avoid the pain.

His dreams were haunted, a face that seemed to be everywhere, 
belonging to someone he knew he was supposed to be very 
wary of. Why hadn't yet come to him, but he knew that 
whatever it was, it was something bad. Chris had said... Chris? 
A parade of faces danced past his mind's eye and he fixed the 
name to the sad one, always in black, still in mourning. Chris 
didn't trust this guy, and in the end that was reason enough to 
keep an eye out for him. That's what they had been doing, 
right? But then there was shooting and things started to get 
choppy again. He heard shouts, saw someone fall to the ground 
and felt a remembered flash of fear before realizing there was 
no blood on the body. He tried to fix a name to the long-haired 
man and failed, but was sure it would come back in time. 
Then... a woman had screamed, loud and long, and the long-
haired man was looking up with something like horror on his 
face. Whatever the woman was screaming about was the 
important part, he knew. Something had happened.

He awoke was fully awake, the memories behind him, the 
dreams pushed back for now. He had grown tired of sleeping, 
and he was sore where he lay against the hard ground - new bit 
of information there. He was outside. He supposed that made 
sense, considering the fire and horses - and all he wanted was 
to roll over and get a little more comfortable. He concentrated 
on himself, trying to figure out what parts of him hurt and why. 
It wasn't the smartest move. While he did manage to figure out 
that the pain in his chest was more than likely from a bullet, 
his little self-examination also made him realize just how 
thirsty he was. He licked his lips, grimacing at how dry his 
mouth was, and braced himself to move. The first pain hit 
when he'd done no more than tense his arms, but he ignored it. 
At this point, he didn't care how badly it hurt. There was a rock 
the size of Texas directly at the small of his back, and he was 
getting off the thing if it killed him.

Which it just might. Somehow he got himself up and over, not 
more than a few inches, but enough to get away from the rock. 
Tired and hurting from the small amount of movement, he 
gladly dropped his weight back to the ground. The abruptness 
of his contact with the ground wrung a small moan from his 
lips, but it was quickly suppressed. Forcing himself to relax, 
he sprawled in his new position, relieved to find he hadn't 
merely left one rock for another.

There was movement from a short distance away; apparently 
his movements had awakened someone. Quiet footsteps 
approached and he sensed someone crouching at his side. It 
was then he realized he still hadn't opened his eyes.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead for a moment, 
checking a fever or pulse, then was removed. Whoever it was 
didn't leave though, and he risked opening his eyes.

It was dark, but he could see the stars above him, and the glow 
of the moon from behind the clouds. He blinked and carefully 
turned his head toward the man beside him. It was the long-
haired man. The man leaned over him slightly, reaching beyond 
him. His hand snagged a blanket and pulled it over and across 
him. "JD, you all right?"

JD? Oh, right. That was his name. He licked his lips again, 
considering how many words he thought he'd be able to get out 
and which he most wanted to communicate. "All right," he 
rasped dryly. "Thirsty."

The long-haired man nodded. "Hold on a sec." He stood and 
walked a few steps, bend, grabbed something, and walked 
back. He had a canteen in his hand, which he uncapped and 
held against JD's lips. "Slowly, now."

The warning was unnecessary as JD couldn't handle more than 
a few small sips before he was simply to tired to swallow 
anymore. The long-haired man seemed to realize this and 
pulled the canteen back, recapping it, and setting it down 
beside him. "You feeling all right, or you want me to wake 
Nathan?"

Nathan. He was the doctor. Healer, actually but it was really 
picking at straws. JD fixed the name with the face and saw the 
tall black man in his mind. All right then. He was on a roll 
here, three names and faces put together, if he counted his 
own. If only he could get the others put straight. There was 
Buck of course, JD remembered his voice as being the one that 
had calmed him earlier in the night. The others were easy to 
pick out, Josiah and Ezra about as opposite as two men could 
get. That only left...

"Vin." JD said the name just to see if he'd gotten it right, and 
when the long-haired man didn't seem confused or worried, he 
figured he had. "I'm okay. What happened?"

"It's too long a story to tell now," Vin told him gently. "I'm sure 
Buck'll fill you in tomorrow when we head out for town. You 
remember the little boy?"

JD shook his head. There was no little boy in the disjointed 
images that consisted of recent memories.

"Well, he's sure gonna remember you. That was a good thing 
you did, kid, putting yourself between him and the bullets."

That still didn't clear things up much, but JD decided to take 
Vin's words at face value. He probably wouldn't remember this 
when he next woke up anyway. "Okay. Others?"

Vin chuckled. "Everyone's fine, JD. Just get some rest, all 
right? Dawn's in just a few hours and Nathan wants to get you 
back to Four Corners as soon as it's safe to travel."

"All right," JD could feel the exhaustion pulling at him, and 
knew he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer anyway. 
He gave in to the sensation, his last fleeting thought being that 
if he was going to hurt this much it was really only fair that he 
be allowed to remember *why.*

But he finally had all the names with the faces, and they were 
all *here* and really that was the important part.



End