in the future drabble

[just-jimbo.livejournal.com]

Title: "Redemption" (500 words)
Author: Jimbo
Fandom: 'The Quick and the Dead' (crossed with 'American Outlaws')
Pairing: Cort/Jesse James (Russell Crowe, Colin Farrell) (Gene Hackman is Herod.)
Date: October 8, 2005
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters -- just borrowing them for the fun of it.
Warnings: Slashy. Maybe. A hint of bondage.
Notes: Killing two birds here. Written for both Challenge #46 "In the Future" at slashthedrabble and to pay my dues at the slashthewildwest group. This one is a departure for me (in some ways, lol).

"In whom we have redemption through his blood." --Eph. i. 7.


"You need to take a piss?"

The outlaw Jesse James stands in the dark street and waits expectantly for the man to answer. Eyes downcast, hair in his face, the man only shakes his head, not making a sound.

"What's your name?" Jesse asks.

"Cort," he finally says, still not looking.

Redemption is the name of the town. Herod is the name of its leading citizen. Jesse has to bite his tongue not to say "what the hell?" as he addresses the long-haired figure chained in the street who probably should be lugging a cross on his back.

The man ignores Jesse and grabs for a jug of water placed just beyond his reach. The chains pull taut as he strains, his eyes on the jug. Someone, probably Herod, has this Cort powerless and humbled, and Jesse finds more than his curiosity piqued.

Jesse hands Cort the jug and looks for the first time into mournful blue eyes. He watches him drink, feeling a strange longing.

"I came for the shooting contest," Jesse says, suddenly remembering. "Where do I sign up?"

"Saloon."

When Jesse walks through the swinging doors, he notices which eyes look up from their whiskey and poker games. A man in black stands at the bar, well-dressed, smooth; he has the studied casual glance of a gunfighter.

"I wanna sign up," Jesse says to the man, knowing who to address. "You Herod?"

The man nods, bending one knee to cause his spur to jingle. "Yes, I'm John Herod. But you're too late."

Jesse moves forward and reaches for the jigger of whiskey the barkeep hands him. "You want to shoot with me, I guarantee it," he says, tossing back the drink.

"Who are you?" Herod asks.

"I think you know," Jesse says. "And you're scared."

Herod presses close, taller than Jesse, formidable. "I'm not afraid of any man, but you're too late to sign up."

"Then shoot with me for the hell of it. Or for some other prize."

All ears in the room are on them. Herod smiles. "Like what?" he says.

Jesse slouches casually against the bar, never showing Herod his back. "For that man in the street," he says. "The one you got chained up. I want him."

Shaking his head, Herod says, "He's mine. No one touches him."

His mind now made up, Jesse backs away slowly. "Let's find out. One of us pays for him with our blood."

Herod stands silently. Jesse can smell his sudden uncertainty, but he knows Herod can't afford to show any weakness to the men and women watching. Even tired after his long ride, Jesse's sure he can take him. He sees into the future and feels himself holding Cort's chain.

Suddenly Herod smiles again. "We'll work out a solution," he says, buying time.

Jesse doesn't trust him for a second. "Okay," he agrees, reaching for another whiskey. "But you know what I want." They lock eyes, understanding each other. They both want the same thing.

Cort.

The End