It was so late, he should have been home hours ago. He wondered if she would be up waiting for him with a rolling pin in her hand like last time. He had sworn to her, promised her that it wouldn't happen again. That he would quit drinking and playing poker in the saloon until all hours at night. He swore to her he'd be better. That he would be a better man for her. That he would put that life behind him for her. And he had failed again.

But she wasn't waiting on him when he got home. He didn't know if he should be thankful or scared about that fact. He figured come the morning he was going be in for it. So as quietly as the drunk man could, he entered the small home he shared with the one woman, he thought he could be better for. The one woman he loved. He knew better than to try and get into bed with her, so he just kicked off his boots in front of the fireplace, tossed his hat unto the little table in the corner and unstrapped his guns placing them on the floor next to the couch, in easy reach, and preceded to get as comfortable as possible on the lumpy old sofa. You'd think he'd be used to sleeping on the couch by now, but he wasn't. Maybe he should go sleep in the hayloft instead?

He was woken the next morning by the sun streaming in the window right into her eyes. It really was not helping the hangover he was suffering from. He wondered what time it was. It had to be close to breakfast time, yet he heard no sounds coming from the kitchen, nor did he smell the usual bacon frying. That's odd, he thought.

"Darlin' I know yer mad but you reckon you could fix me something to eat before I head back into the town to the marshal's office?" He called through the closed door of the bedroom they shared.

"Darlin'...honey?" He called again when he got no response. Gently pushing the door open he called again, "Lou? Are you alright?"

But the room was empty. The bed made. And Lou's things were gone. On the mirror to her vanity he found a note written in lipstick.

"I thought I could change you. I thought you could be a better man. I was wrong. You aren't the boy I once loved. That boy is gone. All that's left is Wild Bill Hickok. I'm sorry Jimmy."

"Well that ain't no way after all this time." Jimmy muttered before picking up a vase full of flowers and throwing it across the room to smash against the wall, shattering in a thousand pieces just like his heart.

The news came a few days later that Wild Bill Hickok had been shot in the back while playing a round of poker, his back to the door, something he never did. It was said that he smiled when his name was called out, just before he was shot. Some swear to this day, that he wanted to go out like that. That something had changed in him the days before his death. He had given up on life. No one knew it was because of a woman who had left without even a proper goodbye. None of them knew of the guilt that the woman felt until the day she died over it either.

A/N: Ok Seriously what is with me and the depressing things I'm writing lately. I swear the last YR story I wrote took a tragic turn that I didn't see coming. The last chapter of my Dragon Age story had me in freakin' tears and now this? Ok Muse you need to give me something light and funny now... I mean really right now!