Episode III: Return of My Heart: Synopsis: Five years after the events of Episode II: Comfort.
A/N: This story is a reworking of The Welcome, in that, there is a welcome basket. Nothing else is the same.
I Must thank Myrtle for everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. And this would not be here now, if it weren't for Ethel, because I could NOT publish this without a real title. It had a working title, but the REAL title is what it needed for publication.
This starts at a hard M and will not apologize for the darkness.
Return of My Heart
It had been too long since James Butler Hickok had gotten laid, and laid good.
He needed a good fuck. A new fuck.
And there she stood. He huffed a breathy laugh of disbelief. Damn, there she was. Standing here on his own porch.
He stood, looking down on her, remembering howshe had felt beneath him. Around him. Before she'd turned him away five years ago.
He was willing to bet his last chip that she'd be the best fuck of his life.
Again.
God. Damn. She was here. He stared in disbelief. God. Was his damn mouth open? He shut it quick and stared. She was on his goddamned doorstep. There was no way- no way in hell- she was here, now.
He felt warm. He was probably breaking out in a damn sweat right now, but he couldn't give a fuck. What the hell was she doing here? He felt a growl start deep in his chest and clenched his jaw. He didn't dare ease up on his grinding teeth for fear of saying something he would regret later.
If he was the man he was five years ago he would have tripped over himself in the most pitiful way. He could see it now:
"Hey Lou, Oh My God, where the hell have you been? I missed you somethin' terrible. Where have you been? Why didn't you write? I've been so damn worried. Don't you know I never stopped loving you? You took my life with you when you left, but just touch me once and it'll all go away. Please touch me, God, please say you'll never leave me."
That man from five years ago would have been tempted to kiss her cheek, brush his fingers over her worried brow, wrap his arms around her still-beautiful form.
He cursed internally. That's how she got you the first time, James. His inner voice had decided not to scream at him. It was being surprisingly rational, he noticed vaguely.
His heartbeat thundered in his chest from the effort of controlling his body's reaction. It drowned out the sounds of the world around him for a minute. He watched her eyes close slowly, then open. Or she could have just blinked. He couldn't tell. The passage of time wasn't working right for some reason. He was still having a hard time remembering to breathe.
But, wait. Things were different now. He was different now. He was Wild Bill now. He narrowed his eyes and hardened his heart. He was not the same man he was five years ago. She had changed him. She had broken him. As surely as if she had ripped him apart with her own slender fingers, bit by bit.
He gulped. Took a deep breath. No. This time would be different, too. It was his time now. He knew he'd have to take his time, make her want him more than their once precious, now almost not-existent friendship. Control, Jimmy. Control. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt something singing a single word. Revenge.
It had been five years. Five long damn years of forgetting her. Of drinking, fucking and gambling, exactly in that order. There was nothing like sitting down at a table of opponents smelling like sweat and come to throw the whole table off. It was a large part of the secret to his success.
The side of his mouth curled up into a smirk as he watched the subject of his dreams stand in front of him awkwardly, looking like she wanted to turn tail and run. Again.
He would have to go slowly, subtly with her. She was a smart one. But she also had powerful emotions that he could use to his advantage.
After all, just marrying that Kid didn't mean she was dead. He had felt her discomfort the very last time he had touched her, when he held her at her wedding at the top of the stairs. They had hugged, then she stepped back, glancing at Kid, back to him, then down as she moved closer to her new husband. It wasn't over. No matter what she had said that night in Ft. Kearney. That kind of body language didn't show for anyone else along that exit line. She still thought of him. In that way.
He remembered all the times before that, when he had held her. Kissed her. Touched her. Deeply. Thoroughly. Completely. His body tensed and his manhood throbbed in vivid memory. She had gone back to Kid because of a stupid misunderstanding. Their four days of mutual bliss and love were wiped away by a word. A word he didn't even remember uttering.
He had sucked it up then. When Kid was going through his issues with his first love, whatever that Southern bitch's name was, and Jimmy talked Lou through it, he had sucked it up. When Lou decided to fight by Jimmy's side instead of worry about her wedding dress for that moment, he fell harder and deeper in love with her, but she walked away again and he sucked it up. When he fought Kid and yet still managed to make it to walk her down the aisle at her wedding, he sucked it up.
Now, it was his time. They had all waved goodbye to Kid and Lou when they left on their trip to Virginia before the couple had apparently fallen off the face of the earth. Both Jimmy and Buck had taken it upon themselves to search for the couple, but neither were successful. They had heard rumors of Kid and Lou's estrangement, of Kid's departure for the war. He had just figured they were rumors.
What kind of friend would he be to not keep up on these things, after all? What kind of friend would he be if he didn't notice the slight flush on her face that hadn't been there when he'd answered the door? If he didn't take into account her hitched breath, the tensed muscles in her neck, the heavy breathing that pushed her damned delightful breasts firmer against her fitted pale blue blouse? Paying attention to the little things, like her eyes darkening as she noticeably gulped, was the reason he was still alive today.
God, he wanted to touch her, to run his tongue over her slightly protruding lower lip, to suck on the skin at the crook of her neck, to play his fingers lightly over her belly, trail a path ever lower to her curls, to follow with his tongue until it flicked her little button to heaven. Jesus, he needed to get laid, and soon! It was nearly his undoing, hardening him to an almost painful degree.
Damnit, Bill, get your damn self under control and hate her properly!
After several minutes of awkward silence, Lou opened her mouth, looked him with her big brown eyes, and said his name. It sounded like the first drops of rain on a parched desert. He hated himself for the shiver it sent down his spine in ecstasy. In memory.
"Jimmy?"
:::::
Stupid Ladies' Welcome Committee. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. And what in the hell was Jimmy, an older, handsomer, taller, wider, broader, scruffier Jimmy - Mr. James, rather - doing here?! Of all places? She'd spent years forgetting him and how he made her feel, and months before that fighting and ignoring her body's reaction to him after taking Elias Mills to to be hung, and now here he was making her body suddenly tighten in places she had forgotten about for years.
He certainly had filled out. Five years had done that?! Damnit, Lou, stop looking at him like that! Damnit all to hell. Bloody hell. Bloody fucking hell. She fought the snicker that seemed to be hysterically bubbling up inside as she realized she was quoting her friend, Patty, from the saloon Jeremiah worked in. She glanced up at the fine form on the porch, the reason she was quoting the English Rose in the first place.
Why the hell had she not thought of an excuse to get out of damn basket duty this time? She cursed her wandering brain and it's inability to focus long enough to get her out of this one.
: : :
"Now, Louise, dear, it IS your turn to take the basket."
She shuttered her eyelids over her rolling eyes. These damn biddies and their damn welcoming baskets. She started to suspect they were there simply to make Lou's life miserable.
She couldn't remember why she had join the group in the first place, but was pretty sure she had her brother or sister to blame. Probably some crap about needing a social life. Christ, this wasn't a life. This was torture.
Why wasn't Theresa here and Lou working at the shop? This was so completely Theresa's line of action. Lou's was still more along the lines of trousers, gun belt and racing across the plains on Lightning, but that wouldn't sell dresses.
The window at the back of the house let in the light from outside and a beautiful view of the meadow behind Mrs. Bird's lovely two story house. Lou knew it was lovely because there was not really another word these ladies had used yet for this house and all its trappings but "lovely".
Looking around, she figured it was alright. Nothing to write home about, but nothing to sneeze at either. Though with all the cats overrunning the place, Lou wasn't sure she could hold back from that either. She had never thought of herself as allergic to any animal, but, this horde was really pushing the envelope of what was appropriate way over the edge. Mrs. Bird's pride of cats was beginning to look like a study in that new science of that Darwin fellow.
Hmm. Maybe her less than subtle distaste for her surroundings was the reason for these biddies sending her on this fool's errand in the first place. She clenched her jaw against the choice names that flew into her mind at that thought. Staying civil in "civilized" society was going to be the death of her.
What excuse could she use this time? Taking a basket to a Mr. … erm … James, was it?
She sighed. The little homestead with the large house just outside of town. Great. Spectacular. She'd get right on that. He was supposed to come to town today? Tomorrow? He had a crew of people moving his things in already? She hadn't really been paying attention, as she was trying to decide which of her siblings she would be killing first for roping her into this stupid society, this stupid excuse for a ladies' gathering.
And what the hell was up with ladies and gathering anyway? In all her years with groups, the biggest gathering they had to talk was when Teaspoon had finally discovered she was a girl and they gathered in the sweat lodge to "talk" about it. All of ten sentences, at the most, were said. Maybe. And that was it. Lordy, she missed those days.
A gathering was supposed to clear the air, solve a problem or prevent violence. That was it. Anything else, a good ride in the country, a night out under the stars, a day or two in another town should have taken care of what was ailing them. And for the most part, it did. And what didn't get resolved, Teaspoon remedied with his plethora of confounding words of … wisdom?
Damn. She'd had no clue how damn much work it took to be a socially acceptable woman. This felt almost ridiculous.
"Penelope, would you mind reading the latest article about …"
Scratch that. This was totally and completely ridiculous.
She glared at the pictures on the walls, the magazines and catalogs on the table, the clock that told her she'd be able to leave in fifteen minutes more. Her hands itched to finger her gun belt that she wasn't wearing.
Her head spun with words and images of spring colors, fashionable cuts and fabrics, the things she knew she needed to keep up with for her dress shop, but at the end of the meeting was not when she wanted to be thinking about these things.
Besides which, she would be reading these articles in her own time since she already had a subscription to these publications. And in her business, it had served her better to try and improve things and be on the cutting edge of fashion, not at the end of the line, since by the time something was written about, it was already old news.
She figured she should be listening, but their voices were like nails on a chalkboard. She just wanted to get the damn basket and get the hell out of here. She would make Theresa come to the next meeting. And the one after that. And the one after that. In fact, she'd have Theresa come to all these damn meetings.
God, she hated people. People were such a waste of time, energy and space. Well, most people. Her little family was doing just fine. Her little family was the light of her life. Not like this damn meeting. She couldn't care less if they were all on fire and she had a full bladder waiting in line for the outhouse, she still wouldn't piss on 'em.
She sighed loudly. The two ladies flanking her looked at her in disgust. Lou smiled almost apologetically. She didn't want to alienate her clientele and potential clients, but damn, these ladies wouldn't know what to do if they found something actually disgusting and had to deal with it. They thought a sigh was the end of existence. Huh. She'd love to see any of these ladies even think about digging a hole for an outhouse, or a well for that matter. Moronic Biddies.
There were times Lou thought of running away and going back to it. Back to that life. Gun belt, hat, pants, large shapeless shirts. When people saw what she put out there. A scrawny young man, safe from the lecherous eyes of most men.
: : :
Now, on Mr. James' porch, under his intense scrutiny, she would give her right arm for any number of those things to hide herself from this man's eyes. Again, she castigated her brain for its distractedness.
She looked up at Jimmy and blamed the distracting mob of Darwin cats.
God, he looked good in his well fitted collarless long sleeve black shirt. Her heart jumped. Damnit, settle down. His black pants hugged in all the right places, and her gaze helplessly lingered on the bulge right below his belt buckle. Her stomach twittered. She had to stop herself before she started growling at her organs and tore her eyes away from his lower half.
Finally, looking back up into his eyes, she said the name she thought she would never hear again. The name her soul had been clamoring to scream since the day she said goodbye.
"Jimmy?"
"Lou?"
"What are you doing here?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Answering my door." The corner of his mouth quirked up, his lips slightly undulating with quashed smugness. He looked so calm, so relaxed with his brow wrinkling in humor. Her heart thumped hard. She'd forgotten how witty he could be. God, she hated his ability to be so cool at a time like this. He looked almost bored. "What are you doing here?"
How could he be so calm when she was a complete mess inside? Damn poker face. Well, if he could be nonchalant and cool and relaxed about all this, so could she. Here goes.
She rolled her eyes. "Delivering a damn welcome basket to a Mr. James from the Ladies' Welcoming Committee." She stifled an embarrassed smile. "I'm guessing that would be you?"
He bowed grandly. "That would be me, madam."
She shook her head with a wry smile. "Then I guess this would be yours, sir."
He surreptitiously perused her up and down. Opening the door to his home he gestured for her to follow him. "Well, don't just stand there, come on in!"
She was struggling to maintain a light hearted attitude. She walked past him, faintly smelling his scent of some sweet alcohol scent, cigars and, was that, freshly chopped wood? Did he still chop his own wood? That would explain the nice figure he cut - she muffled her inner voice immediately. What the hell? What was that?
She was not noticing his muscles and how they lay so perfectly under his shirt. She was not watching his chest rise and fall with his breath, and she was certainly not admiring his relaxed yet obviously dangerous arm muscles barely leashed by his shirt sleeves. Her mind took her back to a more relaxed Jimmy, his arms under her knees, his hands braced on the ground, his face above hers as she breathed him in, gasping and moaning. Her nails clutching at his-
"Well, this is a surprise." His voice jarred her back, and she blinked the images away, focusing on him. He closed the door behind him and locked it. "What brings you to St. Joe? Last I'd heard from Emma, you were on your way to Virginia with Kid. Before you dropped off the face of the Earth."
She nodded uncomfortably. "Plans changed."
She glanced at him, the wall, his chest, then back into his eyes. Those eyes. Those golden brown eyes. There was no mistaking those eyes, that was for damn sure. She bit her lower lip gently, casting about in her head for some way to start a conversation.
"So, 'Mr. James', huh?"
He shrugged dismissively. "It makes things easier. Drink?"
She started to shake her head but he was already headed for what appeared to be a library or study. She followed behind to see him walk to and open the liquor cabinet, getting two glasses.
"Please sit down. Make yourself comfortable." He gestured at the couch in the middle of the book-lined room. The large, plush piece of furniture faced a large fireplace with a dancing fire within.
Two well-cushioned sitting chairs and a little round tea table populated the other side of the room. The entire room was a cozy area, with a few knick-knacks on the mantle and scattered around in bookshelves. The bookshelves were filled with a wide variety of authors, from poetry to prose, to educational material, fiction, historical tomes and more. She was amazed and fascinated at the array of books he possessed.
Watching her with interest as she perused the books, he felt a stab of pride at how many times she looked surprised or shocked at a title that he had already read several times. Never had he felt so giddy to have learned to read than at this moment. He wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was proud of the fact that he was much more educated and well-read than he had been when she rejected him five years ago. He was no longer the illiterate green-horned boy he had been, once upon a time.
She browsed the shelves until he appeared at her side with her their drinks in hand, startling her. She took the glass with a gracious smile, and sipped it. The brandy burned a path down her throat. She coughed, then smiled slowly at the sweet feeling left in her mouth afterwards. She was intrigued by the flavor and the process of the drinking the brandy. The burn, then fire, then amazing sweetness.
She sipped it again, holding it in her mouth, wondering when it went from burn to sweet, if it would do it while in her mouth, or if she had to actually swallow it to get the dessert-like after effects of the liquid. It wasn't changing in her mouth yet. She swallowed a little, then waited. There was a little bit, a hint of sweetness, but it didn't fully bloom in her mouth until she had completely swallowed the alcohol. Lou smiled and looked at the glass in fascination.
She tried it again with a bigger gulp, but found that just burned more for the same amount of sweetness. She decided to just sip it slowly, but discovered it was all gone. She looked around and saw Jimmy's eyes watching her, focused like a cat on a mouse, his eyes darkened, but she couldn't tell if it was from the darkened house, the darkened study, or something else. Her heartbeat increased.
He finally noticed her watching him and his face broke into a smile, but for some reason, that smile wasn't any more reassuring than the predatory look he had given her. It was toothy and she felt like he was getting ready to pounce and devour her. She was almost positive she would protest if he did. Almost.
He looked at her empty glass, shooting her a lopsided, more genuine looking smile.
"Did you run out?" His smile faltered. He blinked, holding himself in check. His choice of words was unintentional, yet it suddenly reminded him of what he was doing here, with her, right now. 'Revenge,' his head sang.
She froze for a moment, seeing a faint darkness shadow Jimmy's eyes right before he blinked. He looked at her again, his eyes golden brown and warm. She shrugged off her misgivings, convinced the light was playing tricks with his eyes. She nodded. "Oh, yes, please! I've never tasted anything so … interesting. It's amazing sweetness all wrapped up in a powerful burn. I would love some more."
He took in a jagged rough breath. Her words described herself perfectly.
His lips curled up on one side slowly, trying not to expose the raging fire of anger and betrayal he had been feeding for years. He gently refilled her snifter, and continued to watch her, intrigued by how quickly he was getting wrapped up in her still childlike ways, yet angered at the exact same thing.
She took your heart, Jimmy Boy. She took your soul. She took them both and ran off with Kid before you could even blink. She got the drop on you, Jimmy. That can never happen again. Show her who you really are. Introduce her to Wild Bill. Show her what these last five years have made you into. These last five years of soulless emptiness and heart rending pain. She didn't even leave you with a beating heart, man!
She took everything she wanted from you, then ran off with that boy who couldn't even make her happy for five damn years. Who the hell is she to come waltzing back into your life, onto your porch with a damn 'welcome basket' and smile like she didn't hollow you out and leave you an empty shell of a man before leaving with her fucking goody-two-shoes husband. Control, Bill. Keep control.
"Lou, come sit down. Tell me what you have been doing with yourself these days." He smiled gently.
She sipped the brandy again, still intrigued by the adventure it posed. She looked up at him, feeling a little braver than she had walking in, and smiled shyly. His heart lurched. He swore at it internally.
"Well, I came here to get my brother and sister, and started a dress shop with them. We've been here ever since."
She didn't mention Kid. Interesting. He nodded at her words, watching her eyes dance, like they did in Willow Springs when he and Lou had tried a new drink for the first time.
"What is this stuff, anyway?"
"Wine, they said."
Small giggle. "Ah like it!"
He had liked watching her 'like it" then and wanted her to like this brandy, as well. He cursed at himself again, refusing to get caught up in her snare a second time, like a damned fool.
She continued with a small smile, "What brings you here, James Hickok? I thought you were out," she motioned vaguely and slightly clumsily with her arm, "ridding the world of evil doers and card sharps, and the like." She sipped at the brandy again, and smiled up at him. Despite her earlier apprehensions, it was still so easy to talk to him.
He licked his bottom lip and pulled it in to bite on it. He had to go easy, now. Carefully. He didn't want to suggest anything that might make her sober up and leave, but he didn't want to just stand here jawin' either.
He smiled down at her humorously and shook his head. "Naw. I gave up the marshaling thing when I started makin' more money in poker. That's why I'm here now," he said, leadingly.
Her eyebrows shot up. "Really, Jimmy? How so?"
She was feeling warm in the study with the books and the fire that seemed strangely low for how warm she was feeling. She shrugged it off. It was a warm house, she had noticed. He surreptitiously refilled her glass and his own, replaced the decanter and strode slowly to the couch while talking.
"I was in a series of poker tournaments. I had already won enough to enter."
She followed him slowly, nodding along with his tale, sipping her liquor.
"It was a high stakes game. People put up their life savings, their mining claims, their deeds to land and houses- this very house, in fact- and one even put up the deed to his saloon."
He sat on the couch, nonchalantly. She followed him down, sitting next to him. He swallowed hard, struggling against his desire to throw her down on the couch and have his way with her right here and now.
She looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes, and sighed with a smile of relief. "And you won."
His stomach clenched in need, looking at her softened beauty. He'd have to give her brandy more often if this was the result. He smiled slyly and smugly.
"I won. And here I am."
She echoed him dreamily, "And here you are." She bit her bottom lip, looking up at him with glazed eyes.
He moved closer to her face. She tilted her chin up, invitingly. He turned towards her fully and watched her neck muscles work as she swallowed and licked her lips. He leaned closer to her. She closed her eyes and parted her lips. The corner of his mouth tilted up into a sneering smile. Too damn easy.
I MUST thank Myrtle for everything, and I mean EVERYTHING.
And this would not be here now, if it weren't for Ethel, because I could NOT publish this without a real title. It had a working title, but the REAL title is what it needed for publication.
Please Review and let these wonderful authors know that their time is well spent.