*SPOILERS for the series finale* One-shot with Cullen and Mei
I almost liked the series finale! Almost. I just wanted thirty seconds of closure, a glimpse of Cullen finally finding happiness. Since we were left to wonder, here's my take, albeit longer than a thirty second closure. ~JS
He could smell land before he saw the cluttered docks—it reeked like a fishy latrine. After fifty-one days, Cullen couldn't wait to feel solid ground under his boots. The days passed in a succession of heaving over the rails, chewing on ginger, praying for stronger winds to quicken the voyage and cursing the same winds when the ship lolled to its side. As the docks peeked through the dense fog, Cullen waited at the rail with his bag, his right hand tapping his revolver under his jacket.
The gangplank barely bounced into place before he trotted down, deaf to the Chinese dock workers' complaints. "Nǎlǐ shì jiǔdiàn?" He needed a bath and a solid meal. And a mirror that didn't rock back and forth while he trimmed his beard.
Men shuffled by, black hats perched on their heads like upside down chow bowls, cut in half. Dirty children, clothes stained and tattered shoes, rushed to him, filthy hands extended. "Mister! Qián!" they cried, desperate for money or trained to pickpocket unsuspecting Americans.
"Méiyǒu." Cullen shook his head and pressed the children back. He pushed toward the peeling hotel sign, the thought of a steady, unmoving bed hastening his steps.
The white-washed door opened with a shove. A few Chinese merchants in pressed, white suits glanced up from their table as he entered. The proprietor bowed and talked so fast that Cullen struggled to catch the phrases. The hunched over host finally slowed and waited for a request.
"Yīgè fángjiān, shíwù hé xǐzǎo." A room, food and a bath. Cullen rubbed a hand over his overgrown beard. He needed sleep to get his head straight.
He needed to find Mei.
Cullen plopped to a chair and pulled out the worn cloth while his meal was prepared. He still couldn't read the slanted lines, but he memorized them. The original plan was to leave the ship and find Mei immediately. But now that he was close, and his goal tangible, Cullen wanted to make sure he did it right. Because if he didn't do it right, it wasn't worth doing.
While making his way through the dumplings and some type of meat over noodles, Cullen asked for his clothing to be laundered. There was no way he'd show up in some white suit or a jacket his workers wore. He also asked for some scissors.
When the warm food filled his belly, Cullen followed the owner up narrow stairs to a narrow room with a narrow bed and a narrow tub filled with steaming water. He stripped everything off, handed the mound of clothing to the man, kept his gun and hat within reach and dropped into the bath. A tiny chunk of soap was completely used by the time he finished scrubbing himself.
Naked as his name day, Cullen hauled his tired bones to the bed and tucked the gun under the down filled pillow. He pulled up the scratchy blanket and thought of Mei as his eyelids closed.
"Mister. Mister."
Cullen felt like he was coming off of an all-nighter with a bottle of cheap whiskey. He finally pried his eyes open, into the face of the hotel owner.
"Nǐ yǐjīng shuìzhele yī zhěng tiān." He pushed the curtain from the tiny window to show the bright sunlight. Cullen had slept the entire day.
Cullen sat up, clutching the flimsy blanket over his lap. "Nǎlǐ shì wǒ de yīfú?" He needed his clothes.
The man patted a folded bundle near the foot of the bed and pointed to the scissors and mirror on top.
"Xièxiè." Cullen nodded in appreciation. As soon as the door closed, he dressed. His clothes were stiff from flapping in the wind to dry, but at least they were clean. The mirror was perched on the small window ledge and Cullen got to work on trimming his scraggly beard and hair, wild from falling asleep while it was still wet. When he resembled something from his former self, Cullen looked at himself in the mirror.
What if Mei didn't love him anymore?
He scoffed at his reflection before mumbling. "One hell of a time to think about that now that I'm in China." Cullen settled his hat onto his head and went downstairs for a meal. And whiskey. He didn't even care if it was bad whiskey, just something to steady his nerves. He hadn't been this nervous since he'd asked for Mary's hand in marriage.
Cullen watched the other diners between bites. Seemed to be a reputable hotel—only one whore walked between the tables filled with businessmen and merchants. He nodded to the owner and paid for two nights. Who knows if he could even find the address? The thought made him fish the cloth from his pocket and show it to the ancient proprietor. Maybe the man could hire someone to take him there. "Wǒ zěnme zài zhèlǐ?"
Within minutes, Cullen strode behind a grimy street urchin who would run ahead, turn and motion for Cullen to hurry, despite the limp. The sun inched towards the towering mountains to the east, revealing the spreading city, sprawling uphill. Every inch of the city was crammed with buildings or shanties, houses and merchant stalls. Though the smell from the docks faded, the sewage was even stronger.
"Gǎnkuài!" The boy disappeared around a corner, only to reappear, flapping his hands. "Mister!"
After Cullen rounded the corner, the boy pointed at a wooden door and held out his hand. The coin hit the boy's hand. "Xièxiè." And he bolted down an alley, leaving Cullen alone, staring at the door.
It was an ordinary wooden door, with red, chipped paint. The sun dipped behind the mountains and the light began to fade, but humidity weighted the air. Cullen pulled his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be. He pulled out the cloth one last time, looking from it to the door. His left thumb twisted the band around his ring finger.
"Alright, then," he said to no one in particular, before stepping forward and rapping his knuckles twice against the paint.
Would she be wearing a dress? Had her hair grown longer? His brain wouldn't stop bombarding questions and Cullen was just about to knock a second time when he heard a muffled voice behind the door.
The door swung open.
She wasn't wrapped in pink or a coarse gray coat this time. Her hand shook as she reached forward to touch his face. "Cullen."
"Mei." He covered her fingers with his palm when they touched his cheek. It would be okay. Somehow, they'd work everything out.
"You are here."
Cullen folded her into his chest and dropped his chin to her hair. "Of course I am." He kissed the top of her hair before lifting Mei's chin up to look at her again. "You're my ghost I cannot bury or leave behind."
Author's note: If anyone speaks traditional Chinese and is offended by my translations, I completely blame the Google translator. :)