He brushed his lips across hers lightly, taking in her scent, her musky, grassy scent that brought back so many memories. He heard her intake of breath then a little whimper. Taking her chin between his thumb and crooked forefinger, he kissed her again, darting his tongue out between her open lips quickly before pulling it back.

She leaned into him, searching for more, pressing her lips firmly against his. She tasted like brandy and honey. His breath quickened, as did hers. He opened his lips, seeking out her tongue with his. She was just as adventurous, and her questing tongue found his to duel with.

God, he hadn't felt this alive in years. He needed more. Much more. He needed all of her. He shuddered out a breath, greedily grabbing her around her waist and pulling her closer to his body. His other arm drunkenly pushed through her hair, mashing her lips against his, consuming her open mouth with his, hungrily.

He leaned into her, pushing her back onto the couch. She pulled him with her until he was over her prone body, her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing her heat against his hardened bulge. He gasped into her mouth, the warmth radiating from her core making it impossible for him to think of anything except becoming one with her, once again.

He pushed his left hand over her bodice, tracing the shape of her hardened nipple through her blouse. His right hand pushed down between them, unfastened himself, then felt around for the slit most women had in their split pantaloons these days. His manhood found it before his hand did, and he pushed through the opening in her bloomers, finding himself sitting at the wetness of her feminine lips.

He slid his firmness along her damp folds, his buttocks thrusting, his length sliding up and down, his thick head working her little knob of ecstasy, stimulating her into a frenzy of desire. His eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure.

She pushed her fingers through his hair, kissing him deeply, thrusting her core at him, rubbing herself on his soft sack, moistening him everywhere with her need. He pulled back and pushed forward along her soaking slit, teasing her with his largeness, until he finally lodged his head in the mouth of her opening. She whimpered his name softly in his ear.

"Please, Jimmy, Please," she begged.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, her feet locked behind him. God, she felt so good. She pulled at his buttocks with her feet, trying to push him inside her. She felt like home. He stilled himself. Fuck, Jimmy, no! She could not feel like home. She was the enemy!

His body screamed at him to move, to take her. His mind flashed her betrayal through his head, trying to make him take his revenge. 'She chewed you up and spit you out! Take her!' But, damn, she feels so good. So soft. So … right. He had forgotten how much he lov-

"No." His sudden deep growl made her open her eyes, unfocused. Her chest heaved deeply, legs still clasped behind his back.

"Jimmy?" Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

His body screamed at him. His mind cursed him. Other parts were in a riotous uproar at his lack of cooperation. He wanted to be inside her. He needed to be inside her. He didn't … he shouldn't …

He was supposed to take her, trap her, suck her blood dry and discard her carcass for the carrion birds. For the buzzards. Like she did to him. Five damn years ago. How did he get trapped in this web he had built for her? A little blush, a flutter of her eye lash, and he was, once again, flayed open to her, vulnerable and soft. Damnit!

"Lou, I - I -" His voice was breathy, almost a whisper.

The voice in his head was livid. Don't you dare apologize! Don't you dare fucking apologize! He clenched his jaw and pulled back, slowly letting her legs unhook to release his waist.

Her eyes slowly focused. She stiffened immediately. Blushing crimson, she clambered backwards out from under him. He pulled her dress down over her legs, only to have her grab her dress out of his hands, and huddle in the corner of the couch, legs curled up in front of her, her dress draped all around her, covering all of her parts. She stared at him with widened eyes, shocked at her wantonness, and her eagerness to - to-

She dropped her head on her knees in shame.

Jimmy pulled his shirt over his painfully throbbing manhood. It was going to take a while for it to relax. What the hell was up with all this gentleness? He should have been bruising her hips and waist and ass with his fingers. She should be thankful he didn't have her ass in the air, face on the ground with him ramming into her and rutting her like a damn dog.

Christ. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. How could he keep hating her when he wanted to touch her. So much. Everywhere. He was supposed to hate her. He wanted - no - needed revenge. He couldn't sleep at night, he needed it so badly.

She had hurt him so thoroughly, so completely. It had seemed like a simple enough idea. An easy plan. It just came to him, seeing her on his doorstep. Fuck her and forget her, like she did with him. He didn't want to be gentle with her. He wasn't in this for the personal connection or whatever the ladies claim it's all about, these days.

He wasn't going to get all lovey and shit with her. He didn't love her. He just wanted her. She was not his home. She was not allowed to feel like home. He had no home. Especially not one that had her waiting. She was nothing, damnit, nothing! He should have been able to take her and toss her like nothing. Nothing! Just like she had done with him. Just like he'd been doing to women for years.

He glared at her with a sidelong glance. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, push himself inside her and release the last 5 years of hopelessness and anger into her. Why couldn't he? What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he get so lost in her touch? In her breath? In her arms?

When he could finally push himself back into his pants, he did so and fastened up. Jimmy stood, looking down at her petite figure, made even smaller by the ball she had curled herself into on the couch. He couldn't forgive her. Who could?

He wanted to take her. But he wasn't taking. She was giving. Gladly. Generously. He sighed. Like she always did of herself. Fuck, she'd felt so goddamned good. She felt as good today as she did five years ago. Maybe even better.

A simple assignment, prisoner transport to Fort Kearney, taking convicted murderer Elias Mills to be hanged. The four day trip not only transformed the man from conniving stranger to friend and mentor, it also changed Jimmy and Lou from friends into more. Ever so much more. Every moment replayed in vivid detail in his head. Every time he touched her on that trip, every moan, every thrust, every whimper, every second was taking over his brain.

Until he was reminded of every tear he refused to shed when she went back to HIM. He remembered every gunfight he was in. He remembered how, for just a moment, every single time, he almost didn't move, almost didn't draw, almost didn't shoot. The pain of a bullet wound would be less than the pain in his non-existent heart. The heart she had taken with her. He had hoped he wouldn't be fast enough, so he could welcome the peace and tranquility of eternity.

He had to get her out of here before he did something else he'd regret. Like hold his head to her breast and listen to her heartbeat to make sure she was real. Like stroking her face while looking adoringly into her eyes. Like whispering his lov-

"Get out." He strode to the study door, and turned to the ball of dress on the couch.

Her head shot up in shock.

"I said," he growled, "get out!" The growl became a roar.

She jumped off the couch quickly, staring at him with large eyes, hers never leaving his large form. Oh god, not again. He was throwing her out again. Her hand flew to the base of her throat, covering her heart, curling into a fist. He strode quickly to the front door, unlocking it and opening it wide for her. No. She shuddered in a breath, putting pressure on her chest to make her heart stop throbbing in pain and shame. It hurt. It actually hurt.

She glanced at him, then at the open doorway. He scared her now. Much more than he had when she left him the first time. Keeping her eyes on him, she skirted around him as far as she could go until she reached the door and quickly ran through it. Before she could step off the porch, he slammed the door behind her loudly and with finality.

::::

He strode back to the study angrily with long strides. He looked at her glass, laying on the carpet where it fell when he kissed her. What the hell was he thinking? She was right there! He threw himself back on the couch and glared at the fire.

He looked down at the space beside him. Would it smell like her? He remembered the last time he had touched her intimately. Delving into her heat with his tongue and fingers, her scent driving him insane with lust. Right before she told him she was staying with Kid. That she couldn't give up on him. That - that Kid had her heart.

His elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands, five years worth of moisture seeping through his fingers slowly.

He bent over, retrieving her glass from the carpet and went to his liquor cabinet to fill it full. He found one of the several places her lips had been, placed his lips on the same spot, and drank deeply, licking the area after draining the glass. He let out a shaky breath, ignoring the wet trails on his face, and filled the glass again.

::::

Lou stood on the bottom step of Jimmy's porch, with shuddering breaths, trying to figure out what happened. And trying not to break down in view of the world. As Theresa was always fond of saying, someone always had their eye on you. Probably learned that from the nuns at the orphanage. She shook out her skirts, and ran her trembling fingers through her hair, in the hopes that it wouldn't look as mussed as she imagined it did.

She was hot. And wet. And couldn't remember ever being more ashamed. She took Lightning's reins, and mounted her, wincing at the soreness between her thighs. How the hell did that even happen? All he did was - Oh. Right. Damn. She didn't remember him being that... size … before. She could feel herself still dripping. Her stomach fluttered. Her face burned.

She nudged the mare with her heels and started on the mile ride back home. His body had filled out greatly. He had grown in so many ways, matured so much that she almost didn't recognize him anymore. Jimmy wasn't there. Well, almost wasn't there. He was so hard. Cold. And yet, she had wrapped her legs around him - her stomach clenched and she blushed, recalling, again, her wanton and easy actions with him.

Why was it so damn easy to let go around him? Early on, ever since he'd found out she was a girl, he had been terribly easy to talk to. Was it his smile that said "I'm listening"? His eyes that said "Tell me more"? How safe she used to feel around him, no matter how angry at the world he got? Even now, she'd just opened up to him. In so damn many ways. She blushed furiously, again. He was … so … much … more … Her heart flip-flopped.

How could she have let go of everything just at the mere sight of him? If it weren't for his strength? Control? She'd be screaming his name in ecstasy right now. Her stomach twittered and she whimpered. Oh God, he never stopped being delicious. She shouldn't, she knew, but she desired him almost more than air, right now. How did he do that? How was he able to reduce her to a quivering bowl of feminine need just by breathing?

She did him wrong. She knew that. Not a day went by that she didn't think about how things could have been different. Should have been different. Not for the first time in the last five years, she cursed the Kid. The wave of guilt that followed flooded her eyes with tears. She sighed, sadly. She couldn't blame him, either. She'd made the choice.

She'd believed Kid's well-spun tales and promises of growing old, of a family, of a life and a future together. She'd believed Kid when he said that settling in St. Joe, the moment they had discovered her pregnancy, was the best thing for their little family to do.

"Hell, no, we are NOT traveling back to Rock Creek while you are pregnant, Lou! That'd be harmful to our baby! You heard what the doctor said!" She could do nothing but sigh and agree in the face of his vehemence.

They'd happily gotten Jeremiah and Theresa out of the orphanage together. She'd believed him enough to try her hand at a dressmaking shop, with upstairs living space. One like she and Charlotte had talked about so long ago. That Charlotte had given her the money for. She believed in the soundness of the plan. Kid thought that would be the best use of her energies and abilities. And because it would be socially acceptable for her to do.

'Because the Good Lord knew how eager she was to be socially acceptable,' She thought to herself, rolling her eyes and stroking Lighting's neck as they continued their short ride home.

She had believed. Until she'd noticed Kid watching the grey coats heading east. Every day, he would watch more and more headed towards General Lee's war. He watched with a gleam in his eye. He watched with the faraway gaze of other dreams. Of other lands. Homelands. Of pride, of promises, of ancestry and loyalty.

He had promised to be by her side, to build a life with her. He promised to grow old with her. To build a family with her. Where were those promises now? He promised he was going to be with her through thick or thin. But then he found something better, something stronger than their love or vows.

When he finally told her his decision, there was not a dry eye left between them. Nor was there any salvageable tableware. The metal plates and cups had all received irreparable dents from the wall to which they had been forcefully introduced. What little glassware they'd had either shattered behind Kid or on the floor after hitting him in the head, shoulder, back, and even chest when he couldn't dodge or deflect quickly enough. He had promised her all these things, she had shouted, and now he was leaving to fight for a cause that killed Noah!

He was gentle and placating. He had been torn from the beginning, but there was nowhere he could turn and not see reminders of how he was letting down the memory of his family. His mother and brother and the entire South.

"We are your family," she had railed at him. "Me, this baby," she covered her slightly distended belly with a protective hand, "Jeremiah, Theresa! We are your future! I left -" she swallowed his name and quickly changed the thought, "-home for you!" The image of Jimmy's heartbroken and angry face when she had told him swam behind her closed eyes.

Her pause had made Kid think it was difficult to get the thought out.

"I'm so sorry, Lou." He braved her anger to come to her and gather her in his arms. She sobbed, her heart breaking. She couldn't believe he had spun a tale of dreams so thoroughly and vividly that she had gotten sucked in completely. She had left Jimmy for Kid's promises, for his dreams. She balled her hands into fists and banged them against his chest, furious, distraught, and lost. She'd felt used, like she was just an accessory and not a partner and confidant like she should have been to her husband. He was supposed to keep her safe and protect her, physically and emotionally. He had promised. Now he was leaving. Discarding her like she was last year's newspaper.

Lou blinked and patted her faithful mount on the neck. She tried to fight the memories she knew were coming. She refused to let the tears fall. She looked around. Almost home. Lightning, thank God for Lightning. Lightning had gotten her through some hard times. Some very hard times.

An envelope had arrived two years after Kid left, only the third from him to get through the post. She'd been so excited to open it, starving for news from Kid. The previous letters had talked about how well he was doing, how lucky he was to not have a scratch on him, how safe he was, how much support he was getting from his comrades, even though he did get a good bit of ribbing about his Northerner wife.

She would look forward to the missives with a bitter mix of hope and anxiety. Hope that he was doing well and still alive, and anxiety from her own torn up emotions of love and abandonment, anger that he was doing so well while she was miserable without him, running a household and supporting three people all by herself. Theresa and Jeremiah would always watch her open the letters with hopeful smiles, to see the joy and relief on her face.

She'd opened the message reverently, and started reading silently, as usual. Her siblings had known the moment something was wrong. Her lips had parted, her face lost all its color, and her hand holding the letter fell to the table, nerveless.

Theresa had rushed to Lou's side in concern, and slipped the papers from her sister's numb fingers. She read it out loud to Jeremiah. She'd stumbled over the formal language, pausing at words like "abandonment" and "dissolution" and stopping completely at the word "divorce," looking at Jeremiah in shock.

When the shock finally wore off after a few weeks, Lou railed and cursed and paced and growled for months. She hadn't planned to, but her anger pushed her to finally file the papers. She was becoming unbearable to live with, her anger at Kid's callous disregard of all their vows, of all his promises, finally ending in this bundle of papers.

She'd hoped that she could finally start picking up the pieces and move on. And she had. Throwing herself into her work at the dress shop and her family life, she gave them her all. Her reason for living was in the little family they were together.

Until the telegram. Barely a few months after filing for and getting the approval for divorce, she had received the notice.

The devastating news had left her hollow and broken for months. The shock overwhelmed her into helpless stagnation. When she wasn't sitting, staring emptily at the wall, or wandering aimlessly, she would suffer from rare and disturbing panic attacks that left everyone in the house shaken.

The walls of the house would start to close in on her, threatening to suffocate her in her grief. Those were the times she'd grab Lightning and ride as hard and fast as she could. Stopping wasn't an option for her until after she had screamed and cried herself out, on the prairie, far from civilization. When nothing was left to her but her salt streaked face, her raw throat and an all-consuming exhaustion, she'd curtail the temptation to just keep riding wherever the winds blew and, half asleep, she'd turn Lightning towards the general direction of home, and trust her mount to get her safely there.

Theresa, ever the compassionate caregiver, kept their little family together and as healthy as she could. She nursed Lou back to some semblance of emotional health to the best of her ability. Lou had seen, through Theresa self sacrifice and work to keep everything together, that their little family was crumbling while she was wallowing in her misery.

Slowly, Lou had found her own strength again. She would follow Jeremiah to the saloon on occasion, to his chagrin, when Theresa had to work. She'd met several of the saloon girls who worked there.

One in particular had caught Lou's attention, even as deep as she was in her depression, and over time, they had become good friends. Lou liked her matter-of-fact, no-nonsense way of talking. The woman's candor and honesty towards the world, worked to pull Lou out of her darkness when no amount of consoling or cajoling would.

She wondered if the English Rose would ever know how much her friendship had helped her. They would always end up talking late into the night, quite often, sharing pain, heartache, and baring their souls to each other.

::::

"But you were married! You have a kid!"

Lou shrugged sheepishly, looking around the room in avoidance.

"Yeah, well... We weren't the most passionate couple," her eyes stared off. Patty saw the stars in her eyes, and knew there was someone else. Lou needed to find that spark again. Lou shook her head, pulling herself out of her reverie, "I mean, don't get me wrong, he was a wonderful husband … ya know … for however long that lasted." She shrugged, disheartened. "But... it just wasn't - HE just wasn't what I needed." She gave a rueful half smile. "Ya know what I mean?"

Patty nodded, "Oh, honey, do I ever! Why settle for vanilla when there are many other flavors out there, right?!" She laughed, "Strawberry, chocolate, caramel …." She paused, narrowing her gaze on Lou. "But, it looks as though you already know what flavor you need. Had it before, have we?" She raised an eyebrow and smiled a lopsided smile.

Lou blushed, looking down and nodding.

"A long time ago," her voice was almost a whisper. "He was..." she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. A sigh came out, sounding like a whimper.

"Damn, girl! After all this time?"

She opened her moistened eyes and nodded, the wrinkle between her eyebrows deepened considerably.

She whispered, "Always."

Her thumbnail found its way between her front teeth and she nibbled on it lightly, shame and heartbreak settling over her like a thick and heavy cloak.

"I never should have left him," she lowered her head, fat tears dropping onto her pants.

Patty rubbed her back soothingly, wrapping her arms around the petite woman's shoulders.

"Sweetheart," she whispered, "if it was meant to be, it still can be."

Lou looked up, tears rolling down her face, yet with a glimmer of hope.

"You think so, Patty?"

The older woman nodded with determination, "I know it will be, sweetie."

::

The click of her front door closing brought Lou back to the present. She blinked in confusion. The short horsehairs and grainy oat powder on her hands told her she had taken care of Lightning without even noticing. The last time anything like that had happened so automatically was …. She swallowed hard. It was when she was riding for the Express. When things were easier. Happier. And Jimmy looked at her with … nothing resembling the disgust and hate and raw anger in his eyes today.

She leaned against the door and caught her breath, glancing around. No one was in the room. She lowered her head, and her legs buckled out from under her. Her back slid down the door until her bottom met the floor, her forehead met her knees and she finally released the hot tears she had been holding in since leaving Jimmy's house. She grabbed a layer of her skirts to try and muffle her sobs. He wasn't the same. He wasn't 'Her Jimmy'. But then again, he never really was, was he? Four days didn't really make him hers, did it? The tears rolled down her face like rivers. She'd made him. She did that. And once the whole truth came out, it would all be much worse.

::::::

Jimmy swirled the amber, almost maroon liquid in the glass as he stared into the firelight. The wedding. The big fat stupid wedding. He gave her away. He did that. He had agreed. Her big day. But even before that day, his self-hatred and self disgust had already eaten away at him. Had already hollowed him out and replaced him with an act. He acted fine. He acted happy for her. He acted like this was the best thing she could do for herself. And he hated. He shuddered in disgust, remembering that night before Lou's wedding.

"Oh, James! Yes!" The thin, dark-haired woman had cried out his name, moaning in ecstasy and convulsing in his arms, purring in contentment. Then came the cold. It wasn't from the cooling sweat. It was the words, the pleasured cries. They sounded all wrong. Rosemary's voice wasn't what had haunted his dreams and his waking hours constantly. Knowing the reality now, he knew it wasn't her. Teasing him, confiding in him, calling his name in ecstasy. Not even close.

He should have felt euphoric as he stroked himself to completion on Rosemary's belly and collapsed to her side. His first since …. He should have felt sated. Instead he felt empty. Lou's voice rang in his ears, saying his name in a thousand different ways, but he would never again hear it like that. Never again as a prayer.

It was only thing in life worth living for, now. To hear Lou say his name again as he joined his flesh with hers. He cursed himself. It was too late. She was marrying the man many considered to be his brother the next day.

He should have done something … more, something … bigger. He should have said something more in Fenton. He should have … kissed her, touched her. He'd had almost two months after Ft. Kearney to do something. He could have changed her mind, instead of just backing off. He should have said something!

But it wouldn't have changed a thing. Not a god damned thing. Kid WAS the better man for her. He was safer. She would be safer with him. He didn't have every gunman in the country gunning for him. He didn't have … he didn't have to give away the love of his life, who probably would have held her own or better against all the evil of the world. Jimmy growled.

If she had stayed, Jimmy would have changed. He would have gone into hiding. He was going to change everything for her. He remembered that. He was even going to change his last name for her. He would have run away to a place no one knew them and started a new life with her. They could have started a ranch or a farm out in the middle of nowhere. He would have worked his fingers to the bone to keep her safe and happy. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Kid was always there. Kid would have always been there.

So he stepped back. He "gave her away." Just like everyone expected him to. And she was glowing. Almost too brightly. Just like everyone expected her to. Bah. Who was he kidding. She never would have listened to him. She never would have heard him. She'd decided on the Kid and nothing Jimmy ever could have done would have dissuaded her from that decision.

But, he'd held on to that hope of her coming to her senses. Of her remembering how good it was when they were together. And his hope kept the wound of her leaving open and exposed. She never came back. And the wound got ugly. So he'd covered it up where no one could see it.

And it festered. He festered. He hated. He existed. Bitter and alone. The air he breathed smelled bitter. The food he ate tasted bitter. The life he lived oozed bitterness.

Less than a week after the wedding, he had found Rosemary writhing and moaning under the pale buttocks of Jake Coulter. He couldn't bring himself to care beyond the stray thought that he hadn't even known the bounty hunter was in town. The bastard hadn't even stopped by to say "hi" for old times sake.

Jimmy'd left the next day. He had wandered. Just wandered. For several months. From town to town. Drinking, gambling, and taking all comers, young and old. Anyone who even THOUGHT about Wild Bill was challenged to meet his Colts head on.

The moniker brought him all forms of homage, from drinks to preferred seating at the tables to women. Lots of women. Single, not-so-single, professionals and starry eyed innocents. He didn't care. He didn't give a flying fuck who they were, as long as they warmed his bed for the night. Nights alone were rare. Even when he wanted peace and quiet, he rarely found it. He'd lost track of how long he lived by the bottle and the gun. He'd even taken a couple stints as the local law before finding it too constrictive and moving on.

His gambling had paid off big. He'd used his meager lawman salary to buy into various tables, passing time at various saloons, until he had decided that the saloon life was where he wanted to focus his dwindling energies for life. He spent his days and nights playing the game of chance, fortune smiling on him almost constantly. The years passed with barely a nod of notice from Jimmy.

He needed to retire Wild Bill, and soon. He'd started using James as a last name, purely for the anonymity provided him. He thought of his promise that he'd made in his heart to Lou, to change his last name for her and cracked a bitter smile. He'd done it anyway. For himself. He rarely thought of her, anymore. He rarely allowed himself to think of her. When he finally won the huge poker game, he'd won a saloon to run and a home to settle down in.

He'd spent his years learning how to control himself, teaching himself how to keep his emotions even and his temper in check. He'd had to become cool and calculating, while being able to defuse tempers and calm raging alcoholics. He'd had the world in the palm of his hand.

Until her. Until she showed up on his doorstep. She stood there and tore down every single defense he'd constructed, every one of his carefully crafted walls he'd built around himself. With a damn blush and a smile. He was not going down. Not by her. Not again.

Jimmy's blood shot eyes watched, he realized, the second sunset since Lou'd left. He'd drunk his liquor cabinet dry. He growled. The room turned from the fiery oranges and blood reds of the vivid sunset outside to the grey shades of twilight and finally was swallowed up in the black darkness of night. He should rebuild the fire, he figured. It was the only warmth he was ever going to get out of life, anymore.

She had felt so good, here, on his couch, under his body. So right. He cursed himself. He could have been inside her right now, feeling her tightness around him, breathing her breath, tasting her lips, hearing her voice moan his name with every thrust of possession and overwhelming desire he had inside him. He could have made her his again.

His eyes narrowed on the empty and cold fireplace. He didn't want to want her. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to use her. He didn't want to care. He wanted to take her apart, piece by piece, like she had him. He wanted to see her weak, groveling, and destroyed. He would. Soon, he placated himself. Very, very soon.


:

Again, Myrtle, I thank thee. If you would like my first born, please. Take him. Dear god, please. ;)

Please read, enjoy and review and let me know if it's all you were hoping it would be. And if not, remember, it's not fitting my view of what I was hoping it would be either. Heh.