Closing his eyes as he turns the bottle within his hand, her words find their way back into his mind.

I am with child. His cousin's child. All those years away he imagined so many possibilities for their life together, all of them with children. Boys with dark hair like his, girls with blue eyes like hers. For an unconventional man, his dreams were rather conventional.

Drinking from the bottle, he walks outside to look up at the night sky. The stars are a blur, so he takes a step back to steady up as he leans in the doorway.

His fault. His Uncle told him this was all on him. His mind goes beyond the duel to Elizabeth finding marriage with his cousin. The way she dashed into the room, blaming him for not doing more for Francis. Even later when she told him she did not hold him accountable, he felt at fault. She's with child, is this his fault?

Another drink from the bottle, he's about to go inside when he hears singing. How is she always singing? As if the world is not upon her. He drifts toward the barn to find her with that damned dog. She's singing to the dog, her hand across the dog's head, down and across the hound's massive side. Such strong hands.

I belong here. This time, her voice is the voice within his head.

A/N: Thank you for dropping me encouragement. I had intended to just write the one.