Chapter 25: Breaching

Memories; they lay before her like a knife to her throat, concealed temporarily behind maple planks and brass edging. She knelt silently on the floor, glaring at the metal fastening as she bit her bottom lip, her nerve slowly beginning to fade with each passing second. "This is ridiculous…it's just a trunk…" Michaela's mind chastised. "It's just a trunk…filled with things…that's all they are…non-descript things…"

Her eyelids shut tightly as she bit her lip even harder, the indent deepening with the fear that seemed to penetrate every fiber of her being. The pain in her pinched flesh enabled her to focus on her exterior self, rather than her trembling hands; which slowly extended to the fastened clasp of the hope chest. Michaela's fingertips brushed across the cool metal, causing her to flinch momentarily before proceeding onward. Carefully and cautiously, her hands worked to unlock the brass lock, seeing only with touch and never with sight. There was a soft 'click', as the latch fell away from its bound position, and a rich silence hung in the dense air; coating her lungs and entire body with each anticipation congested breath.

Hazel broke through as the lidded veil parted, revealing Michaela's hands hovering over the chest as though her limbs shared a magnetic charge with the surface; one side drawn to its presence, yet the other unable to meet with its shell.

"They're just things…just don't think about them….don't even look at them…get the dress and go." She spoke aloud, silently praying for the strength to continue.

Taking in a deep breath, Michaela empowered her arms with all the force she could muster and lifted the wooden cover upwards. The hinges voiced Michaela's silent whimper of protest, as her eyes, defying their master's caution, scanned the various parcels contained in the coffer.

A tiny, "Oh…", was all that Michaela could muster.

Tears neither swelled nor rained , as the shock of seeing the scattered remains of her life with Sully shook such capabilities from her. Blinking past her wide-eyed stare, Michaela's delicate fingers traced the ornate pattern of roses that where croqueted into the lace of her wedding gown. The rutted texture soon turned smooth, as she grazed over the silk bodice, thoughtlessly following the hem line down the pure white fabric.

A static charge bolted through her fingers as the fabric fell deeper into the chest, and her eyes were forced to travel on to the next object. After pulling back momentarily to subdue a sob in her throat, Michaela reached back into the trunk to pull out a solitary photograph.

His eyes; despite the lack of color, despite the dimension that separated them, despite the soul that had been lost; oceans still collided with sunlit tree canopies, driving hearts to mingle silently, secretly. The world was washed away, leaving only those eyes, only that soul. No…only her soul. She held the gaze, even as her head swayed side to side. "No..." she repeated, for she realized that it was both, hers and his, which survived. Both lived, both breathed, in her, with her; in her memories, in this picture, this photograph she knew he had carried as well. It was the last photograph she had taken with him, the last one they had taken that day, that gloriously blissful day when lovers vowed their everlasting unity to God, family, friends, and mostly to themselves.

She couldn't breathe; and yet, could she, was she? She did not know, all feeling was lost in those eyes; black on paper yet bounding in cerulean waves towards her, warming her flesh, her mouth, her lungs, heart, and gut. Michaela gasped, heaving in and out the cool summer air. She gripped her chest and lower rib cage, the portrait floating effortlessly to the floor. Breaths came in short, hard motions that jarred every nerve in her body, as she sunk slowly to lie beside the paper.

With time her breathing slowed and calmed. She shivered once, then again as she lay in silence, tears never breaking her discomfort, leaving her bottled and caged. Like a limp puppet, Michaela raised her arm, throwing it into the chest before reeling it back to the warmth of her body, clutching a blur of white. There she lay strewn on the cold heartless ground, wrapped in her wedding gown to keep warm. She didn't even bother imagining what she must look like. "Pathetic" She whispered, and her stomach lurched slightly. After all that she had accomplished, after all she had pushed past, especially in these final few days, she had been defeated by little more than a piece of parchment and ink.

A breeze flew past her open window and glided across the floor, brushing over the woman and the items lying around her. The skirt of the gown fluttered slightly, grabbing Michaela's attention. The golden flecks in her eyes shimmered as she narrowed her vision slightly, seeing something that failed to match the surrounding homogeneous material. Removing her arm from the silken confines, Michaela extended the limb to reach for the mismatched fabric that lay at her heels. She snatched it, recoiling into a loose fetal position.

As had been done with the dress, her fingers gently and gracefully brushed against the cotton square, memories flooding her mind.

Copper locks, once confined in a neat bun that lay at the base of her neck, now billowed in shiny waves behind her as Michaela tore across the open field towards the sanctity of a wooded alcove. She heard her name beckoned far behind her, yet she chose to feign deaf. A single tear dropped, and Michaela quickly brushed it away, pushing herself to run faster, away from the town, from the people, their eyes, and their criticism. At last she reached the tree line. Grief and 

relief swept over her at once, costing her some self dignity as she failed to see a protruding root. Suddenly, Michaela realized she was falling through the wooden threshold, down onto the forest floor. She coughed, spitting out a dried pine needle as she slowly pushed her now aching body up from the ground. Hearing heavy footsteps approaching, Michaela quickly brushed away the dirt and forest medley that lingered on her skirt.

She never turned to face or recognize her company even as the follower's eyes bore on her back, beckoning her attention, her acknowledgment, her mere response. Silence was all that he would receive for minutes to come; but he could wait.

She felt his eyes on her. That waterfall glare that could penetrate any wall she built around herself. However, Michaela's stubbornness refused to so easily concede defeat, and she forced herself to remain nonchalant among the pine trees, as emotions soared within her. Finally, his gaze penetrated, and Michaela's voice cracked the hush of nature. "I can't do this, Sully…I can't do this surgery…I…"

She turned to face him. His gaze never dropped, never subdued. "Why can't ya?"

Her hazel gaze narrowed, and she laughed ever so lightly, until laugh and cry became undistinguishable. "I…I just can't…I can't… I don't know what to do…I've never performed a surgery such as this…not alone, and certainly not in these conditions…"

"This isn't the first time you've had to deal with…" Sully began.

"But this is different, Sully…those other surgeries…they weren't nearly as complex and life imposing…One hesitation, a slight nick of a nerve….he would die, or become paralyzed…" Michaela explained, a fresh set of tears building silently in her eyes. "…And they're all watching…they're all waiting…"

"For you to come and do what you are best at…" Sully stepped towards the disheartened woman, gently placing his hands on her upper arms.

She looked up at into his ice blue gaze, and saw nothing but love and kindness. "…No, they're waiting for me to mess up…they don't want me to succeed…they'd rather I fail so they can justly run me out of town and back to Boston…"

"Where are ya getting such thoughts?"

Michaela laughed, almost. "Well, Jake and Hank, for one, certainly haven't made a remarkable attempt to hide that they wish for my absence..."

Sully followed Michaela's weak laugh, digging his hand into his pant pocket and removing a thin white handkerchief. "Come here…" He softly beckoned her closer, using the handkerchief to brush away a tear that trembled on her cheek. Following the same motion on her chin and nose, he brought his free hand up to her jaw line, bringing her dropped gaze to meet his. "…You're Dr. Michaela Quinn…since when have you cared what anyone thought…let alone Jake and Hank…"

Michaela rolled her eyes slightly, yet she was clearly still not convinced.

"Michaela you can do this…you're stronger than ya think…look how far you've come…" Sully cupped her face lightly; he could have kissed her right there and then had thoughts of propriety, which had never bothered his mind previously, suddenly controlled his actions. Instead he dropped his hands to reach for hers, placing the hankie in her palm. "It was my mother's…she gave it to me the day…" He cut off, looking back into Michaela's gaze. "I don't need it anymore."

"Sully you can't…no, I can't take this." Michaela extended her hand back to his, only to have it enclosed again.

"No, I want ya to have it…my mother…she was a strong woman, but…she just wasn't strong enough." Sully paused to prevent his throat from caving in on his dialogue. "She wasn't as strong as you are Dr. Mike…I've seen ya push past the expectations and grit of this town, I've seen ya stand before an entire army troop for what ya believe in…So don't go saying ya can't…not when you've done it every day for the past six months you've been here."

The memory faded and she was brought back into the room, still clutching the handkerchief to her heart. His smell still lingered after all these years in the fabric, prompting Michaela to bring it close to her face, inhaling his essence fully. "You're strong." Michaela smiled lightly into the tissue. "Don't go saying ya can't when you've been doing it every day…"

Her collapse was a reminder of the fear and pain that would remain with her, she knew, for long to come, but the words that Sully had spoken to her on that distant day renewed in her the hope that proved her worth. Slowly, Michaela pushed back the silk and lace, and stood, picking up the dress along with herself, and folding the graceful fabric back into trunk. Before reaching for the picture, she pulled out a periwinkle blue garment that lay beside the white.

Gazing down upon it, she realized that she had not worn the dance dress since the Sweetheart's dance nearly a year and a half ago. There she had danced, for the first time, with Sully; and in that night, her heart was fully captured by his gaze and soul.

"This was your favorite Sully, you even said so once." Michaela smiled, recalling the occasion before becoming serious again. "I'll wear it for you and only you Sully…because you are the reason I am still strong. You are my rock…you will always be with me, I know that now."

Sunrays crept silently over the Colorado territory; brushing the basin of sweet grass and wheat before slowly permeating the foothills, and finally the rocky peaks. A solitary eagle hung motionless in mid-air, soaring gently above the vast sunlit meadow. His eye was keen and fixed on the patch-less ground below; scouring the land beneath the fine blades of grass for a succulent morsel. Movement; black narrowed to gold, then relaxed. A mere cool breeze had flickered the tall stocks. He focused his gilded eyes again on the full prairie land. There was nothing. No matter, he could wait as long as he needed; he would not tire as he glided effortlessly on rising air currents.

Up, up, up he soared, stroking the Maya blue sky with his tanned wings and dark golden head. Yet his flight of ecstasy was short-lived, as a shadowed figure moved quickly on the horizon. Again the eagle narrowed its eyes, glaring at the peculiar animal charging through his stretch of land. Clouds of ash sprayed from the roof of the creature's forehead, as water might from a whale, while a low moan was emitted from its frontal quarters; interrupting the silence of the meadow, growing louder and louder as the mysterious beast approached. Soon the earth itself shook with the same fervor that the animal ran with, causing the majestic bird to cower and flee towards its yonder tree dwelling.

Sully sat in the train car, his gaze following the retreating eagle. It had been nearly five days since he had first pulled himself into the baggage car; five horribly long, exhausting days. Five days of empty grasslands, five days of nauseating rocking, five days of constantly interrupted sleep; five days of enough torture to allow Sully discover that he despised trains. If it weren't for the fact that time was of the essence, Sully would have gladly considered walking the remainder of the trip; however, time was indeed running out – a concept he could not vocalize or begin to reason for, and yet it explained the feeling of anticipation that drew him to agitation with every break of the journey or stop of the train – he only knew he needed to reach Michaela as soon as possible.

He shifted his gaze westward. After days of blinding gold, Sully's eyes finally were given the opportunity to rest on the indigo formations. They beckoned him, calling him home, causing his insides to leap with joy and exhilaration. "I'm almost there…almost there…" He whispered, tugging at the flap overlapping his breast pocket to remove the picture which he clung to for support. "I'm almost there, Michaela, I'm almost to you."

The cool night air fell lightly on her exposed flesh, splattering scattered bumps as the skin reacted to the chill.

"Ma, you ok?" Colleen's voice pierced Michaela's trance.

She looked down at the young woman, who stood beside the wagon with Katie in her arms, waiting for her mother to follow her suit. "Yes, sorry…I'm fine."

Michaela released the reigns from her tight grasp and hoisted herself down from the wagon seat. Smiling slightly, she held out her arm to Colleen, who linked it through her free appendage as they strode towards the sounds of reels and square dances.

"Ma, can I get some cider?" Brian inquired excitedly upon arriving at the stage entrance.

"May I…"

"May I get some cider…" Brian reiterated. "…please…"

Michaela gave a true smile to the lad and nodded. "Yes, just let me buy our tickets first."

From her pouch she withdrew four small coins, three of which she handed over to the usher, and one to Brian, who immediately took off for the punch table.

"What's that?" Colleen pointed to the white embroidered fabric that protruded from the black purse.

Michaela blushed. "Oh, it's…it's just a handkerchief."

Colleen nodded, noting her mother's tense form, but decided not to comment. "Oh, it's pretty."

Michaela gave a weak smile in response as they walked along the rim of the stage, trying to stay out of the dancing couple's paths. Michaela, merely for her own comfort, had decided to bring the handkerchief with her that night. Its scent and significance made her feel enclosed in a safe embrace, one that only Sully could have surrounded her with. Clutching it tightly in her fist, Michaela steered herself and Colleen to the table where Grace stood, displaying her new pies.

"Dr. Mike! Ya came! Oh, I'm so glad ya made it!" Grace beamed.

"Yes, we talked it over, and the children thought it was great idea."

"So long as Dr. Mike doesn't push herself too hard…" Colleen reminded her mother of their agreement.

"Well, I'll be sure to keep an eye on your Ma too." Grace chuckled lightly. "Now let me see this little angel you've got in your hands…"

Colleen and Michaela joined in Grace's laugh, and handed Katie over to the woman.

"Hey! Colleen!" A voice beckoned over the upbeat music. Colleen scanned the array of people, searching for the voice. Finally she saw her friend Becky waving to her from across the dance floor. Smiling, Colleen nearly forgot herself and began to ask for her dismissal; however, she was immediately reminded of her self-imposed promise to look after Michaela that night.

Michaela saw the child's distress, and it made her heart swell to see her adopted daughter care so deeply for her. "Colleen…"

"Yes Ma?" Colleen quickly looked away from her friends, hoping that Michaela would not notice the twinge of disappointment in her eyes.

Michaela smiled, seeing Colleen try so hard to dismiss her own desires. "Why don't you go off with your friends for a while, you haven't seen them in forever…"

"Oh no, Dr. Mike, I'm fine…really, I'd rather stay here with you and Ms. Grace." Colleen spoke quickly.

"Colleen… go with your friends. I'll be fine; I can take care of myself." Michaela embraced the child, forcing her to silence any further argument. Removing herself from her mother's embrace, Colleen gave one last look of uncertainty, before turning and striding towards the group of her teenage peers.

"She's a lovely girl, Dr. Mike." Grace smiled at the young woman.

"I know." Michaela sighed. "I'm so lucky to have her. Charlotte did such an impeccable job raising her."

"You have too, ya know."

Michaela turned towards her friend, shaking her head. "No…I haven't been much of a mother to any of my children I'm afraid, not for the past few months…Colleen's the one that kept things going."

Grace placed her hand gently on the woman's shoulder. "Ya did you're best…not much else we could ask from ya."

Michaela surprised her friend by nodding. "I know that now…although I'll never forgive myself for it, I think I've finally seen that dwelling on the past doesn't make up for the future, and truly will only cripple me and my family."

A moment of silence hung softly between the two women before Grace spoke again, her smile having grown even larger. "There ya go…we finally got it."

"Got what?"

"Got our doctor back….our friend back. We got you, talkin' like yourself again, so wise and…and poised." Grace clung to her friend's hand. "Welcome back."

Michaela beamed, truly and completely.

"Michaela! Michaela is that you…" Dorothy's voice suddenly broke the pair's silence.

"Dorothy…" Michaela embraced her friend. "You look beautiful."

"Oh you're one to talk…look at you, you look absolutely radiant!" All three women smiled widely, for the first time in so long.

"Where's Daniel?" Michaela inquired.

"Oh, he's off getting us some punch; he'll be back any moment…" Dorothy smiled shyly. "In fact, here he comes now…Daniel, over here dear!"

But Daniel did not need beckoning. Although his eyes failed to see the form of his dancing partner, he was being pulled towards the same area by the mere image of another woman. A woman who he recognized so clearly, and yet, whose appearance and simple presence had changed so drastically from the lady he knew her to be.

"Thank you Daniel." Dorothy took a glass from Daniel, who stood in awe, staring blindly at Michaela. "Oh Daniel, doesn't Michaela look just ravishing! Oh and Grace, I've been meanin' to tell ya, please give my thanks to Robert E again for makin' that prosthetic leg for Daniel. Otherwise, he would never have been able to come tonight…"

Dorothy's voice had all but fallen completely from either person's attention. Michaela's skin trickled uncomfortably as she stood beneath Daniel's blue-eyed gaze. Gripping the hidden hankie even tighter, she glanced around looking for an exit.

"Michaela, are you feelin' alright?" Dorothy asked, seeing the woman's flushed face and nervous stature.

"Yes, I'm…I'm fine…I was just looking for...um…the punch stand…" Michaela stuttered slightly.

"Oh here, have some of mine." Dorothy suggested.

"No, no….I uh…"

"No, seriously drink…I won't be able to drink it all."

However, Michaela shook her head again. "No, actually I don't think I feel much like punch after all…umm…"

But her sentence was cut off when Jake's voice could be heard from the musician's corner. "And now ladies and gentlemen, could we have everyone choose a partner that they did not invite tonight, for the midnight waltz."

Michaela, if possible, looked even further away from Daniel's onset gaze.

"Well, I think I'm gonna go and get Lauren, he seems to be lonely over sittin' by himself over there…" Dorothy spoke lightly, seeing the shop owner sitting by the punch table alone. "…Michaela, would you mind dancin' with Daniel for a bit?"

A thousand reasons to deny her request erupted in Michaela's mind, however looking at her friend's sincere glance, she was forced to concede and nod her head.

"Thank you dear. Now I'll be right back…"

A bitter, horrendous silence fell between the remaining trio.

"Um, I can hold on to Katie for ya Dr. Mike, you go and…um…dance." Grace said cautiously, before turning her attention to one of her customers.

The music began to play, leading the couples in an elegant sway across the dance floor. "Shall we?" Daniel spoke for the first time that night.

Michaela closed her eyes, exhaling her tenuous breath, and allowed herself to reach for the man's outstretched hand. Nausea filled her stomach as she twirled herself towards him, her opposite hand resting on his arm. Her skin burned beneath the fabric where his hand delicately touched her waist. She couldn't breathe, she needed air…and it was certainly not for the same reason that her breath was instantly lost when dancing in the arms of her husband. "I…"

"I'm sorry for what happened, that night…it was…wrong of me…I…" Daniel spoke quietly, unaware that Michaela was trying to speak.

"I can't breathe…" Michaela spoke in less than a whisper.

"I…I was so foolish…I hope I haven't ruined our friendship Michaela…"

She looked up at him, in somewhat disbelief that he had yet to notice her clear discomfort.

"You do look beautiful tonight…" He began, as a couple danced closer behind them, forcing the space that separated their bodies to diminish.

It was too much. Michaela instantly became far too claustrophobic to be reckoned with. "I'm sorry," she dropped his hand and tried to squeeze out of the swaying mass. "I can't do this…I'm sorry…"

Finally finding an opening, Michaela started towards it.

"No, wait…I didn't mean anything like that by it…Michaela please…" Daniel called after her, but she ignored his cries.

She walked briskly off the dance floor and away from the crowd of people. Michaela had intended only to stop there and catch her breath, but his calls and earnest, hobbling footsteps followed her, and she was forced to continue on, seeking refuge. He followed, her pace quickened, until she at last led herself to her one haven, praying that he would not follow her in. Quickly she unlocked the door to the clinic and walked in, never bothering to shut the door, simply heading straight to the side window, basking in the silence.

Shadows cast their veil over her pale skin, chilling the flesh that lay open to the night air. There was no color, no contrast in her eyes…no sparkle, or gem…they were merely dull and bland. Yet her beauty remained. Her beauty captivated his heart and stole his senses; which were only to be reclaimed by the sickening feeling of guilt that plunged in his gut. He was powerless; for there lay the woman of his dreams, but meeting her, meant breaking a bond that was sacred.

Again he watched her, as he had for the past weeks, staring so blankly at the star filled sky; the light failing to reach her gaze. He wished to change that; more than anything, he desired to see a flicker, a beam. He wanted to see the smile that had stopped so many in their tracks, to hear the laughter that had once filled this house. Again it would ring; again there would be hope…

He slowly limped towards her, silently. She felt his presence, his gaze; yet she remained turned away, hoping he would see her need to be alone, or more away from him.

Still he staggered towards her. Her beauty amazed and fascinated him; and yet the rigid form that ran through her body distracted Daniel. He knew she wished him to leave, he could sense it from the cool breath that she exhaled, to the grip of her fist, so tightly clasped as if ready to strike if needed. Although his conscience begged him to turn on his heal and march straight back to the dance, he could not. He needed to explain, to amend. He had given Sully his word to take care of his wife, and that's what he needed to do. Not to fall in love with her, but be there if she needed one more pair of ears to speak to, one more hug of reassurance, one more friend to promise her that everything was going to be ok. That's all he was to offer, friendship.

He touched her arm.

Michaela turned from the window to ask him to leave, but found that she instead turned into him. They both froze as their gazes matched. She wanted to scream, to fight, to push away, but she was so scared, so frozen; she could only push the handkerchief firmer into her chest, where her hand lay protectively.

He swayed, unaware of his actions; in a complete trance with her eyes, hazel and brown. It wasn't until Michaela released a nearly silent sob that he noticed the gap between them had narrowed so greatly. Looking back into her gaze, he saw tears swelling there. What was he doing…he couldn't hurt her like this. Instead, he turned away, allowing her to relinquish her tears silently and secretly.

"Michaela, I'm sorry…" Daniel spoke to the opposite wall, unable to turn and face the woman.

Michaela peered through the darkness at him; shock from the experience still having not settled her nerve.

"Sully sent me here to look after you, and all I've done is made a mess of things. I hope you can forgive me…please…I want to be your friend…" His voice cracked slightly as he concluded.

The honesty and sincerity that he spoke with struck a chord in Michaela's heart. Her mind still raced from the series of events that had unfolded, and she walked almost in a daze, circling the silent man. Finally coming to face him, Michaela paused and brought her gaze to meet with his. "I'm sorry as well…I thought I knew what I wanted…I thought I could forget and simply move on, but I can't…and I doubt I will be able to offer anything else than friendship for a long time to come…"

He nodded, knowing this already. "I understand…and I'll never expect anything more. I promise you." Daniel extended his hand to Michaela; an action that, while peculiar, she found quite honorable. She met his grasp and his gaze, smiling up to him for the first time in days.

"Shall we head back to the dance? Dorothy will be missing you." They broke contact and strode from the clinic, reveling in a new sense confidence in themselves and each other. Neither noticed the person striding briskly in the opposite direction, towards the mercantile, away from the scene that broke her heart, and all that she trusted.

"Well, here goes nothing…" His voice was shaky and unsure as he spoke those final words before catapulting himself from the moving car. For an instant he was immersed with the tingling sensation of falling, as gravity seemed momentarily suspended. However, such emotions quickly fled his descending body, as Sully pelted towards the grassy bank, falling head first down the slight slope. His right shoulder was the first to come in contact with the hard soil, before he rebounded slightly and fell into a painful tumble to the base of the trench. There, at last, he stopped his descent.

A moan interrupted the heavy breathing, as Sully lay on his back trying to move all of his limbs. The pain that shot through each one alerted him of good news; he wasn't paralyzed! Yet the agony that ripped through his shoulder and ribcage also brought him to the realization that his injuries were not limited to mere cuts and bruises. Sully looked down at his right arm; it lay at an abnormal angle from his shoulder and he knew instantly that the arm had been pushed from its socket and would need to be put back into place. Attempting to rise, Sully let out another painful groan, cradling his lower chest with his left arm. "…Broken ribs…" He whispered through a sharp exhale. Finally he reached a sitting position, allowing him to glance around at his surroundings.

He had, in a moment of poor judgment, thought to jump from the baggage car so that he would not be caught by the train engineer or crew when they arrived in the Denver station, less than a mile from where he now lay. Unfortunately, Sully had been so focused on preventing his arrest and imprisonment that he failed to conceptualize the possible injuries he might obtain from leaping out of a moving train. Wincing terribly as he stood, Sully was now well aware of just how close he came to killing himself and all chances of ever finding Michaela again.

He limped towards the lone tree, dreading the next task he would have to endure. Carefully and laboriously, Sully used his left hand to raise his right elbow onto a low branch of the oak, gripping the limb with the rest of his arm. "One…two…" His breath shook. "Three…" Birds took flight above him, as a cry pierced the countryside. Sully dangled from the tree branch, using his own body weight to pull the upper arm out and then back into place with a quiet 'pop'. "Ugh…" Sully cursed, dropping his legs back to the ground while his arm was brought down in an 'L' shape across his front. "…Now what…"

An image of Michaela suddenly emerged into the forefront of his mind. He saw her caring for a young boy with fair hair and a smile that penetrated any heart. She was laughing at his antics before becoming serious and wrapping the boy's arm gently into a linen sling. "Now I want you to keep your arm still for the next two weeks, Mr. Cooper. This sling will help you remember that…"

"Thanks, Dr. Mike!" The little boy smiled before jumping from the table and running past Sully, and through the clinic door…

The memory faded as quickly as it had begun, leaving Sully alone again amidst the field of wheat and grass. Determining that he was in need of a sling, Sully searched the ditch for his knapsack, which he had thrown out before jumping himself. His eyes carefully scanned the grassy terrain before at last spotting it just beyond the tree. Careful not to move his arm, Sully walked as quickly as his aching body would allow to the sack, swinging it over his neck. Slowly he slipped his injured arm also through the strap, allowing the lower arm to rest in the bulk of the bag, while the straps clung to his neck and back.

"Well…it's as good as it's gonna get…" Sully spoke to himself, deciding he needed to get going. Looking up at the nearly half-peaked sun, he knew he would have to get to Denver in less than thirty minutes in order to catch the nine o'clock train; a task that he knew was almost impossible with his broken ribs. Still, Sully was determined to not allow more time to pass before he would finally find his love, before he would finally fulfill the promise to her that haunted his thoughts and dreams constantly.

Awkwardly pushing himself up the incline with his legs against the mud and grass, Sully slowly ascended the bank before at last throwing himself up and onto the gravel that lay around the steel train tracks. Panting slightly into the finely ground rock, Sully pushed himself up with his uninjured hand and knees, standing finally and facing westwards.

A slight sigh emerged from his lips before whispering, "Well…here we go…"

-- - --

"I'm sorry sir; it would seem you just missed the last train heading to El Paso via Castle Rock, Colorado Springs, and Pueblo…"

Sully sighed and then winced quickly, as his ribs panged sharply in his chest. "Ya sure ya got nothin' even headin' south…"

"For the third time, Mister, that train to El Paso was the last one of the day and you missed it…now I can suggest a hotel where you can spend the night …" The ticket counterman spoke agitatedly.

"No….no I don't got….I just can't…" Sully spoke quietly, acrimony edging his words.

As he started to walk away, the train ticket officer shouted after Sully. "I'm sure the landlords of the hotels will give a soldier, especially an injured one, a discounted rate, sir."

Sully stopped walking and looked back, the bitterness now swept away from his face and voice. "Thank you, but no, I'll be fine."

Again, he turned and began making his way through the bustling streets of Denver. There were so many people; it was overwhelming. The clutter of the wagons combined with the groups of residents walking arm in arm; the venders selling fresh baked goods and ripe fruits and vegetables along the street walkways; the chatter and speed of the city children running and playing through the streets; the last thing Sully recalled being quite so chaotic, was his final battle, the one that nearly took his life.

He suddenly felt nauseous. Weaving in and out of the crowds, Sully made his way to the farthest side of the road, where he was able to lean against the cool glass of a mercantile window. The shade of the building just covered his face, allowing Sully to bask in a slightly cooler temperature as the sick feeling faded from his stomach. Breathing deeply, Sully turned and looked through the window which had provided him with such relief. Within the glass he saw his reflection, fully, for the first time since the accident.

He brought his hand to his hairline. Although quickly becoming too long for the average male gentleman of the day, the cut was so much shorter than what he felt was comfortable; the length which was displayed in the portrait which he treasured so dearly. Slowly his hand crept from the hair to the finely stitched incision that ran from his left eye all the way to his earlobe. While the scarring would, hopefully, remain minimal, Sully could not help but be overtaken with fear that Michaela would fail to even recognize him. In her mind, he remained the same long-haired, tan, and built figure that was framed perfectly beside her in the wedding portrait. In her mind, his face was left unscarred by anything save for the impenetrable love that he felt for her. In her mind…

"In her mind…I'm dead…"

"Can I help you with something, sir?" Sully nearly jumped out of his skin when the shop owner's voice sounded right beside him.

"Oh, no sir…I was just looking…"

The man followed the path that Sully's gaze had once traced and looked into the window gallery. Seeing the man's confused facial expression, Sully too looked through the glass window, feeling his face reddening horribly as he looked up at the women's lingerie and negligees. Coughing slightly the shop owner turned back towards Sully. "Um, if you're looking for some company, there's a saloon just down the street here…"

"No…" Sully quickly objected. "No, thank ya…but I was actually wondering what the quickest way to Colorado Springs was…"

"Well," The mercantile owner coughed again, "the train to El Paso is probably…"

"I'm sorry, I already missed the train…now could ya tell me what the shortest road to the Springs is?" Sully interrupted again, hoping the man didn't take him for being rude or arrogant.

If he did, the shop owner did not show it. "Oh, of course…well, if you walk to the next intersection, and turn left you'll find yourself on the road south…it'll lead ya all the way to Colorado Springs. But be careful, there's been word of many Indian attacks."

"Thank you, sir." Sully said graciously before taking off as fast as his crippled body would allow.

"Wait!" The man shouted after Sully. "You're walkin'? Do you have any idea how far away Colorado Springs is?"

But his cries fell on deaf ears as Sully had his attention fixed on the road ahead. The shop owner shook his head and spoke quietly to his wife, who had recently joined him on the store porch. "That soldier thinks he's gonna travel nearly seventy-miles through Indian infested land, injured as he is, and walking the entire way…"

His wife smiled slightly. "It seems he needs to get somewhere...or to someone."

"What makes you say that?"

"There was something in his eyes, I suppose…and well, any sensible man would simply wait for the train to come tomorrow."

The man turned from the road to look his wife straight in the eye. "Other than the fact that he just took off into the wilderness with clearly no idea of where he was heading, what would give you the impression that he was lacking in sense?"

The lady laughed at her husband's joke, and softly spoke again. "Well, in all seriousness, the answer is quite obvious… he's in love." She paused, looking back to see Sully at last reach the intersection and turn left as instructed. "It's all for that woman, the one in the photograph he was holding…that's the woman he's walking for, that's the woman he'll stop at nothing to get to."

-- --

The sun bore its midday glare down unto the hilly road. Everything ached. The pain that had harnessed his body in the previous days was miniscule compared to the pure agony that overwhelmed every step he took down that lonesome dirt road. Sully had walked for nearly three hours now, and determined that he had probably only traveled around eight to ten miles. He cursed at himself, nature, and everything else he could find as he limped down the beaten path.

"I've gotta find you…I'm going to find you." He whispered under his breath, gripping the photograph tightly within his fist.

He sank in the dust; his mouth dry and barren, sweat washing down his features like rain against the rock. Looking up at the sun, Sully felt dizziness wash over him, along with a nauseating feeling of hunger. He quickly stuffed the picture into his pocket and withdrew the canteen from the loop of his makeshift sling. Upon reaching the outer regions of Denver, Sully had managed to spot a well, from which he filled his container with water. Allowing a small sip of the cool liquid to run across his chapped lips and through his course mouth and throat, Sully preserved the feeling in his mind, basking in its refreshment and soothing contentment. In a matter of seconds the emotion subsided and he ached for more.

Sully's sapphire eyes looked yearningly at the nearly full canteen. "Ya've gotta save it…ya don't know how long it'll be 'til ya find water again…" With every muscle in his body working against the action, Sully popped the cork back into its place and attached the canteen back to its place on his strap.

Again, he walked. Left foot, right foot; left, right; one in front of the other; to keep going; to keep moving; to keep breathing; to keep living; to, to…

The world began to swirl. Sully grabbed the canteen, ripped the cork from the spout and drank the water within. One sip, then another. He cursed himself. Not bothering to wipe the liquid from his mouth between gulps. He was still thirsty. "No…you've gotta save it…"

The sun rays seemed to dance mockingly on the path before him, creeping up on him, searing his flesh, summoning sweat to the surface, pulling the liquid from him as he drank. Sully wasn't sure how he landed on his knees, but whether her knelt willingly or tripped from disorientation, he found himself with his hands hailing the dust below. He coughed violently as dirt agitated his already dehydrated state. Looking back, Sully saw the canteen lying open on the road, the water spilling quickly from it.

"What do I do?" Sully sat down fully onto the ground. "I have to get to her…but…" He looked up to the sky. "Please…" He begged the spirits, "…please, help me find my heart song…help me get to her."

Silence followed his cry, as Sully sunk back into himself and gazed back at the emptying canteen. The water that spilled from it quickly settled into the cracked ground, leaving less than a puddle. He stared at it, as if he were attempting to levitate the liquid back into its container; then suddenly, it moved. Sully blinked unsure of what just happened. He looked up past the canteen and down the road from which he had come. Sully instantly became aware of the steady crackling of wagon wheels that were approaching the path he lay strewn in.

In a moment of pure agony, Sully pushed himself from the ground and picked up his canteen again, all the while ensuring that he did not move his injured arm. Again he glanced down the road. The wagon carried one man and a load of supplies behind him. The man was somewhat short in stature, however very muscularly built. As he approached Sully, he slowed the horses and removed his peddler's cap to wipe away the sweat that lingered on his dark skin.

"Are ya alright there, mister?" The man's eyes scoured down the soldier's body, taking in the multiple injuries that covered him.

Sully wasn't sure how to respond. No, of course he wasn't alright, however he wasn't about to ask anything from a stranger. And yet what really irked his mind was the déjà vu that the man before him caused. "…I uh…I'm fine thank ya…"

The black man nodded wearily, his gaze focused on those eyes; so blue, so pure…so familiar, but from where, from whom? "…You wouldn't happen to be heading to Colorado Springs now would ya?"

The question caught Sully off guard. "Um…yeah but…"

"I only ask because the shop owner in town…we've done business together for a while and he told me I'd come across a union soldier who had it in his mind to walk all the way to the Springs…" The man explained, still trying to figure out where he had seen those eyes before. "…if ya'd like a ride…"

"Thanks but…I've got nothin' to pay ya with…" Sully said modestly.

The man shrugged. "That's ok…just a little help unloading these supplies should suffice."

Sully wasn't sure what to say. The man seemed genuine enough, and still so familiar. Looking down at the empty canteen and his injured frame, Sully finally nodded.

The man grinned and extended his arm to help the soldier up. "Good…name's Robert E…"

-- -- --

Cool, crème fabric drifted over her flesh like silk against polish stone. Basking in the feeling of the free cotton night shift, Michaela knelt down onto the bed and lay beside her sleeping daughter. She gazed at the beautiful child, running her finger across the baby's smooth skin and lightly kissing Katie's forehead. "You're so beautiful…" Michaela smiled wearily, before picking the enfant up and rocking her slowly. "Your mama loves you so much…so much…don't ever forget that, my love, don't ever forget it." Her voice echoed unknowingly as she thought of the night's events.

After coming to harmony with Daniel, the pair had walked back to the dance floor in search of the company that each had brought with them. Michaela had quickly found Brian, still at the punch stand, and much to her surprise, Colleen.

"There you are!" The young lady had proclaimed, worry clearly etched into her face. "We looked everywhere for you…well, I did…" Colleen gave her brother a nasty look.

"I told Colleen you'd be fine…I told her,'she probably just wanted ta get away from ya Colleen, you and yer constant naggin'…"

"Nagging!?" Colleen turned to face her brother.

"Children!" Michaela spoke loudly to be heard over the dance music. "I think we've all had quite a night for ourselves, lets head on home." She wrapped her arm around Colleen's shoulder and offered her hand to Brian, who quickly took it. "Now, if you two wouldn't mind waiting by the wagon, I have to go find Grace…"

Michaela had quickly found the woman behind her pies stand, still coddling Katie in her arms. After retrieving and thanking Grace, Michaela scanned the area for Dorothy, hoping to apologize for stealing Daniel away from her date. Not seeing her friend, the young mother decided that she could find her in the morning before arriving at the clinic. The ride home had been quiet and peaceful, as all those in the party were much too tired to even attempt at conversation.

Despite the awkward moments that still made her stomach shift uncomfortably, the evening had turned lovely. Michaela felt freer than she had in a long time, both physically and emotionally; and she could tell that even Colleen had opened up much more from the experience.

Again she turned her attention to her daughter in her arms. "And you my dear, you got more attention than you knew what to do with from your Aunt Grace…" She whispered lightly.

A light breeze stole warmth from Michaela's arm, waking her from the private moment she was having with her daughter. Sighing softly, the mother stood and walked to Katie's crib which stood against the opposite wall. Michaela laid her gently into the soft fabrics, tucking the sleeping child in, and pausing to softly caress the babe's cheek.

A loud "neigh" from the barn, followed by a crash caused Michaela to jump from her position over Katie. Running to the window, Michaela peered through the darkness, searching for a sign of movement, or explanation for the ruckus. There was nothing at first, pure darkness, pure silence. But then…

"Ma…what was that? What's going on?"

Michaela nearly ran over the children as she took off down the stairs. She came to a screeching halt at the top of the stair case and turned back to Colleen and Brian. "I want you two to go into my room and lock the door, turn down the lamp and stay away from the window."

"Dr. Mike…"

"Don't come out unless you hear my voice, alright? It's probably nothing...but…" Michaela's mind drifted to what she had seen from her bedroom window. "…I just want you to be careful…"

"You too, Ma…" Brian ran from his sister's side and wrapped his tiny arms around Michaela's waist. Michaela smiled, ruffling the child's hair before pulling away.

"I'll be fine…now, you two…get on into the room."

Both children did as they were instructed, sensing the urgency in Michaela's voice, and proceeded to her room. Hearing the bolt click in the door knob, Michaela silently continued down the steps. An unused candle stick lay on the side table next to the fireplace along with matches and a holder. Michaela grabbed all of these items and headed for the door, striking the match against a wooden plank as she past. The flame crackled in the darkness, emitting a small glow in the room. Carefully, Michaela touched the match to the wick allowing for the energy to pass between wood and fiber.

The light from the ignition warmed her tired face as she gazed through the fire to what lay beside the door. "God…please be with me…" She breathed as she reached down to grab the rifle.

Michaela threw open the door and looked out towards the barn. "Hello?" She called out into the night air, her voice shaking violently. At first she thought she might have been imagining what she saw from her window, as darkness now cloaked the inside of the barn. And yet…

A flicker, then a glow filled the stable walls. "Who's there please…?" Michaela whispered, wanting to be answered, yet longing to remain unheard, unnoticed, untouched. A silhouette now penetrated the constant blaze, tall and lean, yet masculine and strong. Footsteps echoed, though they were muffled by the hay laden floor. The silhouette grew as the distance between maker and exit shrank. Michaela placed the candle onto the ground, and raised the rifle to her chin, aiming into the darkness.

Slowly, silhouette became figure, and figure continued its walk towards Michaela. "Please! Don't hurt me…I'll shoot…"

But she wouldn't, she couldn't. The rifle dropped from her hands and landed with a thud in the dirt. She looked up. The figure had stopped walking. His face was veiled in shadows, yet the sparkle of those iridescent blue eyes still broke through the darkness to find hers.

She gazed at them. So familiar, so full of fear, full of confusion; but the anger that had once lingered in them seemed to have dripped away with past tears shed.

Michaela stepped forward, away from the rifle and light, now her body engulfed in darkness. "After all this time…you…you came back…"

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