I have been tossing around a few ideas for something like this since last week's episode. I just can't get over how sad Nathan was and all of the hurdles that are being thrown his way. I love the angst and that we're getting these stories for Nathan, and I genuinely hope that we get to see some great stuff come from Elizabeth because of it. There's going to be quite a bit of angst in this before we get to the happy ending, though, because ... well, I'm just like that.

Chapter 1 is an episode tag/missing scene for 8x03, From the Ashes.

Nathan had been a gregarious child. He'd been outgoing, though perhaps always a little quieter natured than his sister, and competitive. His sister, Colleen, had been his best friend and his first responsibility. He could still remember his mother telling him to watch out for her as they walked to school, or played outside ... or when Nathan's father had gone to prison the first time.

The discovery that his father was a criminal, and the subsequent shame that had come with it, had been the turning point. Nathan had endured the comments of the other children (and their parents) and had tried to fight back at first, but had quickly learned that there was nothing he could say that would make it better. His father had disappointed them, and shamed them, and Nathan's gregariousness had hardened into reticence. He'd listened to his mother cry, and tried to shield his sister from the harshness of their new lives as best he could, and all the while Nathan grew quieter and quieter.

He'd been so angry when Colleen had married Dylan Parks. Colleen had always been headstrong, however - a trait the siblings shared - and in the end all Nathan could do was wish them well and hope. When Allie had come along, it had seemed for a while like maybe everything would be okay.

Then, Colleen had died. The loss had rocked what was left of Nathan's world. Dylan had wasted no time in showing the true colors that Nathan had always suspected, and in no time at all Nathan found himself with a mother whose heart was even more broken than before, and a four year old girl that had been her mother's whole world. Nathan hadn't thought twice about what to do. Even heartsick with loss and angry, Nathan had known that Allie was his now. The daughter of his heart, if not his body.

He'd always had a bit of a temper. Nathan had been in a few school yard fights as a child, but he'd never been a violent person. As he'd aged, that anger had often taking to showing itself as further silence and withdrawal. He was slow to share his thoughts and concerns; careful, his mother had called him. Withdrawn, his peers had occasionally remarked.

That was only half-true, though. In his heart, Nathan was still that gregarious child with a silly sense of humor. He was slow to show that side of himself, however, and often defaulted to his role as a watcher. That watchfulness made him a good Mountie and often helped him do his job.

In this case, however, it had only seemed to hinder him. A fact that he was being made to face now, as he had to both watch and hear about Lucas and Elizabeth.

There was no escaping it. No one was rubbing it in his face, but it was a small town. Even though he'd seen little of Elizabeth since she'd ridden away from him, it was hard not to see her from a distance as she met Lucas in the middle of the street, or stepped into the saloon.

Which should be the least of his worries at the moment, honestly, yet somehow did not feel like it was.

Thank God for Bill Avery. Nathan hadn't intended to be his friend, but he was glad for the other man's friendship - now more than ever. Bill was determined to get to the bottom of this inquiry, and determined to make sure that Nathan kept his position as a Mountie, and it was nice to have a friend again.

Still, the events of the last week had begun to wear on him. Choosing to give up the Mounties and having his position stripped from him were two different things. He had worked hard to make it to where he was, and sacrificed a lot - had made Allie sacrifice a lot. To lose it now ... even the thought of it stung, and it reminded him too sharply of the embarrassment and guilt that his father had subjected him to for comfort.

And there was still the matter of Elizabeth, and the dreams he'd allowed himself to dream just enough to feel the acute pain of their loss.

The strain of it all had not gone unnoticed. He'd caught Allie looking at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention, and her expression was like a mirror of her mother's worried face. He did his best to reassure her that he was fine, but he did not lie to her or hide the truth. She was a smart girl, and while he didn't always tell her things, he'd made a promise to himself to never lie to her. They were a team; always had been, always would be, no matter what else was happening.

Still, Nathan was not immune to the stress. He only started to realize how much it was getting to him, however, when Bill started showing up for lunch. When he showed up for the third day in a row and insisted Nathan come to the café with him Nathan finally started to catch on.

"What are you doing here, Bill?" Nathan asked.

"Feeding you," Bill said in his matter-of-fact tone. "Allie says you haven't been eating."

"Oh, she does, huh?"

"Let's go." Bill grabbed his hat off the hook by the door and held it out for him, ignoring Nathan's scowl as he did so.

"Bill ..."

"Walk and talk." Bill ushered him out the door without even letting him finish his sentence. Nathan sighed but silently agreed that eating was probably a good idea, and not worth the argument that Bill would give him even if he tried to say no.

Florence and Ned were seated at a table along the far wall when Nathan and Bill stepped inside. They both smiled warmly at him when they saw him, and the "Good afternoon, Constable," Florence offered him was returned with a quiet, "Morning."

Clara appeared out of the kitchen before Nathan had even fully seated himself in his chair. "Coffee?"

"Please."

Nathan experienced a moment of sharp discomfort as Clara smiled and poured him a fresh cup of coffee. Everyone in Hope Valley was nice to him now - after their initial cold greetings - and he liked to think that he was a welcome member of the town, but this ... they were all being so friendly, and he couldn't help wondering if it was some kind of pity that was driving them. It was no secret that he and Lucas had been vying for Elizabeth's attention and affection, and while he hadn't said anything publicly about this inquiry he was not foolish enough to think that it was a secret.

Apparently Nathan was failing at his custom stoicism today, though, because Bill seemed to know what he was thinking. "Don't overthink it, Constable. We take care of our own. That includes you, like it or not."

Nathan considered that for a moment and then sighed. Bill was right. No one here meant him any harm, and it was only the stress (and creeping exhaustion) that dared him to think otherwise.

Bill was determined to distract him. He barely stopped talking long enough to let Nathan order lunch. Clara made a face over Bill's shoulder as she approached with Nathan's food as if to say "he's still talking?" and Nathan gave her a fleeting smile in return. Clara was a sweet girl, and Nathan appreciated her humor as much as he appreciated Bill's talking.

Nathan let Bill talk as he ate and only added sprinkles of sentences here and there to show that he was listening. When Clara called Bill back into the kitchen and Florence and Ned excused themselves back to the mercantile, Nathan thought he might have a few moments of silence to himself. Almost as soon as he'd had the thought, however, the door opened and then Fiona sat herself down in Bill's vacant seat.

"Nathan," she said brightly.

"Fiona. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's what you can do for me. Business has been kind of slow lately and I thought, if people were to see you coming in ..." She let the rest of the sentence hang.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at her, but there was no heat in his gaze. "Are you trying to tell me I need a haircut?"

Behind Nathan, the door opened. Fiona flicked her eyes up to his hair - which was getting long, admittedly - and then smirked. Nathan chuckled, and it felt like it was the first time he'd done so in days.

Then, with a glance over his shoulder, Fiona said, "Hi, Elizabeth; Lucas."

Nathan felt his jaw clench but did his best to hide it. With forced equanimity Nathan raised his eyes to see Elizabeth and Lucas making their way into the café. The temporary peace he'd found evaporated and Nathan was once again reminded of why he hadn't been sleeping well lately.

"Elizabeth," he greeted calmly. "Lucas."

"Hi," Elizabeth answered sweetly. Her eyes were worried but she offered him a smile. Nathan did his best to return it, but he knew that he didn't quite hit the mark. Elizabeth opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but Clara called out her name and stopped whatever Elizabeth had been about to say.

That was all the excuse Nathan needed to excuse himself. He stood from his chair and grabbed his hat as he prepared to leave; Fiona stood with him and if she picked up on his tension she was too graceful to say anything.

"Think about it?" Fiona requested gently.

Nathan nodded. It wasn't a bad idea, honestly. "I will. Maybe I'll come by later. Just for a trim though."

Fiona held her hands up in a comical approximation of innocence. "Just a trim," she promised.

Nathan smiled. He glanced at Clara, but didn't have a chance to speak before she said, "It's on the house today."

"That's not necessary," Nathan countered.

"Same time tomorrow," Bill said from the kitchen. "Don't make me come find you again, Nathan."

The matter was clearly settled. Nathan scoffed quietly and dropped his head for a moment, tired of insisting that this wasn't necessary and touched by their friendship by turns. When he lifted his gaze again, he found his eyes suddenly locked on Elizabeth's. He hadn't been avoiding eye contact, exactly, but he hadn't sought it out either. She'd already been watching him when he looked up. For a long heartbeat it felt as though something tangible passed between them - as if he could hear the thoughts that hid behind her troubled eyes. She was worried about him, and he wanted to reassure her, but what could he say that would be true?

The moment was too long and charged to have gone unnoticed, but he pretended that it had anyway. "Afternoon," he said to the general assembly, nodded, and then let himself out of the café.

Nathan may not be as gregarious now as he once had been, but he was just as competitive. He wasn't out of the fight yet - not for Elizabeth's affection, and not for his position as a Mountie - and he would figure out how to fight for both.

But first, he needed a good night of sleep.