This is set sometime in the nebulous future, toward the end of season 8. I have no idea how they will finally have Elizabeth and Nathan come together, but this is one of the ways my imagination thought up.

For weeks, Elizabeth had made a valiant attempt to keep Nathan out of her heart. She had thought she'd succeeded, at first - had thought for just a moment that this might be a battle that her head would win in spite of her heart.

Impossible to shut out what was already there, she had learned ... was learning.

She had told him that she couldn't give him what he was looking for, and for a time she thought that he'd accepted that. Perhaps, for a time, he had. He'd retreated, as it were. Even then though, in the height of their combined uncertainty, he had been steadfast in his care. Someone else might not have seen it for what it was, but Elizabeth did. He had respected her decision, though he hadn't liked it. He had been awkward and withdrawn - silent - but Elizabeth could hardly fault him for how he chose to protect a heart that she had undoubtedly injured.

Still, his love for her had been there in the distance between them; in the honest and simple apology he'd offered for not attending the parent-teacher conference; in the seemingly innocent way he'd said, "It was nice to see you again." Each time, the grace that he showed her was ... unmistakable.

But it was on a simple bench outside the infirmary that the unflinching, undeniable depth of his love had truly made itself known to her.

"Haven't you ever lost someone so close to your heart that it tears you apart?"

And, of course, she'd been thinking of Jack - of the absolute devastation that the loss of him had wrought upon her world and her heart - but she'd also been thinking of Florence, who had lost her first husband in the mine, and now faced the possible loss of the only man she'd loved in all the years since. Of Clara, who had married Peter Stanton only to lose him what must have felt like a mere heartbeat later.

And then, Nathan had looked at her with that quiet, guileless gaze she had come to know so well and said two small words. "Not yet."

Elizabeth had known then. Had understood, truly, how intense and true his love for her ran. To be told that the pain she associated with Jack's death was the same pain that Nathan would experience upon losing her ... that she was the one so close to his heart, despite her fear and denial of his love ... Elizabeth had been undone. Without a sound, every wall around her heart was felled - every shadow thrown into the stark light of knowing.

Nathan had neither pushed for nor expected a reply. He'd told her simply so that she would know; because she had asked an honest question and he had given her an honest answer.

"Not yet." Two small words that had thrown Elizabeth's heart into a tumult. Even now, days later, she couldn't forget the timber of his voice or the look on his face.

And then, in the Mountie office, when he'd looked at her with such sincerity and unknowingly repeated her own words back to her: "I think that love is always worth fighting for."

She had created quite a conundrum for herself. There was no way she could continue to date Lucas now, but she didn't know how to explain why. And Lucas deserved an explanation. Beyond that, how could she bridge the gap that she had created between herself and Nathan? How could she begin to make things right, when she was still so ... frightened?

As always, Rosemary saw the conflict in her. She listened patiently as Elizabeth did her best to explain. Despite her love of words, they seemed to fail her as she sought to give voice to her indecision - and fear. Though Rosemary could not make this decision for Elizabeth, her unfailing faith in Elizabeth's ability to find her way was reassuring. She did not dismiss Elizabeth's fear, or the seriousness of the impasse at which she now found herself, and that, too, was reassuring.

Elizabeth was fortunate to have found such a wonderful family here.

It was not until Ned and Florence's wedding that Elizabeth began to see her way forward. She was seated in the pews of the church, listening to Joseph Canfield - their new pastor - extol the virtues of love when her eyes wandered unwittingly to Nathan. He was sitting next to Allie just across the walkway, a tall, still figure in the seat nearest the aisle. Elizabeth wondered if he had chosen the aisle seat on purpose, ever ready to jump into action at the slightest call to action. Always the guardian, Elizabeth thought; ever the protector.

"... Love does not always come quickly," Joseph was saying. "For some, love comes softly; in the slow, quiet moments of a life - between one heartbeat and the next."

Heartbeats, Elizabeth thought as she studied the fine, straight lines of Nathan's profile. Heartbeats that sounded like because you matter to me, and please stop shutting me out; like not yet, and I think that love is always worth fighting for. Heartbeats that fluttered as blue eyes stared up at her from the schoolhouse steps, and crossed in silliness to make her son giggle. Yes, that was how she had fallen in love with Nathan: in the quiet, heartfelt moments that she had not known to expect.

Those long seconds that she had endured thinking that Nathan was dead had thrust upon her all of the desolation of Jack's loss, compounded with the horror of having to bear it twice. The difference, Elizabeth was slowly realizing, was that in that moment she had been forced to mourn something she had never been given the chance to have: a life with Nathan.

A life she had been determined to force herself to forego.

And then Ned had nearly died, and Elizabeth had been made to face the truth that everyone died, and there was no way to control that, or see it coming. The only thing she could control was what she did with the time she had - and no matter how painful losing Jack had been, Elizabeth had meant it when she told Clara that she would do it all again. Even knowing how it would end. She had her memories, and her son, and the real and daily reminders of the love that she and Jack had shared. Nothing could take those things away from her.

But she had chosen to let fear rob her of sharing those same things with Nathan. He had told her that he was in love with her, and she had ran. Despite everything they had shared - everything she felt - Elizabeth had denied them both the answer that stuck in her throat and turned away.

Joseph Canfield's voice pierced her thoughts then. "... because love bears all things," Joseph said, and it was at that moment that Nathan turned his head and their eyes met across the room, "believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

Elizabeth could hardly breathe. She wanted to say something, to cross that aisle and the distance between them and tell him that she was sorry ... that she felt the same.

But she heard, "You may now kiss the bride," and applause, and the moment slipped away like so many others.

The knowledge that she could not continue as she had been stayed with her. Elizabeth was resolved to speak to Lucas at the first chance she could, but today was about Ned and Florence.

She felt off kilter during the reception but labored to appear otherwise. The urge to be near Nathan was overwhelming, and ever since that moment in the church it felt like every time she tried to steal a glance at him he caught her. On the opposite side of the room, in a crowd, within a few short feet of each other; every look they shared felt electric ... inevitable. For so long now they had been out of sync, trapped by all the things that had and had not been said, the misunderstandings of two people who had approached and then retreated from a chasm they had meant to cross.

No, that wasn't right; only Elizabeth had balked at that precipice.

Despite their shared looks, Nathan did not approach her. It was Elizabeth who circled him, now closer, now farther, as she passed from group to group. She felt as though she were gathering her courage for something that she had not yet named - and then Lee made the call for the Lady's Choice dance. By some wicked stroke of luck Nathan and Lucas were standing next to one another, and this was what she had been storing that courage for. Only, the moment she was finally in front of them both, Elizabeth faltered.

"I ... you ... would you like to dance?"

And she had meant to ask Nathan - truly, she had - but had changed her mind at the last second and asked Lucas instead. She wanted to talk to Nathan, but she had to end things with Lucas first.

To her surprise, however, Lucas had somehow anticipated what she wanted to talk about and beat her to it. "I told you once that I was having a hard time reading you," Lucas started as they twirled across the floor.

Elizabeth smiled. "And I told you that I wasn't so hard to figure out."

Lucas smiled and ducked his head. There was a tinge of sadness in his expression, or regret - maybe both. "No, I don't think you are. Some of us are just more adept at it than others."

"Lucas ..."

"Elizabeth," he interrupted her. "You don't need to explain. I understand."

Elizabeth exhaled shakily. "You do?"

Lucas nodded. "I do. The way you look at him - the way you look at each other ... I hope to share that with someone, someday."

"Oh, Lucas. I know you will. You are a wonderful man, and I have enjoyed every minute we've spent together."

"So have I."

"Thank you, Lucas."

"I wish you the best, Elizabeth. Both of you."

When the dance had ended and Elizabeth and Lucas had separated, she was surprised to find that Nathan was still present. In fact, he had not moved from the general area he'd been in minutes ago. He was near the bar and looked to be mid-conversation with Carson, Lee, and Rosemary. She was surprised, and galvanized.

Elizabeth tried to appear nonchalant as she stepped into the vacant space next to Nathan. It was the first time she'd managed to be next to him all evening, and that coupled with everything else that had transpired in the last few, short hours had her heart pounding rapidly.

"Hello," she said in a bright, but quiet voice.

"Hi," Nathan answered. He smiled at her, but she could see the question in his eyes. No doubt, he was confused, and Elizabeth could hardly wait to explain.

"Everything okay?" Nathan asked. For the space of a breath Elizabeth thought that he had overheard her conversation with Lucas, or had somehow guessed at its purpose, but the concern in his gaze was the same gentle concern he had always shown her whenever something seemed to be troubling her.

"Yes." Elizabeth did not hesitate over her answer. Everything was okay, and soon it would be better than that.

Nathan studied her for a moment. Elizabeth knew that her cheeks were flushed - could feel the heat in them - and she sounded as breathless as she felt. "Good." But the expression that passed over his face did not match his response, and if Elizabeth had to give it a name she would call it sadness.

The emotion was incongruous. Why was he sad? Had something happened while she was on the dance floor?

And then, Bill called from the other side of the room, "Nathan! Come over here and talk some sense into Jesse," and Elizabeth didn't have a chance to talk to him again at all.

Another misunderstanding, she would soon learn.

Two days later, Elizabeth had not managed to so much as see Nathan in passing. She finally sought him out in the Mountie office only to find Bill seated at the desk, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a piece of paper.

"Good morning," Elizabeth said.

Bill raised his head. "Oh, Elizabeth. Good morning. Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no. I was looking for Nathan, actually. Do you know where I can find him?"

"He left for Brookfield yesterday morning. Gabriel asked for his help tracking someone that apparently gave him the slip, but I expect him back soon. Is there something I can help you with?"

The tightness in her chest made it difficult for Elizabeth to breathe. Bill had told her before that Nathan was known for his tracking skills, and that many considered him the finest tracker the Mounties had - but the fear that washed over her was absolute. There was no reason to think that he was in any danger ... except that the last time he'd been tracking someone he'd come back the next day covered in dirt, looking like he'd been put through his paces.

And he had gone before she could explain; before she had told him that she loved him. If he didn't come back ...

"Elizabeth?"

She blinked. Bill was no longer seated behind the desk, but had risen to his feet and crossed the room to stand before her. "Oh," she said slowly. "Thank you."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, thank you." But her fear was trying to run away with her, and the anxiety that rose in her chest was excruciating. He had to come home, because there was more waiting for him than he knew. Because she loved him, and that had to be enough.

"Elizabeth," Bill said gently, and when she focused on his face the kindness and concern she found there was grounding. "Nathan will be fine. Gabe is a fine young man, and a competent Mountie. They'll get their man, and he'll be back before you know it."

"You're right," Elizabeth agreed with more equanimity than she felt. "Thank you, Bill."

"Of course. If Nathan gets back before this evening, should I send him your way?"

"Please."

That was reassuring, at least. Bill gave her a bracing smile and though she was still anxious, Elizabeth left feeling better than she had moments before. As she made her way back down main street, Elizabeth wondered why Allie hadn't mentioned that her uncle ... her father, now, was out of town. Then, Elizabeth realized that she hadn't seen much of Allie since the wedding either. She must be staying with Opal, Elizabeth surmised.

She did her best to keep her mind off of her worry for the rest of the day. She played with Jack, and cleaned her house in between preparing dinner and redirecting Jack's attention whenever he started to get into things he shouldn't, and all the while that undercurrent of tension plagued her. It wasn't just that she was worried about Nathan, though it took her all afternoon to work that out. It was also the knowledge that if something did happen, Elizabeth had let another chance to tell him how she felt pass them by. She should have known better than to wait. She should have sought him out at the end of the night, or asked him to walk her home, or done anything other than let the sun set on another misunderstanding.

A misunderstanding she hadn't even realized had happened until Rosemary asked her quietly on the ride home after the reception, "So, you and Lucas looked deep in conversation on the dance floor. You looked rather flushed when you came back. Anything of note happen?"

Elizabeth had barely had a chance to answer with a yes before Rosemary had made a sound of excitement in the back of her throat and grabbed her hand. "Well?" she'd prodded. "Is he going to propose?"

And Elizabeth's mouth had fallen open in surprise at the same moment her heart had fallen through the floor. "What?" she had sputtered. "Propose? Rosemary ... we agreed to stop seeing each other."

The look on Rosemary's face had been almost comical. "But ... Elizabeth, you seemed so out of breath when you came back, and you were so flushed ... then again, I did think it was rather odd since anyone with eyes could see how you and Nathan kept looking at each other all night, but ..."

Elizabeth had been unable to answer. The sadness that she had seen pass over Nathan's face that had seemed so odd in the moment made sudden, awful sense. Could it be that he'd also thought her high color and distractedness had been due to some understanding between her and Lucas?

She had tried to find Nathan the next day and been unsuccessful, and now she knew why.

Now, Elizabeth's anxiety was complicated by the thought that Nathan had probably ridden out of Hope Valley expecting to return to news that Elizabeth was engaged, or soon would be. Not unlike another time that he had left on a good note, and then returned to discover that Elizabeth had gone out of town with Lucas.

Why was it, Elizabeth wondered, that it was easy to get things wrong - and so hard to get them right? Why did discovering the difference between those two things have to be such a challenge?

When she had successfully put little Jack to bed and the house was quiet, Elizabeth made her way back downstairs. She told herself to go to bed - that she had no way of knowing if Nathan would be back tonight, and that she had not somehow missed his return in her busyness - but knew that she could not. Instead, she puttered quietly around her house: she made sure that everything from dinner had been cleaned up, and straightened out Jack's toys, and all the while she listened for any sound from the road outside.

Finally, she forced herself to retrieve a book and settle in to the couch. She hardly noticed what she'd grabbed, and though she studiously read the first page she could not have said for all the world what it was about.

She only realized she'd fallen asleep when she came awake with a sudden jolt some time later. Elizabeth blinked and glanced around her living room, unsure what had woken her so suddenly. She strained to listen for Jack but did not hear any sound from upstairs. Then, she heard the barely discernible shuffle and scrape of gravel outside.

Elizabeth shot off the couch and rushed for her door. She pulled it open with no thought to the force of her motions and spilled out onto her porch in a halo of soft, golden light. The lone figure in the street had turned automatically at the sound of the door and even in the moonlight she knew who it was. He was just far enough past her house to be out of the ring of light that reached out from her living room.

"Nathan?" She didn't dare speak too loudly, uncertain of the time but aware that hers was the only house with a light still on.

"Elizabeth," he answered in quiet surprise. "Is everything alright?"

"I hardly know." The answer was both honest and tremulous. Her mind was still trying to shake off the fog of sleep and catch up to the moment. "I must have fallen asleep." She furrowed her brow and glanced back at her door. "I was waiting ... something must have woken me."

Nathan took a short step forward but still managed to avoid the light. "I'm sorry," he said hesitantly. "That was probably me. I saw your light on and thought to check on you - it's late."

"Oh. You knocked?"

"Uh ... no. I made it to your door before I realized that I might ... be interrupting." He said it so tactfully, but his tone revealed the trepidation he was trying to hide. Then, "Uh, what were you waiting for?"

Simultaneously, Elizabeth said, "Are you just getting home?"

Nathan huffed a little - a chuckle, Elizabeth thought, though it sounded self-conscious and tired. "I hadn't planned on riding straight through, but ... I changed my mind, I guess."

Elizabeth tried to read between the lines. His words were halting and it reminded her of the awkwardness that had sometimes come over him in the beginning of their ... friendship. He'd grown more confident over time, and especially in the last few weeks, that hesitation had been largely absent when he spoke to her. It was back now, though, and that meant something. Elizabeth unconsciously stepped to the edge of her porch.

"Is everything okay? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. I was just anxious to be home." He tripped over the word anxious like he'd meant to say something else.

He'd been anxious ... he was compelled to answer her honestly, but did so reluctantly ... and Elizabeth remembered with sudden clarity what Rosemary had told her after the reception. "Nathan," Elizabeth said softly. She took the first step down off her porch, but Nathan did not take an answering step forward. Her heart leapt painfully in her chest. Was he making it a point to stay away from her, or the light? "What is it?"

"Nothing," he replied just as softly. "I'm just tired. It's late, Elizabeth. Go back to bed. We can talk tomorrow." He began to turn away from her.

"Nathan," she said sharply, and descended the last steps to the gravel. "Please."

Elizabeth didn't know if it was his name or her plea that stopped him. Even in the pale moonlight she thought she saw him take a deep breath, and the anxiety that she'd carried all day rose within her. It felt like he was using the darkness to hide from her, and in all the time that they had known each other, he had never hidden from her. They'd avoided one another, argued, even ignored each other - but he'd never hidden from her.

"You're scaring me." Elizabeth fairly whispered the words but she may as well have been screaming for the effect they had on him. His shoulders slumped and he ducked his head, and that scared her too. She took another step forward and stopped; finally, Nathan let weary steps carry him to a spot just inside the tiny circle of light that reached out from her house. Elizabeth did not gasp, but the air she inhaled stuck halfway between her airway and her lungs. She could see no injury, but his face ... his face was somehow haggard, and upset, and closed off all at once.

"Just tell me," he said.

Again, at the same time, Elizabeth said, "I was waiting for you."

Nathan's head shot up. He scowled at her and said, "What?"

"When I fell asleep. I was waiting for you. Bill said that he expected you back today, and I was ... I wanted ... Lucas and I agreed that it wasn't working." She blurted the last part all at once, unsure of how to phrase it but unable to let Nathan labor under the emotional load he'd clearly been carrying for too long. She could see the gears working in his head as he tried to make sense of what she'd said, but now that she'd started speaking Elizabeth found she couldn't stop. "I was going to tell you after the reception, but you were with Bill, and then you'd gone to Brookfield and I ... I'm so sorry, Nathan."

Elizabeth made herself pause and take a breath. She wanted to explain everything - to make up for every time she had left him wondering, or left his questions unanswered, or simply left him alone; she wanted to make up for every time she'd turned away from his vulnerability. So many times he'd offered her pieces of himself and expected nothing in return ... had not even begrudged her her silence when she could not - would not offer anything of herself in return. All those weeks of steady, quiet love that he had given with no hope of a return, and still he'd done it. Because that was who he was; because, like Joseph Canfield had said, love bears all things.

"Elizabeth." In the dim lighting she could see his mouth working like it did when he had something to say and didn't know how to say it, or whether he should.

"Wait," she interjected. "Please. I'm sorry, Nathan. For not realizing what it must have looked like at the dance, but mostly I'm sorry for letting my fear trick me into wasting so much time. I thought I was ready ... I was ready, and then when I thought you'd been shot all I could think about was how afraid I was ... and then I saw you standing there, alive, and I knew that I couldn't bear losing you. I wasn't ready when you told me you loved me - that you are - were - are in love with me, and I know I have no right to say this now, after everything I've put you through, but I just want you to know that I lo-."

The rest of her sentence disappeared behind Nathan's lips. Elizabeth had been rambling in her attempt to get it all out before he could turn away from her again and her heart was thundering wildly in her ears - and then Nathan's wide hands were on her cheeks and the warm velvet of his lips on her own cut her off, and she forgot everything else. The surprise of it caught her off guard. A heartbeat passed before Elizabeth could process what was happening and somewhere in the back of her mind she found herself thinking between one heartbeat and the next ...

And then Nathan started to pull away and Elizabeth caught him by lifting onto her tiptoes and following his retreating lips. No more misunderstandings and wasted time. He had taken her by surprise, but she had caught up - finally.

Elizabeth felt Nathan pull away at last, just a little, but she did not open her eyes. His hands were so large and warm against her cheeks. She wanted to remember this moment forever: the cool night air a counterpoint to the warmth of his hands and the breath that ghosted over her nose and mouth, and the absolute lack of any sound but the ones they made.

When she finally opened her eyes, it was as though Nathan knew, because his opened a moment later. They gazed at one another - his eyes were so blue, bluer even than hers or little Jack's - and she brought her hands up to grasp lightly at his wrists.

"I love you, Nathan." Elizabeth waited and watched as the words sank in. His face was so expressive to those who knew him; he had such a big heart, though it beat so quietly that it was sometimes easy to miss in the cacophony.

Heartbeats, Joseph Canfield's voice echoed in her head.

Elizabeth wondered how she'd ever missed it, and knew that she never would again.

"I wanted to tell you in the church, and again at the reception, but ... I knew when I hugged you, but it was ..."

"Elizabeth," Nathan interrupted. No one else said her name like that. "You don't have to explain. I understand, and I meant it when I said I'd quit. I'll give up the Mounties, Elizabeth, I'll do anything and everything I can to make sure you never feel like that again."

This time, Elizabeth beat him to the punch. She pressed onto her toes - he was so much taller than she was - but Nathan anticipated her and met her halfway. This kiss was softer, though no less sweet, and when they parted Elizabeth started to smile. Nathan felt her smile under his hands as much as he saw it, and that crooked smile that she'd always had a soft spot for spread across his face in answer.

"I don't want you to give up anything, Nathan. I can't promise I won't struggle with it, but I'm ready to face those fears, if you're willing to help me."

"I'll face anything with you, Elizabeth. Always."

Elizabeth felt like crying. For so long they'd gotten it wrong, like two ships passing in the night, and all of the missed chances had piled up like so much driftwood trapped behind a dam. But all of that was behind them now. Finally. All of the tension that she had silently carried with her throughout the day - the last few weeks - had disappeared the moment Nathan's hands had touched her and she was suddenly aware of how tired she was.

Nathan understood her so well. Better than she had allowed herself to acknowledge, really, because the warmth of his hands was replaced by the still-cooling night air. "Come on," he said gently. "You look exhausted."

Elizabeth shot him a half-hearted glare, but there was no heat in it. She had only been waiting in her warm house; Nathan had been riding for what was probably the better part of the day, and that was after he'd spent days doing she didn't know what. He'd looked exhausted minutes ago, or maybe it was hours, when she'd forced him into the light.

Nathan had been following her up the stairs to her porch when Elizabeth stopped suddenly and turned back to face him. He nearly ran into her, and Elizabeth's hands automatically came up to brace against the solid expanse of his chest. She wasn't trying to stop him so much as initiate contact, however, because she'd just remembered his reluctance to approach her.

"You're not hurt?" she asked again, searching his face.

"Sore," he answered, and he wrapped one of her hands in his much larger one and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "But not injured."

"I thought, when you kept avoiding the light -."

Nathan made a sound in the back of his throat and Elizabeth recognized the sheepish way his eyes darted to the ground before he answered. "I thought you were going to tell me that Lucas proposed and I didn't want you to see my face. The whole ride back I kept thinking I should just make camp for the night, but when I tried I was so anxious I gave up and decided to keep going. When I saw your light on my first thought was that something was wrong, and then ..." He shrugged and let the sentence hang.

And then he'd been afraid he was interrupting something intimate, or celebratory, or both - he'd told her as much. But Elizabeth had come to another conclusion. She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in the red Serge beneath her hands, but it was more to reassure herself than anything. Reassure, and delight, because she finally felt like she could touch him.

"I went to find you at the Mountie office, and found Bill instead. When he told me that you'd ridden out after the reception to track someone I couldn't breathe. The last time you were tracking someone ..."

"You were waiting for me on your porch," Nathan said.

Elizabeth had been staring at the contrast of her pale hand against the bright red fabric of his uniform, but her head snapped up at his words. "How did you know that I was waiting for you?"

"I am a Mountie." He said it just like he had the night of little Jack's christening party, and Elizabeth felt the familiar tug of a smile that she tried to suppress. Then, softer, he added, "You were all alone out here, just sitting there. I saw it on your face when I rode up."

His hand, still warm but a little colder than it had been minutes ago, came up to brush over her jawline. Elizabeth shivered. Nathan pulled her into a hug, and she sighed as she wrapped her arms around him for only the second time. Even though he was standing on the step below her, her head still fit neatly beneath his chin. They stood quietly for a moment, seeking refuge in each other's embrace, and Elizabeth closed her eyes to focus on the steady sound of his heartbeat.

"I was anxious all day," she finally continued. "I tried to keep myself busy, but I just kept thinking what if something happened to you and I didn't get a chance to tell you how I felt. After I put little Jack to bed I came downstairs to wait, even though it was already dark out. I left the light on to read, but now ..." Now, she didn't know. There was no way she could have known that Nathan would be back tonight, although Bill had said he expected him soon, but maybe she had left the lamp on as a beacon. Even now it lit her porch with golden light that beckoned from her still-open front door. "Maybe," Elizabeth started, but wasn't sure how to continue.

"Maybe I was anxious because I somehow knew that you were, and I kept going because I knew you were waiting for me." Nathan said it with a gentle, matter-of-fact tone that told Elizabeth that he didn't consider her remotely foolish for thinking so. "And you left the light on because you knew I'd see it, and be compelled to check on you."

Elizabeth breathed deeply - Nathan smelled like campfire and pine and that un-nameable freshness that the wind always brought with it - and pulled back to peer up at him. "Is that silly?"

The direct light on his face told Elizabeth how exhausted he really was, but he smiled that soft, crooked smile and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "No. I think you're right. But I also think you're ready to fall asleep right here, and it's been less than half an hour, but you should really get inside and close the door before the draft gets up to little Jack."

Little Jack tended to kick his blanket off in the middle of the night and Elizabeth always worried that he'd get cold, so she made sure he slept in the warmest pajamas he had as soon as the weather started to turn cold. But Nathan didn't know that, and the knowledge that even now he was thinking of her son and his well-being made Elizabeth's heart so full she expected it to burst.

"Thank you." For so many things, and Elizabeth meant it so completely that the words seemed frail and inadequate, but she couldn't find better ones right now.

In response, Nathan released her and shucked his chin in the direction of her door. "Go on," he said. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

It was childish, maybe, but Elizabeth couldn't resist asking. "Promise? You're not riding off somewhere first thing in the morning?"

Even if she was mostly teasing, Nathan's voice was earnest and loving when he answered. "I'll be here. Promise."

When Elizabeth went to bed that night it was with the feeling that, at long last, they could build their lives together - between one heartbeat and the next.