Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain
by Tanya Reed
Disclaimer: Due South still isn't mine.
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May 3, 1863
Benton stood there watching her, his face expressionless, his jaw clenched. The fine angles of his sunburned face barely twitched. He looked calm and controlled--or he would have if Meg could not see the anguish in his blue eyes.
The rain fell around them. She could still feel his last kiss on her lips. How she loved him, this maddening man who would not give up. The man who stood, dripping, in the rain to watch her leave.
It had plastered his shirt to him. His curly brown hair lay flat for once. Rivulets dropped off the end of his nose, from his ears, and from his fingers. She was afraid he would catch his death of cold.
Meg's gaze wandered over him, knowing she would never see Benton again. Hungrily, she took in his body--those broad shoulders that bore his burdens without complaint; those strong hands that gently calmed her fears, as well as the fears of any animal in his keeping; those long beautiful legs that had carried her through the doorway of their new home; those tender lips that had kissed her until she temporarily forgot the warmth of home. Everything. She wanted to remember everything. Lastly, Meg's gaze went to Benton's eyes. Those eyes had always told her the words his stoic face could not. It was in their blueness that she always felt so safe.
Benton was crying.
Drops of water fell down her love's face, and not all of them were raindrops. She saw tears meet and mingle with rain to slide down his cheeks. His face remained self controlled. The contrast of composure and tears was not lost on Meg. Those eyes called to her more strongly than any voice could have.
Meggie. Stay with me, Meggie. You don't have to go. We can make a life here. I love you. Please...Please...
She wavered a moment, watching the tears fall down his face. Her heart seemed to be breaking in her chest, but she couldn't stay here. This country, this--what did they call it?--wild west, it was not her home. She had seen a man shot in the street. Guns hung nonchalantly from every hip. She could not raise children here. Home in New England, she would be safe. But she would be without him.
Firmly, Meg wrenched her eyes from Benton's face. The cart she would drive into town was waiting behind her. Without looking back she lifted her skirt and nimbly got on board. She was not the delicate flower that had arrived here a year before with her husband. She could go home alone on that stage coach. She could face the redicule of the people in her family's circle. Maybe she would tell them Benton was dead.
As she flicked the reigns, she told herself she was not turning her back on Benton. She was turning her back on this place and all the hardships that went with it. She would not let herself regret this decision. She firmly pressed this into her mind. Even so, she knew she'd always remember his blue eyes crying in the rain.