Hello all! Sorry I wasn't able to upload a new chapter on Sunday. I have no excuses.

So now, I just ask that you read, review, and keep on waiting patiently for updates. I'm expecting this to come out to twenty chapters, including the epilogue. So not too much longer for this story to concluded!

Enjoy the newest installment of I and Love and You.


He was exhausted. Even his bones seemed to creek and ache with tiredness. He was cold too. Unbearably cold even with the fully grown beard on his face and the small coal stove sitting in the corner of the shack. But it was done… well, very nearly done. Xiong Lao was in custody, his manufacturer, Yao Chen, was as well. Jack marveled at the miracle of it, both of them in the same place at the same time. He didn't try to calculate the odds. Jack just thanked God for the good fortune.

Good fortune… Jack mulled the words over in his head. He wasn't sure if he would call it good fortune that he and the other Mounties had been able to shoot and hit eight of the twelve armed men surrounding the camp when they all had missed the Mounties only seconds before. He wasn't sure he would call it good fortune that there were only four prisoners, not including Lao and Chen, to transport to Fort Clay. He wasn't sure he could call it good fortune that so many people had died on his order. He wasn't sure of much anymore.

Jack looked around at the shack he sat in. The single window on the back of the room was frosted with ice and an inch or two of snow. Cracks between the planks of wood let in too much of the cold winter air, but Jack wouldn't complain. It was shelter from the night and the snow storm brewing just a few dozen miles away. Jack wondered how long the drug runners must have been hiding in the Northern Territories. It would have taken weeks, months even, to build so many postings and manufacturing depots throughout the uncharted, unsettled land.

His thoughts were interrupted by the thud of the shack's door closing loudly. A tall, broad man stood just to the side of it.

"Fraser's on duty now," Jeremiah grumbled, his teeth chattering every few seconds. He walked toward the coal fire stove, rubbing his hands to warm them as he went, "Hopefully he doesn't fall asleep for the next three hours."

Jack exhaled a chuckle, the sound scraping against his parched throat. Jeremiah laughed softly as he sat down next to Jack on the cold, frozen dirt floor. A comfortable silence settled between them.

"How long until Matty reaches Hope Valley?" Jeremiah broke the silence.

Hope Valley…. It was the closest town with a telegraph for a hundred miles. Hope Valley with its bustling, growing economy with the railroad and boutiques and the lumber mill. Hope Valley with it's beautiful one room school house that was also the town's church. Hope Valley with its own cafe and baseball field and saloon.

"We're only half a day's ride from Hope Valley," Jack nearly whispered as he stared into the fire, burning deep in the belly of the coal stove, "He should have gotten there by. I told him to rest up a bit after he wired Fort Clay. He should be back by tomorrow morning."

Jack had sent Corporal VanNoppen to Hope Valley to request help in transporting Lao and his compatriots to Fort Clay as well as inform Mountie Headquarters that Lao had, indeed, been captured. He very nearly had Shelby accompany Matty in order to take Lao to Hope Valley, but it would have been too risky. What was left of their unit was spread thin as it was and loosing one able bodied man was bad enough. So, Matty road hard and fast to Hope Valley and Jack sat in a cold, poorly made shack waiting for his second in command to return so they could begin the week's ride to Fort Clay.

"Must be mighty hard for you," Jeremiah spoke softly…knowingly, "being so close to your family and unable to see them."

Jack's brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. It had been over eight months since he'd last seen his home. Eight months since he had ridden past the water tower in the early morning hours to begin his rounds. Eight months since he had watched the sun set behind the small church and school house he and the townspeople had built. Eight months since he had laughed with Lee while eating lunch at Abigail's. Eight months since he talked Rosie out of another wild attempt to get the school children to put on a production of Pirate of Penzance. Over eight months since he and Abigail had sipped on coffee while he waited to take Cody out to play baseball. It had been nearly a year since he had watched Elizabeth wake up, the morning light behind her creating a golden halo around her head.

He had missed so much. So many days and weeks and months of life and toil and laughter and love and the weight of it sank deep into the pit of his stomach. Christmas had passed, he thought bitterly. Christmas and Boxing Day and New Years had flown by and Jack was so close to home that he swore he could hear the church bells ringing for evening services. A brief smile graced his lips at the thought of another playful argument with Elizabeth about the differences between her Roman Catholic upbringing and his Presbyterian one.

It was all so close.

"It's too close," Jack finally replied to Jeremiah, looking up at him, the man's dark, rich skin glistening in the light of the fire…like Jack's teary eyes, "It's too close, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah lowered his head, a deep sadness and understanding filled his lungs as he took in a breath. He forgot, sometimes, just how young Captain Jack Thornton was. Jeremiah forgot, sometimes, how blessed young Jack Thornton had been to go through life without too much pain. Jeremiah forgot, often, that Jack was more than the red serge he wore. He was just a man with a wife and family and friends, waiting for him to come home.

And Jeremiah knew, all too well, what it felt like to have it all ripped out from under him.

Jeremiah remembered far too clearly what it felt like to lose his mother… knew that Jack still remembered all too well what it felt like to lose his father. Jeremiah remembered the helplessness that left him paralyzed when his brother's life was dangled in front of him like a string for a cat to play with it.

"We got him, Jack," Jeremiah's deep voice filled the tiny shack with more warmth than the coal stove, his hand a comfortable weight on Jack's tense, tired shoulder, "You have Lao in custody. You have Yao Chen. You've got the heart of Lao's entire operation in custody and Fort Clay is only a week's ride. It's almost over."

Jack's eyes slammed shut. Hope was welling up inside him… hope and the promise of peace and rest and it was too much to think and feel and Jack couldn't afford to get comfortable now. Not when they were so close… not when he was so close to seeing that white school house by the lake and the school teacher standing at the front door, waving that ridiculous cowbell she refused to replace with a real school bell.

"You're going to have to hold out hope for the both of us, Jeremiah," Jack said in a lackluster attempt at humor, a pitiful smile flashing across his face.

Jeremiah smiled brightly, regardless, "I can do that, Captain. I can do that."

Jack smiled softly again, genuine this time, and full of respect and admiration. An unlikely friendship had blossomed between the Mountie and the runaway slave turned clock maker. He couldn't help but hope that Elizabeth would meet Jeremiah Tremblay some day. He couldn't help but hope that one day Jeremiah would get to see Hope Valley, that his friend would find peace somewhere…anywhere… after all of this was over.

Then the gunshots started….


Matthew VanNoppen could barely see in front of him. The moonlight was just bright enough to illuminate his path, but only just. He was tired and he could feel the sweat and heavy breath of the horse he sat on. Thank God, he prayed silently, that Lao had his horse with him when the Mounties raided the operation.

He had left early in the afternoon, stopping only to let the horse rest a handful of times, unsure of its fitness. The beast had done well, though. Another small miracle that Matty had to thank the Lord for. It was late in the evening when Matty finally saw the bright, distant streetlights illuminating Hope Valley's main road.

He road harder, the horse grunting as Matty kicked his sides.

Adrenaline buzzed though his body and electricity seemed to collect on the tip of his fingers as Matty pounded on the jailhouse door.

Nothing.

Matty pounded again. Louder.

Nothing.

Matty's fist nearly hit the door again when a gruff voice startled him, "Can I help you, son?"

Matty turned around to find a blonde man, older but strong and fit, stood with his hands on his hips, a gun peaking out of from the fabric of his coat. Matty nearly rolled his eyes at the man's posturing.

"I'm looking for Constable Nathaniel Roy," Matty muttered, still short of breath from the quick dismount of his horse and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, "I have a message from Captain Jack Thornton that must be sent out immediately.

The man's hand fell from his hips and he practically flew up the few steps onto the jailhouse porch. Excitement, concern and something that Matty couldn't quite place danced in his eyes, "You've got a message from Jack?"

Matty's eyes narrowed as he began to walk closer to the man, "Yes. I need to send a wire to Fort Clay immediately. Now, where is Constable Roy and where is the telegraph?"

The blonde man pulled Matty's arm and lead him down the steps and across the street to the mercantile. He pounded on the door and Matty watched as the man practically threw the man who opened the door, to the side, rushing past him.

"Now really, Bill, it's two o'clock in the morning" the man, balding and shorter than Matty and the blonde man, Bill, apparently. Bill… why did that name sound so familiar. Bill…

"You're Bill Avery!" Matty was surprised at how loud the revelation came out but Bill didn't seem to pay any mind to the Mountie's outburst.

"Ned, this Mountie has a message from Jack that needs to be sent out," Bill was stern as Ned perked up at the mention of Jack Thornton, "Do whatever he asks."

"Where are you going," Ned yelled at Bill as the sheriff ran out the door.

"To find Constable Roy!" Bill shouted back as he ran down the street, toward the railroad barracks.

Ned and Matty glanced at each other for a moment before Ned walked behind the counter of the mercantile. He rummaged around for a pencil and paper before setting down by the telegraph machine. Matty followed silently, waiting as patiently as possible for the older man to finish his preparations.

Ned licked the tip of his pencil before looking up at Matty, "What's the message?"


Elizabeth gasped as the pain shot through her lower back. Sweat ran down her face and soaked her clothes. She rolled over and sat up, her large belly making it difficult to stand on her feet. She cold feel the baby kicking wildly.

She had been terrified at first. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest as another stabbing, sharp pain washed over her. Oh, God. For a few moments, Elizabeth could only remember to breathe, unable to stand or lay down or scream or cry, trembling fiercely as she sat at the edge of the feather bed. She sat quietly, one hand on her stomach, the other on her back, until she accepted that she had to do something…. anything!

And then everything seemed to happen all at once.

She cried for her mother and Julie, both came running in frantically. Grace relit the kerosene lamps as she instructed Julie to run into town to fetch Abigail and the doctor. Julie flew out of the bedroom and downstairs, remembering only to put on shoes and coat as she raced from the row house and into town.

Grace helped move Elizabeth back into bed, Jack's side of the bed, and plumped all the pillows she could find behind Elizabeth. Elizabeth gripped her mother's hand firmly, breathing deeply as Grace instructed.

Carson, along with Faith, Abigail, and Julie, arrived with fresh sheets and towels and all sorts of odd, terrifying looking instruments that Elizabeth didn't want to look at or think about appeared. Another pain shot through her.

Jack…. Elizabeth needed Jack. She needed his calm, husky voice in her ear, his rough, calloused hand holding her soft, delicate one. She needed his warmth and his calm and steadying presence. She slammed her eyes shut to the bustle around her and prayed, prayed so desperately that he was there, until she could almost feel his arm around her shoulders, his breath on her skin, his woodsy, earthy scent surrounding her. God… why wasn't he here?


Jack ducked behind the shack as a bullet the wall beside him. Shouts from his fellow Mounties echoed in the cold night air. They were trying to regroup, to form up by the prisoners. Jack could see Lao and Chen laying still on the ground, along with the other drug runners. Good, Fraser had the good sense to get them out of harm's way. Jack glanced over at Jeremiah, who was standing on the other side of him, pistol in hand, ready to fire. The men nodded to one another, waiting a moment for the next round of fire to die. A breath, a pause, before Jack pulled out his pistol, pulled back on the hammer, and rounded the shack he had been using as cover, stepping out and firing into the darkness.

Elizabeth… God he missed her. He needed her - needed the soothing sound of her voice, the sharp, playful remark always at the tip of her tongue. He needed her soft, delicate hand holding his rough, calloused one. He needed her warmth and her calm and her settling presence. Jack breathed in deep and prayed, prayed so desperately that he was with her, until he could almost feel her hand playing the with the hair on the back of his head, her kiss on his lips, her perfume surrounding him. God… why was he here? Why couldn't he be back in Hope Valley with her?


Elizabeth was almost unsettled with how calm she was. After the mad rush of things, everyone had settled into a rhythm. At some point, Rosemary had found her way into the house and had begun to boil hot water to sterilize sheets and towels and whatever else Carson needed cleaned.

It amazed Elizabeth how close she and Rosemary had become considering how they started out. She would have laughed at the notion of it if she hadn't been in so much pain.

Everything was in place, Carson had told her, and now Elizabeth could do nothing but wait. Elizabeth had never been one to have an overabundance of patience.

Another sharp pain settled into her lower back. Sucking in a deep breath as her mother dapped her forehead with a cold cloth, Elizabeth blinked up at the bedroom ceiling. She knew it was all she could do, so Elizabeth breathed in and out, like Carson and her mother instructed her. Abigail held Elizabeth's hand, a silent steady presence that Elizabeth knew she would be lost without.

She could do this… she had to do this. She'd been through it all in her head, her mother and Abigail had gone over it all, the pain and the waiting and Elizabeth knew all of it in theory. But she knew from first hand experience that a theoretical knowledge of a practice was much different than the practical application of it and now it was happening to her, and - another deep breath in and another deep breath out.

Her gaze shifted to the window, out and up at the stars. For a moment, she thought of Haley's Comet, of the portrait Jack had sketched of them as a present. Of their first kiss. Where was he, what was he doing? Elizabeth wondered if he was thinking of her and their baby. He assured her he was in every letter but Elizabeth hadn't received any letters in over a month and… it would be so very nice if Jack was, at this moment, whatever his situation.


Gunshots cracked through the dry, cold night air was punctuated b the screams and thuds and grotesque cracks of men falling to the ground.

Another yell of adrenaline tore from between Jack's clenched teeth as his hand firmly, desperately gripped his pistol. He peered through the darkness and the illumination and smoke of the fire before firing off another shot in the distance. A grim look of satisfaction flashed across his face as he saw the faint outline of a shadow in front of him dropped to the ground.

Everything was chaos and bloodshed and so many other things that Jack tried to block from his mind. All that mattered was getting to his men and getting to Lao. The other prisoners didn't matter to him. If they lived or died… what had happened to him?

Somewhere beside him, Jeremiah had picked a rifle off one of the dead men he and Jack had shot down in order to return to the group. Jeremiah gave Jack a quick nod before cocking the rifle tossing it to Jack, who threw his pistol to Jeremiah.

Jack gasped sharply as a bullet tore through his left shoulder. And for a moment, time stood still. He saw Fraser yelling at him to lay down, just as a bullet rocketed through his head. Jack was close enough that some of the blood splashed onto his face.

The sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon and Jack scanned the around the camp. There were at least four more men still shooting and Lao stood up to run.

Elizabeth… oh, God, what he wouldn't give to be with her, for it to be her hand he was holding, clutching and not the rifle that wasn't his. His eyes squeezed shut and he pictured her, standing on the large wrap around porch of their newly built home. She had told him it had been finished in her last letter, that she and Julie and her mother were decorating it but that she refused to move in until he hand carried her over the threshold.

Jack pushed Lao back down, protecting him from the next wave of bullets that whizzed past them. Jack gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath, a shout of pain ripping through the air as he lifted the rifle, tucked the stock into his shoulder and fired.


Another scream tore from between Elizabeth's clenched teeth as her hands gripped her mother's and Abigail's fiercely. Everything was chaos and blood and sweat and so many other things that Elizabeth tried to block from her mind, save the life she was working desperately to bring into the world.

"Keep breathing, Elizabeth," Abigail's warm voice echoed in Elizabeth's mind, "you're almost there."

"You're almost done Elizabeth, it won't be long now," Carson reassured her.

"I hope," Elizabeth sucked in another breath, "for your sake, Carson, that that's true."

She wanted to slap the smirk right of Carson's face before another deep shot of pain coursed through her.

So close. She was so close. Carson shouted at her for one more push and with one final burst of pain and effort and love… she was done.

Elizabeth slumped weakly against the sweat soaked pillows and bed linens, watching as Carson handed the baby to Faith, who began cleaning the screaming infant immediately. Elizabeth rested her head against her mother's comforting shoulder.

Eventually, Elizabeth's bright blue eyes blinked wearily open as she saw Faith hand Abigail a wiggling bundle of blankets. Abigail smiled brightly, tears glistening in her eyes as she walked over to Elizabeth's side and sat down gently on the edge of the bed.

"I think you'll want to see this, Elizabeth," Abigail smiled again and Elizabeth glanced over at Carson, who nodded in approval.

Elizabeth, with her mother's help, pushed herself up a little straighter and gasped softly, the weight of a mother's love settling happily in her chest, as Abigail placed a baby with a full head of dark brown hair into her waiting arms.

"Oh my," was all Elizabeth could muster.

All the pain, all the exhaustion and long nights and tears and missing Jack… it had all been worth it if only for this moment as Elizabeth stared down at her baby, a heartbreakingly beautiful smile of irrepressible joy curling onto her lips. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at Abigail.

"I… I didn't hear if… no one said, what,"

"A little boy," Abigail smiled.

Tears fell freely from Elizabeth's eyes, "Oh," was all she could manage again as she gazed down at… her son.

She had a son. She and Jack had made this beautiful, perfect little baby boy. Elizabeth felt as if her heart would burst at any moment with all the love she had for the baby in her arms and his father. Oh he was so beautiful…. Elizabeth lifted her hand and grasped her son's hands, counting ten fingers. Next his toes. She lifted him up to her, taking in the smell of him. Elizabeth didn't care that tears fell down her face as Grace held her tight and Abigail rubbed her leg over the covers.

Elizabeth wept with delight, love, utter euphoria… and utter sorrow that her darling Jack, was not beside her, his arm wrapped around her instead of her mother's, to enjoy it.

"Have you and Jack discussed any names?" Grace spoke softly, sweetly, in Elizabeth's ear.

Elizabeth smiled brightly as her son cooed softly in her arms. Abigail and Grace chuckled at the sight.

"We have," Elizabeth answered a moment later, "I wanted to name him after Jack. But Jack… Jack wanted the name Thatcher if it was a boy."

Grace's eyes widened. She glanced at Abigail, who didn't seem surprised in the slightest.

"And how did he decide upon that," Grace asked playfully as she pulled back her grandson's blanket just a bit to get a better look at him.

Tears began to well up in Elizabeth's sapphire gaze as she smiled at the memory of Jack's explanation in a letter.

"He said that Thatcher was the name of the woman he loved and that it deserved to be passed on. He said it was the name of a good man and a good family and that any Thornton should be proud to bear it."

Abigail didn't bother wiping the tear that fell down her cheek. She wasn't surprised in the slightest at Jack's request. She wasn't at all surprised at Elizabeth's next comment.

"So I told him that we would compromise," Elizabeth smiled, mischief and excitement twinkling in her gaze as she lay comfortably in the warm feather bed that Jack had bought them before leaving, "Mother, Abigail. I would like to introduce you to Jack Thatcher Thornton."


Jack lay on the ground, blood seeping out of the bullet wound to his shoulder and to his stomach. He looked over to his left and saw Lao's cold, dead, empty eyes staring at him. Blood drenched the man's shirt and the dark red liquid had spilled out of his mouth and down his chin. Jack closed his eyes at the sight.

Pain coursed through him as Jack tried to sit up. Any attempt to move his muscles caused a rip to the already gaping wound to his stomach. His shoulder and gone numb to the cold and Jack's throat was parched.

He was dehydrated, probably from the blood loss. He had to move, had to get up, had to run…. he couldn't.

The sun was now up and the blood splattered snow around him began to blind him as it reflected the early morning light.

Jack breathed in… a rattling sound building in his chest… and out… a pained cry passing through his lips.

He looked to the sky before everything went dark….


Ah! The dreaded cliffhanger!

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