Hello all! I just wanted to say thanks so much for your reviews for the last chapter. I cannot tell you enough how encouraging and motivating it is to get any kind of feedback from readers. But positive feedback? It's everything a writer could want. So thanks to all of you.

Here is the next chapter! Please read, enjoy, and of course, review.

P.S. I'm almost done with Ch. 15 already so be on the lookout!


A soft, gentle breeze danced across the beautiful golden meadow and the warm, yellow sun kissed his skin as it began to set. Tall grasses swayed to and fro, bending gently under his calloused hands as they skimmed the tops of the sea of green. Church bells rang out in the distance, calling out the beginning of a new hour, a gentle reminder that evening had begun. He could see her standing on the open, inviting wrap around porch. Her auburn hair, nearly a fiery red if the sun caught it just so, fluttered about her face. She was smiling brightly, holding something in her arms, a baby, he realized after closer inspection. He watched her for a moment, a sense of well-earned peace flooding all his senses. A smile spread across his lips.

He realized that she was now watching him, forcing a quiet blush to creep up his neck and cheeks. It didn't matter how long they had known each other, how long they had loved one another… her gaze would always make him blush.

"Papa! Papa!" A sharp, excited voice broke through the calm silence surrounding the country home.

Jack turned his gaze from Elizabeth to see a young boy, no older than five, sprinting through a shimmering golden meadow. A shock of chestnut brown hair, tapered close on the sides and gradually growing longer on the top, covered his head. A dazzling gapped tooth grin and deep cut dimples graced his rounded face. Brilliant blue eyes, eyes like his mother, were wide and bright and beautiful as they locked onto Jack.

Without a thought, the boy leaped into Jack's arms as his father lifted him up to rest against his side. Jack's smile grew wider, nearly splitting his cheeks.

"And just what do you think you're doing, pal?" Jack asked as the boy giggled. He wrapped his short, lanky arms around Jack's neck, pulling his father closer. Jack held the boy tightly, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his head while taking in the scent of his hair and clothes and skin.

"I love you, Papa," the boy's voice was soft and sweet, a tender sound that seemed to break Jack's heart as it mended it.

"I love you too, son," Jack whispered back as he placed another kiss on the boy's temple, "I love you so."

The boy pulled away from Jack's chest and placed a tiny, stubby hand on either side of Jack's strong jaw and chiseled cheeks. An eternity passed between them as hazel and sapphire eyes gazed at one another.

"It's time, Papa. It's time to come back."

Jack's brow furrowed as confusion set into his features, "What are you talking about, pal? I'm right here."

The boy ignored him, "It's time to come home, Papa. Me and Mama need you to come home."

"Son," Jack began, pulling the boy closer to him still, "I'm right here."

"You can do it, Papa," the boy's voice was strong and sure, "I know you can."

Jack could hear a baby crying. He turned his gaze from the boy in his arms to Elizabeth as she gently paced the length of the porch. The bundle in her arms was crying, begging for something. She raised the baby up to her shoulder, patting its back and singing sweetly to it. The infant continued to cry, though intermittently, and began to settle against its mother's chest.

He realized that Elizabeth was now watching him, her gaze strong, yet pleading.

The baby began to cry again….

A deep breath filled his lungs, though a sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs made him wince. Sweat soaked his clothes and gathered onto his forehead. His eyes opened to narrow slits, taking in the unfamiliar ceiling of the unfamiliar room. It was white, crisp and clean. Several windows on either side of the room let the deep reds and oranges of the setting sun come flooding in. The bed that he was laying in was not his, though it reminded him an awful lot of the cot he used to sleep in when he still lived at the jailhouse.

He heard someone singing softly… singing his favorite song.

His head turned slowly, seeking out the voice that echoed gently in the room… a voice that felt so familiar and safe. And then he saw her.

Elizabeth had her back turned to him, swaying gently from side to side and softly singing "Oh, Danny Boy." Her auburn hair was let down, the strands coming down in silky waves. His fingers itched with the impulse to run his through it. He could tell she wasn't wearing a corset, her breaths longer and smoother and her movements more fluid. He wanted to cry as he watched her from a distance. Dear God, how could he have ever forgotten how beautiful she was? She twisted slightly and lowered what she was carrying down beside her into a pram… a tiny child with a shock of dark brown hair.

Jack's eyes shot open and he attempted to sit up quickly until a searing discomfort radiated in his abdomen and shoulder. It was a torturous, excruciating pain that he had never experienced and it knocked the air out of him as his body tensed in agony. A pitiful whimper escaped his lips and tears filled his eyes instantly.

Elizabeth turned to the pained cry coming from the other side of the room and her breath stilled.

"Jack," she whispered his name like a prayer, beautiful and strained and loving.

She rushed over to him, settling next to him in a chair that sat beside the bed he lay in. She placed a cool, gentle hand, on his cheek, rubbing her thumb softly against his beard. She wanted helplessly as Jack's body tensed slightly, reacting to the caress before he took a calming breath and his body lowered back onto the cot. His eyes remained shut.

"Jack," Elizabeth whispered again, begging to see his hazel eyes, if only for a moment, "It's time to come back, Jack. We need you to come back."

A moment passed and Elizabeth feared that it was just another tease, another false promise that he was awake and his fever was broken and he was finally out of the woods… and then Jack's eyes were open and fixed upon her and he spoke, "Elizabeth."

She let out a sob, tears falling freely down her face as she placed a hand on either of Jack's cheeks and kissed his forehead, his brow, his lips. She felt his right-hand move to rest on the back of her head, his rough hands carding through her silky strands. His touch was loving and reverent and so blissfully tender that Elizabeth began to cry against his lips.

"Elizabeth," he said again, a gentle breath against her mouth.

Elizabeth pulled away and looked Jack's handsome, haggard face. He had a large bruise and cut to his right cheek, just on top of the bone. He had a full beard now, something she knew he would hate and make him itch after a few days. His hair was longer, falling over the top of his brow and the damp ends on the back were beginning to curl. She tried not to think about what tragedy befell him and his unit when she glanced over and saw the tip of his left ear missing. She glanced down at his bare chest. Thick bandages were wrapped around his abdomen and light, dark pink spots were beginning to show underneath the crisp white gauze, a clear indication that it was time to redress his bullet wounds. His shoulder was wrapped and his left arm was strapped across his chest to prevent any movement. She noticed the sheen of sweat across his skin… thank God. His fever broke.

"Oh Jack," was all Elizabeth could muster as she kissed him again.

"Am I dreaming," Jack asked, his voice raspy with fatigue.

"No, Jack," Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. You're not dreaming… I'm not dreaming, "You're home, sweetheart. You're home."

Tears welled in Jack's eyes and Elizabeth's heart broke at the sight. His free hand rose once again, to rest on her cheek. Elizabeth held it in place and for a small eternity, hazel and sapphire eyes gazed at one another before Elizabeth rested her forehead against his.

"You're here," Jack whispered.

"You're here," Elizabeth promised.

The young couple sat in silence, basking in the presence of one another. It was a precious commodity they had both been forced to live without for nearly a year. With each second that passed, it became painfully clear how horribly they had missed one another, how much strength it had taken to work and live and fight without the other standing beside them. Elizabeth was suddenly tired and she wanted to do was lay down beside Jack in their feather bed with Thatcher nestled safely between them. A tear rolled down her round cheek with the knowledge that her wish wouldn't be granted for a little while longer.

Jack pulled back from their tender embrace to get a better look at his wife. Her face was rounder, her cheeks softer. Her hair seemed softer somehow and an angelic glow seemed to radiate all around her. Her blue eyes had deepened and there was a confidence an assuredness that hadn't been there before. She had always been strong, but Jack could see an immovable force of nature now brewing in her steady, beautiful gaze.

"God, I've missed you, Elizabeth," was all he could think to say.

Elizabeth smiled and a breathless chuckle escaped her lips while tears continued to fall, "I've missed you so, Jack. I've been so worried, sweetheart. Carson… Carson wasn't sure you would.…he wasn't sure…."

Jack's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed, his mind already focusing. He looked at his wife, that steady, newfound strength in her stare, but fear had settled and mixed with it, "How bad a state was I in?"

Elizabeth took a breath, stopping for just a moment to take Jack in again, her fingers brushing tenderly across his brown, "You've been in and out of consciousness for a week. You were hypothermic and you ended up with gunshot wounds. Carson and Faith were operating on the both of you for several hours and shortly after they were finished you broke out into a fever. Carson was worried that the wounds had already been infected."

Elizabeth stopped, the memory of Carson's explanation and his attempt to help her understand the grim possibility of Jack dying still haunted her thoughts.

Jack watched his wife carefully, reading the subtle twitch of her lips and the clench of her jaw. He watched she turned away from him, the delicate curve of her neck as she turned to look behind her at the sleeping baby in the pram. Suddenly Jack realized… remembered his dream and the crying babe and the reason he woke up.

"Elizabeth," Jack struggled to breathe as everything began to come into focus.

Elizabeth turned her attention back to her husband. His eyes were wide, his jaw nearly slack and his gaze was fixed upon the pram and the sleeping baby in it. She knew her name was all he could think to instead of one of the million questions running through his mind. Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at his dumbfounded expression as she stood up from her seat beside him, walking over to their son and picking up his slumbering form. She was steady and sure in her movements as she walked over to Jack's right side with their son in hand.

Jack watched in awe as she placed an extra pillow underneath his good arm and helped him curl it just so and as she placed the child carefully next to him, "Jack, I would like you to meet our son, Jack Thatcher Thornton."

His gaze danced between her and the beautiful baby boy nestled into his side, the small child sucking gently on his tiny thumb. A single tear fell down from his eyes and Jack could do nothing but stare at the tiny life that slept peacefully beside him.

"Oh Elizabeth," Jack was breathless as he gawked at the sleeping baby beside him. Thatcher was so tiny, were all babies so tiny? A heavy feeling settled in his chest, a desire and drive to protect and love that took his breath away. Jack stole a glance at Elizabeth as she watched father and son interact for the first time.

He had often wondered at how he and Elizabeth could love each other so fully, so desperately. It scared him, sometimes, about how much his heart had become entwined with hers, how powerfully he cared for her and how dependent he had become to her love. One thing was certain, though… Jack Thornton could never love anyone as much as he loved Elizabeth Thatcher….

How could he have been so wrong?

Jack watched as his son twitched silently in his sleep, his short stubby legs kicking lightly before stretching out and tucking himself into Jack. He watched as Thatcher sucked gently on his thumb and rolled his head to rest against Jack's side. How could he love someone so much after just a few moments? How was it possible for his heart to swell this much?

"He's beautiful, isn't he," was Elizabeth's tiny remark.

"He's perfect," Jack answered resolutely.

He looked back up at his wife to see a mesmerizing, lazy smile graced her lips. Elizabeth's eyes were on Thatcher and Jack took the moment to bask in the sight of her once more.

"He's so well behaved already," Elizabeth explained, "it's only been one week but he's already getting into a sleep schedule and regular feedings," she chuckled before continuing, "Abigail is quite jealous actually. She told me that we shouldn't expect such an easy sleeper with our next one. I'm afraid to say that Thatcher is an outlier as far as babies are concerned."

Humor danced in Elizabeth's eyes as she looked up at her husband, ready for a quick, teasing retort. All she found was sadness in his gaze.

"He's a week old?" Jack asked, his voice suddenly void of any emotion. She could see his heart breaking as some unnamed emotion cast a shadow over his features. She could see the cogs of mind begin to turn, playing different parts of their conversation and locking onto the horrible truth of the night of Thatcher's birth. And suddenly, anger and disappointment stretched across his face and settled in his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm so sorry," Jack said bitterly.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Why are you, sorry, Jack," she asked him earnestly, placing a hand on either side of his face, "You're here. You're alive. You came home, you came home to both of us. Why on Earth are you apologizing?"

"I left you for months and I very nearly could have done exactly what my father did to my mother," Jack's words were biting and unforgiving as he laid out his offenses, "something that I promised I would never do to you. I might have made you a widow and left our child behind…."

"I don't give a damn about what might have happened." Elizabeth cut him off abruptly, her language shocking, "All I know is that the night our son was born you came back. I don't care how… how can I? You can tell me you're sorry all you like, Jack Thornton, but I refuse to let you feel guilty about doing exactly what you promised to try and do. You're here, Jack. All three of us are here."

"I should have been here. I should have been with you… you shouldn't have had to do all of this alone."

"I wasn't alone," Elizabeth refused to let him take the blame for what was out of his control, "I had Rosemary and Abigail. I had Julie and my mother. Even Tom was here, Jack. I was never alone."

Jack tore his gaze from her and looked back down to Thatcher, the babe oblivious to the world, save the two people in this world who loved him most.

"I should have been here," he whispered. Elizabeth was unsure if the remark was meant for her or for Thatcher.

Elizabeth lifted her hand to his head, carding her fingers through Jack's hair, and used her nails to lightly scratch his scalp, something she knew relaxed him even on the hardest, longest day. She was rewarded with a peaceful sigh from her husband. Jack's eyes closed softly, his head slowly sinking back onto his pillow as she continued her massage. She placed her other hand gently onto Jack's chest, careful of the bandages that covered his body. Elizabeth's care was rewarded with the gentle thump of Jack's heart underneath her palm.

"You were, Jack," Elizabeth whispered as she attempted to lull her husband to rest, "you were with me every step of the way."

"I…" Jack's eyes drooped and shot back open, "I don't want to miss anything else…" Jack paused again as a sharp pain stretched across his face, "I'm scared, Elizabeth. I'm scared… I'll miss everything."

Jack's words shook Elizabeth to her core. She had heard them before, she had seen the darkness of them sewn into the fabric of his letters. A fear had settled into Jack's heart the longer he was away from home, a bone chilling sadness that she worried had taken hold in his heart. Jack was never afraid for himself, only the ones he loved. He worried for her while he was away. He worried for Tom when he was still so lost and searching for what kind of man he wanted to be. He worried that his mother may be lonely despite her assurances that she was fulfilled and content.

But Elizabeth knew that this time, Jack was scared for himself. She just couldn't figure out what had him so frightened.

"You won't, Jack. You won't miss anything else. You're home now, love. You're home and your safe, Jack. You're safe, sweetheart."

His eyes were fluttering closed again, his breathing evening out. His jaw ticked and Elizabeth knew that he was finally giving in to the tiredness settling into his bones, "I… I love you, Elizabeth."

She placed a tender kiss to Jack's brow, "I love you, Jack Thornton. Rest."


Constable Nathaniel Roy, to many of his peers, was not a true Mountie. Immediately after graduating from the academy, he was stationed in Vancouver. It was a bustling metropolis that had crime to be sure, but did little to challenge the survival instincts and knowledge of those that policed it. And while his fellow Mounties considered breaking up fights in saloons in westward pioneer towns to be a slow day, Constable Nathaniel Roy was lucky if he had anything more to do than help a lost child find their way back home.

He was lucky in many ways, to have a patrol in a nice part of a nice town where neighbors were kind to one another and made his job and life fairly easy. But it was also frustrating and debilitating. The lack of action on his patrol beat, along with the urban setting, made it difficult when dealing with the rest of his fellow Mounties.

He wasn't great with people, never had been. He was shy and struggled to create rapport with anyone and he found it difficult to display sympathy and compassion in regards to those he vowed to protect. Not because he was incapable of feeling, he just didn't know how to express it properly. But what Nathaniel lacked in emotional capability, he made up for with intellect. Nathaniel was a sharp investigator, able to pick up on minute details that so many others would skip over.

And so, when opiates and cocaine began to riddle his community, when the need for a special task force to capture the dealers and their runners arose, Constable Nathaniel Roy jumped at the chance to prove himself.

Within four months of the new drug detachment formed, Nathaniel had lead to several major arrests in the drug ring in Vancouver. Within seven months, Nathaniel had helped discover the runners' use of the railroad to push their product out to the western settlements. And within a year, Constable Nathaniel Roy, soon to be promoted to Corporal, had helped pinpoint the locations of several drug holds and weapons caches in the Northwest Territories.

He had proven himself to be a smart, true, and loyal Mountie.

But as he stood in the small infirmary of Hope Valley (a beautiful settlement town that had grown and thrived despite all its hardships) and stared down at Captain Jack Thornton, pale from blood loss and hypothermia, riddled with bullet wounds and cuts and bruises, Nathaniel couldn't help but feel like a fraud.

As he glanced over at Jeremiah Tremblay, a man that Jack Thornton had captured and vouched for and help gain pardon — a man that Nathaniel would most assuredly have thrown into a prison cell without a second thought, knowing him to be nothing more than a criminal attempting to evade justice — Nathaniel felt guilt and shame for assuming so much about a man who risked his own life to save Captain Thornton's.

And now, as he stood beside Corporal Matthew VanNoppen as they surveyed the battled camp in front of him, Constable Nathaniel Roy once again felt the weight of his masquerade.

To make matters worse, Constable Nathaniel Roy wanted to vomit.

Blood drenched the ground, creating an odd, burgundy hue to the normally crisp, white snow. A quick scan of the area had him counting almost thirty dead bodies, six of them Mounties. Most of the bodies were clustered near the outskirts of the camp, hidden behind scraggly brush and felled rotting trees. Nathaniel deduced that they had been using it for cover, most likely firing shots at the center of camp, where the Mounties and captured outlaws were stationed.

Rigor mortis, along with the freezing temperatures, had stiffened the bodies to the point that he and Corporal VanNoppen could not remove them from the ground. It would seem that the casualties of the fire fight were to be a permanent part of this barren wasteland. Rotten seeds planted into sour earth. Constable Nathaniel Roy shivered at the thought.

"This is Lao, correct?"

Nathaniel looked up from carnage surrounding him as Corporal VanNoppen's question rang out in the silence around them.

The Corporal was standing over a dead Chinese man. His ebony hair coated with snow and his lips painfully blue. His frozen chest caked with blood. Nathaniel walked over to the body, studying it closely, mind wandering over the sketches and descriptions of Lao as well as his own brief interaction with the opiate dealer. He took in the straight edged jaw, the sharp nose, and ebony black hair. The deep brown eyes, now lifeless, staring back at him.

Nathaniel swallowed the bile collecting at the back of his throat, "Yes."

Nathaniel watched as Corporal VanNoppen nodded silently and stepped over the dead bodies of his fellow Mounties… his fallen brothers. He moved past Lao's frozen body, walking over to the rucksacks placed beside the burnt remains of where a fire once burned. Nathaniel watched as his superior officer began to rifle through the bags.

"What are you doing," Nathaniel asked, finally finding his voice.

VanNoppen continued to search the packs, never looking up from his self-appointed task, "Lao told us that he had a business log and warehouse manifest with him when we overtook the camp. Jack sent me out before we could find it, he was worried about being outnumbered and wanted reinforcements sooner rather than later. I'm checking to see if he found it."

VanNoppen pulled a rucksack out from underneath the body of a dead Mountie, letting it fall to the ground with a crude thud on the frozen ground. Nathaniel watched as VanNoppen carried on with his task, completely oblivious to his dishonorable action.

An affronted grunt passed through Nathaniel's lips.

"Do you have a problem, Constable?" VanNoppen's voice was sharp and unyielding.

"I do, sir," Nathaniel's voice was sharp with conviction and the unmistakable sense of pride that comes from the knowledge of moral authority, "I have a problem with you treating the dead with so little respect as to shove them aside for the potential of the thought of a piece of evidence that you don't even know with certainty is here! I have a problem with you being so callous at the sight of your fellow Mounties dead and rotting! —"

"This is what we do!" VanNoppen's voice rang out, cutting Nathaniel off and disrupting the sleepy silence of the wintry wasteland around them, "We fight and die and we move on!"

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed at the callousness of the man in from to him. It must have shown in his face because VanNoppen's snarl fell and a shadow fell over his face and a deep sadness filled his eyes and Nathaniel couldn't help but feel even more like a fraud.

"I know it's horrible to look at," VanNoppen's voice grew softer and Nathaniel could see that VanNoppen's previous remarks were nothing more than a mask, a mantra he had repeated to himself over and over again during the long months of his posting in the Northern Territories.

"I know it's something out of a nightmare," VanNoppen continued, "but I've seen this before. I've lived this nightmare for months…I've seen it too many times…"

The corporal's head fell and his jaw clenched. Words flittered about in his head, trying desperately to find the right combination to explain to Nathaniel, a man not much younger than himself, but who had been blessed with the ignorance of the knowledge of just how many different ways men could tear each other apart.

"It's not that I don't care about these men. It's not that I don't care that so many men have died. I do care. I care too much. And if I think about this," VanNoppen gestured to the carnage around him, "if I think about how scared everyone must have been, how desperately they all fought to survive, it will break me. So I don't think about it. I step over them and I get back to work because it's all I have control over. They're beyond our help and crying for them won't bring them back and it won't help us end all this stupid fighting any sooner and prevent any future pointless ."

Nathaniel swallowed harshly, bile and guilt and fraudulence coating his throat.

Corporal VanNoppen knelt back down to finish his task.

Nathaniel helped search the rucksacks. He found Jack's letters from home, Fraser's journal and a tattered bible that belonged to Ouimet. No manifest or business ledger. The silent curse that escaped from VanNoppen's lips told Nathaniel that he had no luck in his search either. Regardless, the two Mounties gathered the rucksacks of their brothers in arms. If their families wouldn't be able to give their sons proper burials, Nathaniel and VanNoppen were determined to return their belongings to their families.

Nathaniel placed his gloved hands onto his knee, ready to push himself up from the permafrost beneath his feet… then he noticed it….

A beautiful octagonally shaped onyx cufflink circled with silver filigree and a single round cut diamond in its center.

"Does this belong to anyone," Nathaniel asked VanNoppen, his eyes never leaving the sleek, ornate jewelry piece.

"Why the hell would any of us have cufflinks on out here?" was VanNoppen's gruff reply.

"No one would," Nathaniel answered, "so why is there one out here?"


"Jack there's something we need to talk about," Elizabeth declared suddenly.

Jack tore his gaze from Thatcher's sleeping form to look at her.

Elizabeth's jaw was clenched, her mouth tight. Jack knew that face… he didn't like that face. It was the face she made when she asked him to consider her father's job offer. It was the face she made when she confessed when they were stuck in the coal mine… that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't brave enough to love someone as brave as him. She was scared of the words fluttering in her head, scared of what they could mean to them both and how he would receive them. She was uncertain of herself and that was something Jack Thornton could not abide by.

Jack's eyes narrowed, "What is it, Elizabeth?" he asked softly.

"Carson…" Elizabeth paused, burdened by the news she knew he deserved to hear, "Carson said that it was extremely likely that your shoulder will never fully heal. That you'll have problems with it for the rest of your life."

She was side stepping, trying to find a delicate way to say something potentially shattering. He remained silent to let her continue. Tears welled in her eyes as Elizabeth moved to grasp his one free hand in both of hers. They sat there between them, resting comfortably against the clean white sheets of Jack's bed.

"Carson and Faith," Elizabeth began, "they are worried that you won't be able to continue as a Mountie."

Elizabeth stared at her husband with utter grief as he went stock still. Jack was a Mountie, mind body and spirit. He was an outdoorsman and a helping hand. He was a calm, reassuring presence and just hand. He was a protector and fighter. He was meant to be a Mountie as much as he was meant to be her husband, of that she was sure. But… Carson had been clear.

"He said that the bullet very nearly destroyed the socket. The bone will never set properly due to the damage and because of that, you'll have… you'll have an extremely limited range of motion. You were also hypothermic and because of that, there's probably nerve damage. He doesn't think you'll be able to use it much at all, even after it's healed. He… he wanted us to prepare for the fact that you might not…" she couldn't finish.

Jack looked down at their clasped hands, Elizabeth's slender fingers wrapped around his chapped one. He could feel the tension in her touch, the need to squeeze his hand but the fear of hurting him thrumming under her skin. His thumb escaped her grasp and he began to rub the inside of her wrist before he looked up at her beautiful, tired face. An eternity passed between them as hazel and sapphire eyes gazed at one another.

"Elizabeth," Jack's voice was oddly calm as he caught his wife's attention. Her sapphire gaze, watery with unshed tears, locked onto his bruised and battered face.

Hadn't they been here before? Her praying over his still and beaten body, begging God to give them more time and one more chance to do things right. Hadn't he given and sacrificed and bled and broke for his country and its people? Her heart broke for him, faced with the knowledge that what he was born to do would no longer be an option. Hadn't they been here before?

"We'll find a specialist Jack, I know that my father would help. He loves you, Jack. You should hear how much he brags about you back in Hamilton. I couldn't believe it when Mother told me. But he does Jack. He'll help you. I promise we will do everything we can to make sure-"

"Elizabeth," Jack softly called out her name again to cut off her rambling.

Elizabeth stopped. A small smile graced his lips that were finally returning to their normal color. It was the smile he reserved for tender moments between them, full of love and promise and hopes and dreams. It was a secret smile reserved for the quiet, peaceful moments that belonged to just the two of them.

"When I was a boy, I wanted to be Mountie more than anything."

Elizabeth nodded her head furiously, "I know, Jack. I know. And I promise you that we will do every-"

"Let me finish, darlin'" Jack's dimples began to form on his freshly shaven face. They stopped Elizabeth in her tracks. Jack continued.

"I wanted to be a Mountie to prove to the world that I could, that I was my father's son. I wanted to be useful and helpful and make the lives of everyone around me better. I wanted to make a difference and to matter. And then I met you," he paused for a moment, taking in Elizabeth's glorious face, "and I came to Hope Valley and my entire world changed. I learned something about myself, Elizabeth…"

Jack stopped, searching for the right words, the right combination of them to make her understand and to help her know that everything would be okay.

"I learned that even when I'm not wearing that serge, I'm still the same man. I still want to make my father proud. I still want to be useful and helpful and make the lives of everyone around better. I want to make a difference… and I know that I matter. To you and our son. To Abigail and Cody. To Lee and Rosie. To this entire town. And for nearly a year, I have been fighting to keep you and this town and all the other towns like it safe. I have missed months of being your husband and Tom's brother and Lee's best friend. I missed the birth of our son, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's frowned in confusion, "Jack…"

"Being a Mountie is what I do. It's not who I am. If I never wear that red serge again, I'm still me. I'm still a fighter and a helper and your husband and Thatcher's father. I can make a difference in more ways than as a Constable or Captain."

Jack lifted his hand and placed it gently against Elizabeth's soft cheek. She raised up to hold it in place, her eyes closing shut. Her lips graced his palm.

Dear God, what did she do to deserve this man with his kind heart and words? Why couldn't she take away this burden? Why couldn't she make this right for him?

"You deserve better than this, Jack," was all she could think to say.

A low chuckle erupted from deep in Jack's belly, tugging slightly on the stitches in his stomach, "You mean better than coming back in one piece? Better than coming home to you and our beautiful baby boy? Better than keeping my promise to you? Elizabeth," he begged her to look at him once more, "you have no idea what an answered prayer it is to be here with you, right now. To have you beside me and Thatcher happy and healthy and sleeping at the foot of this bed. It's more than I ever dared hope for."

Tears began to fall down his and Elizabeth moved to sit on the side of the bed and cup his chiseled cheeks in her delicate hands. Jack sighed, "I don't know what I did to deserve all of this, Elizabeth. And I don't intend to question it."

She kissed him then. It was painfully beautiful, achingly sweet, his lips against hers and his strong hand caressing her cheek and her slender hands carding through his freshly washed hair….

"Uhh mm."

Elizabeth pulled away from Jack only slightly to get a look at to who was at the door. It was Rosemary, a faint blush on her cheeks and a repentant grin plastered across her face.

"I'm so sorry to do this," she began, "but Elizabeth, it's time for us to get you and Thatcher home."

Elizabeth moved slowly to rise up from Jack's infirmary bed. It was then she suddenly realized how sore she still was. It had only been three days since she had given birth to Thatcher and her body was making sure she knew just how much she had pushed herself these past few days. She felt Jack's hand grasp hers. She glanced back down at him as he asked, "When do I get to come home?"

Elizabeth smiled softly, "In a few days, as soon as Carson is sure that there aren't any further complications. Once he's happy with how you're recovery is progressing."

"A few days,"Jack's eyebrows shot up into his overgrown hair and Elizabeth nearly laughed at the ridiculous sight. He needed a haircut… desperately.

"Don't worry, Jack," Rosemary cut in, a playful laugh and sisterly affection hidden behind her words, "I know it's not ideal, but I give you my word that Elizabeth and Thatcher are in excellent hands. Between the Coulters, Abigail, Grace, Julie, and Tom, she has more than enough people around to help out while you're convalescing here and at home. And Lee and I will make sure that she and Thatcher are able to visit as often as Carson says is okay."

It was obvious that Jack still wasn't happy about the situation, though Rosemary's assurances had placated him a bit, "I guess I'll just have to recover quickly," was his reply.

"You'll recover as fast or slow as your body needs," Elizabeth chided him and for a moment, Jack was sure he knew what her students felt like when she corrected them in front of the class. He could see Rosemary trying to stifle a laugh behind her hand. Elizabeth's hand ruffled through his hair and pushed the strands back from his face, knowing it drove him crazy to have the hair hanging over his eyes. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his newly revealed forehead.

"And you'll do the same," Jack replied, challenging her hypocrisy. So he hadn't missed the grimace she had given as she picked up a sleeping Thatcher from his resting place. It was a small comfort, knowing that his mind was as sharp as ever.

"It's a deal," Elizabeth shot back, a flirty smile playing on her mouth as she walked over to Rosemary. He watched as his friend opened the door for his wife and son, a delicate hand on Elizabeth's shoulder as a show of silent solidarity. He watched from the window as Lee helped Elizabeth and Thatcher down the stairs and into their Model-T. Suddenly, affection and appreciation swelled inside Jack and he refused to ever hold his tongue ever again when it came to telling someone he loved just how much they meant to him.

"Rosie," Jack nearly shouted at her as she began to shut the infirmary door behind her. Her blonde hair danced around her as Rosemary shot back into the small clinic.

"What, Jack? Is everything okay? Do I need to get Carson or Faith?"

"No, no everything's fine, I just… thank you, Rosie. Thank you for being such a good friend. To me and Elizabeth. I can't tell you enough how much it means to me that she had you and Lee to help her with all of this."

"Jack," Rosemary's eyes welled with tears and for a moment, just a moment, she was speechless.

"You know, it's funny," she began, "I thought for the longest time that you were the love of my life. And I came here to win you back and convince you to leave Coal Valley and Elizabeth Thatcher behind. But then… then I really fell in love. With Hope Valley, with Lee. And I realized just how much I owed you in leaving."

"What do you mean," Jack asked in amused confusion.

A smile graced Rosemary's lips, "Without you, Jack, I would never have come here. I would never have met Lee. I would never have discovered I could be happy in any career besides acting…or that I was any good at anything else! I wouldn't have the amazing life that I do now. I love you, Jack Thornton," she paused for a moment.

"You're my brother, my best friend, and Elizabeth… she's a sister that I never knew I wanted, let alone needed. How could I not do everything in my power to help you both when you've both done so much for me?"

Jack smiled, "We've both come a long way haven't we, Rosie?"

"Yes, we have, Jack. We've been blessed too… blessed with more than we could ever deserve."