Joshua kept his gaze to the ground as the Captain studied him. He could feel the man's dark, hazel eyes narrow in concentration as he ascertained every possible detail from Joshua's countenance, the way exhaustion seemed to hang off his shoulders. He could feel the Mountie staring, waiting for Joshua to do something, to say anything. Joshua decided to spare a glance up at the man sitting in front of his jail cell.

He was tall by the looks of it, strong too, even though it seemed like he hadn't eaten well for several months. The man's hair was a little longer than what Joshua usually saw mounties sporting. His face was pale, like he had been sick for a time and was just now beginning to recover. His left arm was wrapped in a sling and he seemed to be leaning slightly to the right, as if to relieve pain in the left side of his chest. This was the Mountie Joshua had heard stories about. This was the Mountie who had killed Lao and had stopped the drug runners in the Northern Territories.

"You're Jack Thornton," Joshua remarked with an odd mixture of awe and fear.

Jack's jaw clenched for a moment, "and you're Joshua Chang."

Jack's eyes narrowed as he watched the young Chinese man through the bars of the prison cell. He was of an average height. His jaw was strong and his face narrow. His black hair was beginning to fall over his brow as the pomade in the young man's hair was finally being to wear off. Jack waited for Joshua to look up at him, waited to study the young man's eyes as he spoke again, "I hear you're the one responsible for Teddy Cooper's death."

Joshua's head sprang up, deep brown eyes and dark hazel met, and Jack's blood ran cold.

Jack had looked into the eyes of many different kinds of men. Good men, truthful men like his father had bright, clear eyes. There was a certainty and resolute peace that colored their irises. Deceitful, untrustworthy men like the Tate Brothers had dark, lifeless eyes. Apathy and merciless greed darkened their gaze and sent a cold chill down his spine.

It was clear to Jack - with one gaze into the young man's eyes, in the defeated slouch of his shoulders - that Joshua Chang was not a bad man. A chill ran down Jack's spine all the same. Despair for the things seen and done, for horrors witnessed and committed in the name of survival haunted his gaze. Pain and self loathing mixed with the desperate hope of redemption gave a soft flicker of light in place of a potentially infinite darkness. Jack knew that gaze… he had seen it in the mirror this morning.

"You don't look like a man that kills children," Jack's voice caught in his throat at the visible guilt glittering in Joshua's tear-filled eyes, "I've met men like that… I've killed men like that."

Jack could feel Bill tense behind him as he heard Jack's confession. Jack merely continued to stare at Joshua. The young man closed his eyes bitterly, allowing a few stubborn tears to fall down his narrow cheek. His lip trembled as he whispered, "It's my fault all the same."

"You bet your ass it is," a voice snarled behind Jack.

Jack didn't event turn to face the man as he responded to the threatening declaration, "If he is guilty of your son's death, you are just as culpable."

Jack could feel the man behind him shrink back into himself and silence was all that answered his damning accusation. He continued to watch Joshua, studying the young man who had caused so much pain… and who clearly never wanted to do any of it. There was more to this than a simple back alley transaction. There was more to this man than the poison he sold.

"Start from the beginning," Jack's voice was steady and calm, "don't leave anything out."

Joshua took a breath, "It's.… it's a rather long story."

"Well, it doesn't look like you have anywhere else to be tonight," Jack stated, a trace of a smile on his lips that suddenly put Joshua at ease. Mercy and understanding seemed to radiate off of Captain Jack Thornton He told Jack why he and his sister left China. He told Jack about the work his friends had lined up for him, told him how they kidnapped Luli and blackmailed him to keep working.

"Why here," Sheriff Avery chimed in, "this is a small township. People here are working class and not a lot of money to spare on extra expenditures."

"Hope Valley is a railroad town with hundreds of workers and craftsman. The railroad's presence would ensure a growing marketplace to sell to. Not to mention the railroad's demand of constant work from their employees. The workers were promised that the cocaine would keep them up longer, help them work harder. Mr. Kensington told me…"

Jack's eyes widened in shock, "I beg your pardon?"

Joshua's brow furrowed in confusion, "Charles Kensington. He is Lao's distributor. Lao is…was, Mr. Kensington's supplier for opium and his main contact for cocaine suppliers."

Joshua watched as Captain Thornton and Sheriff Avery looked to one another, a silent conversation passing between them, "How do you know all of this?"

"Mr. Kensington had me running correspondence between them. Every three months I would dispatch delivery schedules, supply cache locations and supplier contacts. Lao would inform Kensington of when the opium and cocaine had been manufactured and Kensington would inform Lao of when the supply had been sold. Every four months Mr. Kensington would ship out the drugs. The crates marked with the Chinese symbol for gold were the ones I was supposed to pick up and distribute in Hope Valley. Mr. Kensington told me just to sell to the workers at first.. then he started to have me branch out. Told me to start selling to the town folk. He threatened to kill my sister if I didn't."

Bile began to rise up in Joshua's throat, "But I never sold to children. I refused… I never… I never wanted this. I just… I couldn't get out. I couldn't get my sister out and this was the only was to keep her safe…."

"Why didn't you go to the police," Bill spoke out, refusing to accept the excuse Joshua was attempting pawn off, "they would have helped you. The Mounties would have helped you."

Joshua opened his mouth to answer… but Nathaniel beat him to it.

"He did," the young Mountie whispered bitterly.

All eyes turned to Constable Nathaniel Roy who was standing ram rod straight by the desk at the front of the jailhouse. His jaw was clenched painfully and his eyes were narrowed, his mind searching and replaying a memory buried deep.

"I remember you," Nathaniel spoke again, more to himself than for the benefit of anyone else in the room, "I remember you came in crying… you were shouting… begging for someone to help you. And we…."

"Your Superintendent yelled at me to shut up and forced me out of the building," Joshua finished for him.

Nathaniel swallowed bitterly as the memory flashed behind his eyes, "He said that we had more important things to do than, than to help a chink find his foreign sister."

Silence filled the room at the revelation.

Bill cleared his throat and spoke out against he quiet, "So what do we do now? We have a witness but we need to catch Charles in the act. The word of a Chinese, drug dealing railroad worker won't hold a candle to the testimony of an upstanding moral pillar of Hamilton high society like Charles."

Jack nodded in agreement as his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in concentration. He took a breath, though not too deep as to aggravate the stitches on his chest, stomach, and shoulder.

"We use what we know and lay a trap for Charles," Jack spoke calmly, detached in a way that left Bill's blood running cold. This wasn't Jack Thornton, his friend, the man he had come to think of as a son. This was Captain Thornton, the strategist… the soldier. It broke Bill's heart to see a man so young forced to learn such hard and bitter lessons that only war seemed to teach… lessons that Bill never really thought were worth learning.

"We have Mr. Chang continue to write his correspondence, keep Charles off of the fact that we're on to him now," Jack turned to look at Joshua, "isn't that right, Mr. Chang?"

Joshua nodded meekly, "I take full responsibility for my part in all this. I made a choice. I have to live it…. But I promise you, Captain, that I will do whatever you ask of me."

Something flashed across Jack's face that Joshua couldn't quite place.

There was anger in his gaze, yes. There was the understandable confusion as to why anyone would be willing to harm so many people and disappointment in the fact that he didn't seem surprised that someone could actually go through with it. Captain Jack Thornton had seen something horrible and maybe done something far worse, of that Joshua Chang was certain. But there was something in his eyes that gave Joshua hope, hope for what he couldn't say. He knew that the majority of his life would consist of a view through prison bars and lumpy cots and drafty cells.

But Captain Thornton looked at Joshua Chang with pity. No. Not pity. Sympathy. Jack Thornton looked at Joshua Chang, not with disgust like his fellow mounties or hate like Teddy's father, but with an understanding that few things in this world were black and white. Jack Thornton could not abide what Joshua Chang had done to keep his family safe but he understood why Joshua thought he had no other choice. And if a mountie could see that…. Maybe there was something for Joshua to hope for… maybe redemption couldn't be achieved… or could it?

"Kensington will be here in three months to pick up the next payout," Joshua informed the lawmen, "I leave it in the coal mine, inside the second cart on the track. He leaves a letter with instructions for the next delivery schedule and crates."

Jack nodded to Joshua before turning back to Bill, Matty, and Nathaniel, "Matty, wire Mountie headquarters in Hamilton. Tell them to hold off on any raids they have planned for the next few months. Let Charles think that we've gone off trail. We'll need to inform Mayor Stanton as well."

"Jack," Matty began to protest, "if we give him that much room,"

"He'll get sloppy," Jack cut him off, "Charles is arrogant and overly ambitious. If we let him think that he's winning, that he's gotten away with all of this, he'll trip up in other places, maybe let slip where drugs caches are or who some of his runners and higher ups are."

Matty nodded before walking out of the jail to wake Ned Yost and deliver the telegram. Jack turned back to Bill and Nathaniel, "We need to wire my father-in-law and inform him of what's going on. Charles must be using the Thatcher Shipping licenses and contacts with the railroad to run the drugs this far west. We can get him to look out for any suspicious activity inside the company as well, see if there's anyone else besides Charles that's involved."

Jack paused for a moment as a sharp pain splintered in his chest before dissipating. Bill seemed to catch it and shot Jack a worried glance. Jack shook his head, "I'm fine. Just moved too quickly."

Bill didn't seem satisfied with Jack's remark, "Jack."

"He's also traveling to town at the end of the month," Jack continued, deliberately ignoring Bill's disapproving gaze, "when he gets here we can work out a strategy to catch the workers that are planting the shipments."

"I can send the wire, Captain," Nathaniel spoke softly, "why don't you head on back home?"

Jack began to argue when Bill cut him off, "He's right, Jack. We've got a plan of attack, we've got the information we need. Go home, get to bed and get healthy. We're gonna need you in top shape in about three months after all."

Jack's eyes closed momentarily as the exhaustion he'd been fighting since Matty woke him up this evening settled in his chest. His shoulder was sore. It was difficult to breathe or move without stretching the skin that was held together by tight stitches on his chest and stomach. His head hurt and he suddenly wished he was back in bed with Elizabeth beside him, Thatcher sleeping in his bassinet in the corner. He nearly laughed at how ardently he seemed to miss his mother and sister-in-law's snoring across the hall in the second bedroom.

"You're right," was all he could manage to say.

Jack turned back to Joshua, "I'll be in to see you again soon, Mr. Chang."

"Yes, sir," was the young man's timid reply.

Jack then turned his attention to the other man in the jail… Francis Cooper. A father who was now without a son. A family man with a broken family and a broken heart. It was funny, Jack thought, how painfully he sympathized with the man and how strongly he loathed him at the same time

"As for you," Jack had to bite back the snarl that creeped up in his throat, "you've been arrested and will be tried for possession of illegal substances. What with the current political climate and this war on opiates, I don't see it ending well for you. I would try and make things right with your wife… as well as you can anyway."

"I…" the man swallowed painfully, "I never meant for this to happen. It helped me stay awake, you see. I worked long hours, mostly nights at the smithery. It helped me stay awake, kept me focused. I needed this job and my family needed the money. I needed it."

"You didn't need it," Jack didn't fight the growl that clawed its way out. He couldn't find it in his heart to give a damn about the man's excuses, "you needed to provide for and protect your family."

"What would you know," Francis Cooper bit back, "You have no idea what it's like… to have a family depend upon you for it all. For protection… to navigate the trips and the stumbling blocks that the world throws…"

"Your job as a husband and a father is to move the stumbling block out of the way for your family, not put it on their path and pray to God that they don't fall over it. You've broken your wife's heart, ruined your marriage, lost your job and now your son is dead… Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me you needed it?"

"Jack," Bill moved closer to Jack, a gentle warning in his voice.

"What?" Jack yelled back at Bill, "am I supposed to cry with him, Bill? Am I supposed to hold his hand and tell him that it's not his fault? That he was deceived and that he did nothing wrong? He's a grown man… He knows what he did! I won't coddle him to assuage his guilt."

Bill stopped in front of Jack and placed a gentle hand on Jack's good shoulder. He looked Jack over carefully, studied the slope his nose and the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked so old…so weathered and broken. What he wouldn't give to fight the ghosts that haunted Jack's gaze.

"Go home, Jack. Check on your son. Hold your wife. Go to bed."

Jack stared blankly at Bill for a moment. He glanced to either side to steal another look at Joshua Chang and Francis Cooper before turning his attention back to Bill. He lowered his head slightly, shame lingering in his countenance along with the exhaustion plainly etched in the counters of his face. He nodded and walked out the door.


She couldn't go back to sleep.

Elizabeth had tossed and turned for an hour before finally deciding she wouldn't be able to slumber until Jack had returned from the jailhouse. She pulled the bed covers down and walked over to her vanity chair, picking up Jack's flannel robe and putting it on as she walked over to Thatcher's bassinet.

The baby was resting peacefully, his lips puckering every now and again as his arms and legs twitched in a dreamless sleep. Elizabeth smiled tenderly as she brushed her slender fingers through Thatcher's silky tuft of dark brown hair. For a moment, the storm inside her heart eased. The fear and worry that clouded her mind dissipated.

Her son was happy and healthy and safe. Her husband was home and healing and just as kind and loving as he always was.

And then her thoughts drifted off to Teddy, Ruth, and Francis Cooper.

A loud knock roused Elizabeth from the first blissful sleep she'd had in months. Annoyance, frustration and a pinch of anger raced through her as she felt Jack sit up in response to the persistent banging on their front door.

And then Thatcher began to cry.

"Dear God," Elizabeth grumbled as she too rose from the warm feather bed and walked over to the restless babe in his bassinet, "what time is it?"

"Not the right time to bang on our door," was Jack's tactless response. He forced himself to his feet and moved to the bedroom door.

"I thought you said that Thatcher was an excellent sleeper," Jack's voice lingered with sleep but Elizabeth could hear the smile in his voice as he teased her.

"He is," Elizabeth replied, "so long as Walter Brundy and the Original Superior Orchestra aren't using our door for a drum in the middle of the night."

Jack chuckled at his wife's retort. Even when tired, Elizabeth's mind was sharp as a tack.

"You settle him down and I'll go see who's at the door."

Elizabeth picked Thatcher up and began to rock her son back and forth as she started to sing a lullaby. She caught Jack's eye before he left and flashed him a brilliant, tired smile that warmed him to his core.

"I'll be right back," he said before leaving the bedroom.

Elizabeth heard Julie come out of the room across the hall, only to be assured by Jack that all as well and to go back to sleep. She must have since Elizabeth only heard a small shuffle of socked feet on the hard wood floor and the creak of the questroom door shutting softly.

After a few minutes passed and Elizabeth was able to get Thatcher to fall back asleep. She then sat in the rocking chair by Thatcher's bassinet, waiting for Jack to come back upstairs and get back into bed. He needed to rest and Elizabeth didn't want to fall back asleep without him beside her.

When he finally did enter the bedroom, a sense of dread filled the air and seemed to engulf the room.

"What happened," she asked as Jack sat down on his side of the bed with the weight of the world seemingly resting solely on his shoulders.

"Teddy Cooper died this evening," Jack's voice was hard and broken as he continued, "Carson says that it was a cocaine overdose."

Elizabeth's blood ran cold, "What?"

Jack gave a shallow nod before he forced himself up from the bed. He walked over to the dresser and began to rummage through the drawers before pulling out a pair of work pants and wool socks, "A man, one of the railroad workers, turned himself in as the one who's been selling drugs in town. He confessed to selling to Francis Cooper. He even confessed to helping smuggle opiates through the railroad shipping lines."

He managed to get his pants on with little trouble, but his socks were proving to be difficult. Elizabeth moved to his side of the bed, lowered herself to her knees and pulled the woolen socks out of Jack's hand, "Why are you getting dressed," she asked but she already knew the answer. She didn't miss the look of frustration that danced across Jack's face as she helped but his socks on.

"I'm the highest ranking law enforcement officer here. I have to be the one to decide how we proceed. I can't do that without all the facts and I can't get all the facts until I've talked to all parties involved. Thank you," Jack whispered, as Elizabeth finished tying his boots, careful not to wake up Thatcher, "I'm sorry you have to help with this."

"It's not a problem," Elizabeth's sincerity was undeniable, "it will be a bit before you can go about your normal routine without assistance."

"I know," Jack replied, "I just… I don't want to be a burden. Especially with Thatcher needing most of our attention."

"He's fine and so are you. You're not a burden, Jack. It's a blessing to have you home. We'll just need to adjust a bit while you're recovering."

Elizabeth smiled lovingly at him and he gave a weak smile back. Jack placed a gentle hand at the back of Elizabeth's head, his strong, lithe fingers carding through the silky strands at the base of her neck, and pulled her close enough to place a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Go back to bed. I'll be be back soon."

Except he wasn't. It had been a little over an hour since Jack had left the cozy and inviting row house with Corporal Van Noppen to question the drug dealer at the jailhouse and Elizabeth's mind was beginning to betray her.

She knew that Jack was safe. She knew that it was next to impossible for him to be shot or ripped away by a tornado or nor'easter on his way into town. But just a few short weeks ago he was on death's door, completely incoherent and his fever addled mind seemed incapable of healing. She hadn't planned on being forced to watch him leave the house and go off to work so soon after getting him back. It was whirlwind and her emotions were still radical and unpredictable and as she watched Thatcher sleep she couldn't help but imagine something equally horrible happening to her child. Thank God it wasn't Thatcher, was all Elizabeth could think. And then she felt guilty for thinking such a callous thought.

The sound of the front door opening and shutting carefully pulled Elizabeth from her reverie. Deciding that she couldn't wait another moment to lay eyes and hands on Jack, Elizabeth checked on Thatcher one last time before making her way downstairs.

She walked quietly down the hall and stairs, careful to miss the creaky floorboard at the top of the stair and on the fourth step down. She saw Jack sitting silently on the Chesterfield, gazing deeply into the warm flames of the fire that had been running throughout the night. She watched him carefully as Jack pondered the nights events, the confessions, excuses, and accusations that wouldn't stop playing over and over again in his mind.

He was angry with himself for snapping at Francis Cooper. He didn't lose his temper often and for the life of him, Jack couldn't figure out why Francis' words set him off. That's not true and you know it.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth whispered softly, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jack whipped his gaze from the flames and to his wife standing at the foot of the stairs. Sleep swam in her eyes and Jack didn't have it in him to burden her anymore this evening.

"I'm okay. I'll be up in a few minutes. I just need to clear my mind a bit before I'm able to go back to sleep," He answered. It was mostly true.

Elizabeth wasn't fooled and moved closer to her husband as he began to pick at a piece o dead skin on his head. He always fidgeted with his hands when he didn't want to talk about something but desperately wanted to get off his chest and it broke Elizabeth's morning suddenly seemed so far away. It was a distant, warm memory compared to the bone chilling reality their evening had turned out to be. It was only a few short hours ago that she was on the verge of joyful tears at the thought of Jack finally coming home. It seemed a lifetime ago that all was right with the world as she and Jack kissed and teased one another back in the infirmary, Thatcher nestled safely between them.

"Earlier today," Elizabeth started quietly, "when we were getting ready to leave the infirmary, you said you were scared."

Elizabeth watched as Jack's eyes widened in… fear?

"What are you afraid of, Jack?"

She watched him as Jack looked away from her and turned his gaze to the warm fire in front of him. Elizabeth took a step closer to him, her hand outstretched to push back the hair that had fallen across his forehead.

"Don't," Jack seemed to snarl as he pulled away from her touch. He didn't miss the flash of hurt across her face. He was so tired of hurting her.

"Jack," Elizabeth spoke softly, careful not to startle him… as if he were a scared animal cowering in a corner. It set his teeth on edge, "You can tell me anything."

Jack bit down hard, clenching his jaw so strongly that his teeth began to grind together. He wanted to, God he wanted to. He wanted to tell her how scared he was that something inside him had been broken beyond repair. He wanted to shout out the nagging whisper in the back of his mind that wouldn't seem to go away since the first time he looked a man in the eye and shot him point blank. You are not a good man. You are not the man you think you are. You are not a good man.

The words wouldn't seem to come out. He bit his tongue to tamp them down. As if keeping them as a menacing whisper in his addled mind would prevent them from becoming a boisterous truth.

Jack looked up to see Elizabeth. She was beautiful in the dim candlelight. Soft and slender curves wrapped up in his flannel robe to keep out the winter chill. Her cheeks were still slightly rounded from her pregnancy and the glow of her skin cast an angelic halo around her face. Further proof that he no longer belonged here. His presence and his touch covering everything in the blood that he couldn't seem to wash off his hands. Elizabeth and Thatcher were covered in it. It made him nauseous.

"You should go back to bed, Elizabeth," was all Jack managed to get out.

His voice was hoarse and he turned a sickly pale color. A tremor rattled in her heart as Elizabeth studied her husband's face. Jack's cheeks were still hollowed. He hadn't yet returned to his usual healthy weight. Sharp cheek bones and dark circles under his cloudy eyes cast a haunted glow around Jack's face. Further proof that she had been correct… something was eating him up inside, something was pulling him further away from her and Thatcher… from where he belonged and deserved to finally rest.

She placed a loving hand on either side of his stubbly face. Jack flinched, as if pained by her touch, but she didn't move. Elizabeth's slender thumbs wiped the tears falling freely and silently from Jack's dark and stormy hazel eyes. When did he start crying?

"I love you, Jack," Elizabeth's words were strong and true, determined and undeterred, "I love you no matter what has happened to you or what you've had to do."

"You shouldn't," Jack growled through clenched teeth as he finally met her steady gaze. Sorrow, utter sorrow and anger and guilt filled his glassy eyes. And in that moment, Elizabeth could feel her heart shatter. Dear God, what nightmare had he been forced to live through?

A harsh sob rattled in Jack's chest as Elizabeth's words crashed over him, "You shouldn't, Elizabeth."

Her hands fell to his shoulders, slumped in defeat as Jack fought to tell her… fought desperately to be honest with her if it killed him.

"I've done so much Elizabeth… so many things that no one should ever have to do. I… dear God, I lead men to their deaths. I feel like I should have been the one to die. Not them. They were all… they were all so young," Jack's voice cracked as more tears began to fall. Elizabeth pulled Jack to her, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders. Tears welled in her eyes as she listened to Jack's ragged breaths, his painful words ringing in her ears.

"And for what?" Jack spat out, anger and bile and disgust painfully pinched at the back of his throat, "for a little boy to die in his own house? Because his father brought that damn poison into their home? The one place that was always supposed to be safe. Was it all for nothing?"

Elizabeth pulled back to look at Jack again. His gaze was far off, ghosts that only he recognized haunted his eyes. Something was rising up inside him, fighting desperately to break out. Elizabeth waited patiently, lovingly. Jack's eyes closed bitterly and Elizabeth watched as he grappled with it, so desperately trying to tamp down the words that were clawing their way out.

She opened her mouth to ask him, beg him to let out the painful thoughts rampaging through his troubled mind when Jack finally spoke.

"I've killed people, Elizabeth," pure disgust dripped from every word as Jack whispered his dark secrets, loud enough for only her to hear, "I dedicated my life to protecting people and instead of saving lives I took them. Some of them I felt no remorse for. I was glad I did it. I was glad they weren't alive to hurt anyone else. We're supposed to pray for those that hurt us… pray that they see the error of their ways and help them along the way. I didn't pray for them. I didn't want to and I didn't care that I didn't. What kind of man does that make me? And now… I close my eyes and I see them. I see their faces and I see their blood on my hands."

Elizabeth cried silently, sorrow bubbling up in her chest. How could she fix this? Why couldn't she take this pain away? Why couldn't she carry it for him if only for a little while? Jack lowered his gaze to the floor, his jaw clenching painfully. His eyes closed bitterly and Elizabeth watched as he grappled with some unnamed sorrow, so desperately trying to tamp down the words that were clawing their way out.

"Just say it," Elizabeth begged him.

Jack remained silent, his eyes still tightly shut.

An eternity passed between them as his silence filled the dark empty room.

"What if… what if I brought… " Jack swallowed as he gripped Elizabeth's hands in his, squeezing them almost painfully. This was killing him, she could see it, could see that something was destroying Jack from the inside out. Her beautiful, wonderful Jack, broken and battered by an invisible force that Elizabeth couldn't fight. She could see he was drowning and she couldn't seem to find a way to pull him up to the surface.

Finally he whispered, "What if I'm the poison?

Elizabeth's breath stilled. Oh, Jack.

"I never… I never thought that I would have this. I hoped and prayed for it… a life with you. But in my wildest dreams I never thought it would happen. And now… I'm tainting all of it. You and Thatcher… you deserve so much more. What if you're both better off? What if something inside me's gone bad? What I'm not the man I thought…"

An overwhelming sense of something powerful… something primal washed over her. She wanted to slap Jack and curse him for such thoughts. She wanted to kiss him and hold him close forever to prove that nothing he admitted to her made a bit of difference in how she loved him.

"I don't care about any of that," Elizabeth's words were resolute, as her hands framed his face, forcing Jack to look his wife square in the eye, unable to break away from her gaze, "I don't care… I don't."

"Elizabeth," Jack sounded tired and resigned as he attempted to make her understand, "I think something's wrong with me now… I'm not…"

"You're mine," Elizabeth's grip on his face tightened, "do you understand, Jack Thornton? The moment you told me you loved me you were mine. The moment you became my husband, you gave your heart to me to guard and protect. You gave it to me the same as I gave mine to you. Do you honestly think I would give something so precious to a man who can't be trusted with it? Do you think I would accept such a breakable thing from anyone who's heart wasn't pure and good and true?"

She could see the wheels turning in his head, could see the gears and cogs whirring as Jack fought to accept her words and to believe them.

Elizabeth Thatcher of Hamilton could often say things she didn't mean… or rather didn't fully mean. She was a master of pulling strings and manipulating any situation, much like her older sister. It was a necessary skill to fend off unwanted suitors and pull acceptable ones in. It was a disgusting talent and Elizabeth had always been repulsed by her natural affinity for it. She had learned to use it for good, reading situations and people to understand how best to approach a conflict rather than bending them to her will. Jack taught her that, had helped her grow and discover that an honest word was more powerful than any calculated machinations.

Elizabeth Thatcher often said things she didn't fully mean. Elizabeth Thornton only ever said what she meant.

"I love you, Jack Thornton," Elizabeth declared proudly as she wiped another tear from her husband's taught cheek, "I love every part of you. Good, bad, broken or not. You and our son are the most precious things I will ever call mine. And you are mine, Jack Thornton, from now until the end of time. If you believe in nothing else, believe in that."

Another eternity passed between them.

"I'm yours," Jack repeated softy.

Finally.

Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief. She nodded her head profusely before kissing Jack's brow, his forehead, his lips. She could feel his shoulders relax slightly under her hands. She could feel his strong, warm grasp on her cheeks as he pulled her in for another kiss. The sheer relief that she had managed to get through to him at all brought Elizabeth to tears.

"You're mine," Elizabeth promised, "and I'm yours."

Jack pulled Elizabeth into a fierce hug, lifting her from her spot on the floor and into his lap. He cried, heavy ugly sobs. Elizabeth held him close, carding her fingers through the silky strands of his hair, rubbing soothing circles on his strong sturdy back, careful of the stitches that marred his soft, warm skin.

Things weren't right, weren't fixed just yet. Elizabeth was practical enough to know that some thing might never be put back in place within her husband's strong yet tender heart. But that was okay. He was here, in her arms, their son asleep upstairs tucked safely in his crib. Jack was home and they were together, crying and talking and loving so purely. This is what it means to love, Elizabeth thought. This is what it means to be loved, Jack finally understood. It wasn't all fixed, he knew. He feared that some things might never fully heal in his battered heart. But holding his wife in his arms, sitting in their home with the knowledge that their son was upstairs, sleeping peacefully… it was a start. He loved them and he was loved in return.

It was enough….