It wasn't the gunshot that echoed in his heart. It wasn't the sound of Charles falling to the floor, nor the blade he'd managed to grab clattering to the hardwood with him. Nathaniel's startled shout registered as little more than a whisper. But her gasp… that choked and sobbing gasp… it would haunt Jack until the end of time.

Her face as she lowered the gun… his gun… slowly, steadily. Her sapphire eyes clouded over into a stormy gray. The painful set of her jaw and the slight tremble of her chin as she held back tears for the life she took, but not for the man himself. Of all the things he couldn't protect her from… he never thought this would be it. To blood she'd always see on her hands.

Even as he rose to his feet and crossed the room to her… the parlor in the house he'd dreamed up for them, built for them…. even as he reached for the gun in her now trembling hand, pulling it gentle from her grasp. He couldn't protect her from the pain of the choice she'd just made….

Elizabeth's pained, trembling gasp of horrible shock and bitter relief might have been as loud as the gunshot itself. Her contorted face and silent tears were far worse than anything he'd witnessed in the Northern Territories.

He knew, all too well, the self-hatred that would come. The instant grief over the loss of innocence that would tear away at her soul. The immovable truth in the necessity of the act that would settle in her heart.

And all Jack Thornton could do was take the gun from her hand and pull her close.

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth."

Had he always said her name like that? Like a hopeful prayer? Had his voice always been that gentle and calm and terrifiedterrified of her?

Elizabeth didn't answer. Couldn't answer.

She desperately wanted to look away but she couldn't seem to turn her head and steady her gaze on anything other than the lifeless body of Charles Kensington. Blood was everywhere. All over the perfectly tailored clothes he always wore. Splattered throughout his jet black hair overly coated in pomade. It was the floor and the walls and Constable Roy and Jack… Jack.

"Elizabeth, darlin'."

She finally turned to face him when his hands, those rough, calloused hands that had pulled her close and held her tight… those gentle hands that had painted Founder's Day banners and golden hour landscapes… that had cradled their son in the dark hours of night while he wailed and giggled and slept….. Those hands wrapped carefully around hers as he calmly pulled the smoking gun from them and cradled the weapon that had put an end to Charles Kensington… and something within her.

Elizabeth finally locked eyes with Jack… those beautiful, disarming, charming eyes. The twinkle she'd seen slowly returning to them was gone again… She'd done that.

"He was… he was going to kill you," Elizabeth finally spoke.

Jack nodded silently as he raised a hand to her cheek, the one with a bruise from Charles hit already forming, gently traced the discolored skin as it swelled slightly under his thumb. Elizabeth turned back to look at the body.

"He… I couldn't… I didn't even think. I just…"

"It's over," Jack's voice was thick with emotion, shaky and unsure… She'd done that as well.

"He was going to kill you," Elizabeth repeated herself.

"Elizabeth… Charles did this. Not you. He made his choices and you were protecting me…. You didn't do this."

"The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness," Elizabeth muttered under her breath, though it was clear she didn't believe them.

The words were familiar, Jack thought, though he couldn't quite place them, as he watched with concern as Elizabeth's face went completely blank. Her eyes darkened and Jack suddenly new all too well what she'd meant, what she was feeling.

"Darlin', look at me," Jack begged as he pulled her gaze away from Charles' lifeless body, "please look at me."

Elizabeth obliged him, but her gaze was far away. Jack pressed on anyway, "You didn't have a choice… and I know how empty that sounds. I know what you're feeling… I do. But you did nothing wrong. Nothing. Do you understand?"

Elizabeth didn't have the strength to argue with him.

"Jack."

"What," Jack answered Nathaniel, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth… who's eyes had already gone back to Charles.

"I'll take care of this. I'll write the report, I'll do all of it. But you've got to go back to town now."

Jack finally turned around to face Nathaniel, "What are you - "

"Tom was hurt, Jack. Tom was hurt and Joshua is dead. You need to get back to town… now."

Tom… oh God.

"Tom?" Elizabeth's voice rang out, "what happened to Tom?"

Nathaniel glanced between the two of them before answering, "It… it was Charles. Last I heard Dr. Shepherd, Nurse Carter and Sergeant VanNoppen were going into surgery."

"Surgery?" Jack barely had enough breath in his lungs to let the word escape.

Elizabeth whipped her head and gazed at her husband.

His face was as white as a sheet and his jaw was clenched painfully. His eyes were already glassy from the tears he was so desperately trying to keep from falling.

She'd done that too.


Julie Thatcher was not a patient woman. She never had been.

As a child, she would always be reprimanded and punished for her short attention span and inability to sit still. Their governess would force her to stand up with her nose in the corner as she'd been forced to listen as Viola and Elizabeth recited lessons.

She couldn't help it. There was always something more interesting, always something new to see and capture with paints and sketches… always something better just around the corner.

But now… now, she dare not move. She dare not even blink. She simply breathed from one moment to the next and prayed aloud and in her head. Prayed and lost herself in the moment she'd first laid eyes on Tom Thornton.

Julie stopped dead in her tracks for the first time in her entire life when she'd seen that mop of flaxen hair and bright blue eyes, shining with mischief and humor and something deeper that she'd been desperate to discover. Julie Thatcher never stopped for anyone… there was always something more interesting… something new to see and experience and better. But then Tom Thornton, a troublemaker and scoundrel with a wonderful heart buried so down deep that not even his own brother could seem to reach him, stopped her dead in her tracks… and she'd stopped him.

From the moment Tom Thornton had left Hamilton, Julie had felt an aching in her chest that she couldn't place, couldn't define. But she hadn't needed to. She knew, in her heart and soul and the very marrow of her bones.

"Elizabeth, may I ask you a question," Julie whispered to her sister in the quiet of the night.

Elizabeth turned in her bed and looked up to find her younger sister standing there, fingers tangling up together in a nervous habit, "Julie? What time is it?"

"Just a little after midnight."

"Can your question wait until morning?" Elizabeth whispered groggily, sleep still evident in her voice, "I leave tomorrow and I don't know the next time I'll get to sleep on a mattress this heavenly."

"I'm afraid it can't," Julie answered mournfully.

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly before forcing herself to sit up. She beckoned Julie over and her sister immediately complied, sitting at the foot of the bed. Her hands fell into her lap and immediately began to tangle themselves again.

"What is it, Julie," Elizabeth asked as she placed a calming had over both of Julie's.

"It's very important, Beth," Julie started, "but I just… I'm not sure where to begin."

"The beginning, I expect," Elizabeth answered her sweetly.

A weak smile flashed across Julie's face as she pulled her hands out from under Elizabeth and taking her sister's hand.

"Do you…" Julie's throat was suddenly so very dry, "do you miss Constable Thornton?"

She felt her sister go incredibly still even as her voice belied the sudden tension between them.

"What do you mean?"

Julie looked up at Elizabeth, who's gaze had fallen into a practiced impassive mask that she'd perfected throughout her debut season.

"You know what I mean," Julie answered quickly, suddenly annoyed with her older sister, "you know exactly what I mean, Beth."

"Julie, Constable Thornton and I are just very good…"

"Please don't treat me like Viola, Beth. I know you. I know that you have feelings for him. Deep feelings. Even if you won't admit it. And I justI need you to answer my question. Do you miss him?"

Elizabeth swallowed sharply, "Julie…."

"Just answer the question, Beth!"

Silence engulfed the room as the two sisters stared at each other for an uncomfortable, unending moment.

"Julie," Elizabeth started softly, still evading the very simply question Julie had asked, "you've known Tom such a short time."

"How long did it take for you to feel this way for Constable Thornton? Do you feel like that with him? Do you miss him? Does your heart break with it, knowing that you can't simply call out to him and have him there? Do you ache down to the marrow of your bones because you can't help but wish you could just reach out and his hand would be there for you to take? Do you miss him, Beth? Or am I just crazy!"

Elizabeth remained silent and stock still.

Julie threw her hands up and rose to her feet, "Fine. Forget I said anything. Just keep lying to me and yourself and Jack."

Julie had reached the bedroom door, had placed her hand on the knob when,

"I do," Elizabeth whispered so softly that Julie had thought she'd imagined it.

She turned to look back at her sister, who's own hands were tangled and shaking slightly now. Elizabeth didn't look to Julie, but simply gazed at the small fire burning in the ornately decorated fireplace in front of the bed. Her eyes sparkled and shimmered with unshed tears.

"I do," Elizabeth repeated, "I miss him when he leaves for his rounds after we have breakfast in the cafe. I miss when he leaves after walking me home from school. I miss him the moment he kisses my cheek and says goodnight or lets go of my hand. I miss him, Julie… and…. And I worry that I've hurt him and I can't fix it. I worry that I'll be missing him for the rest of my life."

Julie nearly ran back to her sister's side when Elizabeth began to quietly sob and wrapped her arms around her older sister's shaking frame.

"You're not crazy," Elizabeth whispered into Julie's neck.

"I justI hardly know him."

"No," Elizabeth pulled back, "You do know him. And he knows you. And it's scary and exhilarating and comforting all at once. To know that someone sees you, the good and bad, andand loves you."

Loveit felt so final to admit what she was feeling. It felt dangerous.

"But Julie," Elizabeth continued, "you need to be careful. Just because youjust because you found him, doesn't mean you're ready for him just yet. It doesn't mean he's ready for you. It's daunting to look the rest of your life in the eye."

"But it doesn't mean I should walk away from it and hope it all works out."

Elizabeth paused, suddenly far away and lost in thought, "no… no it doesn't."

"Julie?"

Julie's lifted her head from her hands to see Elizabeth walking up the infirmary's front porch steps. A nasty bruise that hadn't been there that morning stood out against her fair skin.

"Beth," Julie rose up from her seat on the waiting bench and pulled her sister to her, "what happened?"

"Charles," was all Elizabeth said.

"Charles? Charles did this to you? Where is he? Where is Jack?"

"Charles is dead," Elizabeth answered softly, "Charles… he took me…. I think he wanted to use me as leverage…. But Jack found us and Charles is dead. Jack is going to check in on Thatcher. Constable Roy is taking care… taking care of the body and the investigation. And I wanted to sit and wait with you for news about Tom."

Charles is dead…. "Oh, Beth. Are you okay?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "Don't worry about me. I'm safe, Thatcher is safe. And Tom… is going to be okay. And Charles will never hurt anyone else."

Julie nodded as her eyes went to the infirmary door.

"What do you need, Julie?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"Just sit here with me?"

"I can do that."


Thatcher cooed softly as he burrowed his little nose into Jack's neck, the side not covered in Charles' blood, taking in the comforting scent of his father.

Jack took a moment to breath in the soft downy hair atop his son's head.

"Oh my God," Abigail whispered.

"How is she, Jack," Rosemary said softly… too damn softly.

"She's in shock," was all he could say as Thatcher wriggled slightly, giggling with joy at the sight of his father. Jack forced a grin in response.

"I think you both are," Abigail countered.

Jack nodded in agreement.

"Jack," Rosemary started, "what… is there anything we can do?"

"I don't know yet, Rosie. I'm sure there is but… I just don't know yet."

Rosemary nodded.

"But thank you," Jack continued, "thank you both for always being there for us."

"Always," Abigail answered for them both, "never doubt that."

"I don't."

After a moment, Abigail's mind began to work in overdrive, "what does all of this mean for the investigation? Will Elizabeth have to testify? Will… will charges be brought against her."

Jack breathed deeply and kissed Thatcher's head again to steady himself.

"Constable Roy is… he's taking care of Charles' body. He's going to finish the investigation and write the reports. He'll need a statement from all of us… including Elizabeth. But Charles had no family left. No one to,"

"No one to miss him," Abigail finished.

Jack nodded, "so I don't know who would press charges against her. But more than anything, she was acting in self-defense and to prevent harm to two Mounties. That'll go along way."

Rosemary mumbled, "well thank God for that, at least."

Jack gave a quick, perfunctory nod but said nothing else. His eyes kept darting between Thatcher and the infirmary just through the window.

Rosemary and Abigail both noticed.

"We can watch Thatcher while you sit with Julie and Elizabeth, Jack," Abigail offered.

"How long have they been in surgery?" Jack asked cautiously.

"They finished the most difficult part at the railway camp. They couldn't risk moving him before then," Rosemary explained, "that took several hours. But they've only been in the infirmary for… a half hour?"

Jack nodded again, before changing the subject, "How is Lee?"

Rosemary paused for a moment.

"He's… he's shaken up. He's… he's the one who found them, along with Carson."

Jack's eyes closed painfully. He gripped Thatcher a little tighter.

"Jack," Abigail whispered.

"I want to," he finally answered, "I just… I'm… I'm scared to let him out of my sight."

"I know," Abigail said as she walked across the room, stopping in front of him to place a motherly hand on his scruffy cheek, "I know my boy."

Jack's eyes closed again, suddenly more tired than he could ever remember being.

"I know, my dear boy. But I promise you, Thatcher is fine. And we'll be right here, just across the street. But right now, your wife and your brother need you. And you need them too."

"It's over, Jack," Rosemary joined in, "it's over and he can't hurt anyone else. And we won't let anything happen to Thatcher."


Elizabeth loved to read.

When she was younger, she would have said she lived to read.

Every book she had ever owned had transported her to new worlds and old ones. Every story had taught her invaluable truths about who she was and helped her understand the people around her.

But there were some that simply rubbed her the wrong way. Some novels and poems left her feeling discontent and angry and she could never seem to appreciate them because of it. It almost made her laugh when a quote from one of those stories wouldn't seem to stop repeating in her head.

"The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness."

Les Miserables was aptly titled. Full of miserable people with unhappy endings….

"Not all of them," Jack countered.

"Most of them," Elizabeth argued back.

A quick grin danced across his face while he helped to finish setting the table.

"I cannot believe, that out of all the books ever written, Les Misérables is your favorite."

"First, there are few things that make it all the way across the pond that are still in French," Jack started and Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "what?"

"Nothing!" Elizabeth said defiantly.

"Out with it," Jack demanded as he placed the forks and knives onto the table.

Elizabeth paused for a moment, "You mean aside from the fact that Les Misérables

Is your favorite book? I actually find it quite annoying that you're fluent in French. I never could master it."

"Well, I am French-Canadian," Jack teased.

"True," Elizabeth smiled coyly as she rounded the table to stand in front of him.

"And you know Latin and Greek and a little bit of Russian."

"Every teacher has to know Latin and Greek."

"And Russian?"

"Ms. Findley was an admirer of Tolstoy andDostoevsky. It was inevitable to pick up a thing or two."

Jack chuckled, "You can pick up one of the most complicated languages in the world yet not one spoken by over a quarter of the population of Canada."

"What can I say," Elizabeth argued playfully as she moved closer to him, "I like to be contrary."

Jack rolled his eyes with mock annoyance.

"But seriously," Elizabeth continued, "how is Les Misérables your favorite book?"

"Because," Jack moved to grab Elizabeth's hand," it's about longing for grace and redemption, It's about what happens when you get it, what you do with it and what happens if you can't extend it to others. It's life, Elizabeth. The good and the bad and everything in between. It's comforting, I guess. To know that no matter what, no matter how I'm feeling, someone else has felt the exact same way. That no matter how much the world changessome things are as constant and unchanging as God himself."

Elizabeth was suddenly enraptured by the crisp green coloring in Jack's hazel eyes, that brilliant glint of intelligence and compassion sparkling as he spoke. It warmed her over as a mischievous smile formed on his lips. Good Lord, she wanted to kiss him.

"That's what it means when the priest says,'To love another person is to see the face of God.' There is no love without grace and forgiveness. And to grant those things to another person is to understand how God feels about us. What's not to love about a book like that?"

Silence encompassed them. Jack continued to look at her with suchdear Godsuch love and Elizabeth dare not move lest she break the spell that had been cast since he'd taken her hand. Who knew that the Mountie in front of her was so well read, so intelligent and perceptive? Why had no one ever told her how utterly charming and disarming it was when a man could go toe-to-toe with her in a battle of wits? How had none of her former suitors ever come close to making her feel dizzy with his intoxicating warmth and humorwhy had no one ever prepared her for something as dazzling andsomething she dare not utter aloudas the twinkle in Jack Thornton's eyes or the devilishly handsome grin on his lips

Those lips that she had wanted to kiss again and again since their first kiss just a few weeks ago.

"Abigail will be back from the mercantile any moment…" Elizabeth attempted to move away from him, but Jack pulled her closer still, moving her hand to rest on his chest, just above his heart. It was beating fast, thrumming pleasantly under the soft skin of her palm. She could feel the warmth radiating from his skin and underneath the soft cotton of his shirt.

Jack's hand, the one that had been resting on top of hers moved to cup her cheek and Elizabeth couldn't help but close her eyes at the feel of his rough, chapped hands against the silky skin of her cheek. Nor could she stop the sharp intake of her breath as his other hand moved to pull her closer still.

"Then I better finish convincing you that Les Misérables is a wonderful novel."

Elizabeth could barely nod before his lips were suddenly pressing against hers….

"You don't deserve this," an ominous voice echoed behind her.

Elizabeth felt cold as she suddenly stood in the abandoned mine shaft… the shaft that she and Jack had first spoken those wonderful, terrifying words to one another.

"You don't deserve any of it," the voice called out again.

Elizabeth turned her head, searching for the mysterious speaker….

"But you know that," Charles Kensington snarled as he stepped out from the darkness of the mine, "don't you, Elizabeth."

"Stop," Elizabeth grimaced, "just, stop."

"Why? You didn't."

"If hadn't… you'd have killed him. Both of them."

"No… I wouldn't have had time to finish them both off. But you're right… I would have killed Jack. And that would have been more than enough for me."

Red hot anger coursed through her heart as Elizabeth moved to slap Charles right across the face, "Shut your damn mouth. He did what he had to do in order to survive, in order keep innocent people like Tom and Julie and.. and Lee and Rosemary. Like our son. safe from… from people like you. He did what he had to do in order to come home."

"Interesting that you aren't on that list, huh, Beth?"

Elizabeth blanched at Charles' quick remark. The bastard laughed menacingly.

"Oh, Beth. Did you really kill me because you were protecting Jack? Or was it something else?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean…. Didn't you tell Jack once that you wanted me to pay for all the things I'd done to your family? Didn't you say you wanted me to suffer the way I made you suffer?"

"That's," Elizabeth's words caught in her throat, "that's not what I meant."

"Sure it is," Charles snarled, "you killed me because you wanted revenge. And now you've got it."

"No," Elizabeth tried to argue, "no, that's not what happened."

Charles paid no attention to her as he began to circle around her.

"And besides, it's your fault any of this happened anyway."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

"I mean, without you, Thatcher Shipping would have never even started doing business in Hope Valley," Charles continued, his tone lazy and carefree, as if he were explaining the basics of baseball instead of how Elizabeth Thatcher was responsible for the war in the Northern Territories and for the guilt and fear she and Jack both carried now. For Tom's injuries and Joshua's death….

"You moved to Hope Valley. You chose to marry that Mountie. You decided to call this… town your home. You're the reason your father became so invested in it, the reason he started doing business here. Without you, I would have never even had the thought to run my operations this far west."

"That's… that's not true."

"Hell!" Charles' continued, "if you hadn't ever set foot in this town, the skirmishes in the Northern Territories might have never happened! My point is, Elizabeth Thornton," Charles stopped his circling to stand right in front of her, dangerously and painfully close to her, "is that this is your fault as much as mine. And if I can figure that out, how long do you think it will take Jack, or Julie, or Abigail to? How old will Thatcher be before he realizes just how much blood you have on your hands?"

"No," Elizabeth could barely speak, the weight of Charles' words crushing her air right out of her lungs.

"You don't deserve your life, Elizabeth. You don't deserve your husband or your child or your friends. They'll realize what you've done to them soon enough… and that you killed me to try and ease your guilt."

"NO!"

Elizabeth shot up in bed, quickly taking her surroundings. She was in bed… in her bed. In the row house. Her head whipped around to look for Jack, only to see his side of the bed cold and untouched.

"Elizabeth."

She whipped her head around again to see Abigail standing just outside of the room, a soft glow from the candle in her hand lighting her face and the space around her.

"Abigail," Elizabeth breathed out heavily, painfully, "I don't… I don't remember…."

"You were exhausted," Abigail began to explain, "you just… well you collapsed by the infirmary. Jack brought you home and I volunteered to stay with you and Thatcher while he waited with Julie at the infirmary."

ThatcherElizabeth shot out of bed, hurling the covers off her and onto the floor. She flew past Abigail and into the nursery… where Thatcher was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to what had happened today… oblivious to what she'd done.

"He's okay," Elizabeth whispered to herself, "he's okay."

"He's been an angel all day," Abigail whispered, careful not to disturb the sleeping babe, "I honestly don't think I've ever seen a child so easy going."

"He gets that from Jack," Elizabeth stated.

Jack

"Where is Jack," Elizabeth questioned desperately, longing painfully to see her husband.

"Once Tom got out of surgery.. and Faith forced them to come home, he walked Julie back here. I made Julie something to help her sleep… but I haven't seen Jack since then."

"How is Tom?"

Abigail paused, "it's too soon to tell. He made it through surgery. That's the important thing."

Elizabeth nodded absentmindedly, her eyes still locked on the beautiful, comforting sight of her sleeping son.

You don't deserve this.

"Elizabeth," Abigail called out softly, "are you okay?"

"I…" Elizabeth tried to brush off Abigail's inquiry, but knew that anything other than the truth wouldn't work. The older woman simply knew her far too well for a lie to work.

"I need to see Jack."

"I don't know where he is."

"I do," was all Elizabeth said as she left the room.


His eyes were strained from having only the dim light of a few candles to light his way. His back ached from leaning over for too long. His knees cracked from the pain from holding up his entire body. His newly recovered shoulder was overworked and begged for rest even as Jack continued to scrub the blood from off the hardwood floor. He wouldn't stop, not until every drop of the sickening, dried maroon liquid had vanished. It wasn't much, but it was a start as far as penance was concerned. He owed everyone that much… he owed Elizabeth at least that much.

"Jack," her voice rang out through the dark.

Jack's head snapped up to see Elizabeth walking through the front door of the home he'd designed and helped build. Where they were supposed to be sleeping in tonight, rather than the crammed row house.

She was tired. Dark purplish rings settled under eyes and the pain deep blue of a newly formed bruise seemed to taunt him in the warmth of the lantern she held above her head. Jack didn't respond before leaning back down to continue scrubbing the floor.

"Jack, it's nearly midnight. Come home."

"I will when I'm finished," he replied gruffly.

"Jack," Elizabeth lowered the lantern to the floor as she kneeled in front of him, "I can help with this tomorrow. Please… please just come home."

She placed a soft hand over his, forcing him to still his movement. Dear God, his shoulder started throbbing horribly. Good.

"I'm almost done, Elizabeth. And you don't need to help with this. This isn't your mess to clean up."

Elizabeth said nothing, confirming his worst fears… it was his.

"Yes it is, Jack."

Jack stopped again as his head shot up to look at Elizabeth.

Her hands had settle in her lap, but she was fiddling with her engagement and wedding ring, a habit that signaled an anxiousness building up inside her.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Jack questioned, confusion and concern marking every word.

Elizabeth's eyes shut painfully.

"Darlin'," Jack started.

"Please don't call me that," Elizabeth nearly sobbed, "I don't… I don't deserve that."

Jack's confusion grew as he finally dropped the dirty scrub brush and grabbing Elizabeth's hand to pull her up from her repentant pose.

"What's this all about, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth didn't know how to answer. But she and Jack had made a promise to try… to fight through the urge to hide their doubts and fears away and let the other carry their burdens… but this… he shouldn't have to carry this.

"This is all my fault, Jack…"

"Elizabeth," Jack was completely befuddled now, "how is any of this your fault?"

"Jack,"

"No…. No. It took us all months to figure out who was behind all of this. You're the one who helped us identify Charles. You helped catch him off guard and muddle his thinking today. You helped lure him to a place that left him completely vulnerable. You saved and Nathaniel today. None of this is your fault."

"But it is my fault that my father ever heard of Hope Valley. It is my fault he decided to become such close trading and shipping partner to town. It is my fault that Charles Kensington ever set foot in Hope Valley."

Elizabeth was breathing heavily as she finally finished her explosive rant. And Jack… Jack stood in front of her completely and utterly stunned into speechlessness.

"Elizabeth, darlin'," he started.

"DO. NOT. Call me that!"

Elizabeth was crying now, oblivious to the hurt that had flashed across her husband's face, "It's my fault that you were sent to Hope Valley in the first place. So it's my fault that your brother, the only family you and your mother have left, ever met Julie. If he hadn't, maybe he'd never have taken a job with the railroad. But no, he's in the infirmary fighting for his life because Charles Kensington, the man I lead on for months, beat him to bloody pulp."

"Elizabeth, stop," Jack spoke softly as he tried to pull her close to him, "just stop. Why are you trying to punish yourself for something you didn't do? Charles… he,"

"He would have never even heard of Hope Valley if I hadn't taken the teaching position here. He would have never come out this far west. Who knows, Jack, maybe it's my fault you ended up in the Northern Territories!

"That is categorically untrue."

"And don't tell me not to punish myself because I know damn well that's what you're doing here. That's why you're working yourself to the bone in the dark of night. So don't you dare tell me it's my fault when I know for a fact that it is… it's my fault that you're here now, scrubbing blood off the floor because I… because I was capable of killing a man in cold blood…"

That shocked Jack back to life.

"WHAT?"

Elizabeth's tears continued to fall, "I'm a murderer, Jack."

Anger at her words, at the wildly untrue self-accusations she'd hurled at her self, thundered in his ears. How could someone be so damn brilliant and so completely wrong about anything so black and white as this. How could she possibly think….

"If you're a murderer, then so am I," Jack stated defiantly.

Elizabeth balked at his comment, "No you are not. You… you,"

Jack didn't let her finish.

"I have told you everything that happened to me in the Northern Territories. You know about every ambush, every man hunt. You know the exact number of men I've ever killed. And you know that both of us combined couldn't count them with both hands. And you still love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Elizabeth answered fiercely, "of course I do."

"How?" Jack's voice rose slightly.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed in anger. How after all this time could he still doubt her?

"Because I do, Jack. That's… it's like asking me how I breathe! Why can't you under-"

"Then why are you so certain that can I not love you for protecting me? Your family… our family?"

Elizabeth's mouth went dry. The angry tirade she'd had on the tip of her tongue fell into oblivion as she looked up at him. Jack's eyes… those beautiful hazel eyes that watched her so tenderly as she rocked Thatcher to sleep, that had studied her face so he could sketch it for her. Those eyes that had seen an empty meadow and dreamed of a school house for her… of a home for their family… those mesmerizing eyes stared at her with such compassion and understanding and love….

"Jack," was Elizabeth could manage to get out as she began to pull away.

It was all too much… she couldn't bear the weight of it, didn't deserve to have him look at her with such devotion.

"No," Jack said as he pulled her back to him, "no."

Elizabeth's eyes shut tightly even as Jack forced her chin up. Her arms hung at her sides when all she wanted to was wrap them around him and bury her face in his strong, sturdy chest.

"You shouldn't…" Elizabeth started.

"No," Jack said again, sterner this time.

"You shouldn't," she tried again, but the words would't seem to come.

"Telling me that I shouldn't love you, that I can't possibly love you any more is the same as telling the sun not to rise in the east. It won't happen, Elizabeth. Not now, not ever."

His voice was so steady, so sure. She couldn't stand it. With every push away from him, the look of devastation and despair in his face grew, and tiny cracks in her heart grew larger every time she saw it. Didn't he understand that she was trying to protect him, trying so hard not to break his heart… surely she would… if she could kill a man she could certainly break his heart.

"Jack, please… please just let me go," Elizabeth whispered as she tried to pull away from him again. And the words left her feeling cold as they left her lips.

She'd whispered them once before… a lifetime ago… when he'd first told her about the Northern Territories… that he had been asked to go…. So she'd pushed him away, tried to run away from the fear of losing him and losing her heart in the process. It had left him with nothing to do but retreat within himself, guard his thoughts from her in an attempt to protect her heart for her. God… it had nearly destroyed them.

She'd been a coward not to love him and he'd been a coward to let her run

"No," Jack's gentle voice pulled Elizabeth from the tumultuous thoughts rattling around in her head, "never. I'm never letting you go, Elizabeth."

Tears began to fall down Jack's face and Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from touching him any longer. Her soft, slender hand rose of its own accord, to wipe the away the silent trails they left behind on his stubbly cheeks. Jack's eyes never left hers, even as he raised a hand to cover her own.

"I let you run to Hamilton when you were scared of falling in love with me and I almost lost you. I let you run when it seemed like our future was being ripped away with how many directions we were both being pulled…."

Jack's voice wobbled even as a smile broke onto his face…. That same sweet and shy smile he always gave her when he was about to tease her or flirt with her or ask her to take a walk….

"I'm getting to old to run after you all the time, darlin',"

Elizabeth let out a choked laugh, silent tears falling down her face as a weak smile flashed across her face. She finally looked up at him again as the quick grin fell from her lips.

"I know…" Elizabeth whispered.

"But more importantly… you're too brave to run," Jack whispered back.

Elizabeth's eyes shut painfully and shook her head, "No I'm not."

"You are."

Jack placed a gentle hand on her face, his calloused thumb stroking the silky skin of her cheek.

"When I let you run to Hamilton, you came back. When I let you run away with your heart, you came right back and gave it to me. And every time I've tried to pull away, tried to push you away, you've stood your ground. You've pulled me from the darkness of my own heart without thought or question…. Elizabeth… you're the bravest person I know."

Jack pulled her close and Elizabeth didn't try to fight the urge as she breathed him in. The lingering scent of tree sap and sunshine and earth and Jack. She didn't fight the skip in her heart as he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

"You saved my life. You saved Nathaniel's life. You kept our son from growing up without his father. You kept my promise to him for me. Darlin'," Jack pulled away to look at her and wipe away the shimmering trail of tears down her face, "I'm the one that failed you. Failed everyone. Nathaniel, Mattie, and I, we didn't plan enough, we didn't think through enough every possible outcome of today. Charles should have never been able to get to you or Tom. We failed to protect you both… I failed to protect you both."

Elizabeth shook her head, "There are some things you can't plan for. None of that was your fault. It was Charles' fault… he…"

And suddenly it clicked in her head. That stupid, miserable book and its quotes about love and grace and redemption and pain and longing….

The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness….

And suddenly Elizabeth laughed and then started to cry… and Jack had decided that his wife had finally cracked under the weight of the days events and the past few months and the entire year….

"What on earth," Jack gasped in complete perplexity. And then, Elizabeth was her lips to his and then pulled back far too quickly for Jack but then she was talking again.

"I love you, Jack Thornton," Elizabeth said, "I have loved you since you drew Hayley's Comet on the chalkboard in the saloon. And every day since I have only fallen more in love with you. With your selflessness and humor and compassion… even your superiority in speaking French."

Jack gave a weak laugh at her last point while Elizabeth continued, "You're patient and you're gracious and you are so humble despite being a talent artist and amazing Mountie. You make me brave, Jack Thornton. And I love you more than ever thought was possible."

She loved the way he always blushed when she complimented him. Loved the shy, boyish smile that always formed when she paid what he though was unwarranted attention to him. She loved how even through his unwarranted guilt, his love for her shone through everything else.

"Do you love me, Jack."

Elizabeth would have laughed at how quickly his eyebrows shot up at the absurd question if the obvious devastation of her perceived uncertainty of his answer hadn't burned in his eyes.

"Of course I do."

Elizabeth smiled sweetly, "then I need you to forgive yourself. Or let go of your guilt. Or whatever will you help you past this. If you don't, then I can't let go of mine."

"That's not fair, Elizabeth," Jack countered, "this is my job. What happened today… what you were forced to do,"

"Was Charles' fault," Elizabeth finished, "what you and I were forced to do today, to protect our family and one another… Charles' forced our hand and I refuse to let either of us carry the guilt for him."

"And you won't let go of yours until I let go of mine, is that it?"

Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

Jack began to smile, "because you're so damn stubborn."

"Well," Elizabeth replied, a trace of humor and utter affection laced in every breath, "I am a Thornton."

And suddenly the air in the room, in their home, was so very close. And so were they.

"Yes," Jack breathed softly, "you are."

Elizabeth practically gulped as she caught sight of the intoxicating look in his eyes. She took a calming breath before reaching for his hand.

"Come home with me, please," she whispered as she pulled him closer still, "we can watch our son sleep peacefully in a world that's just a little bit safer. Then we can get into our warm feather bed and hold each other as we sleep. And then tomorrow, we'll start the rest of our lives and take the good and the bad as it comes."

Jack remained silent and for a moment, Elizabeth worried that she hadn't gotten through to him as she'd hoped.

But then, a true, dimpled and breathtaking grin grew on his face and Elizabeth could have died then and there from the peace and joy that radiated off him.

"Take a walk with me, Elizabeth," Jack whispered.