"YOU'RE… You're beautiful!"

Tilly looks up from her seat at the table watching as Arthur sways in place, a dopey smile on his face, a half empty bottle moonshine clutched in his hand. She sighs.

"That's the moonshine talking…"

She pushes back from the table and gently takes the bottle from his hand. Arthur lets it go with no resistance, eyes bright and hazy from the alcohol. He watches her set it down on the table. He shakes his head, grunting when the world swirls in front of him.

"N-no," he stutters, the slight lisp of his words more prominent now that his tongue is relaxed, "S'not the alcohol." He reaches a hand out for her hand that still rests on the table. He takes it in his, his thumb caressing the back.

"You really are beautiful," he murmurs, the reins on his tightly held emotions slack, and for a moment she believes him. She wishes of all the times he could say this, it wasn't when he was drunk. When he wouldn't remember this encounter. Her heart stutters in her chest and she smiles sadly, slowly retracting her hand from his.

"Come on, Arthur," she whispers, gently taking his elbow to lead him up the sloping stairs of Shady Belle. He follows her, quietly humming along with the song. His arm brushes her side and she closes her eyes against the pit in her stomach that yawns and churns.

She leads him up the creaking stairs, hand trailing the banister for balance. His large form presses against her on the narrow stairs. The scent of leather and the sweet bitter scent of his horse encompassing her. And she feels her heart crack even more. They reach the top of the stairs turning on the landing in the direction of his room and he stops her with his hand, still swaying in place.

"Are you," he wets his lips with his tongue and she follows its progress, "are you my lady?"

Her eyes snap to his. His face is open, eyes tinged with a sad hopefulness and she wonders how many times he's asked this. How many times he's been denied. His expression falls slightly more and more with each passing moment of silence. She wants to say yes. To say that she wants nothing more than to be his. To wrap her arms around him and hear his voice caress her name. To tell him of the dreams she has at night of them together and whole. In a cabin, by the beach. It doesn't matter where, just as long as they were together.

Slowly she shakes her head and hates the sadness that moves in. Fill all the spaces that had been carved out by years of hope and disappointment. Of past failures and regrets that she knows haunts him. She watches him slowly pick up his broken scattered pieces, sealing them back into place in front of his heart. He straightens in front of her and nods, eyes skittering to the side.

"I'm sorry," he burrs, voice soft and rough, "I don't want to encroach-"

"I'm not," she stops him, her voice a hushed whisper.

This is a mistake, her mind calls.

"I don't- I'm not-," she closes her eyes and breathes in deep, "I'm not anyone's lady…"

He watches her face, eyes still clouded from the alcohol and all she can think is oh god. That she just committed the worst mistake of her life and now she will never be able to show her face in front of him again. Even if he doesn't remember this, even if he does, she would never be able to look him in the face again. She looks down at her shoes, the mud of the swamp caked and dry. His arm falls heavy around her shoulders and she looks up as he pulls her to his chest.

"Oh, I'm glad." His voice vibrates through his chest and into her and she longs to stay just like this for all eternity.

But he won't remember

"In the mornin'," he continues, "I'm going to take you out and show you all the spots I found. All the ones that made me think of you." His deep voice is filled with such relief, with so much happiness, her eyes fill with tears.

He won't remember

She brings her arms up and hugs his waist, face buried into his chest, as crystalline tears fall from her eyes. They stay like that, swaying back and forth to the muffled guitar outside. She pulls back slowly, discreetly wiping her nose on her hand, a bittersweet smile plastered on her face.

"That sounds lovely, Arthur."

His lips curl up into a crooked boyish smile and she longs to see it more often.

"Let's get you to bed."

He nods again, the crooked smile still on his face as he follows her into his room. He groans sitting on his cot, shoes thunking to the floor. She removes his hat from his head and lays it on the bedside table, eyes avoiding the gaze of Mary 's photo. A not so silent specter that hangs over him.

She turns to go, his voice stopping her just as she reaches the doorway. She half turns, finding him on his side looking at her. His lids blink slowly, eye lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks.

"Am I a good man?"

Her response is automatic, voice fierce in her declaration.

"The best man."

His blinking stills and he takes a deep breath. Body sinking into the mattress as sleep overtakes him.

"Good night, Arthur…"

She leaves, quietly shutting the door behind her