"Jo, what are you doing?", I ask, trying to roll up my sleeves. "I'm going to fight him."

"He'll kill you", she says dismissively, but helps me roll up my sleeves.

"Thanks for the faith", I say to her.

She shakes me and everything goes all wobbly. "Laurie, listen to me. You made a mistake with Amy. You did. She's not the one for you, she's a prissy, egotistical, greedy little minx, the type you've always hated. We made a mistake, Laurie, not getting married, we made a mistake."

"Who's this "we"?", I shout back at her, the alcohol making me far too honest. "I don't recall rejecting you out there that day."

"Okay, fine, *I* made a mistake", she says trying to keep me steady on my feet. "I love you, Laurie. We can be together. You don't have to settle for Amy or anyone like her. You can have your first choice. You can have me", she says.

"Kiss me", I instruct. "Just once."

"I'll kiss you over and over forever!", she cries joyously.

"No, just once", I correct. "I want to know something."

I pull her into my arms. I'm drunk and sloppy, but she puts up with it. I kiss her the way I do Amy, or I try to, but she doesn't move. Her body doesn't respond, and mine doesn't either. She kisses me at arm's length. Her lips are like blocks of wood under mine and she's trying to suck in air through her nose. Her lips are pressed against mine like she's kissing a wall.

We separate. "Oh Jo."

She bursts into tears. "I'm sorry. I know I can do better..."

"Jo, stop, stop, please you're my best friend..."

"And you're mine!", she insists.

"I know that, I know!" I pull her close to me. "You don't love me, Jo, not THAT way. And I don't love you that way, either. I'm so sorry, Jo. Amy is everything you say she is, and worse. She's a greedy sarcastic little snob. She's also complex and interesting and beautiful, an insanely talented artist, more intelligent than I ever imagined, and she loves me. It's not just that she loves me, Jo, she WANTS me. It's a different thing, it's a different...kind of love."

She wipes away a tear. "I'm sorry I can't love you the way you want", she says, for the second time.

"And you were so smart to see that back then, Jo." I kiss her on the cheek. "Now let me go get beat up, please, before I sober up and think better of it."

She laughs. "You know Amy never wanted anything more than her own personal white knight. Win or lose, watching a man defend her honor should guarantee you a good wedding night."

I blush despite being drunk. "Wish me luck, buddy", I say.

AMY POV

I love Laurie. I remember all too vividly the first time he stepped in the house, bringing Meg home from a ball with a twisted ankle, how handsome he was, how smart he seemed. I loved him instantly and never stopped for over a decade. I remember every time I saw him or tried to spend time with him, or tried to get him to notice me, all in vain, because he saw no one but Jo.

I love him, but I'd be a liar before God if I didn't admit I was tempted. All that money. The Vaughn family legacy in addition to my aunt's. We really would be...royalty. My heart picks up a beat thinking of the parties and the fun and jewels and the gowns...the respect. "Lady Vaughn." They'd practically be bowing.

And what I could do for my family. I could support my parents completely in their old age. I could buy Meg and John a proper house, and make sure they never wanted for anything again. I could send Jo to university, I could rent her a studio to work and live in New York City. I could send the twins to university. I could save everyone, do it all, I could have it all. The image of myself soars as I close my eyes. Amy Vaugh, Her Royal Majesty. I see myself kissing Fred, in bed together...and then it all comes crumbling down.

Because I would have all this only if I didn't have Laurie. Only if I never see his face, hear his voice, listen to his jokes, hear that sarcasm in everything he says. He's so smart and so wounded and so passionate. When he loves, he doesn't care about anything else, he'd leave his occupation, his family, his world, he'd walk across an ocean for love, that's who he is. He never had a mother but he looks for that kind of love and he throws his arms around it before he knows if it's real. He needs me to take care of him, to look after him, because I'm the only who has loved him like this, for this long. He was always mine, whether he knew it or not, and that comes with a responsibility to him.

"No, Aunt March", I whisper and her shoulders fall.

I turn on my heel and run out to the living room. "Laurie! Laurie! I heard his voice, I know he's here!"

"Amy, he's drunk", Marmee mourns. "He's outside with Jo."

"He's hurt. He doesn't handle it well", I tell them. "He never had love and support as a child except from his grandfather. He thinks everyone is going to leave him. Just let me handle it." I rush outside into the cold air.

"Laurie I..." And there they are. In each other's arms.

I gasp. "Laurie..."

"Amy, no!", he shouts.

I burst into tears. I can't even control it for appearance sake, or not wanting to cry in front of my faithless big sister.

"Don't be stupid, Amy", Jo insists.

"No, Amy! Jo and I are best friends. That's it. I love you. You're my wife, now come home with me. Send Vaughn back over the pond, and come home with me where you belong!", he shouts.

"You don't tell me where I belong!", I shout back, horrified. "Aunt March was right. Fred is not only the richer man, he's the better man." I turn on my heel and run back inside.

JO POV

"She's right", he says, collapsing into a sitting position on the ground. "He is the better man."

"Laurie, no, c'mon!", I shout back.

"Well he's not out here asking her sister to kiss him", he says and I'm momentarily lost as to what to say. Point taken. "And he didn't show up to his own wedding drunk."

Laurie can get so low, so defeated, maybe getting beat up is better than this. "No, Laurie, you married her, you love her, Amy is your bride. He has no right to steal her. Let her know you love her, go!" I propel him toward the front door. He keeps running right on through it. How, I would have loved to have seen him every morning across the breakfast table. My boy.

I follow him inside. "Get away from her!", he shouts, "Don't touch her! She's my wife!"

"I have TWO suitors? This is a terrible predicament", Amy sighs.

Amy is preening like a swan. I meet Meg's eyes and we both roll them. A terrible predicament? She's thrilled.

"Marry me, Amy, and leave this n'er do well behind you!", Fred insists.

"Yes!", Aunt March shouts.

Laurie falls to his knees and Amy's mouth falls open. "I love you, Amy. I asked you before, I ask you again, marry me", he gushes and she bursts into tears.

"Never", Fred insists, grabbing her arm and I see something click in Laurie's head.

"Shit, Laurie, no", I hear myself say, but he punches Fred Vaughn in the mouth so hard, the man's tooth flies across the room in a bloody splash.

"That is not Christian behavior!", Father shouts.

Fred Vaughn punches back. He's a couple inches taller than Laurie and a lot heavier. My best friend goes down in a drunken heap. He picks himself back up again and swings, but Vaughn sends him down again, this time unconscious with a bloody face and probable broken nose.

"We do not behave that way in this house!", Father shouts again.

"HE started it!", Vaughn shouts.

"What you say is true, but we know Laurie, he's family. And we give him the benefit of the doubt. Please leave, Mr. Vaughn", Father instructs.

"Are you coming with me, Amy?", he asks. All eyes are on my sister, just like she's always wanted it.

But she subtly shakes her head "no", and Vaughn storms out.

"Amy, you fool!", Aunt March shouts.

"You get out of my house!", Mother shouts.

My mouth falls open and I grab Meg. No one can believe it.

"Marmee, you musn't speak to my sister that way", Father insists.

"You've ignored her crimes and misdemeanors for too long, husband! She can mock us and our problems all she wants, but this is unforgivable. Tonight, she tried to destroy our youngest daughter's marriage", she shouts again, and Meg squeezes my hand tighter. "She goes, or I go."

"Ha, my brother values family", Aunt March insists.

Father looks like he's about to speak or object or quote a Bible verse, but finally he simply nods. "Let me escort you out, Sister."

"I've no need of your help, you spineless coward", Aunt March hisses and heads out the door.

The silence is deafening.

Laurie inhales sharply and comes awake. He sits up and holds his head. "Owww."

"Stay still, stay still", I instruct. I look right at Amy. "I'll get you some ice."

"Thank you", she says.

"Oh my darling", she gushes, gathering him into her arms. "You were so brave."

"He touched you", he mumbles.

"I know", she smiles. "You're covered with blood. Get me a wet cloth, Jo."

I smirk at them and walk away.

AMY POV

He looks like ground meat. He's bleeding and his nose is a mess.

"Your nose, my darling", I say.

"Never liked it anyway", he jokes.

Mother and Jo return with ice, and Meg has a damp cloth. I wipe off his face until I recognize him as he whispers "oww."

"Son, you better sleep upstairs tonight. We'll get you back across the way tomorrow", Father suggests.

"I appreciate the offer, but it's not going to happen", Laurie responds. "I need to sleep in my own bed as master of the manor, and someone else does too."

Meg turns the color of Laurie's bloody face.

We stumble out the door, Laurie with one arm around me.

"This is ridiculous, surely we should help", I hear Marmee say, but we shuffle slowly the distance to the manor.

He pushes the door open and I grab him before we both end up in a heap.

There is a note from his grandfather on then end of the banister saying he hopes the whole thing turned out well and that he's gone to bed so as not to bother us.

"Do you want to sleep downstairs?", I ask.

"No", he barks, and I help him up the long staircase.

I shove the door open. The old master bedroom where his father once slept has been cleared out and is ready for us, with a cherry wood bed, and knitted lace white canopy. The bed has been laid with white linens.

A glass bottle gets kicked across the room. Laurie grabs another bottle, opens it, and downs half of it in a gulp. "Ouch", he repeats.

"Sweetheart, what were you thinking?", I ask.

He stands against the wall, eyes closed, then takes a deep breath. There's still blood on his face, on his white lace sleeves, even on his pants, and his nose is at a kilter. He clears his throat, opens his eyes, and looks at me.

"Now, Mrs. Laurence, you and I have unfinished business."