Chapter 5

August 1860 – Colorado Springs

Bandit galloped intensely down the worn path. It had been traveled by so many before him, and Sully could feel the burdens of previous journeys weighing down on him; suffocating him. His lungs burned with the need to get home, while the horse carried him swiftly toward his destination. He could feel the cold metal burning his chest, and he tucked his hand into his shirt, wrapping his hands around the delicate band. Not his. Hers.

"Carry it with you. It'll keep you safe," she told him, her eyes filling with tears, as he saddled up Bandit. He could hear the desperation in her voice, and it broke his heart. He was torn between two families. One needed him more than the other right now, and the guilt he felt for leaving the other broke his heart in two. "When you feel it…you'll feel me there with you." Her eyes were so uncertain, and he could barely hold back the tears that choked him. After all of these years, how could she still be so insecure? How could she still not completely trust him?

"You're always with me," he whispered. "You know that." He watched her turn her back, her shoulders slumping behind her raven hair. "You'll always be with me, and I'll always…" She cut him off quickly.

"Promise me you'll be safe?"

"I'm always safe." She turned around, doubt in her eyes.

"Like the time you came home needing stitches?"

"It ain't like that this time. Ya know that. He said…"

"I know what he said. But, I don't want you getting sick. What if…what if you don't come home? I can't stand the thought…of…I don't want anything to…to take you away from me." He reached out for her, but she pulled back.

"Nothin' is gonna take me away from ya. I'll always come home to you no matter how long I'm gone. I love you." Her eyes clouded with tears again, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Hurry home. I just…I don't feel right about this." She finally let him draw her into his arms, and he placed feather-light kisses on her forehead and her tender lips. "When will you be back?" she asked, her eyes wide and full of curiosity. He smiled down at her and tightened his arms around her, giving her a soft kiss upon the cheek.

"I'll be back 'fore ya wake up. Don't you worry."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

His heart pounded, his soul knowing that they needed him. He had to hurry. He didn't know why. He had to hurry, and his entire being felt as if it had been possessed by some demon; a spirit that shredded him from the inside out, ripping his heart to pieces for unknown reasons. He had to get there. As much as he needed them, he knew they needed him just as much.

September 1870 - Boston

"Sully?" Michaela asked, as she placed her plate inside of the picnic basket.

"Hmm?" His eyes were still narrowed at the floor; his mind still lost in thought but fighting to get back to reality. Her hand was touching his arm now, and he could feel her all the way through his soul, trying to rip out the pain.

"Are you all right? You've been so quiet. You looked…" He pulled away.

"I'm fine," he replied shortly. She wasn't letting it go this time.

"No you aren't. You need to talk about this. This is as good a time as any."

"It ain't time, Michaela," he replied. "I'm not gonna talk about it." Without words, she stood, her entire shape trembling with frustration, need, want, pain.

"It's been ten years, Sully. Ten years…and I've barely seen you. You've come all this way just to sit quietly with me…and we're not allowed to talk about what's on your mind. What do you suggest, Sully? Hmm? Do you suggest that we just forget that it ever happened? Should we just put aside everything that makes you feel guilty just for the sake of comfort? We're friends Sully…best friends. Why won't you talk to me?" Before he could answer, she started toward the parlor doors. She felt as if she were alone, and if she was going to feel alone, she figured that she might as well actually be alone.

"I should've been there." His words were almost inaudible, but she'd heard them. She paused, her hand on the door handle. She closed her eyes, feeling the pain of ten years beginning to fill her soul. "I wasn't there, Michaela." When she turned, she saw the anguish and sorrow escape from his eyes and trickle down his cheeks in two single tears. He brushed them away and wiped his hands on the sides of his pants. "How am I s'posed to live with that?" Michaela slowly moved toward him, her footsteps tapping so lightly, like the ticking of a clock. Her breath caught in her throat, and it took all of her energy to stoop down in front of him, getting on her knees and taking his hands in hers.

"We've lost so much time, Sully," she whispered, "and there's nothing either of us can do about that. We just accept it, deal with the consequences, and move on. You haven't done anything wrong." She saw her words registering in his eyes. "You made a choice that night. I don't know…all of the details, but from what you've told me…" Words failed her, and she looked away. "I think you need to talk about it. We've done this before. I'm always here to listen. You know I love you, Sully." When his eyes met hers, she held back the flush that threatened to fill her face. "You've been a wonderful friend to me, and I'll always be thankful to you for understanding me." Sully nodded, and he looked toward the clock. She placed her hand on his cheek, and she stared into his eyes. "Talk to me." He shook his head, his heart and his mind battling internally, and she could see it in his pained expression.

"I promised her. I promised her I'd never hurt her. I lied, Michaela. I lied…" He was trembling, and holding him now would seem awkward, but she didn't care. She knew she could seek comfort in his arms and he in hers. She'd done it before. He'd been there with open arms, and they'd sat on the beach under the moonlight, talking about all of their fears, purging their souls and consciences. Neither one of them had had expectations, but they had made an unspoken vow to always be there. Years had since separated them, but the vow was still there, unharmed and only slightly weathered with age.

"No," she whispered, "you can't mean that." He nodded his head.

"I did. I told her…" He choked on his words, and Michaela finally pulled her arms around him. "She trusted me. She trusted me." As she held him, a tear slipped down her cheek. She felt the guilt; the need to break the thorny chains that strangled his heart with each beat. It was slowly killing him. "I let her down."

"No you didn't. You didn't let her down. You're a good man, Sully. You loved her with all of your heart."

"I couldn't be there…I shoulda…"

"You did the best you could. She knew that."

"They didn't. They didn't understand. They couldn't. They thought I was stronger." They pulled back from their embrace, but her hands rested on his arms. Nothing mattered except being there for her friend. She could give him the support she had to offer, but she wasn't sure what else. What else was there? What could he need from her? What could he possibly want?

"What happened was terrible, Sully. It's something that…that should never happen, but it does. I'm sorry, Sully. I'm so sorry. But, you can't blame yourself."

"We still don't know," he breathed. "Everything's a blur."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"I shoulda been there." Michaela closed her eyes. "I never told ya…that we fought that night." She looked down and shook her head.

"You didn't," she whispered. "What did you argue about?" He sighed softly.

"The usual. She didn't want me to go. I didn't want to leave, but I had to. I wanted to be there for…" Michaela knew.

"For Cloud Dancing." He paused, his eyes glassy and sparkling with memory.

"For all of them."

August 1860 – Colorado Springs

He pitched the last of the hay in the barn and placed the pitchfork in its proper place. He could hear a giggle coming from the empty stall, and he knew the game. He knew it well, yet, before he could play along, the familiar birdcall warned him that his friend was near. He rushed from the barn, wiping his hands on his shirt. He spotted the flash of black hair in the bushes, and he hurried toward it. He was greeted by two dark hands grabbing him and pulling him behind a tree, surprising him.

"Cloud Dancin'," he said quickly.

"My brother," he said, his voice trembling with days of unrest.

"What's wrong? Is it Snow Bird?"

"It's all of them. A sickness has come to my people," he warned. "They are dying, and the healthy are becoming too weak to nurse the ill. We need help. Soldiers have come looking for those who have gone for help. We must be quick, and we must stay hidden."

"I'll get Abby, and…"

"No. She must stay with the children."

"But, she'd wanna help."

"The Spirits say she must stay. She will die if she comes. The sickness will not harm you. You have been exposed once before. It has returned, and it is much worse this time." The mere thought of his wife becoming ill or dying made Sully's stomach lurch. He couldn't think about that. She meant too much to him. It'd kill him to lose her. Sully swallowed hard and shook his head. "The Spirits say you are strong. Your heart has not fulfilled its purpose." Sully blinked, not understanding the meaning of those words.

"I can't leave 'em. Not now."

"The Spirits say it is your choice." Sully reached into his own heart, knowing the right thing to do. He wanted to go. He wanted to be there for his Cheyenne family, but he had another family to look after. He felt guilty for feeling an obligation to stay home, yet a stronger obligation pressed him to shake his brother's hand.

"I'll be there."

"We leave at sunset and will travel under the light of the moon."

"I'll be ready." Cloud Dancing nodded and watched his white brother walk away. Sully came back into sight of the homestead, and he could already see her standing on the porch, her body a trembling shape, already knowing that he was leaving again, as yet another sad face appeared before him, peeking around from the barn door. How could he leave them? How could he tell them he was leaving once again?

September 1870 – Boston

"I promised I'd protect her. I shoulda stayed." Michaela didn't know what to say. This guilt was still as powerful as it had ever been, maybe more.

"I don't know how to make you see that it isn't your fault." She blinked away her own tears, and his heart began to swell. He looked into her eyes. She was crying for him, and her heart was breaking for him. He hated making her feel this way, but seeing it in her eyes told him that they were meant to have met. She was the light in his life now. She was the reason he was still alive. She was the reason he hadn't given up before now.

"Thank you for bein' here," he whispered, taking her hands in his. "I don't think I coulda done it without ya."

"I haven't done anything, Sully. Perhaps it's out of my hands. I think…maybe you should go home."

"Ya want me to leave?" She shook her head.

"I don't want you to leave. You've only just gotten here. But, I think there's something…someone you need in Colorado Springs." He shook his head.

"No. There's nothin' for me there. Not anymore."

"Sully…"

"No!" he insisted. "I ain't goin' back. My life is anywhere but there." Michaela sighed softly, and she watched the tears slip down his cheeks again. She gently brushed one away with her thumb, and her lower lip trembled. It killed her to see him like this. She wished she had known him before the pain. She wished she knew how to save him. His icy blue eyes were dark and sad, and he closed them, closing out the pain he saw in her face. He had done this. His own sorrow had made her feel so helpless, and he knew she was far from helpless. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's just me, Sully."

"Just you…" he repeated. Just her. She'd been the one thing he'd looked forward to in the past ten years. Back in Texas, he'd looked up at that vast, endless sky and had seen the star…their star. He'd thought of her, and a temporary joy had filled his heart. She did that to him. Her. His best friend. His Michaela. She had such a light in her eyes. He could see her heart through her tears. Everything was there, and it had been all along. What was he feeling? He couldn't make sense of any of it, but he felt the way she wept for him; the way her heart grieved with his. Never in his life had he met anyone like her. Why hadn't he seen this…this devotion before? How could he have stayed away so long? How could he have ever thought that she couldn't help him? Just by her being there…by being herself with him…things didn't seem so horrible.

She began to shake under his gaze, and she wondered why he looked as if a different kind of war was raging on inside of his body. He was scared, tormented and desperate. Would he ever say it? She wasn't sure, but she could only wait for him, as the seconds ticked by.

The tension in the air was choking him again like thick smoke, and he had to breathe. He had to live, and without a moment of thought, he pulled her into his arms again, clinging to her, holding her. His head rested on her shoulder, and their hands comforted one another, stroked one another, let each other know that they were there.

"It's all right," she soothed, as if she was holding a frightened little boy. "I'm here."

"Ya always have been," he whispered. He wasn't sure if she'd heard, but he'd heard it. He knew the truth. She was the only one who he could turn to. She was the only one who hadn't left him. But, he'd left her.

Her hand stroked his back again, her heart pounding a mile a minute. She closed her eyes; closed away the tears that begged to fall. No. She couldn't let him see her cry anymore. She needed to be strong for him. He needed her.

"Sully…" He started to pull away, but when his cheek brushed against hers, they both stopped breathing. Their eyes sparkled together, and the tension between them melted away for a moment. That moment was long enough for time, hearts and lives to stop, and he leaned in, crashing his lips against hers, kissing her with such intensity that it shocked them both. The need between them burned, and she couldn't pull away. She knew she should, but his kiss was so powerful; so enchanting. She opened up to him, letting the kiss deepen. It was overwhelming…intoxicating, and knew it had to end.

She pushed back on his chest, and the spell broke. He sat back, not believing what he'd done.

"Michaela…I…"

"No. It's…I…"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He didn't want to watch her walk away. He couldn't watch her leave. Instead, he stood up, and he walked away…leaving her, something he had never wanted to do in the first place.

She sat on the floor, her lips still tingling from their kiss. She pressed her fingers there, still tasting him. When she heard the door to his room shut, she realized she was alone, and the tears broke over the dam and flooded forth. It was then that she knew that things would never be the same.