Chapter 9

September 1870 – Boston

Michaela had not come down for dinner that evening, and Sully had had to sit through Elizabeth's complaints. Michaela hadn't taken her to Eloise Barker's home, like she'd promised, and she'd had to have old Harrison drag her across town. Michaela felt guilty for forgetting her mother's needs, but she'd not felt like herself that afternoon. She had thought that things would be better after Sully spoke with her, but the memories of that summer in '63 had settled into the pit of her stomach like a nasty flu. She wanted to curl up and sleep for days, but she knew she couldn't hide from the past.

Now that the evening had wound down, and the city had been blanketed by the darkness, Michaela sat alone in her room, writing in her journal. She could hear him moving around in his room, and that worried and soothed her at the same time. She'd never been so focused on someone before. Her heart knew why, but she wouldn't let the rest of herself accept it just yet.

I wish for myself that it was all a dream. I wish for Sully that he hadn't lost his wife and children. I only want what's best for him, and I don't think that's me. He says I'm the only one he can talk to, but what if he found another? What if he went home and found Cloud Dancing? They were like brothers, and I can't fill a gap inside of Sully's heart, because I wasn't there. I wasn't in his life when his family died. I grow frustrated with him when he doesn't open up, and I feel like a hypocrite. How can I be so frustrated with him, when I can't reveal my own feelings to him? I trust him, so why can't my mind trust him with my heart? He's the most wonderful man I've ever known, and I know my father would approve. But, he's my friend. My friend! How can we be anything other than friends? We know each other better than many married couples know one another. So, why am I fighting this? Why is my heart telling me that I love him, yet my head is telling me it isn't right? He deserves someone else. He deserves someone who can make him forget about the past. All I do is bring it up again.

She stared down at her paper. There it was. She'd written it, yet she couldn't say it. She felt silly. She did love him, yes, but she felt that perhaps her emotions were projecting a deeper love than she actually felt. She couldn't possibly want to spend her life with him, could she? She knew almost everything about him…even some of the bad habits that most women wouldn't discover until after they were vowed to him forever. A tug-of-war was being battled out inside of her. The truth was that yes, she could see herself spending forever with him. But, was it wrong? Was it wrong to want a life with a man that knew her better than she thought she knew herself?

With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself back from her desk and closed her journal. She moved toward her window and looked up at the moon. Clouds were beginning to cover it, and she shook her head. She felt guilty for leaving their outing so abruptly earlier. She'd lied to him. He'd asked her about it, and she'd lied. Why couldn't she just tell him how she felt, when she'd almost forced him to open up to her? Why was she so afraid to let herself admit it? It wouldn't make her weaker, would it? It wouldn't mean that she'd given into the feelings she'd had so long ago. Honestly, they'd never left. Having him there made the embers burn again…she was warm and glowing when he was there.

The sound of horses on cobblestone distracted her from those thoughts for a moment, and the red in her cheeks began to recede. But, when she heard a noise coming from down the hall, her thoughts went right back to him again. Her spine tingled with feelings she was too afraid to explore.

All she wanted was for his nightmares to go away. She'd gladly take them and have them herself if it would be a way to save him from his personal pain. She hated the idea of him suffering night after night. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to hold him, yet it was as if she was being restrained. When she let herself be completely open with him, it always ended in one of them walking away. The kiss. The kiss had spoken volumes, and she could still feel it. It had been one of the single most…right experiences of her life.

She moved toward her door, and she couldn't hear him any longer. She wondered if he was thinking about her. Why would he? He wasn't feeling like this, was he? He was still grieving. But…he'd burned that ring. He wanted to move on. Was he trying to move on with her? Was he forcing himself to feel things? Maybe she was. Maybe, somewhere in her heart, she wanted to let herself be the reason he moved on.

November 1860 – San Francisco

"Michaela, we're leaving in five minutes," Elizabeth called from the carriage, as the bellhop helped Josef pile luggage inside. Michaela nodded in her mother's direction, but she turned her attention back to Sully, who was seated casually on the marble steps of the hotel. She didn't want to part with him yet. She hadn't had enough time to get to know him, and she wanted to know more about such a fascinating man. He enchanted her thoughts, and something about him told her that she had just made a lifelong friend, even if it wasn't meant to be that they would see one another again.

"Where will you go?" she asked, threading a piece of paper between her fingers, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Maybe Texas," he replied. "I might meet my friend Daniel. He's been doin' some minin' and cattle drivin'."

"Cattle driving," she said thoughtfully. "Are you sure you want to do that? Is it safe?" Sully chuckled.

"You worryin' about me?"

"You're my friend, Sully. Of course I'll worry about you." Sully smiled, and he stood up.

"I'll worry 'bout you too. You're gonna be goin' off to that fancy medical school with all those men." For a moment, he sounded protective, and that made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold onto him a little longer.

"You'll worry…if you don't forget about me," she teased. Sully shook his head, stepping closer.

"I'd never forget you. You're somethin' else, Michaela."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked. She swallowed hard as he stepped closer.

"Very good." He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers. She was going to pull back, yet the feeling of his lips on hers felt so familiar; so inviting. He didn't try to push himself, and his lips only lingered upon hers for a moment. When he finally pulled away, he smiled a little, and his breath caressed her skin like the cool breeze. "Thanks for bein' there for me. Ain't many strangers who'd sit down and listen to all your life's problems."

"We're not strangers anymore," she replied, her voice cracking. She suddenly felt as if she was standing on a precipice, feeling gravity pulling her down toward the jagged rocks at the bottom. She wanted to take a step back and pull him to safety with her, yet she knew that she had to let him go. He had to find his way. She still had to find hers.

Finally regaining the feeling in her fingers, she handed him the piece of paper. "This is…um…if you ever need me…this is my home address." Sully took the piece of paper and looked down at the Boston address. He memorized it right away and placed it in the pocket of his coat.

"If I had an address, I'd give it to ya." She only nodded.

"Will I hear from you?" she wondered, as Elizabeth shouted that they were leaving within the minute. Michaela felt her heart beginning to race against the clock.

"You will," he promised. "I'll send word as much as I can. I don't want ya worryin' 'bout me."

"Like I said…I'll always worry. You always have a place to stay in Boston, Sully. Remember that." Sully nodded, and his hand caught Michaela's, as she started to turn away.

"Remember. The North Star will guide ya home." Michaela's eyes clouded over with tears, and she nodded.

"Goodbye, Sully."

September 1870 – Boston

Before he'd fallen asleep, Sully had paced his room, thinking of ways to get her off of his mind. He was worried about her. He knew something was wrong, and he wanted to help her. She'd been helping him for so long, and he wanted to return the favor. He knew that if he got too close, things could happen; things that would only make matters worse for both of them. He couldn't deny the fact that his heart pounded when she was near, and it ached when she wasn't. He felt guilty, because he'd never felt so strongly with Abagail.

He had tried so hard to get her out of his head. He had even tried to force thoughts of himself with Abagail into his mind, but those were only too painful. Michaela brought a warmth to his life that he hadn't felt in years.

Sometimes, he'd dream the same dream, only Abagail wasn't there. It was Michaela, and she was the one who was dying. Sometimes he'd wake up, wondering if it was true, and he'd have to see her face just to make sure. He couldn't stand the thought of that happening to her. Just the mere thought of something happening to her sent him into a panic. It was maddening. She was the one constant in his life at the moment, and he was falling hard. What if she fell too? What if it happened again?

The panic began to rise, and he forced himself to think of her. He thought of her smile and her soulful eyes. He thought about the way it felt to hear her say his name. He thought about how beautiful she had looked that afternoon. For just a little while, everything had been all right. But, when they got a step closer to…whatever they were reaching for, they'd end up taking two steps backward.

When he finally fell asleep, he was feeling restless, and his mind was busy conjuring up the same dream for the fifth time that week. He tried to hold onto the thought of Michaela and of their friendship, but he was soon falling; slipping into the blackness of his dream world, clawing for mercy at the walls, willing to give up his own life to not see it happen again. He wasn't sure he could take it anymore.

August 1860 – Colorado Springs

"Sully! Sully!" He heard her screams, but he couldn't see her through the thick smoke that poured from the windows. He heard the wails of the children, and he felt his stomach jump into his throat. He screamed out for them. He reached for the door handle, only to pull his hand back from the heat.

"Papa! Papa!" Lily's cries made his heart stop and his blood run cold.. His baby. His pride. His joy.

"Papa's comin', honey! Papa's comin'!" He kicked the door in, praying to God that nobody was standing right behind it. All he saw behind it, however, was the thick black smoke and the orange glow of the flames that crawled up the curtains, tore up the bed sheets and ripped a hole through the roof. He could see somebody lying on the floor beside the bed, and he rushed in.

"Oh my God. Oh God. No!"

"Papa!" The cries came from upstairs, and he moved toward the bed, seeing his Abagail lying motionless on the floor. He couldn't remember when he'd heard her stop calling for him. Had it been a minute? Two minutes? How long?

"Lily! Hanna!" He couldn't hear their cries any longer either. He rushed to Abagail, pulling her into his arms. "Abby! Abby, wake up. C'mon, Abby." He slapped her face lightly with his hands, as he tried to get her out of the homestead, but she didn't respond. When footsteps came running into the room, he turned to see Jake Slicker, fresh out of bed in nothing but his pants and suspenders.

"Sully," he breathed, taking the situation in completely. "Get outta here, Sully." Sully shook his head, standing tall with his wife pressed against him.

"Take her. I gotta get the kids." His voice was cracking, but he had to stay strong. He should have been there. He had to stay strong now.

"Sully, it's too late! Ya ain't gonna make it out if ya go up there!" Jake hollered over the sound of glass shattering.

"Take her!" he yelled. "Get her outta here! Get her safe!" He shoved Abagail's lifeless body into Jake's arms. Jake hesitated only momentarily, watching Sully begin his ascent up the stairs toward the children's rooms. As Jake passed through the doorway, Hank came riding up the path toward the homestead. He saw Abagail in Jake's arms, and Jake was coughing, as he lay her down on the ground a good distance from the house.

"Where's Sully?"

"He's upstairs. He's tryin' to get the kids!" he replied, as flames rolled out of the downstairs windows. Hank took a good look at the house, thought about the odds of anyone coming out alive, and he shook his head. He couldn't let this weigh on his conscience. He started toward the porch, but Jake grabbed the back of his shirt.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" Hank didn't respond, and he rushed into the house.

The flames had burnt through the second floor, and the smoke was coming from the master bedroom. Sully couldn't see a foot in front of him through the blackness, and when he heard a crash come from the master bedroom, where his son was undoubtedly sleeping, he turned back toward it.

"Lily! Hanna!" he cried out, feeling around in front of him. He could have sworn he felt someone brush past him, but when he reached out, they were gone. "Papa's right here! Come to me! Follow the sound of my voice!"

"Papa…" the weak whimpers of little Hanna came from behind him, and when the flames burst from her room, Sully fell back against the wall. The force of the heat made him turn, but he didn't go back. He had to get them out of there…all of them.

"NO! NOOOOOO!" There was no longer anything but the sound of silence and crackling flames. He could see his life flashing before his eyes. Their wedding, the births of the children, and something unrecognizable…a star above the deep, blue sea.

His entire world went back, as the flames began to lick at the heels of his moccasins. He heard a man scream in pain, and when he felt two arms envelop him and begin to drag him down the charring stairs, he heard her calling to him, asking him to come home.

"NO! No! Lily! Hanna! Johnny!" He could still feel the heat burning his flesh, and when he sat up, sweat was drenching his body again. He heard feet pounding on the floor in the hallway, and the door burst open.

"Sully!" His angel. His angel was there to save him. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her…feel her. "Sully..." When she came to his bedside, he covered his face in his hands. "It's over now." Her hand pressed against his forehead, and he pulled back, his skin still tingling.

"Save her…I gotta…"

"Sully, it's over now," she whispered. "It was a dream. It's over."

"It burns," he whispered, as her arms pulled around him without thinking. His head rested against her breast, and he could smell the scent of flowers on her skin. She was pure and beautiful and willing to love him. He could feel her heart. He needed her.

"I know," she whispered. "It's over now. It's over." She felt the tears staining her cheeks, and she wanted to wipe them away, but she didn't dare let go of him. She couldn't. She needed to hold him…she needed him to love her. She knew he did. She felt it then.

He finally pulled back, sitting up and staring into her eyes. The sweat poured down his face, and she reached out, stroking his cheek. She felt his heart break, and she wanted to piece it back together.

"It's all right, Sully. I'm here now."

"You've always been here," he shuddered. "You never left." Abby did. Abby left. Michaela was with him, helping him even when she wasn't truly there. He carried her in his heart—in his soul—and she was the shining face that made him realize that life was still worth living.

His hands cupped her cheeks, and she knew what was happening. She closed her eyes, feeling her body begin to react, before he kissed her. And, when he did, her mind surrendered, and her heart knew the truth. This was right. This was real. This is what they both needed.

Her lungs burned for breath, but breathing seemed futile. She was alive. Breathing was only an afterthought now, as his arms held her tight, and his mouth loved hers. His heart loved hers. Hers loved his. They couldn't pull away.

But his words seeped out from his heart and into hers.

"I love you," he breathed, pulling his lips away for only a moment. Her eyes closed tightly, when their lips met again, and she choked back a sob. And, when his lips left hers, they could breathe again. "I always have. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop lovin' you. I didn't want to. Abby would have wanted me to…but I didn't."

"Sully, no," she pleaded. She wasn't ready for it. Part of her was, but another part of her was so terrified and fragile at that very moment. It was the part of her that she rarely let people see. But he saw.

"I can't…I can't hurt ya, Michaela. I can't let it happen to you. I have to leave. I have to go." Michaela felt as if her heart had been ripped out, when he stood up.

"Sully! No…wait…"

"I can't let it happen, Michaela. She died, 'cause she loved me."

"No! She died, because the stove was faulty. She died, because…because it was an accident, Sully! You can't let it stop you from…"

"From what?"

"From living," she cried. I love you! I love you. Why can't I say it? You need to hear it. I need to hear it. He stood up, grabbing his clothes and his pack. He shook his head.

"I can't stay here. I gotta go."

"Where? Where are you going?" She stood, following him to the door.

"I hurt her, Michaela. I didn't put her first. I can't do that to you."

"Sully, we don't have to talk about that. We don't have to do anything. We just…we need to stop. We can talk about…about anything, and you can stay another day." He shook his head.

"I can't hurt you like I hurt her. I'm still hurtin' her. I promised her I'd never love nobody else. I promised her I'd protect her. I never kept my promises. She's dead now. She…she's gone." Michaela's eyes flooded with tears, and she tried to say it. She wanted to. She needed to. She needed to keep him here.

"Sully, I…" He started to the door again. "You promised me you'd never leave without saying goodbye again." Sully didn't turn toward her, and his entire shape changed. He was broken, and she knew it. He'd just poured himself out to her, and he'd realized that he couldn't stay. But, she wanted him to. She wanted him to love her. She knew it now. Facing the reality of the situation had solidified it. Her feelings were more than friendship. She loved him. He was her soul mate.

"Goodbye." He started out the door, and she couldn't let him go. Not again.

"No!" She didn't care if she woke the entire house up. "Sully! You can't do this. You can't leave. Not now. You can't leave me like this." She was in tears now, and she followed him down the stairs. "Please, just stay. Stay another day." And then something caught her. What was she doing? Michaela Quinn didn't scream like this and follow a man all the way out the door. If he wanted to leave, he could leave. She wasn't supposed to let anybody hurt her. She was supposed to stay strong and protect herself. But, Sully…Sully was the one she trusted. She could count on him. He couldn't leave her!

Then he turned, and he took her hands in his.

"I can't. I can't stay."

"Why not? You're not going to hurt me, Sully."

"I can't take that chance. I never thought I'd hurt Abby. But, I did. She…she kept askin' me to fix it."

"Fix it?"

"The stove," he replied hoarsely. "I never got around to it. I shoulda…I shoulda done somethin'." Michaela took a step back, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I gotta deal with this, Michaela."

"Let me help you," she whispered, squeezing his hands. He shook his head.

"Ya done what ya could," he said quietly, looking into the shattered pieces of her soul.

"If you won't let me," she whispered, "at least go home. Find Cloud Dancing. Let him help you." Sully shook his head.

"I can't go there. I can't go back."

"Sully…"

"I can't, Michaela. It's too hard. All I got to go back to is what's left of where I used to live. The graves…they're all there. I couldn't even go to the funeral. I couldn't watch 'em put 'em in the ground like that. It's so cold. So…so dark. Lily and Hanna…they loved the sun, Michaela." He was breaking down again, and Michaela didn't know what to do. She knew one thing that could make him stay…three little words…but somehow…somehow she knew that he needed to go. Her heart knew that he had to do this, even if it meant she never saw him again. As much as the thought killed her, she knew she couldn't hold him back. She couldn't let him be miserable and worry about hurting her.

"You really have to go," she whispered softly, letting her tears flow freely. "If that's what you have to do." She knew that if she fought him on it, it would only make things worse. She couldn't let him leave with her acting like this. She was stronger than that. She had to make him see that she was going to be all right. She had to give him hope that he wasn't breaking her heart…but he was.

"I wanna stay. I wanna be here with you," he whispered, "but every time I think about how much I love you, I feel Abby with me. I hurt her too much when she was alive…"

"You didn't hurt her, Sully. She was severely depressed, and…" She knew she couldn't make him believe it now. She couldn't make him do anything. She wanted to say it. She wanted him to believe it. But, he had to go. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him in close. She felt him relax against her for a moment. Her tears spilled onto his shirt, and she sighed softly. "Will you write to me?"

"I'll send a telegram every chance I get."

"When will I see you again?" she asked, her eyes downcast.

"I don't know…by the time I come back, you'll probably be…married, chasin' after a bunch of kids and still practicin' medicine," he commented. Michaela shook her head. "You'll be happy, Michaela. All I want is for ya to be happy."

"We'll see one another again. If we don't know how to find each other…we'll just look at the North Star. That'll tell us where to go, right?" she whispered. They held one another again, and she knew she'd missed her chance. She was going to tell him someday. For now, she had to watch him walk away.

August 1860 – Colorado Springs

Hours after the fire was put out, he sat crumpled on the ground in front of the charred remains of his home. The smoke lifted off of it, and the early morning sunlight now tried to pierce its thick, white veil, casting eerie shadows of a life they had once lived. There were no more cries, no more arguments, no more memories of the good times. His life was gone. Twenty years of life, and he felt like a very old man; defeated by nature, the only thing he believed in.

"Sully, we found…we found another body," Jake said quietly, his bandaged hand shaking, as he collapsed beside him. "Hank thinks it was one of the little girls." Sully said nothing, and he peered over at the sheet-covered body of his Abagail. She'd died safely outside shortly after the roof caved in. She'd called for Sully, but he hadn't heard her. He had been desperately searching for his children. Jake had been the one to hear her last words; to see her last tears. "We still ain't found the baby. We'll keep lookin'." Sully blinked away his tears. His baby. His boy. "Everything's messed up…it's hard to pick out anythin'…"

"They're in there," he whispered coldly, his limbs still feeling weak. "My family. They're all there." He stood up and started toward the homestead, but Jake jumped up.

"Ya don't wanna go over there, Sully. Hank's takin' care of it." Sully pushed past Jake.

"It's my family. I should be doin' this."

"It ain't your job! Your job is to wait 'til Loren gets here…" They had been looking for Loren and Maude all night. A few witnesses had seen Abagail come into town with the children and leave the store, and one of the drunkards from the saloon had seen Maude and Loren leave with bundles and supplies. Jake and Hank's best guess was that they were delivering supplies to some out-of-town customers who couldn't get out to make it to the store. Loren had no idea his daughter and grandchildren had perished in the house fire.

"Loren," Sully breathed. He closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. Loren was going to blame him. He blamed him. It was his fault. He knew it.

Jake swallowed hard and let down his guard, but Sully kept moving. He found Hank digging through the charred boards with a shovel, his face expressionless. He walked up to him, and Hank turned his head up. He tried to pull away, when Sully reached for the shovel.

"Don't do this, Sully. Just sit down. Ya don't need to do this."

"I do. I gotta find them. They can't…they can't just…" Hank pushed Sully back, and he stumbled. He lunged at Hank, landing a hard punch to his eye, but Jake grabbed Sully, pulling him off of him. Sully fought, but he was too weak now. He was broken. He was dead. It was no use. Not anymore.

December 1870

"It's really you?"

"You're really here? I knew it!"

"Let me look at you for a minute."

"You won't leave?"

"Never. I'll always be here. I ain't leavin' you ever again."