I find myself apologizing yet again for how long it has taken to post. Of course, RL is the main culprit. I find myself with precious few moments to write these days. Another problem was that this chapter just didn't cooperate. I have changed it 20 times or more. I finally decided I'd just have to go with what I had and hope you guys were okay with it. There is one more chapter and perhaps an epilogue. Thanks for hanging in there with me and for encouraging me in so many ways.

Haunted Heart

A Gunsmoke Story

By Amanda (MAHC)

Chapter Eighteen: Home is Where the Heart is

POV: Kitty

Spoilers: "The Badge;" "The Bullet"

Rating: PG-13+ (Teen+)

Disclaimer: The original GS characters aren't mine, of course, but I created Sam. (Well, Matt and Kitty created him in my story.)

Kitty Dillon swung her legs over the side of Doc's bed, pleased that her head had decided to cooperate and stop swimming. In fact, she felt just fine, thank you, a fact that she figured would mean absolutely nothing the instant the physician saw her standing. Nevertheless, she was fine, and as soon as they returned, she would take her husband and child and go home. She and Matt apparently had some things to talk about.

He hadn't said a word to her about resigning, at least not since she had insisted he retract his letter to the Attorney General months ago. He had merely gone about doing his job as usual, although she did notice that Festus and Newly seemed to pull more out-of-town duties than before. Of course, that suited her just fine, even though she was the one who had pushed him not to resign, wanting him to be happy – in a way trying to make up for the agony she had put him through after she left. As usual, the thought of those terrible months without him twisted her heart. All the what-ifs haunted her. What if she had waited for him to come back, like Doc asked? What if she had told Hannah flat out where she would be? What if she had told Matt about the baby? What if –

Shaking her head, she shoved those painful, frustrating, and fruitless ponderings away. Didn't do any good now. As Matt had told her, that was water under the bridge. They were finally sailing together in the same vessel toward the same destination, or at least they had been until Zeke Lane's revelation that he was Matt's "temporary replacement." Now, she wasn't so sure.

Regardless, she regretted his not being there when Sam was born. With a private smile, she let her hand rest on her stomach, feeling the subtle swell there. This time it would be different. This time he would see his child come into the world. She would make that up to him, at least.

Having suppressed the troubling memories, she drew in a deep breath, nodding in satisfaction when her legs held her steady. Maybe she could sneak down the stairs before Doc –

"Here, now!" The startling, but not unexpected, scolding stopped her at the threshold between the bedroom and office.

"I'm perfectly fine," she proclaimed to the physician who stood scowling before her.

Adams waved a hand in the air. "Oh, sure you are. You almost fainted right here not twenty minutes ago and now you're ready to dance the Can-Can, are you?"

"What do you know about the Can-Can?"

Momentarily distracted, as she had hoped, he bristled. "I'm a man of the world, I'll have you know. I've been to – " The gray eyes narrowed as he caught on and he continued in a wheedling tone. "Now, Kitty, you just go on back and lie down. Matt'll be here in a minute and you can get up then."

"I promise you, I really do feel all right now. Not dizzy. Not queasy. I promise."

He frowned, and she read the doubt on his face. After a beat or two, his shoulders rolled in a resigned shrug. "Suit yourself," he growled. "Nobody listens to their doctor, anyway, especially that hard headed bullet magnet you married, by the way. He didn't just get 'winged,' you know. He lost a lot of blood, should be in bed himself. But I suppose all those years of medical training I took were wasted since everybody around here diagnoses themselves anyway."

Kitty ignored the ubiquitous fussing and placed a pacifying hand on his arm. "Want to check me out?"

"Miss Russell," he confided with a smirk, "I checked you out that first day you waded into the café, and I've been checking you out ever since."

"Is that so?"

"Trouble is, that big cowboy you're waitin' on was checkin' you out, too. If I'd just been twenty years younger – "

"Or if I'd just been twenty years older," she offered generously.

He smiled wistfully, and she was surprised to see that he really seemed to be considering that "what if." Then he cleared his throat and looked down, flushing a bit.

"Well, somebody needed to keep that overgrown galoot straight." He ran a hand over his mustache and shook his head. "Too late now, anyway. Guess you'd better stay with him – for the boy's sake." His voice fell, hardening into seriousness. "He'd be lost without you. You know he would, don't you, Kitty?" He left the rest unsaid: "You know he was."

She let her tone match his. "Not any more than I would be lost without him, Doc. You know that, too, don't you?"

Adams nodded, his kind face darkening. "I know. Sure I know. You two almost – "

"Almost," she emphasized, the ache brushing over her heart again. "Almost. But that's past us, now."

"So it is." He let the heavy moment linger a bit, then smiled up at her. "I'm not sure I've said this to you since – well, it's awful good to have you home, Kitty."

Tears sprang to her eyes at the depth of emotion in his rough voice. She kissed him softly on the cheek, and returned, with equal sincerity, "It's awful good to be home."

He sighed; then she saw him push a smile to his face. "You know," he said, his tone lighter, "that big oaf was so excited earlier that he headed out the door without his shirt on."

Her eyes widened at the vision – a very nice one, but one she preferred to keep private. There were already too many appreciative female eyes following him down the boardwalks as it was. "He didn't!"

Adams chuckled. "Came back all red-faced about thirty seconds later. Seems Edsel Pry was walking by when he got to the bottom of the steps."

Laughter erupted from Kitty's throat at the image. She would have sacrificed a bottle of her best whiskey to have seen that. "Oh, Doc," she gasped. "Poor Matt!"

And lucky Mrs. Pry, she thought. The old biddie didn't deserve such a treat.

The outer door opened and Kitty half-expected to see the biddie herself come storming in, cackling about civil servants and indecent exposure. She was mildly disappointed when Zeke Lane appeared instead.

"Excuse me," he said, eyes taking in both Doc and Kitty in a quick sweep, a habit she had observed from Matt many times. It came with the job. "I was looking for Marshal Dillon. Miss – " He faltered a bit and frowned. "Uh, the lady that runs the Long Branch said he would be up here."

A pang of regret touched Kitty. For so long she had been the "lady that runs the Long Branch." It was hard to hear that title applied to someone else, even if she had voluntarily relinquished it.

"He'll be back in a minute," Doc said. "You can wait, if you'd like, Mister Lane."

The younger man's brow rose, as if he were surprised to learn Doc knew who he was. "Thanks. I'm sorry I don't know your – "

"Name's Adams," Doc supplied. "I usually get the job of patching up folks around here. The Marshal's a regular customer."

Despite her attempt not to, Kitty flinched a little at the unpleasant reminder.

Lane turned toward her and tugged at the brim of his hat. "Ma'am. You must be Marshal Dillon's wife. I heard he got married a while back. It was kinda big news. Friend of mine up in Colorado, Jake Clayfield, said he never figured Matt Dillon for marryin'. Guess you proved him wrong."

She arched a brow, and he blushed suddenly, as if he realized he might have been improper. "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am, if I – "

But Kitty saw the amusement in that loaded observation and just smiled. "I guess I did," she agreed, still a little surprised about that herself.

Emboldened by her kindness, he added, "If I may say so, ma'am, he's a fortunate man, the Marshal is."

"I wouldn't dream of disputing you."

"Now, Kitty," Doc said, taking her arm, "why don't you at least sit until Matt gets back? "

Gently, she turned to the hovering physician. "Would it make you feel better?"

"It would."

In concession, she eased herself into his office chair, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her relieved sigh.

"Did I hear you tell Matt you were sent here as a replacement?" Doc asked the deputy, his attempt casual, but not enough to smooth the sharpness of the underlying interest.

"Yes, sir," Lane answered, suddenly tugging his hat from his head, as if just now remembering his manners. "I was over in Cimarron when I got the telegram from the War Department sending me this way."

Adams brushed at his chin, a sign that told Kitty he was angling for more information. She might have frowned at him to stop, if she hadn't been just as curious, herself, to know.

"Just temporary, though, I think you said."

"That's right. I was just going to be here until they assigned someone permanently. From the looks of things, though, the Marshal already decided on that fella that took out Butcher Cole. I'll head back toward Colorado in a day or so."

Kitty's thoughts spun with confusion, curiosity, hope – and irritation. It seemed Matt had made a decision – perhaps the most important decision of his life – without asking her. Well, without telling her, anyway. She didn't necessarily expect him to seek her permission, but she would have appreciated a little notice before the whole town found out. The edge of anger knifed through her, and she took a breath to suppress it.

"I hafta say I never expected to meet Matt Dillon," Lane continued. "He's – well, I guess it sounds kinda corny to say, but he really is a legend."

"Oh, no," Doc assured him, gray eyes lit with mischief, "not corny at all. In fact, why don't you tell him that yourself? I know he'd love to hear it."

Lane raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Oh, sure. Get a big kick out of it."

Kitty threw the older man a scowl, half-serious, half-amused. He knew very well Matt despised the term "legend" when it was applied to him. It embarrassed him.

Heavy footfalls on the steps drew their attention.

"The legend approaches," Doc noted with more than a touch of drama. Kitty couldn't help but smirk at the devilish anticipation on his face.

Then, they heard the giggles of Sam Dillon drift delightfully up to them. Kitty's anger vanished completely, replaced by a smile that was instant and uncontrollable.

Instead of Matt's deep tones, though, the voice they heard carried a distinctive nasal twang. "Doc!"

Adams clicked his tongue against his teeth. "You don't have to bellow," he declared. "I can hear you."

Festus appeared in the doorway, his mouth curved in a familiar grin. Behind him, Matt ducked low to keep the child on his shoulders from hitting the frame. He was hatless, his son's hands clutching generous locks of gray-brown curls like make-shift reins within the chubby fingers.

"Kitty!" he declared, his expressive face both pleased and startled. "Should you be out of bed?'

"She's fine, Matt," Doc assured him, and Kitty threw the physician a look. As she figured, he'd only been mother-henning her earlier – mostly, anyway. "Just irritating. Why don't you three stop botherin' me and head home?" But the warm twinkle in his eye belied his rough words. "I'll be around for lunch tomorrow, if anybody's cookin'."

"You just come on by, Curly," Kitty said, spirits lifted by the return of her two men and the thought of going home with them. "I'll make some of that steak stew you like."

"By golly, I will."

"Marshal," Lane greeted, his voice firm, but softened in respect. "I was just telling Mrs. Dillon and Doctor Adams here that since you seem to have found a temporary man I'll head on back toward Pueblo."

Lane's comment wiped the easy smile from Matt's lips. He darted an uneasy glance toward Kitty. "Oh. Uh, sure."

"I'll send a telegram to let them know about the change in plans. Be glad to get home, anyway. I miss the mountains." He grinned. "Guess we're comfortable with whatever's home, huh?" Turning to Kitty, he asked, "Is your home originally Dodge, Mrs. Dillon?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I'm from New Orleans. And even if I weren't, I couldn't be from Dodge, since it's only been a town a couple of decades."

"Guess that's true enough," Lane agreed.

"Besides," she smiled, catching her husband's gaze and holding it, "my mother used to say 'home is where the heart is'." It was one of the few memories she had of the woman who had died so young.

Something flickered behind Matt's clear blue eyes, something that resembled an intriguing mixture of joy and regret. She longed to be alone with him, to ask him what he was thinking, what he knew that she didn't. But Lane's next words snapped her attention back to him.

"That's a good way of thinkin', ma'am," the deputy said. "Maybe you won't miss the prairie too much, then."

Miss the prairie? "What do you – "

"I guess I should explain," Matt offered, wincing as he swung Sam down to the floor where the child immediately resumed his experiments with the newly-acquired skill of walking.

"I guess," Doc agreed with a nod, eyes suddenly sharp and narrowed.

With a chagrined flush, Lane shifted nervously. "I'm sorry, Marshal. I thought that – " He glanced at Kitty. "I sure didn't mean to – "

"It's all right," Matt assured him. All right? Kitty reckoned he was a bit premature in that assessment.

The broad shoulders lifted in a deep breath, then fell. "I guess you've already figured out that I've recommended Newly as the new marshal of this territory," he told them.

She nodded. "Newly's a good man," she said, almost smiling at the flash of relief on the handsome face. Almost. He still had a lot of talking to do.

"He shore nuff is," Festus agreed, teeth showing through his scraggly beard. Kitty had almost forgotten the other deputy was there. She was glad he seemed to accept the situation without resentment – not that she'd ever figure Festus to begrudge his friends anyway.

"Hold on," Doc interrupted impatiently. "When I asked you if you had resigned, you said 'yes and no.' If Newly's replacing you, that sounds like a 'yes' to me."

"I did send in my resignation," Matt confirmed.

"But?" Kitty asked, knowing there must be more to it.

"But," Lane interjected, a touch of awe in his voice, "the attorney general wouldn't accept it."

Doc frowned and sputtered, "He can't do that, can he? You have the years."

"It's not exactly that he didn't accept it," Matt told them. "It's more like he – " She saw the hesitation in his eyes as he looked up. Flicking his thumb toward the door he said, "Doc, uh, don't you figure maybe Deputy Lane might be interested in a drink?"

The physician frowned. "What?" But comprehension dawned quickly enough, and he stepped forward, tugging at Lane's sleeve as he passed. "Come on, son. I'll buy you a beer at the Long Branch."

"Oh, sure," Lane agreed, shoving his hat back on.

The two started toward the door, but stopped when they heard the pointed cough. Kitty hid a smile at Festus' naked hint.

Without the time to allow the development of their usual banter, Doc just shook his head. "Well, what are you waitin' for? I'll buy you one, too."

"Well, now, thet's rite good of ya', Doc. 'Sides, I figger ol' Matthew mite need hisseff some privit-like time with Miz Kitty – "

"Why don't you just hush?" Adams scolded, grabbing his arm and shuffling him out. "You haven't got the sense – "

The door closed behind them, leaving her staring up at her husband, unsure about what awaited them, and still angry – and a little hurt – with him for not telling her. She glanced around to see that Sam had plopped himself down in the midst of a set of blocks Doc kept handy for just such visits. The little boy would probably keep busy another few minutes, anyway. Long enough, perhaps, to find out what on earth was going on.

"Kitty, I'm sorry I didn't – "

She held up a hand to stop him. "You had your reasons, I know, Matt. And I'm sure they were good. It's just a little hard to find out your husband is doing something as – as monumental as giving up a job that was so important for twenty years he couldn't – " She stopped, regretting the words as soon as she saw the guilt cloud his blue eyes again.

Damn it. She had promised herself she wouldn't bring that up. It didn't matter anymore. "I didn't mean – "

A large, but gentle hand closed around her arm. "Kitty, I'm sorry. I was going to tell you as soon as Newly and I got back, but then Lane was there – and Butcher Cole. I just didn't have the chance."

All true, she had to acknowledge. Softening, she nodded, gripping his hard biceps automatically, not remembering about the bullet wound until his quick, involuntary hiss reminded her, and she jerked her hand away. "Oh, Matt, I'm sorry."

He shook his head and smiled, but the expression remained strained. "It's okay."

"Really, Matt," she urged, "I'm sorry about – about the other, too. I didn't mean to – well, I know you would have told me if you could."

"I have resigned, Kitty, but – there's something else. Something we need to talk about."

Something else. Something besides resigning? Wasn't that enough? Her mind raced back to Lane's comment. "Maybe you won't miss the prairie too much, then."

And suddenly, she realized.

"Kitty?" he asked abruptly, his hands going to her shoulders. "Are you feeling okay? You're not going to faint again, are you?"

She knew her face must have reflected the shock of comprehension. "I'm fine," she assured him softly.

He frowned doubtfully and gestured to Doc's chair. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I don't need to," she insisted, anxious for him to continue.

But a closer look showed her that, even though she didn't need to sit down, Matt apparently did. A thin line of sweat beaded on his forehead, his cheeks were pale under the deeply-burned tan.

"On second thought," she decided, "maybe I do." She took his hand, alarmed that it was slightly clammy. "Let's sit on the bed."

"Bed?" His brow rose and he leered at her, a move that helped dispel the nudge of worry. If he could flirt with her, he was okay. Just tired, and – of course – he had been shot.

"Just to talk, Mister," she teased back easily.

He pressed his lips together in mock disappointment.

"Look, Marshal Dillon, I've forgiven you for not telling me before about resigning. Don't push it."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed meekly – or as meekly as Matt Dillon could sound, anyway. "Not pushing it."

Sam ignored them as they passed his elaborate construction masterpiece, too focused on building a structure that might have been a miniature version of the Long Branch to bother with his parents. With a low groan Matt sank onto the bed, weariness visibly folding over his long body. Kitty considered just making him lie down and sleep and saving the talk for later. He sure looked as if he could use it. The circles under his eyes spoke of several restless nights, and she wondered if he had been fighting the nightmares that sometimes plagued him, that brought him shouting and sweating upright in bed, calling her name – or the names of men long dead by his own pistol. On those nights she wished she could relieve him of those haunting memories, but she knew they would follow him for the rest of his life, so she did what she could by holding him and offering him more pleasant distractions.

"Matt," she began, determined to make him level with her. "Are you all right?"

His head came up quickly, his eyes questioning. "What?"

"Are you all right?" she repeated, her tone insisting that he be honest about that, for once.

"Well, sure, Kitty. I thought you were the one not feeling well." He grinned a little, and laid his hand across her stomach. "Although I guess I'm partly to blame for that."

"I'm serious, Matt. You look – well, you don't look so hot. "

His brow rose, and he feigned insult. "Well, thanks."

"You know what I mean. You're pale, you're sweating, and you look like you haven't slept in a week."

"Oh." Sheepishly, he dropped his gaze from hers. "Well, maybe I understated a bit when I told Doc that Cole just winged me," he admitted, rubbing gingerly at the wounded arm. She knew how much it took for him to admit to that. He looked back up at her, eyes sincere. "But it's not that bad, really, Kitty. I've had much worse."

God, didn't she know it.

"As for sleeping," he smiled disarmingly, "I've discovered it's hard to do without a certain beautiful, hot redhead in my arms."

"I've discovered you don't do much sleeping when that redhead's in your arms," she countered, grateful for it. Still, she wasn't letting him off the hook completely. "Nightmares?" she guessed.

A shadow crossed his face, his voice hardened a bit. It was his defense against the turmoil of emotion the dreams brought. "I'm just tired, Kitty," he said. "It was a long trial and a long trip. And I'm just tired."

Years of experience had taught her to let it go when she heard that tone. Even now, as his wife, she knew when to push and when not to push. Satisfied that he was just hurting from the wound and tired from the trip, she let her right hand cup his jaw, silently telling him she understood. He relaxed slightly with her touch.

"You had something we needed to talk about?" she prompted gently. "What did you mean when you said the Attorney General didn't exactly not accept your resignation?"

Blue eyes regarded her evenly, the intensity in them letting her know this was serious. "He offered me another job."

Surprised at first, she realized the announcement wasn't really unexpected. In fact, it seemed rather obvious when she thought about it. "Another job?"

"I told him no, but he was – well, he asked me to think it over."

A sudden fear clutched at her throat, a feat that it could be worse, that he could be placed in even greater danger.

"It would mean still wearing this badge," he told her, tapping the damnable bit of metal on his chest. "That's why – Kitty, I know what you've sacrificed for me. I won't do this if you don't want me to." Pain twisted his features just briefly before he conquered it, and she wasn't sure if it was emotional pain or physical pain – or both.

She started to tell him it was no sacrifice, but realized it had been, of course. A sacrifice she had willingly made, but a sacrifice, nonetheless.

"I thought he'd be glad to see me finally step down. I was once the youngest marshal; I figure now I'm probably the oldest."

Kitty raised an ironic brow. "Just because everyone else is dead."

Smiling ruefully, Matt agreed. "Most likely."

He sounded a little bewildered about the whole thing, but Kitty wasn't surprised at all. Whatever the offer was, it surely involved him still working for the marshal's service. Of course the Attorney General would want to hang on to Matt Dillon tooth and nail if he could. She considered Lane's description. To many people, he really was a legend. How could they let a legend go?

Warily, she asked, "What's the job?"

"We could forget it all and just start that ranch," he hedged.

"What's the job?"

He sucked in a breath and finally told her. "The War Department is starting a program to prepare new marshals, and he wants me to – "

Thank God. Relief coursed through her body. "He wants you to help train them," she finished for him, her throat relaxing. A training program. So other men could go out and get shot instead of Matt. Well, he had paid his dues. Thank God.

But Matt was wincing. "Actually, it's a little more than that. He, uh, he wants me to – "

"To what?" she prompted, afraid again.

"To run it," he said simply.

Kitty stared, wide-eyed, at him. "Run it? For the territory?"

His lips pressed together hard for a second. Then he cocked his jaw and shrugged. "For the country."

For the country? For the entire United States of America?

She felt her mouth drop, amazed – even knowing how unique Matt was in his talent – that he would be in charge of a national program. "For the country," she repeated, still slightly bemused. Then, as the notion rooted itself into her mind, she said it again, this time with confident acceptance. "For the country."

But of course. Hell, who on earth would be better to train marshals than the best of them all? With a firm nod, she asked, "When do you start, Marshal Dillon?"

Swallowing, he leaned forward to take both her hands in his. "Like I said, I told the Attorney General I'd think on it – and I'd have to ask my wife."

My wife.

Even though they'd been married for almost a year, she still felt that thrill dash through her heart when she heard him use those words, words she had never really believed she would ever hear. Words that were now almost as precious as the other words he whispered to her late at night when he drew her to him and entwined their bodies in the most intimate of dances.

"Kitty?"

She lifted her head, pushing the distracting vision to the back of her mind. If she let it take over now it would be quite some time before the conversation was finished. Here was a chance for Matt to remain a marshal, for him to do the job he had devoted his life to – and at the same time a chance for her to live a little more normally, not waiting for that dreadful moment she had feared so many years. Could fate have dealt them any better hand?

"When do you start?" she asked again, her voice warm with pride and support.

His lips turned up in a smile at the implication. "Don't you want to know more about the job?"

But she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. If it's what you want – "

"Is it what you want, Kitty? Because if it's not – "

"If it's what you want, Matt, it's what I want."

She saw his jaw muscles clench. "Kitty," he whispered, voice rough. "Are you sure? I just want you to be happy. I just want – "

Sliding her hand to cup his cheek, she leaned forward to brush his lips with hers. "I am happy, Matt. I've never been happier than I am right now."

His mouth accepted her kiss, moving on her lips in a gesture that began lovingly and sweetly, but that instantly exploded into a fire of desire, shooting to her core. He had been gone for almost two weeks, and she ached to be with him again. She forgot about where they were, about their child playing innocently in the next room. Her body took over as his mouth pressed more firmly, opening her lips so that his tongue could ease inside.

His muscles tensed, as if he thought about pushing her away, but that ephemeral move gave way to the sensations that quickly engulfed them. Lying back on the bed, he pulled her on top of him, fitting their hips together. She moaned his name.

His breath came faster. She heard his heart pounding beneath her ear as she laid her head on his chest. "Kitty, we need to stop," he whispered hoarsely, making no move whatsoever to do anything about it.

"Okay," she gasped, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run her lips over his bare skin.

He groaned, his fingers wrapping around her arms as if to pull her off, but instead, he held her firmly and arched his hips so that she could feel him swell against her. "Kitty."

"We shouldn't be – doing this – here," she managed to choke out, even as his large hands caressed her buttocks, pressed her harder into him.

"No," he agreed, tugging at the buttons down the back of her dress.

"Sam's in the next room," she reminded him, her tongue trailing across the strong planes of his chest while her hands pushed the shirt away from his body.

"Uh huh." Smoothly, he turned her on the bed so that he knelt between her thighs, hands pushing up her skirts, his earlier fatigue apparently forgotten.

"And Doc could come back any minute." Her hands slid down his stomach and beneath the waistband of his pants to close over the burning shaft, sighing with pleasure when he pulsed hard in her grasp.

"Kitty," he groaned, thrusting into her grip. "D-don't – I can't – "

But she was almost too far gone to listen, wanting nothing more than to open to him, to feel him fill her again and again. Nothing could stop them now. Nothing could keep them from satisfying the overwhelming need that swept them.

Nothing except the jarring squeal of their eleven-month-old child.

"Papa!" Sam's call from the other room cut through the heat of desire enough to bring them back to semi-sanity.

With a rare, but fierce, expletive, Matt rolled off her and fell back on the bed. Kitty sat up, gasping, her heart racing, her body surging.

"Matt Dillon!" she tried to scold, but in reality she had barely kept in her own snap of profanity.

"Oh, God," he groaned, eyes closed tightly.

She winced as her gaze ran down his body and saw the urgent need straining against his pants. "That's gotta be uncomfortable," she sympathized. "And hard to take care of now."

Teeth gritted, breath coming fast, he opened his eyes and looked down at himself ruefully. "Hard is the operative word," he muttered. "And I thought I was taking care of it."

"I thought I was taking care of it," she amended, just as ruefully.

Dragging in a gulp of air, Matt closed his eyes in an attempt to calm his body. Wincing in failure, he opened them again and looked toward his child, who had toddled into the doorway. "Son," he declared, "we've got to work on your timing."

"Nap, Papa?" the boy observed, seeing his father on the bed.

Kitty laughed. "That's right. Papa's taking a nap."

"No nap," Sam frowned, then smiled again with innocent glee. "Bocks, Papa. See bocks."

Matt raised his head and glance past the partially open door at the stacks of blocks beyond. "He wants to show us the blocks," he declared sarcastically to Kitty.

"Yes."

But after a moment, he let a pained grin touch his lips. "Yes, Sam. I saw the blocks. They look real fine. Maybe you're gonna be an architect."

Pleased at that thought, Kitty smiled at her husband. It was probably rare for an architect to be in a gun battle in the middle of the street. Sam seemed satisfied with the response, toddling back into the outer room to resume his construction.

Resisting the urge to place a hand on his chest, knowing that would counteract any attempt at recovery, she said, "Is it too much to hope that there's no shooting at each other?"

"What?"

"When you're training people," she clarified.

"There's shooting, but only at targets," he assured her, rolling onto his side.

"Targets don't usually shoot back, do they?"

An understanding smile curved his lips. "No, Kitty, they don't."

"Matt," she asked, giving him another chance to get out of the decision. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

"I'm sure, Kitty. It's time. It's time for me, and it's time for Newly." His voice fell almost to a whisper as he drew her close again, brushing his lips with hers. "And it's time for you."

Reluctantly, she sighed, feeling her body start to surge again against his unabated arousal. "As much as I hate to say it, you'd better stop that. It's how we got started before."

He kissed her once more before pulling away. "Kitty, there's something else you need to know about the job. It means we'll have to – "

"Well, hello there, Sam!"

Kitty felt the unexpected greeting shoot through her, propel her from Matt's grasp and off the bed as if she had gunpowder under her. She stood panting as Doc's familiar shuffle stopped while he talked with her little boy in the outer office.

Hastily, she ran her hands over her body, checked her clothes, relieved that Matt hadn't succeeded in unbuttoning her. Satisfied that she wasn't too disheveled, she looked at her husband and grimaced. Disheveled didn't even begin to describe him. His hair curled wildly over his eyes, his shirt hung half-off revealing a chest reddened from her fevered caresses, his pants – well, his pants failed miserably to hide the very obvious evidence of his continued excitement.

"You'd better stay in here," she told him. "At least until you can comb your hair and tuck in your shirt, and until – "

He nodded. "I'll be out in a minute," he said, voice strained.

"A minute?" she asked skeptically as she eyed the substantial bulge at his groin.

"I'll think about Mrs. Pry," he told her.

"That oughta do it," she agreed with a smirk.

Sam looked up, handing her a block as she pushed open the door. She accepted with lavish thanks. He seemed satisfied and turned back to building his metropolis.

Doc eyed her suspiciously as she entered. "You okay? You look a little flushed."

"You complained that I was pale before," she reminded. "Isn't this better?"

"Depends on why," he insisted.

"Well, I feel just fine."

"Matt go somewhere?"

"What?" she asked, knowing her tone fell well short of convincing.

"Matt Dillon. Big fellow. Hard to miss. He was in here when I left. I was wondering if he went somewhere."

"He – uh – he's lying down. He was a little shaky." That was the truth, although not all of it.

The physician jerked. "Is he feelin' bad? His arm bothering him? I told you he lost a lot of blood." He reached for his bag, but Kitty stepped between him and the door.

"He's okay, Doc. Just tired."

"But – "

"Why don't you check me out before we leave?" she suggested, knowing he'd be hard pressed to deny an actual voluntary exam.

"Well," he hesitated. "If you're sure he's okay – "

"I can't imagine why I fainted earlier," she began, effectively regaining his attention.

"What have you eaten today?" Doc asked, his expression telling her he already knew.

From years of experience, she realized it wouldn't do any good to try to elude him. "A half a piece of toast and some coffee," she confirmed, almost defiantly.

"How much coffee?" he pushed.

Frowning, she admitted, "Four sips."

"Uh huh. Kitty, you know you have to eat."

"Doc – "

"I'm serious. You're eating for – "

"Two. I know. Otherwise, am I okay?"

Reluctantly, he nodded.

Glancing over to the closed bedroom door and remembering how close she and Matt had come to making love a few minutes before, she asked, a little shyly, "Does that mean that – well – can I – we – that is, can Matt and I – "

"What?"

"Is it okay for us to – " She faltered, waiting for him to get it.

After a moment, his eyes widened, and then quickly narrowed. "Oh, for Heaven's sake. Is that all you think about – "

"Well, can we?" she pushed, her eagerness trumping her embarrassment.

He sighed and rubbed at his mustache. "Yes, I suppose, but make sure it's – "

"Nice and easy," she supplied sweetly.

He grunted. "I seem to recall giving those same instructions before without either of you payin' any attention to them."

"I promise."

He rolled his eyes and grunted again. "I'll leave some salve."

At that moment, Matt emerged from the back, looking reasonably intact, although his hair remained a little mussed, and he had missed the third button from the top on his shirt, giving a nice view of his broad chest. Kitty let her eyes drop to his pants, relieved to see no blatant display there. One look at Doc, however, let her know they had not fooled him a bit.

The big lawman blinked at the frown the older man plastered on him for no apparent reason. "What?"

But the physician just shook his head hopelessly. "Don't blame me if you end up with a passel of young'uns by the time you're fifty."

Matt's lips pressed tightly together in confusion and consternation, but Kitty just smiled and patted the older man's arm.

"Don't worry." Her eyes cut toward her husband. "I'll know who to blame."

The big man lifted his chin suspiciously. "Well, I'm not sure what I did, but I have a feeling I should just keep my mouth shut."

"And your pants," Doc added in a mumble that was remarkably clear.

"What?" He looked down self-consciously, confirming Doc's suspicions.

"Doc!" Kitty exclaimed.

"I'm gonna have to burn those sheets, now."

Crimson flushed across Matt's face at the doctor's pointed observation.

She placed her hand on her hips. "We didn't – " But the truth was, they came damn close. "Oh, you can believe what you want. Come on, Matt, let's go home."

The smile that crept to Doc's lips softened his grumbling. "Oh, listen, I know you didn't – well, at least I figured you wouldn't – for Pete's sake, I'm kidding, Kitty."

"Well – "

"You do take it easy, though. Both of you." He turned to deliver a pointed, accusing glare at the marshal, who had the grace at least to blush and nod obediently. "And I mean that."

Swinging Sam up into his arms, Matt rolled his eyes.

"Bye, bye, G'pa," the child called out, waving toward his adopted grandfather.

Kitty watched the physician try to hide the sudden well of tears and noticed a telling exchange between the older man and Matt. "Doc?" she asked, perplexed.

Matt stared at the doctor for a long minute. "Zeke?" he asked simply.

Doc nodded, a sad smile touching his lips.

The two men regarded each other silently until Matt broke the moment and nodded once. "We'll see you tomorrow, Doc," he said, his hand catching her elbow and guiding her toward the door.

Adams nodded and blinked at them, reaching high up to tousle Sam's curls. "Tomorrow." Then he smiled again. "Don't forget tonight, though. Nice and easy."

Despite her mounting anxiety, Kitty smiled at the old man's teasing. Even Matt allowed himself an embarrassed smirk when Adams shoved a jar of salve into his hand.

But she realized in that moment that it didn't matter. Doc knew as much as she did, perhaps more. "No," she said, placing a hand on Matt's chest. Before we – " Her eyes darted to Doc. "Before – you were going to tell me the rest of your news."

Matt's arm slid around her waist, tugging a little harder. "I'll tell you on the way home," he said.

Home. Shaking her head, she looked up into the handsome face of her cowboy, knowing already what that news was. The distant sound of her mother's voice returned to her.

She thought about all those times she had tried to leave Dodge City, all those failed attempts to get away from the dust and the guns and the unruliness, only to be drawn back – or brought back – by love. Love, of course, of Matt, but also love of that dusty, unruly town and its people.

"Where?" she asked simply.

"Kitty, if you want to stay here, if you want to stay home, I understand. I told you already that we can start that ranch – "

"And I told you, Cowboy, that home is where the heart is." Her hand pressed warmly against his chest, right over that big, generous heart. "And this is where I'll always be."

His jaw muscles worked hard, clenching and unclenching in an attempt to keep his emotions in check.

"Now," she smiled, "where?"

After a long beat, he let a tender smile touch his lips. With a quick glance toward Doc, he sighed and squared to look her straight in the eye. "Washington."

"D.C.?"

"D.C."

Washington, D.C.

Doc's bittersweet smile made her heart ache. She had meant what she said to Matt. And she would follow him to China, if that's where he was going. But that didn't mean she wouldn't grieve the separation from 21 years of her life. It was hard to believe; after all those other times leaving Dodge City, after all those times coming back, she was finally going for good.

But this time, she wouldn't be alone.

TBC