Title: Splintered (3/?)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to have any rights to the characters or plots of DQMW. The following is purely for entertainment value and of no monetary value whatsoever

Summary: He pressed his face to his knees and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Chapter Three

Sully accepted a cup of coffee from Grace and took a seat at an empty table to await Michaela's arrival. Sipping his coffee, he was aware of the speculative gazes of some of the café's other patrons. Hooking one arm casually over the back of his chair, he adopted a negligent pose as he studiously ignored the exchange of nudges and whispers between Jake and Loren.

Minutes ticked by with no sign of Michaela in sight and the whispers and snickers from behind grew in volume. Sully called on all of the patience he had ever learned from Cloud Dancing and worked to keep an inscrutable expression on his face. Wolf, sensing his companion's inner disquiet, shifted closer and laid his chin on Sully's leg. Sully stroked a hand over the animal's muzzle and fondled his ears eliciting an almost humanlike sigh of contentment from the wolf.

"Horace!" Sully heard Jake call. "C'mere. Join us."

The lanky telegraph operator swerved toward the sound of the other man's voice – eager as always for any opportunity to be admitted into Jake's or Loren's company .

"Hey, Jake." He sat down across the table from the two men. "It's mighty nice of ya to invite me."

"Not at all, m'boy," Loren tutted. "Not at all."

"Say, listen," Jake said casually. "I noticed you carried a telegram over to Dr. Mike's this morning." He raised his voice enough to be sure that it would carry to Sully's table.

"Yep." Horace shot a grateful smile toward Grace and tore eagerly into the platter of fried chicken she set down in front of him. "From Boston."

"From Boston, you say?" Loren harrumphed. "Oh, dear." His voice dripped with false sympathy. "I hope it wasn't bad news."

"Probably her fiancé letting her know that he had arrived back home safely," Jake concluded gleefully. The two men shared a wicked chuckle.

"Ain't none of your business who Dr. Mike gets a telegram from," Grace snapped as she refilled their coffee cups. "Mind your own. B'sides, David couldn'ta gotten to Boston already. It's only been a few days since he left here."

"Oh, lighten up, Grace," Loren groused. "That Andrew feller left here so suddenly and no one seems to know what's goin' on. The kids ain't talkin'. And Dr. Mike has barely come out of that clinic since he left town. Maybe she's busy making arrangements and is planning on going back to Boston t'marry him," he speculated.

"Yeah," Jake chimed in. "As mayor, I need to know if I'm going to have to place an ad for a new doctor." Turning, he shot a friendly smile toward Horace. "So what's the story, Horace? You can tell us. For the good of the town."

Horace swallowed a large bite of chicken and washed it down with a gulp of lemonade. Wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin, he frowned at the other men.

"You know I can't tell you," he said. "I took an oath."

"Pah! An oath." Loren's craggy face twisted into a scowl. "What good're you then?"

"I… I'm real sorry, fellows," Horace apologized. "I can't tell you what's in it, but I can tell you it was from her ma."

"Ahhh, Elizabeth," Loren sighed in remembrance of her prior visit. "What a woman."

The two men had been carefully watching Sully during the entire exchange but seeing that he was still sprawled indolently in his chair, gave up on their efforts to needle a response from him.

Sully debated between waiting at the table or going to the clinic to check on Michaela. It was true that telegrams were often filled with bad news and he couldn't help but wonder if the content of the message from her mother was the cause for Michaela's delay.

When another few minutes passed with no sign of her, Sully began to rise from his chair, halting when the clinic door swung open and Michaela stepped outside with Mrs. Stevens. He watched as she laid a gentle hand on the old woman's arm, and though he could not hear their conversation, he knew she was dispensing advice to her patient. The admonishing wag of her finger was accompanied by the wonderfully gentle smile he adored. The two women parted and Michaela reached out to tug the clinic door closed before making her way toward the café and him.

"I'm sorry that I'm late." She slipped into the chair he pulled out for her.

"Everythin' okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Stevens loves to chat, you know." She took a breath. It's Thursday," she noted. "That means fried chicken." She looked around at the dwindling lunch crowd. "I'm so late. I do hope Grace has some left!"

As if on cue, Grace appeared with two platters piled high with food.

"Can I get ya some coffee, Dr. Mike?" she asked pleasantly.

"I'd love some iced tea if you have any, Grace."

"Coming right up."

Michaela took a dainty bite of chicken. "I will never learn how to make this as well as Grace," she lamented.

Sully ignored his meal, watching Michaela as she ate and kept up a steady stream of what appeared to him to be nervous chatter.

"Are you sure everythin's okay?" he asked again.

"Of course." She wiped her fingers on a napkin and took a sip of tea. "Why do you keep asking?

"You seem a little… wound up, that's all. Are you sure nothin's bothering you?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Sully."

"I heard you got a telegram from your Ma today." His flat tone dared her to deny it.

Michaela carefully chewed the bite of chicken in her mouth and swallowed.

"Yes. That's right."

He saw a slight grimace pucker her brows as she slid a quick look towards Horace.

"Don't worry," Sully said. "Horace didn't say what was in it." He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"Is everythin' all right in Boston?" he asked with concern. "Your ma ain't sick again, is she?"

"Oh, no. No. It's nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"She was simply writing in response to the telegram I sent her about our engagement."

"The telegram you sent over a week ago?" he asked doubtfully. "She's just now gettin' around to answerin'?"

The smile she flashed at him was bright and cheerful, but in Sully's opinion rang false in the face of the lines of strain etched around her eyes.

"Are you gonna tell me or do I gotta keep pryin' it out of you bit by bit?" he demanded. "Let me guess. She ain't happy about our engagement." He shook his head in puzzlement. "I don't understand. I thought you said that she was acceptin' of our feelings when you left Boston to come back here."

"She was," Michaela said. "She is."

"Then what's the problem? She had t'know that those feelings might lead to us gettin' married."

"Does it really matter what she thinks?" Michaela asked quietly. "I don't want to spend all of our time today talking about my mother. Not when we have so many other things to discuss."

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded stubbornly across his chest and waited.

Michaela pushed her plate away and rested her hands atop the rough wood of the table. "It seems that David decided to contact his family after he left here. He was worried that I would tell my mother that he had been to see me and that his family would find out that he's alive from mine."

Sully's eyes narrowed as comprehension dawned.

"And now your ma knows that David is alive and that he was here."

She shrugged, her fingers nervously toying with the biscuit on her plate.

"And that he asked you to marry him?"

The biscuit crumbled into tiny pieces beneath her hands.

"Yes."

"She didn't write t'congratulate you on our engagement," he said slowly. "She wrote t'encourage you t'accept David's."

Michaela's silence spoke volumes.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked.

"Oh, Sully. What does it matter –"

"I wanna know," he insisted. "Are you gonna tell me or not?"

"Fine. Yes." She forced herself to look up at him. "But not here. Will you walk with me?"

Sully's gaze flicked over the other patrons of the café. Most seemed to be wrapped up in their own conversations and not paying any attention to their fellow diners. But though he and Michaela had kept their voices low, the sudden silence at Jake's and Loren's table alerted him to the fact that they were doing their best to eavesdrop.

"Let's go." He stood and tossed money onto the table before helping Michaela to her feet. Smiling their thanks at Grace, they set off down the street.

"Well?" he asked as they neared the edge of town. "Please. Just tell me what your ma said."

He watched as Michaela's hand brushed over the pocket of her skirt where, he guessed, the telegram was tucked.

"She believes that David and I are better suited." She spoke quickly, in a hurry to get the words out and – she hoped – to have this conversation over as quickly as possible.

"Why?"

"Oh, Sully." A trace of exasperation colored her tone for, though her mother's reasons were quite obvious, she did not wish to list them aloud. Sully, however, had no such hesitation.

"Because she sees David as a better provider?" he guessed.

She closed her eyes briefly and nodded.

"Because he's a doctor. He's educated."

She stared straight ahead and plodded forward without answering.

"You and David have a similar background," he said. "You both come from wealthy families. He's proper. He knows how t'use the right fork and how t'talk at those fancy dinner parties they have in Boston."

It seemed that Sully knew well her mother's mind for he was ticking off each of Elizabeth's arguments as if he had read the telegram.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes."

Sully shoved his hands into his pockets and curled his fingers into tight fists.

"Expensive telegram," he noted idly. "Your ma must have really wanted to make her point for her to have spent all that money."

"So, it seems," she murmured. Stopping in the middle of the path, she braved a glance up at him. "But, Sully, does it really matter what she thinks?"

He stared at her for a long moment.

"Shouldn't it?" he asked at length. "Can you really tell me that you don't care what she thinks?"

"Of course, I care." She laid a hand on his arm. "But she hasn't approved of anything I've done since I decided to move West," she reminded him. "This is just one more thing."

"One more big thing," he grunted irritably.

Michaela cast her look around her – at the grass beneath her feet and the trees towering above her head. She watched two birds chase a squirrel down the side of a tree and drawing in a deep breath, prepared herself to ask the one question which had been haunting her since the day she had come to him with her decision.

"Are you punishing me?" she asked.

"What?" He twisted his head to look at her.

"It's just…" She bit her lip. "You told me that you wanted me to the pick the man who would make me happiest and that you would support whatever decision I made," she reminded him. "Did you mean it?"

"I did," he said gruffly. "I want you to be happy more than anythin'."

"I thought you would be happy when I chose you," she said softly. "But instead you've seemed terribly unhappy." Tears brightened her eyes. "I can't help but think you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry," he murmured and closed his eyes. He scraped a hand over his bristled jaw. "I just… I guess I thought that… hoped that it would be a simple decision for you. An easy one. That you would be able to just look in your heart and know right away that you belonged with me. I didn't think it would take you over a week to decide. Turns out it wasn't so simple, was it?"

She shook her head. "No," she choked.

They stared at one another for a long moment.

"Will you tell me why it was such a hard choice for you to make?" His whispered question broke the tension filled silence between them.

"I… It seemed like a huge decision – the biggest one I've ever made in my life." Her shoulders rose and fell on a helpless shrug. "You know me," she said with a teary smile. "I have to make my lists of all the good and all the bad."

He swallowed hard around the lump which had formed in his throat. "Will you tell me what was on those lists?" he asked. "What was in David's favor?"

"Sully…" She shook her head. "I don't… that's… no."

"I imagine it's pretty much the same reasons your ma had," he breathed. "He's a gentleman with a proper background and lots of education – just like you – and nothing at all like me."

She propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. "Are you trying to convince me that I made the wrong choice?"

At any other time he would have smiled at the haughty edge to her voice but not at that moment.

"No. I'm trying t'figure out why you picked me."

"Oh," she smiled at last. "That is the simple part." She took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around him. Nestling her cheek against his chest, she boldly pressed her body against his.

"I told Dorothy that no one has ever made me feel the way that you do. You awaken something deep inside of me, Sully. It just feels so right to hold you and to be held by you." Keeping her arms wrapped around his waist, she tipped her head back and looked up at him with tear-bright eyes.

"I chose you because I want to feel the way I do right now in your arms every day for the rest of my life," she said. "I want to wake up each morning knowing that I have the right to touch you and to be touched by you." Equally embarrassed by and excited by the boldness of her declaration, a flush stained her cheeks and her eyes glowed. "We're just so right together."

Sully rested his cheek against the crown of her head.

"Is it enough?" he breathed against her hair. "I'm afraid."

Michaela twisted free of his embrace. "What do you mean?" Her voice was thick with trepidation.

"Twice now I've almost lost you to men who got the same background as yours," he reminded her. "Twice now you've picked me over them."

"Yes!" Frustrated, she stamped her foot against the hard packed path. "I chose you, Sully. Both times," she emphasized. "Why can't that be enough?"

"I'm flattered…"

"Flattered!" Agitation over what felt like a coming rejection had her raising her voice.

"Yes," he affirmed. "I'm honored. But I'm also scared."

"Of what?" She pleaded for him to make sense of his fears. "I love you Sully."

"I ain't ever gonna be what they are, Michaela. I ain't ever gonna be rich. I ain't ever gonna talk fancy. I wanna make you happy. I don't mind getting gussied up sometimes. I even kinda liked that opera we went to in Boston. I like learnin' new things but… Michaela, I ain't ever gonna be a doctor. I ain't ever gonna have as highfalutin' an education as you."

"I know that, Sully."

"But those things are important to ya," he stressed. "Or else you wouldn't ever looked at Dr. Burke or had to take so long to choose between me 'n David."

"But I did choose you," she reminded him. "I made my choice and now you're standing here second-guessing me and I don't know why!"

"I told ya! I'm afraid."

"Of what?" she pleaded. "Please, Sully. Make me understand."

"Passion can fade," he told her.

She blushed. "That's not the only reason I –"

"I'm afraid of what will happen if we get married," he said. "I'm terrified that one day you'll look at me and realize you made the wrong choice and then it'll be too late."

"I won't. I couldn't."

"I couldn't live with it, Michaela."

"You won't have to," she promised. "I will never feel that way."

"You're everythin' I want, Michaela."

"You're everything that I want too, Sully," she vowed desperately.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're everythin' I want," he repeated. "But you're also everything I need," he vowed. "You're all that I need. And I'm scared because I think… I think maybe you need more and maybe someday I aint' gonna be enough."

TBC