The moon seemed further away than usual, and it made the night more ominous (and more deadly), than Timothy ever remembered it was alone on the bridge outside of the church, looking at his reflection in the stream below. It was odd he could see his reflection as clear as day when the darkness surrounded him more completely.

Timothy was lost in thought. About the apology he owed to his sweetheart and how he would carry it out. About how wrong he was and whether or not his sin against Lucy would lose him her heart forever.

For once, he knew God would not have the answers he required.

Timothy...

The wind whispered in her voice.

Timothy...

He looked and and could see the flash of red moving gracefully in the night. Timothy felt his chest tighten in anxiety, but nonetheless he began to follow. Even through his heavy black boots made imprints on the silent night with each step, Lucy didn't seem to notice his approach.

"Lucy, you really should not be out here alone this late...especially without an escort," he began to scold gently.

"Oh, but I'm not alone," Lucy sighed contentedly as she turned towards the Reverend. What he saw next was enough to stop his heart.

Lucy was with child. Very much with child. Her pregnancy protruded far out from behind her shawl, and her normally-large breasts were easily twice their typical size. Her left hand cradled her belly gingerly...protectively...defensively.

Timothy gasped. "Lucy-"

"-Reverend Johnson!" boomed Preston's unmistakable voice from behind Lucy. As he came into view, he slipped an arm around Lucy's shoulder. "I believe you have just had the honor of meeting my wife!"

"Don't you touch her!" Timothy hissed. "She isn't your wife!"

Preston and Lucy broke out into laughter together. Timothy took a step back in surprise.

"What, do you really think I am yours?" Lucy giggled, her hand passing over her belly in circles.

"Next, he will think the child is his baby!" Preston added, which only made Lucy laugh louder, as if the funniest joke in the world was being told.

"This is impossible. Lucy, I love you. We're courting!" Timothy pleaded, stretching out to take Lucy's hand. Instead of taking it, Lucy instead sank back towards Preston, whose grip on her tightened instinctively.

"Make him go away!" Lucy cried. Preston's smiling face quickly grew to one of intense seriousness.

"SHERIFF! SHERIFF!" He hollered.

In seconds, six men dressed in black and holding torched from atop their massive steeds surrounded the trio. Timothy didn't know what to make of this.

"This man who calls himself A Man of God is trying to kidnap my wife! Take him in!" Preston demanded. Lucy began to cry, burying herself into his shoulder. Preston's hand moved assertively to her chin, where he lifted her face to his and kissed her.

Timothy's blood boiled. He began to fight back at the sheriff brigade began wrestling him to the ground. He was quickly overtaken.

"I insist you do away with him! He is obviously a threat to the innocent women of this town! He is a wolf in sheep's clothing!" Preston monologued.

Timothy heard Matthew Cooper's authoritative voice reply.

"We know what to do with him, don't you worry."

Timothy couldn't even protest. What was happening? He was cuffed with his wrists behind his back, then Matthew Cooper tugged him harshly to his feet by the back of his collar.

"Come on, Johnson. We're going. You are despicable, going after pregnant women, you sick, sick man," he said.

Timothy looked back amid the struggle as he was carted away. Preston and Lucy were watching his arrest with strange, gleeful looks on their faces.

Sheriff Cooper led Timothy through town, which was suddenly crowded. Everyone hissed and spat at him as he saw where he was being led...

...a gallows in the middle of town.

"Hang the rapist!"

"Hang the kidnapper!"

"Hang the false Reverend!"

These cried accosted Timothy's ears as he was led through the middle of the angered crowd.

Rapist? Kidnapper? False? Timothy was none of these things!

"No, please! Let me say something!" he protested, fighting for his life as he approached the gallows.

"You have nothing more to say," spat Matthew. "Go on, dog." He shoved Timothy onto the first wooden step leading up to where a faceless deputy was looping a noose on a platform. Timothy nearly tripped from the force of it.

Tears began to roll down his desperate face, and he had to be forced to climb every stare. Matthew finally gave up and dragged him the final few feet, and positioned him above the trap door before swiftly tying his feet together.

"I've been framed! I don't even know what's happening! Lucy! My love! Lucy! I love you! Help me! Lord in Heaven, Help Me!"

"Coward!"

"How DARE you call on God?!"

"That woman ain't yours!"

As Matthew placed the noose around Timothy's long neck, he could see Preston and Lucy standing on the porch outside Loren's store in each other's arms, watching placidly as Timothy awaited execution. Lucy blew him a taunting kiss goodbye as Matthew Cooper tightened the knot of the rope right below Timothy's left ear.

"Get it over with," Matthew muttered to the faceless deputy. What, they wouldn't even give him the dignity of putting a mask over his face?

As Matthew descended the gallows steps, Timothy could barely see from behind the hot, fearful tears pouring down his face. No final words...no mask...no prayer...and Lucy was taking pleasure in watching him suffer and die.

"See you in hell..." mumbled the deputy. Timothy turned his face. Suddenly, the deputy turned into Louise Chambers, her blonde hair obscured by a large black veil draped over her face. She grinned evilly. Before Timothy could even make a remark, she pulled the level releasing the trapdoor.

The last thing Timothy saw before the noose went tight around his neck was Preston and Lucy watching from the porch. He was hoding her in a deep, victorious kiss, his free hand caressing her pregnancy with possessive authority.

He felt something explode in the back of his head and a sensation of swinging...

"TIMOTHY!"

He shot up, safe, sound, and free, though drenched in sweat and breathless, in his bed. Lucy was sitting beside him, wiping his forehead with a cloth and holding his hand with her free one. She looked down at him with extreme worry. She had her hair back in a loose braid, and wore a light, flimsy nightgown and a flannel robe over top.

"I heard you moaning through your open window," she said softly. "Your door was locked, but I knew I had to get in somehow."

Timothy, however, still hadn't come back to full consciousness. He sat up, and his hand shot to Lucy's stomach. While her abdomen was not flat, it was also obvious there was no baby growing in there.

"No...no baby inside you..." he mumbled breathlessly. Lucy leaned back and gently removed his exploring hands, shaking her head.

"Not possible...unless I'm giving birth to a Christ child," she replied. "You've had a nightmare."

Timothy heard her soothing, angelic voice, and he finally began to re-establish his position.

"I'm...not being hanged..."

Lucy smiled re-reassuringly. "No."

"And..." he trembled. "You aren't married to Preston..."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Never."

"And...you aren't having Preston's baby."

"It sounds like you had a nightmare for both of us," Lucy sighed. She put the damp cloth in her hand on the night stand. "I was coming over because I couldn't sleep. I was thinking too much about you. I came here to apologize to you for over-reacting. I should have considered your position and-"

"-I'm so sorry Lucy," Timothy sighed in relief. "I should have never brought any of those things up, or suggested any of those things about you or your past. I love you Lucy. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone aside from God."

"Oh Timothy!" Lucy sighed.

"And now more than ever I think you're God's own angel...you saved me from another world of darkness tonight! Lucy, my love..."

"Timothy, I love you too-"

Lucy was barely able to finish her proclamation before Timothy laid his hand upon her cheek and drew her into a deep kiss.

A jolt of pleasure shot through Lucy, and she wrapped her arms around Timothy's neck. Their lips became wet with each other's saliva. Timothy was pleasantly startled with Lucy began to nibble on his lower lip and take it into her mouth. Then he felt an overwhelming urge to bring her whole tongue into his mouth. With a little creative kissing, he was able to do just that.

Timothy sank back onto the bed with Lucy in his arms. He gently placed her beside him without their lips parting.

Lucy trembled as Timothy began running his nimble fingers down the side of her neck and onto her collarbone. Her nightgown was already flimsy and low-necked (it was discarded and old-fashioned). Timothy's own high-necked night shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, but still exposed less than hers.

Nothing made sense anymore in the best way possible as they moved around on Timothy's trundle. Lucy felt like she belonged there..both in his arms and in his bed. He held her like he was almost afraid of her letting go and leaving him. Her trust in him became absolute...even when she realized his mind was gone elsewhere. She knew this was happening when she felt Timothy's finger brush over her nipples, which were growing hard through the light material of her night gown. Whether that first touch was by accident or no...it quickly led to a more firm, intentional touch.

But Lucy let him caress her breast. It felt like nothing she'd ever experienced,and she never wanted it to end. She felt other parts of her body tremble in reaction to his sighs as he enjoyed feeling her. Timothy reflexively moved on top of her, and she, in turn, began to position herself beneath him.

Suddenly, as she squirmed under Timothy, her knee brushed against something hard that was under Timothy's night shirt, and this was enough to snap her out of her lusty haze. Startled, she gasped and reflexively crossed her arms and legs. She looks up at Timothy in surprise and fear. Timothy, in turn, stopped short long enough for his brain to catch up with his body.

"I...I should go. You seem alright now," Lucy stammered, sitting up and darting out from underneath the Reverend. She grabbed her robe and re-wrapped it around her exposed body...tightly. Timothy was left on his knees on his mattress. Lucy now could plainly see what her knee had brushed against...and seeing the outline of Timothy's member under his night shirt made her blush a deep crimson. And she'd touched it.

Timothy realized he was all but exposed, and he responded by grabbing his flannel blanket and covering the lower half of his body with it.

"This...isn't appropriate..." Lucy whispered, still stunned. Timothy immediately nodded in agreement.

"Yes," he gasped, catching his breath. "I'm sorry for touching you...your..."

Lucy shook her head. "I understand. I...I liked how it felt."

Those words didn't exactly help Timothy bring his indiscreet sex organ under control. "Well, we can't do it again," Timothy said firmly. "It's improper for us to do that until we...we're...we get...ma-"

He couldn't finish the sentence. His brain knew the word, but his lips refused to speak it.

Lucy nodded and silently headed for the door. Timothy got up after her, wrapping the blanket around his whole body like a cape, to escort her out.

"So...I hope you sleep better now," Lucy muttered as she fumbled with the door knob. "Good b-"

A rumble of strong thunder rolled across the sky as she got control of the door and opened it. "Oh no!" She moaned. Timothy came up beside her as a sheet of heavy rain crossed into town.

"This is a difficult situation," he said. Lucy shook her head.

"I can make it," she insisted. "Go to sleep."

"No," Timothy insisted. "You can't run across town in your night dress during a thunderstorm. You'll catch diphtheria, and I won't have that." His mind raced back to the epidemic that took the lives of many citizens of Colorado Springs a few years ago, including Dr. Quinn's sister.

"But where can I sleep?" Lucy said. "I can't...not with you. Especially not after..."

Timothy nodded. "I will sleep beside you on the floor. You have the bed."

"Are you sure? I can't let you sleep on the floor in your own home," she said softly.

Timothy smiled. "I'd sleep in the middle of a mud puddle if you asked for it."

Lucy looked out into the rain one more time. "Well, I don't seem to have a choice."

After exchanging one more brief round of kisses (this time, the kisses were entirely chaste and honorable), Timothy put Lucy on his trundle and laid a spare blanket over her body, gently tucking her in. Lucy sighed in relief and muttered a sweet, quiet 'goodnight.' As she slipped into unconsciousness, Timothy brushed her hair out of her face to gently lay his lips on her forehead, between her eyes.

Then he took a spare pillow and his flannel blanket and made a cozy little nook for himself on the floor at her feet. The rest of the night went by peacefully, the rumbles of thunder and the ticking of the rain on the roof the only noises to be heard. Timothy found himself dreaming of Lucy wearing white and running with him in a bright green field.