A/N: Alright tough chapter to write. But don't worry too much; it isn't over yet there is one more chapter. Thanks again to Rosemary; and Engage Fiction. I love you ladies! Let's anymore announcements? Hum *ponder* OH! Follow me on Twitter if you have one; NicoleAnne88, and please check out 'If I Die Young'. Another story I've been working on. Love ya'll!

Chapter Twenty One: This is Just a Dream

The first few days were terrible, absolutely heartbreaking. Theresa rarely left her bedroom, barely bathed and spent ninety percent of her time sobbing. After about five days of William being gone Harold and Charlotte had decided they'd had enough. Enough of the moping; enough of her solitude. It had become utterly ridiculous.

Theresa cried in bed, five days he'd been gone. Five days without any word. Was he alright? What if he was hurt what if he needed her? The thought of him laying somewhere wounded or worse killed her. It was almost unbearable. Yanking the comforter under her chin, she snuggled deeper into its plushness, her hair had a slightly oily feel to it. She couldn't go on like this for much longer. Light streamed in through the large windows but she had absolutely no clue what time it was, or even what day of the week it was; all she knew was it had been five days since she watched him ride off. Five days since she had confessed her undying love. to a man that she did love, and hate all at the same time. The same hand that brought her so much love and pleasure could be tearing a person to shreds right now. I was hard to fathom. Closing her eyes she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

She jolted awake with a start when she felt a soft hand caressing her face. Blue eyes fluttering open she groaned when a pair of eyes that she hadn't really wanted to see staring back at her. Hazel. Harold Willaby the picture of male beauty smiled sadly at her. His gorgeous blonde hair tied back in queue; impeccably dressed and curled next to her in the fetal position under her old bedding; that needed to be changed desperately. But she wouldn't let Molly. These were the sheets that they had shared. She couldn't change them, not until he came home.

"Hey." She croaked.

"Hey." Harold said in a soft monotone. "How are you feeling?"

"Shitty." Earning a boisterous chuckled from Harold's full pouty lips. "I just..." tears stared to well up her eyes. As Harold hazel ones widened in panic as he pulled the young woman against his chest. Rubbing slow soothing circles on her heaving back. "I miss him….and I'm…" she chocked. "Scared."

"I know, sweetheart. I know." He whispered soothingly against her tangled matted hair.

"I don't know what to do." She sobbed into the crook of his neck.

"I do." He smiled reassuringly. Pushing her back but holding her tightly at an arm length. He smiled. "You're going to get up...and get dressed..." wrinkling his nose he laughed. "And wash out your mouth because your breath stinks."

They walked and matched each other step for step; it was lovely outside, warm with a slight chill to the air. Birds chirped happily high above the couple. Harold reached out; tucking Theresa's hand inside his arm. Her long hair was tied up in a messy bun that showed her inability to care about her appearance right now.

"Sooo" Harold drew out the word, turning his head to look at the petite woman beside him. "You love him?"

"Yeah; I do." She sniffled wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"It took you two long enough..." Harold chuckled "He'll be fine I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." She muttered darkly.

She slept like a log that evening, warm and cozy tucked inside the impenetrable womb she had made herself with her numerous covers. A slight twitch in her fingers from sleep and a soft snore from her parted lips. Harold flew in the door in a panic. His normally impeccable appearance skewed. His neat blonde hair stuck in all directions; his wrinkled linen shirt was open baring his chest. His hazel eyes large in panic as he all but threw himself into her bed, grasping her by her relaxed shoulders. Giving her a violent shake.

"Theresa! You must wake up..." He shook harder, as the groggy blue eyes fluttered open, and narrowed. Bringing her hands up to her face she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes.

"Wha…the "she mutter groggily, as Harold flew from the bed in an absolute tizzy. He thew open her armoire; grabbing a gown muttering smoothing about not having time. "Harold...What is going on?" a slight tinge of fear crept deftly in to her mind.

"Just get dressed. You don't have time for a corset…"He didn't look at her as he scoured the room for slippers. "Where are your goddamn shoes woman!?" he screamed in frustration.

"What is going on?!" Theresa jumped from the bed hurriedly she stripped out of her shift her eyes never leaving his panicked form. As it darted on all fours; searching under the bed skirt. "ANSWER ME!" she roared.

A long pregnant pause. Harold stopped. His hazel eyes looking up her as her settled back onto his heels. Her heart stopped. Falling back onto the bed on her butt she clutched at her chest.

"No…no nonono.." she muttered hysterically between sobs.

"Come on, He's gravely wounded..." Harold stood picking up the shoes he found. "They don't know how much time..."

Baby why'd you leave me

Why'd you have to go?

I was counting on forever, now I'll never know

I can't even breathe

It's like I'm looking from a distance

Standing in the background

Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now

This can't be happening to me

This is just a dream

Harold led her through her encampment, a small lantern in hand. The night sky was starting to lighten but still no sun. Theresa squeezed her eyes shut as then loud screams of the wounded filled her ears. They were literally. Everywhere. Men being worked on right out there in the open, some in tents, some drunk with pain. Some lying on the ground dejectedly waiting for death to take them. The stench of alcohol, blood and gunpowder hung heavily in the air. When they finally came to a tent, she saw Dr. Harrison. The same doctor who had tended to her seemingly forever ago. He'd aged ten years easily. His eyes had bags under them his skin pale and parchment like, blood covered him. Haggard. He looked haggard. He brown kind eyes met her, and he shook his head slowly.

"She can't go in there..." he shook his head; as he turned to Harold.

"But." Theresa spoke.

"No."

"You can't be..."

"No."

"But I love him!" she screamed. Bordon had come to her side with a wearily sorrowful pained look etched into his features. Pulling the small woman tightly against his chest as she started to sob.

"She can't go in there" he said again. Simply; with a shrug as his eyes met Bordon's cool blue gaze.

"Goddamn it!" she roared. Shoving Bordon back; away from her. Her hand reared up and slapped the elderly doctor with a loud crack. All three men gapped. Shocked. "You listen here you son of a-" she pointed her finger in the old man's face, as she felt a pair of arms slip around her waist, and haul her backwards. Carry her off further into the distance. She store shook as Harold arguing animatedly with the old goat; Brodon. Bordon was carrying her.

"Put me down!" she roared. Her legs failed helplessly as she kicked.

"Stop it." He hissed in her ear. "You aren't doing him any good." The words rattled around in her head before she went slack in Bordons arms. "Are you calm?" a pathetic nod. "I will get you in there to see him, but …you cannot be ..."he waved a hand around searching for the word.

Hysterical.

Hysterical. That was exactly what she was.