AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Welcome to my new story, which is mystery with elements of drama, romance, and even a little humor. This narrative recognizes the alt-canon developed by the current showrunner's team (even though I do not), and seeks to weave together events with the present storyline.

I stopped watching the show in season 10, so my knowledge of recent developments involving Nathan and Elizabeth might be limited. I understand that many of you are fans of the Nathan and Elizabeth pairing, and while I respect your right to have your views, I kindly ask for your understanding regarding any unintentional discrepancies.

I've always tried to bridge the gap that the "Teams" phenomenon has created. Since season 10 and what the writers of the show did, I no longer believe that gap can be filled. I have watched for years as the TN writers on this forum have desecrated the character of Lucas, oft with nothing in canon to support their contentions (Serial rapist and wife beater? Pimp? Are you serious?), but I have avoided leaving you nasty-grams in your reviews as they were your stories to write. I request the same courtesy for this story.

My depiction of Nathan will not be favorable, but it will stem from threads left behind by the show's writers. It is not being written out of malice or as a "revenge fic." I've strongly discouraged those and on the fanfiction forum I administer, we have specifically put up a rule that there is to be no Nathan bashing unless it relates to the fanfiction story itself. I have always written Nathan in a most positive light, but this portrayal will be more layered and will likely not align with everyone's views, so if this sounds like it might not be your cup of tea, perhaps this story isn't for you. However, if you decide to join this journey, I welcome constructive feedback that respects the story as my creative endeavor. It is a personal challenge I am taking up as a writer, not something used to strike back.

To the Team Lucas fans, I say: trust me. While romance isn't the main focus, there will be elements you'll enjoy amidst the mystery. I believe the narrative will ultimately be rewarding. Your constructive feedback is also greatly appreciated.

Thank you for considering my story, and I look forward to sharing this adventure with those who choose to dive in.

July 19, 1922 – Granville Prison, Alberta

He entered the small chapel, slipping into a pew about three-quarters of the way back as the other men filed in. Touching his sleeve, he glanced to his left, where a familiar and unfriendly prison guard paced the aisle, his hands behind his back. The inmate crossed his arms and then lowered his eyes to the floor as his fingers plied underneath the cuff. It was still there. Turning his face forward, he met the chaplain's gaze, and an almost imperceptible nod was exchanged. Twenty minutes and one homily later, the message exchanged hands. He could not undo his sins, but perhaps he could bring truer justice.

Three days later, Hope Valley, Alberta

"Well, I think the school board is right. Science is science. Let science be taught in school and religion at church," Ned Yost said as he stood by a table in the Queen of Hearts along with several friends who were talking to Governor Lucas Bouchard.

"Who says teaching about Creation isn't scientific?" Jed Campbell asked.

"Well, what's the scientific method say?" Ned responded.

"Listen, neither of you have children in the school system, so I think that those of us who do should have a greater say," Richard Wolfe replied.

"Our taxes pay for that school. We have as much of a right as anyone else," Ned responded.

"Gentlemen, all of this will be discussed at the town meeting tonight. So, if you'll excuse us, Lee and I were in a meeting on a different topic."

"But…"

Edwin Mitchell stepped forward, gently ushering the three men away. "The governor will speak with you tonight."

Lee chuckled. "It never stops, does it?"

Lucas shook his head. "Not really. What was it you were saying about expanding the mill?"

Coulter nodded while pulling out a stack of papers. "I'm looking at the area around Fleming Rd. to set up a new site."

"Which is residential," Lucas responded.

"Exactly," Lee said. "So, we would need a zoning variance."

"Then why don't you speak with Maisey?"

"Maisey is being stubborn. She doesn't want the noise or traffic in the area since it's her neck of the woods. But I have some guys who work with me who make that trip every day. They would love to work closer."

Lucas nodded. "That may be true, but it's important that all residents of Benson Hills' viewpoints are considered."

"Including Maisey?" Lee asked.

"She is a resident as well," Lucas replied. "It's her right to advocate for the changes she does or does not want."

"But the jobs!" Lee replied.

Before Lucas could respond, the saloon door opened, and Judge Bill Avery walked in.

"Are we talking about Maisey Hickam?" he asked, capturing Maisey's brother Mike's attention behind the bar.

"Yeah. Why?" Lee responded.

"I just got word from the recorder's office that she's trying to buy up a tract of land near her property that you've already put in a bid for."

Lee raised his eyebrows. "Wait! My property?"

"Not your property yet," Mike Hickam stated, walking to the table and bringing Lee a beer.

Lee looked at the beverage. "It's not even noon yet."

"Yes," Mike replied. "But we are talking about my sister."

Just then, from the saloon door walked in Nathan Grant. "What's Maisey done now?" he asked.

"She's trying to buy some land that Lee wants," Mike said.

"Trying to wreck my business is more like it," Lee responded. "We need to set up a site in Benson Hills. Transportation costs are going through the roof."

"That's why we need a governor," Nathan said. "To fix stuff like that?"

"I've been working on that," Lucas replied.

"Yeah. Well, if everyone would have just stuck with horses…"

Lucas glared at Nathan. "Did you need something, constable?"

"Ah…I didn't know the government was in session today. Governor. Mayor."

Nathan smirked. "No. I just stopped by to pick up a birthday cake for Allie's birthday party. Gustave baked it."

Lee raised his eyebrows. "You're not having Minnie make it?"

"No. Allie thinks it is more impressive to say a French chef made her cake."

"Gustave's cakes are pretty impressive," Mike responded.

"Not as good as Minnie's," Lee whispered, looking over his shoulder.

"Both cakes are very good," Lucas responded.

"Spoken like a true politician," Bill replied, tapping Lucas on the shoulder as Nathan walked toward the kitchen to get Chef Gustave Pepin's attention.

"Just a moment," the chef said as he walked to the shelf where the cake was kept.

Bouchard looked down at his now cold cup of tea that he was planning to enjoy before seemingly half the town showed up, knowing he was in town. As the others continued, he couldn't help but overhear Grant speaking to Gustave about the cake."That looks great," Nathan said. "Thanks for doing this on such short notice."

"Of course," Pepin replied. "My services are available any time."

"That's good to know," Nathan said. "Because I may be asking your services again sometime soon for something else."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You see, Elizabeth…"

"Lucas!"

Bouchard's attention was snapped away from the other conversation as a very familiar force came bounding through the door."Rosemary. How can I help you?"

She reached out her hands with some urgency. "I don't need help. Have you heard the news?"

He responded with an unsure shrug, his mind still preoccupied with what Nathan was saying about Bouchard's former fiancée.

"James Malory was found hanged in his cell this morning!" she said with wide eyes.

"What?!" Lee said. Lucas furrowed his brow.

"But his attorney just deposed us last week," Bill Avery said.

"Bill's right," Rosemary said. "He seemed to be gearing up for his appeal."

Nathan walked up, his face serious. "Maybe he knew he was going to lose. Life in Granville isn't exactly the greatest thing to look forward to."

Bill shook his head. "But he was defiant. It makes no sense."

"So, what happens now?" Lee asked.

"The case will be closed," Bill responded.

"Just like that? Malory tries to kill Lucas, kidnaps Rosemary and Elizabeth, and it's over? Just like that?"

Bouchard nodded. "It would appear so."

Just then, Gustave walked up with the boxed cake in his arms, reminding Lucas of the earlier comment. "Here you go, Nathan."

"Thanks," Grant said, taking the box in hand. Lucas looked at the cake box and then at his former rival, whom he was now sure was going to propose to Elizabeth, and scooted back his seat to stand. Picking up a stack of mail he had just started to go through, Lucas looked at the group and nodded. "If you will excuse me, I have some other work to get to. I will see you tonight at the town meeting over the school?"

Nathan looked toward him. "Yeah. About that…Elizabeth wanted me to…"

"Save it for tonight, Nathan," Bouchard replied. "I'll consider all views at that time."

Stepping into his office, Lucas shut the door, closing his eyes and leaning against its wood panel as he tried to relax his mind. It had been a bit over a year since Elizabeth had broken off their engagement at the train depot one evening as she sent him forward to this job he had never coveted, and so much had happened. From being shot to mostly recovering to launching into his role, to say it had been a challenge would be an understatement. But the experience of being the governor had taught him a lot of lessons, most not pleasant. And today, he feared he had learned yet another in a long list of lamentable truths – namely, that dreams did come true – just not for him. Wearily stepping toward his desk, he sat down in his chair and checked his pocket watch, the watch that Elizabeth had given him, which still bore the inscription 'Our Time Has Come.' He wondered if he should have an additional two words added to the inscription – and gone. But he couldn't bear to change it as it was a reminder to him of a time when he was truly happy. How long had it been? It seemed like ages – and yet, like yesterday. At least she was happy, he hoped.

Enough of that, he thought, knowing that if he dwelt on things he didn't have for too long, he would fall into a state of melancholy. He reached for the mail.

Thumbing through the stack, he recognized many letters from businessmen in the area who no doubt needed his assistance. Then there were the personal letters from regular people – the kind he generally took time to read. Their needs were real. They were real. Or at least he liked to think they were. Tossing the stack on the table, he sighed. Music. That's what he needed to shift into a mode where he could actually get some work done rather than ruminate over his miserable life. Standing, he walked to the Victrola in the corner of his office and looked at the record on the turntable - Enrico Caruso singing Bois Epais by Jean-Baptiste Lully – and he couldn't help but chuckle sardonically. Yes…he had certainly been in a mood, he thought as he considered the lyrics, which translated to

If now this broken heart

Never more may enfold her,

If no more these eyes may behold her,

Then evermore I hate the light

"It's time to move on," he said to himself, feeling confident in that moment that he could. He might not have love, but he needed to live his life to the fullest and try to find happiness in something.

As he stepped back to his desk, his thoughts were interrupted when he knocked the stack of mail on the floor. Exhaling in frustration, he bent to pick it up, and when he did, a particular letter captured his attention. Furrowing his brow, he saw it was addressed from Charles Linton, Chaplain at Granville Prison. Lucas again took his seat, opening up the envelope. It contained two pieces of paper – one a letter from Linton and another written in pencil. He unfolded Linton's note to discover that the minister was bypassing prison security for a very specific and yet disturbing reason.

Dear Governor Bouchard,

I am sending you this letter through rather unorthodox means because the writer has convinced me that to allow the message to go through normal means, that is through the prison review system, would endanger not only his life but your own. It would be good for you to know that it has come after his recent conversion this past week to Christ, and it is his expressed desire, now that he has received an eternal pardon, to make amends for what he has done. And although he has not made me privy to the specifics of the information that he will share with you, if you should choose to meet him, it is my opinion that he is sincere. Please take that as you will. Yours truly, Reverend Charles A. Lindon, Chaplain at Granville Prison.

Setting the letter to the side, he opened the small, folded sheet written in pencil and began to read.

To Lucas Bouchard, Jeanette Alcoin didn't send me. Shaw was a middleman. It's much bigger than Shaw. Please see me before the trial. Your life may depend upon it. Tell no one. Malory.

Lucas held the page in his hands for several minutes as his mind whirled. For the note to have reached him by mail, it must have been sent at least two to three days earlier. These did not seem to be the words of a man intent on ending his own life. It was all very disturbing, to say the least.