A Time and Place for Us

Truth

A/N: Sorry for the delay. If you're still here, I hope you enjoy xx 

"All done, now" she told him as she finished wrapping some cloth around his torso to stop any future bleeding. It had been fairly easy and now the bullet was out, he was out of immediate danger.

"Thank you" he muttered, slurring his words just slightly due to the gin she'd given him to numb the pain.

She could just nod, nod and stare at his tired features for what could be the last time as they sat on the floor of her saloon class cabin. And she did not know how to feel about it.

In a couple of hours, they'd find port and with the body of Harold Winslow—or Howard or whatever his true Christian name was— at the bottom of the ocean and all the blood expertly cleaned by Nellie so the dock looked as if no drop had ever been spilled, they were free to start anew in America.

Anew and away from one another, leaving it all behind.

Yet she couldn't stop thinking about earlier. The fact that he'd gone out to look for her, that he'd confronted Harold and risked his life for hers... and then there was, of course, his admission that was as heartwarming as it was heart wrenching. "I would die for you", he'd told her and then there was the way he did, when he thought he was dying, as if it were one last confession he refused to take to his grave. Could he mean it, then? No, the question was... did it change anything?

"When we get to New York, what are your plans?" Nellie asked him as silence turned into breeding ground for more unsolicited thoughts. She took a swig of his gin.

"I'll be going to Boston" he was straight to the point, and she felt her stomach knotting followed by her cheeks slightly burning in shame. She felt so silly, it'd been years!

"Oh" was the only thing she could muster and as if he knew—but she was convinced he could not know—he held her hand in silent support. It made her want to cry.

"What about you? What will you be doing now that you're not marrying Harold?" His question surprised her. It was unlike him to continue any conversation, to ask about her and her plans. Perhaps it was the alcohol that had loosened his tongue, but he seemed lucid enough.

"I don't know. We'll go somewhere. To the sea, maybe. Find a job and all that. We'll get by," but that 'we' no longer included Sweeney and it made the heart he long thought to be dead, ache as it further fractured. He wondered when or if the blasted thing would ever die. Unbeknownst to him Nellie wondered the same thing.

"You could come with me" he tried one last time. We could be a family, I would love you like you deserve. I love you so much, I want to be with you forever , were the words his heart wanted to scream yet it didn't.

"I'd rather not." Not to Boston, not with him. She was done entertaining ghosts of her past.

"I understand" he said and somehow, his quick acceptance of her expressed desire—or lack of it—bothered her. She truly did not understand herself.

"I want you to be happy, Nellie. You and the baby" he continued, echoing the sentiment from a couple of nights ago, which now felt like several centuries. This time, she did not want to tell him that he was wasting his well wishes because she was undeserving of happiness.

Because she might have very well died tonight, or the night Lucy did, or many times before that. She kept getting second, third and subsequent chances and that had to mean something. Perhaps it was just the devil's knack for making her experience misery. Or perhaps happiness, just like love, did not turn out to be like she always dreamed them—veiled synonyms for what she perceived to be "perfect". She was determined to find out, if only for her child. She would carry on.