𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒅 & 𝑰 - A Billy the Kid western romance

Remedy

I wake up and for a couple of seconds, I am in heaven, unbroken, at peace. A peace which is shortly thereafter broken. The fearfulness returns, and it cuts me worse than a million shards of glass.

Billy stands leaned against the doorway of my room with his arms crossed over his chest when my analysing eyes shoot to read his face. I realise that I've forgiven him. I am not angry. All I feel now is deep and utter hopelessness, and his presence calms my spiralling mind. Only one question echoes throughout my mind, but the answer to it is what I fret most. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it become reality, have it sink in. I find myself gazing into his cool blue eyes. They remind me of cold rain, splattering faintly across soft skin. I can almost smell it.

"Is he dead?" I ask Billy in a hoarse, fragile voice.

"We don't know if he will live yet" He announces. His words rip through the air as they travel across the room.

"But he breathes?" I spit my words at him in shock.

"He breathes." Billy's eyes wander across my face before he continues, "He has lost a lot of blood, Venus, and I don't know if any organs have been harmed."

Then and there I feel like I'm floating, because out of nowhere a wonderful feeling returns to my body. Hope. Slowly, I begin to sit up, as I process what I've been told. My eyes return to look at him. He nods, slowly, like to let me know that he understands what I'm thinking. His arms have fallen to his sides and he approaches my bedside. Mirroring my lethargy, his arm drowsily reaches out for mine, and assists my firm body to a stand. He walks with me out through the hallway to face a door, and I can sense it all through the coarse wooden surface. Dakota is working her medical magic.

Through the hallway and past a wide-open door, in the opposite end, my eyes latch onto Kit. His eyes meet mine as Billy lays a soft hand on the outside of my right elbow. My heart feels warm at the sight of Kit, alive and well; At least well enough. His thigh is thoroughly wrapped, and his skin is a shade paler than usual. His blonde hair looks a shade dirtier, too, in contrast to it's usual golden glow. The corners of my mouth rise into a faint smile.

Billy guides my attention back to Milo's door, and slides it open for me gently.

Milo is lying on his back, still unconscious, but breathing. Dakota has her back turned toward us. She is so deep in her work that she doesn't take notice of our entrance. I know that my own presence serves no greater purpose in that room. I can't help her save him. I can't help but think, this is the price I pay for loving him, Billy. My eyes shift to look at his face. But I can't stop. The thought of him is stuck to me like an invisible tattoo. I can scratch and scratch all I want but he won't fade.

"I don't think I should be in here" I confess in a whisper, and he nods understandingly. Considering the chaos I contributed with at his arrival, there is really nothing I can contribute with now, either. My feelings are currently too vivid and unpredictable. I try to shove them back into the jar, but can't get the lid to shut.

Back in Dakota and I's room, I sit down on my bed. Billy sits on Dakota's, facing me.

"I sent them to retrieve some goods, handle the hand-over. I didn't think it could go wrong." He begins. "It was an easy task, but the opposite party confiscated the barrels and claimed that they wouldn't be paying a dime. They took advantage of the fact that they are young. Kit told me they didn't know what to do. They refused to leave, and things got heated."

He won't meet my eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Billy" I lie, partially. Because it was. He promised me to keep them safe, not send them on any dangerous errands. But it broke me to watch him in pain, and that wound in my heart eclipses any resentment.

Dakota knocks carefully on the doorpost before she proceeds to slide the door open, teary eyed. My heart sinks.

"I'm so sorry, Venus" She says, before falling to her knees out of exhaustion: physical, and mental.

Instinctively my head turns to Billy. He is stone-cold. He doesn't move a muscle. His face discloses zero thoughts. Emotionlessly he stares at Dakota. A blank, chilling stare.

Those drowning waves of pure pain wash over me, stronger than before, but only for a bit. It's like my body has ran out of emotion, and a blanket of eerie nothingness layers over me, getting thicker by the second. I feel numb. I grab a hold of Billy's hand, craving to feel something. Anything. He doesn't even face me.

Dakota cries out that she's sorry again.

She's sorry she couldn't save him, but I know that she did everything there was to do. His fate was sealed the second the bullet pierced his skin.

I know that Billy is crying out that he's sorry he sent them, mentally.

And I'm crying out that I'm sorry I gave in.

That I didn't fight enough to keep him out of this.

I gave up.

Billy made me give up, unconsciously. His eyes wrecked my wall. The wall I thought to be unbreakable. His mere existence crumbled my defences. I couldn't possibly fight him.

Oh Billy, I am fully broken now.

Carrying that same chilling numbness Billy simply lets go of my hand and heads out of the room-
I don't see him for hours. Hours filled with despair. Kit, Bucky, Tom, everyone is stuck in a thick, murky, darkness. A bog of pain.

I don't see Dakota around for a while either. Then I discover a note that she has left behind, reading;

"I am so deeply sorry, Venus. For everything. My soul hurts in a way I didn't know it could, but what is worse yet is looking at you, knowing that what I feel can't begin to compare to what you feel.

I have headed away to stay with some family of mine in Texas,
to maintain my sanity, I suppose.
It feels selfish but I don't know what else to do.

Please, take care of yourself. Love, Dakota Carter."

I spend the day's remaining hours staring out through the window of our room, when I notice that Billy's horse is missing from the paddock.

I have nothing to life for.
Do I have anything to live for?
I must have something to live for?

The thought of Billy swishes and washes around me gently.

I crave him as much as I crave to die.

No, more.

Because he makes some part of me want to live.

Since there's nothing more I can loose fighting this war. A war that's begun feeling silly, because of the way we've been acting around each other. Milo would've wanted me to be happy again. I feel a duty to live my life to the fullest, for Milo's sake, to allow part of his soul to keep living through me. Maybe Billy is the only way I will be able to feel something again.
Maybe it's time that I accept that I love him.