Red Dead Revelation II: Unshaken Legacy (Jack MarstonXOC)

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Sound of Hope

The house is still except for the odd creak as the structure wanes against the bitter cold outside. Alice holds tightly onto Jack as she tries to go back to sleep. While one can attribute it to being up late wrapping the presents and placing them under the tree, she has been restless with her own thoughts and worries. Ever since that day at the school, things seem to be rearing up again.

She hears Jacks's steady breathing. She feels his chest rise and fall. She smells the lavender oil he rubbed on her neck the night before. She sees the soft blankets enveloping them in a warm comfort. She tastes the dryness in her mouth. Heavens above, she's thirsty. Maybe she should get a drink.

Subconsciously, Jack pulls her close to him in his sleep and he inhales, then exhales deeply. Nope, she's not going anywhere. She reaches over and pulls the blankets more over him.

As she closes her eyes again and is about to give into needed slumber, she hears a nearby creaking of the door. She opens one eye and sees a soft head of sandy-colored hair bobbing at the edge of the bed. A dark head of hair soon follows.

"Jack..." Alice murmurs, her voice gravely.

"Hm?" he grunts. He's always been a light sleeper and the voice of his wife is always quick to call him from the deepest of dreams.

She sees two faces peeking over the bed. Eyes beaming with excitement. They are crouched, as though ready to pounce.

"Children," she groans.

In a quick motion, the boys leap onto the bed, nearly missing Jack's stomach.

"Oof!" Jack moans and he rolls onto his side, clutching onto Alice protectively from their energetic jumping.

"Merry Christmas!" Jimmy cheers. He plops down after jumping a few times and crawls up to them. He giggles and kisses Alice on the cheek.

Randy sits down near their feet and brushes his hair away from his face. "Good morning."

Jack exhales through his nose. So much for sleeping in. "Morning, son."

***

January 1920.

These winter months are always cold and brutal.

But the hearth of our hearts keep us warm and sheltered.

Your eyes—your spirit—are hot coals thrown in my frigid soul.

It warms.

How could I ever perish?

--Jack

***

Thank you for believing in me and giving me hope.

The words sometimes find their way to express how I feel, sometimes they don't.

But I hope that you will always know how I feel grateful for my injury in the war.

--Jack

***

"No...!!!" The bed shakes furiously as Alice rises to a sitting position. Her lungs burn, her chest feels as though it is bound tightly by bandages. Her face feels cold, her hands are shaking.

She continues to pant, letting in and out deep and harsh heaves of air. "Jack!"

And suddenly, warmth touches her. Calloused hands of her husband, as he grasps her arms. She feels his body press behind her.

"I'm here, Alice..."

"It's happening. It's happening again...!"

He knows what it is. Alice has been having recurring nightmares for the past few weeks. And it is the same dream. Over and over.