Rosie @spikeyfearn - Tumblr Blog

Based on the song Highwayman, about how Roy has been reincarnated throughout time, yet he remembered pieces of his past lives. Each one giving him a unique outlook on life, a guide on how to behave, how to live life to the fullest.

TW: Very little tw tbh, longing & yearning? Fluffy romance with very little resolution? Injury? Death of a major character?

Word count - 11.8k

It's the nature of life to be fleeting, to pass in a blink and end just as suddenly. Man should never spend more than one lifetime moving through this earthly plain, but some unfortunate creatures find themselves trapped between realms, anchored to something here on earth. For Roy Goode, it seemed like his soul was doomed to eternally roam this rock we call earth, to spend millenia stuck in a cycle of life and death and rebirth. Despite remembering glimpses of his past lives - his mistakes, his achievements, his great loves and his most devastating losses, Roy was trapped in this everlasting cycle through time. Some lives were continuations of the last, some were new existences altogether, but a few traces always lingered on. Perhaps it was an ancient curse, or perhaps his soul was in search of something it had yet to find. He didn’t know how, or why, all he knew was that he was certain to return. He could recall the particularly harrowing details of his deaths throughout time, but the pain most of all. He had hurt enough for any human, had seen enough bloodshed for a thousand lifetimes.

He has had many names, been known by many titles, but in this life he was given the moniker of Roy Goode. Thus far his life had been a culmination of poor decisions, bad luck, destitution and wandering. Even from a young age, abandoned to an orphanage with his older brother, Roy learned just how cruel this world could be. Eventually his brother left him too, solidifying that he could depend on nobody but himself. It wasn’t the first time in his many lives that he was abandoned by the ones he loved, but it stung just as sharply all the same. From then out, Roy became less trusting, shielding himself from hurt and further suffering.

As he outgrew that place, and eventually decided to run away himself, Roy was taken under the wing of an outlaw, a highwayman and an outright charlatan. He was blinded by the innocence of youth, fooled and led astray, crafted into a weapon, a tool to be used for a madman’s selfish purposes. With a child's eyes, he saw only the positive aspects of life on the run, the excitement and the danger. Naturally, he was blind to the true carnage they caused, and the disregard this unscrupulous gang had for human life. But with age, he grew to see the truth all too clearly, and left that life behind as well. He had enough of the looting and pillaging, of the pointless murder and slaughter, oftentimes for little reason or reward. He had been the tip of the spear for too long, always first into the fray, always first to face a bullet. Although he had perfected his craft and was adept with a pistol, he kept a short dagger tucked into his boot, for close combat. Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on that blade, staining the sands with the very essence of his life, though Roy never relished in spilling the blood of another, he never truly became the man that his makeshift father wanted him to be. Roy became a weapon for greedy men to wield, but his conscience remained intact and eventually he realised that he had little value as a person in that kind of life. He was useful, but he was not valued. He had become merely a means to an end, so he set out alone, and like his brother, he sought out a more meaningful existence on the road, following the path carved by the setting sun. He was resilient, born to live through hardships most others would succumb to, so starting over was only another bump in the road, merely another hurdle he had to overcome.

When he happened upon you, a ‘young maid’ travelling alone on a quiet stretch of dusty road, his usual dour mood was instantly lifted. Never in his many lives and in all his years on this earth had he seen such beauty, such fragility edged with danger, an ethereal beauty fringed with dirt and pain. You had a sadness in your eyes that mirrored an all too familiar look that he held in his own. Perhaps you too had seen your fill of death and destruction, perhaps you had seen more than any woman ought to in one lifetime. Even in a life defined by bloodshed and death, Roy knew the value of having a good woman by his side. He had loved once, but it didn’t last, and he had chased that feeling ever since. Perhaps this illusive force he’d been following through time, spanning multiple lifetimes, had finally come to find him.

Even under the violent rays of the scorching midday sun, where the light bounced off of every surface, you seemed to glow from within, every part of you more radiant than the stars. Despite the dust and dirt clinging to every inch of your clothing, despite your dishevelled appearance, Roy saw the soft curvature of your face, the sunkissed spots on your skin, and he was immediately bewitched. Something about you reminded him of his old lovers, all special in their own way, all independent, strong, yet none managed to survive their encounters with him. It felt as if his very presence was a curse, driving all good things from his grasp. Nostalgia was tinged with sadness as he recalled all those who had left him and all those who were too soon ripped from his arms, while gazing upon your beauty in the afternoon sunlight.

It had been a long and lonesome road on the run from your past, each turn more perilous than the next, each one bringing more unwanted trouble into your life. Your father once told you “you either live with the land, or you die”, and you lived dutifully by that wisdom, fending for yourself against all manner of obstacles. It had been two years since you left your childhood home, two long years since a bullet ended your father’s tyrannical reign over you and you finally had the chance to set off alone in search of a more fulfilling life, one out of your father's dark shadow. In that time you'd crossed paths with wild and fearsome beasts, natives fiercely protecting their land, unscrupulous cowboys and men who seemed charming, yet posed more of a threat to you than any wild animal. Luckily you possessed the skill and agility to outrun, outfight and out maneuver every one of them. Despite looking slightly underfed, and most definitely in need of a wash, you had been taught the necessary skills to survive on your own.

Every challenge thrown your way and every hurdle placed in your path only proved to harden your resolve. One positive that came from being the daughter of a notorious killer was your ability to handle yourself in a tight spot. He was a man so skilled with his weapons that he felt the need to pass that knowledge on to his offspring - it was his misguided form of parental bonding, you supposed. As a child, you didn’t see the benefit in being able to draw your pistol at a moment’s notice. No flair or fancy tricks, just speed and dexterity. At the time, you couldn’t see how it would help you navigate the world as a young lady. In a world where women were seen as mere decoration, objects to be possessed and desired, to be owned and controlled, this skill eventually proved itself extremely useful, multiple times over. As a youngster, handling a blade as if it was an extension of your arm seemed pointless, but unfortunately as a young woman you’d had to defend your honour more times than you cared to count. A sharp edge held to a man’s throat carries a certain weight, providing a certain deterrent to deviant behavior. Cold steel pressed against their inner thigh hammers the idea home even further.

Even though he was unscrupulous in his own morals, your father imbued a strong sense of self worth within you, especially as a young woman growing up in a harsh environment. Although he was a mercilessly violent man, he was unusually progressive for his time. He saw women as the veracious creatures they are - and often regarded his partners as equal or of a higher status than himself. He saw the particular skills women possessed as valuable and saw their value to society where others did not. More than that, he saw how fearless and selfless they could be when their families were threatened. Much like their counterparts in nature, women could be incredibly fierce when provoked. He had the misfortune to stumble across some particularly cutthroat women, who fought tooth and nail to protect their clan when faced with imminent danger. They sacrificed themselves for their children, and he had great respect for it. Even your own mother was rather ferocious, though she succumbed to disease shortly after you were born. It was an enemy not even she could slay. So he raised you in his image, teaching you to value yourself just as highly.

It was rather unusual for the time, and you were often ostracised by the other girls in the community for your inappropriate views, but later in life, you realised just how important a strong sense of self worth was. You realised what a gift he had given you, despite his other less redeemable qualities. After his death, you’d left the confines of your hometown to see more of this world, to finally live your own life out of the shadow of crime. With a change of clothes and very little else to your name, you mounted your father’s steed and set off in search of a new life.

You’d been under his thumb your entire life, sheltered from both the good and the bad, now it was your turn to carve your own path. You weren’t running away, simply seeking a life of your own, at least that’s what you told yourself as you headed into the unknown without a plan or any safety net. You yearned for a life where your family name had no bearing on the opportunities afforded to you, where your father’s past had no effect on your prospects. Here, under the heat of the searing summer sun, you had become just another nameless and lonely wanderer through the vast and rugged western frontier. Now, as you found yourself trudging through unwelcoming scrublands, passing by another abandoned mining town, you felt yourself slowly succumbing to the unforgiving sun hanging in the open sky overhead.

When you happened across a rather ragged looking man on the winding road to La Belle, your heart almost leapt from your chest. You couldn’t quite tell whether it was from exhaustion or excitement, it had been a while since you’d last eaten, every muscle trembled from weakness and dehydration. Your water had long expired, evaporating in the heat of the midday sun and you definitely didn’t have any surplus energy for a confrontation. If he decided that like so many unscrupulous highwaymen, that he wanted to take his pleasure, you weren’t sure you had the strength to fight him off. In a dehydrated haze, you decided it was worth the risk to approach him. You desperately needed to take the chance, you were in dire need of hydration and he was the first person you’d seen in days, so you dismounted and started inching slowly towards him.

The smell of burnt sand and sweat swam in your nostrils, everything seemed altogether too overwhelming, yet you strode forwards anyway. You didn’t expect him to stop dead in the middle of the path, his steed still and silent beneath him, its breath fanning the loose earth below. Instead of blocking your way forward, he dismounted, moving slowly but with measured strides to the verge, opening up the path before you. He was careful not to kick up too much dust as he moved, so as not to blind you. Even still, the sand stained the tips of his boots a pale yellow, leaving traces of itself wherever he went. The scorched dirt underfoot crunching with each soft step.

He had a certain aura about him, you could almost smell the aroma of sandalwood and sweat from your horse, though surely you didn’t smell much sweeter. His rough and gruff appearance was hiding something, you could tell. There was a kind soul obscured beneath that toughened exterior. Even from a few paces away, his eyes looked soft, almost sad. But those irises shone in the sunlight, the most brilliant shade of blue cutting through a sea of monotone brown. They dazzled, standing alone against the background of unending sand dunes and dead brush. His angular face was sun-kissed and wind beaten from years of riding under the harsh, unyielding sun. His hair honeyed and bleached from its unforgiving rays. His clothes carried with them evidence of everywhere he’d been. Sweat patches marred his white shirt, yet it couldn’t hide the evidence of a strong, muscular frame beneath. He was truly a delight to behold, despite his rather dishevelled appearance, and a rather unexpected light in your gloomy day.

As he approached, staring directly into the midday sun, with your darkened silhouette cutting an imposing hole in the sky, he was blinded, by both the glowing rays behind you and your exquisite beauty.

Roy squinted to get a better view, looking through his lashes at the brave maiden that had crossed his path. “I’m very sorry ma’am, didn’t mean to startle ya”. His movements were calm. He strode with certainty, not with arrogance but confidence. He wasn’t a physically intimidating man, standing only a foot or so taller than you, but his presence loomed significantly larger. He had an unspoken steadiness, a confidence most men pretended to possess, but rarely truly embodied. He stood proud and solid against the beating sun, his presence commanding respect, though not aggressively demanding of it. You suspected he was a man that could easily disappear and simply blend into the background if he wanted to, yet could strike fear into the hearts of the most fearsome of men when he tried.

Roy had never been one to stray from a confrontation, that was true, he was more than capable of defending himself when needed, though in his personal life he was unnaturally shy and preferred to remain unnoticed whenever possible. He was never intimidated by a larger man, for he knew he possessed the skills to defend himself if the situation called for it. He’d never encountered a man who made him wary, who’d made him unsure of himself. Even still, under your inquisitive gaze, he faltered just a little. You were an unknown, something he couldn't quite get the measure of yet. A mere woman, but somehow he felt shaken by your leery gaze.

“Do you mind my asking, how you ended up in this place? A woman all alone on these roads is not a very safe prospect ma’am.”

“Bit presumptuous of you sir, to think I can’t handle myself?” you scoffed, before clearing your throat of dust and debris. Despite his impertinent assumptions, it had been a while since you’d looked at yourself in a mirror. You could only guess at your current state of dishevelment, and even with your pride slightly wounded, you pushed forward with your plan.

“Could I eh, perhaps trouble you for some water? My canteen has run dry…”

“Certainly ma’am, I only have a little left myself, but there’s a town a few miles down the road there..I could accompany you, if you like?” he pointed behind you, while rummaging in his pack. Damn, it seemed like you’d taken a wrong turn somewhere along the line..if he hadn’t happened across your path, you could’ve been riding on empty for days. You supposed you should be grateful for little mercies.

As he extended a hand towards you, dented metal canteen in his grasp, you saw scars littered across the bronzed skin of his forearm, jagged faded traces of his past, of battles fought and won, or perhaps he had family as violent as your own. Your fingers brushed against his calloused skin, and for a second, your eyes met before you took the container and drained a good mouthful from it. You’d almost forgotten how incredible water tasted. Clean, fresh, and somehow still cold, despite the ball of fire blazing in the sky.

“Thanks, uh…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name”

“Roy, ma’am, Roy Goode.” he said with a tip of his hat.

“You can’t be the Roy Goode, surely? I think you may have rode with my father once upon a time..” your eyes widened for a moment, before the sun blinded you and you squinted towards him once more.

Roy stood frozen. He’d run from his name for so long, from his misdeeds, but here, in the most unlikely of places, his past had caught up with him…and in such a pretty form too.

“Yes ma’am, the very one. I’ve rode with some unscrupulous men in the past, you sure your father was among em?”

You nodded, chuckling to yourself. If only he knew the extent of your father’s legacy. You were determined to keep your promise to yourself, to start anew, so you left the conversation at that.

You carefully made your way back to your horse, fidgeting with the reins and saddle before unceremoniously throwing a leg over and settling back into the familiar worn leather. Every ridge and curve moulded to your form, it was an old friend, supporting you on your arduous journey into a new life.

Roy mounted his steed and sidled over to you, kicking up dust as he trod. He and his horse seemed to have a mutual respect, a gentle and unspoken understanding between two powerful creatures, for it obeyed his every command, moving with the lightest of touches in the direction Roy desired. Without a word you rode together, though eventually your mind wandered, wondering why a man such as him would be so pleasant, so accommodating when his reputation was one of wanton violence and destruction. Still, you were thankful for the company. Bandits were less likely to attack a lady if she had a male companion with her. You wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

In silence you rode back the way you came, looking forward to a reprieve from the scorching sun hanging in a cloudless sky, and the potential of fresh water, perhaps even a meal if your meager coin could stretch to it.

Although Roy didn’t speak much, the company was nice. The presence of another human in this sprawling wasteland was a comfort, even if it was a stranger you’d only met minutes earlier. Occasionally you’d sneak a glance at him, the sun disguising your brazen intrigue. You didn’t understand how a man with such gentle eyes, with such soft features and a seemingly kind soul, could be a man of such disrepute. The notorious Roy Goode was the pinnacle of immorality, a man of violence who soaked the sands of the west in blood. Seemingly a man with nine lives, who evaded every gunshot, every attempt made at his life, as if he had some ancient knowledge or an understanding with death. But as you rode alongside him, he seemed in complete disharmony with his alter ego. You couldn’t help but vocalise your confusion.

“You know, I can’t reckon with the fact that you’re the man you say you are. I look you in the eye and you don’t seem so stone cold to me”

“Trust me miss, I’m who I purport to be, I’ve just been tryin’ to leave that life behind, y'understand?”

“Hmm..” was all you could manage, still dumbstruck by his confession, yet torn between the beast you had heard so many tall tales about and the man riding alongside you now.

You knew it was misguided to place your trust in a stranger, let alone one who claimed such a shameful past, yet you couldn’t help but feel safe by his side.

If you fell into trouble, you felt certain that this man would defend your honour. No stories of impropriety had ever reached your ears, simply tales of battle and bloodshed, of indiscriminate violence, yet no one uttered a word against his honour, against his character, simply describing his quick anger and sharp shooting. You had heard stories of your father’s exploits from passing traders and local pastors, sometimes including the elusive Roy Goode, but you’d never heard any stories of brutality against women - not with his name attached anyway. This gave you some comfort, knowing he was probably a man of conscience, a man who would protect you if it came to it. A man you could ride in comfortable silence beside, until you reached the turn off for a small town called La Belle.

This town had an air of death hanging over it. A curtain of grief veiled a place that could have once been filled with life. The sprawling laneways stood eeriely quiet in the closing hours of the afternoon. It was a desolate place, tall buildings surrounded wide open spaces and an uneasy sort of peace lingered in every shadow, in every dark corner. The sort of quiet that came from tragedy, from a loss so great that society itself struggled to cope with the impact, and never quite recovered. As you passed towering buildings, you saw no men at work, no vagrants roaming the streets, only a small smattering of elderly that propped up vacant bartops, and various oddly clad women doing jobs that men usually tended to. There was also a disturbing lack of children, the air devoid of the joyful screeching of youth. As you rode through the streets into the main square, you were greeted by bright faces of women left behind, the nameless victims of whatever misfortune plagued this town. This was clearly a place that saw desperate hardship, yet they looked at you with hope and a warm welcome.

As you took in their hopeful expressions, a strangely pleasant feeling settled itself in your chest. Despite the slightly menacing silence that hung around the shoulders of the women keeping the town afloat, you knew that the people here were good, just trying to make do with the hand they were dealt. They were clearly resilient, crafting a life for themselves from the rubble left behind. As soon as your boots hit the sand, you had kind hands reaching out, offering food and water, offering a hospitality you’d never expected of such a tired town. They settled your horse, tending to him just as diligently. Your weak frame clearly communicated your needs, and being slightly desperate, you gladly accepted their warm reception. In a whirlwind of welcomes and a flurry of footsteps, you reached a homely looking cafe, the scent of home baking filling the air. You settled on a wooden chair, and tucked into the meal kindly placed before you; nourishing your weary body with hearty soup and freshly baked bread. The aroma wafting from the kitchen immediately made your stomach growl at the promise of meaningful sustenance. Roy gingerly accepted the offer of food, hovering closely by as the ladies waited on him hand and foot. His eyes didn’t leave you for a moment, though he couldn’t quite figure out why he was so drawn to you. Even as they fawned over him, Roy only paid attention to the mysterious stranger he rode in with.

With a full belly, you set off up the stairs of a surprisingly plush guesthouse. The ladies of La Belle graciously offered you a place to lay your head for the night, and you were never one to turn down a free bed. It was an oasis in the desert - you’d finally get fruitful sleep in a place more grand than you had any right to expect. After you’d finished eating, you retired to your room and washed with warm water, a true indulgence for aching muscles.

Roy took the room next door, a thought that was both comforting and slightly unnerving. Should any trouble arise, you had a notorious killer sleeping next door, no doubt cuddling his pistol as your father used to do. Old habits rarely falter, and men who are so entrenched in violence are rarely without their weapons.

As the tepid water streamed across the knots and tension coiled under your skin, you felt relief spread through a tired body. With an absent mind, you let your thoughts wander. Thoughts of the rugged, yet surprisingly beautiful man on the other side of the wall. Lewd and improper thoughts of his hands roaming each dip and curve of your body, his rough palms melting the tension from your bones. Perhaps it was foolish to dream of such things, perhaps it was only fodder for heartbreak. Even still, in rare comfort, you allowed your mind to conjure such profane images, vivid fantasies of the rough cowboy who’d made you acquaintance.

Tonight, you’d call this place your home. Tonight, you’d let yourself dream of romance and pleasure, before returning to a life of solitude on the road once more.

Little did you know, Roy was also delighting in the rare comforts of such lodgings. After washing the stench of several days riding from his skin, he lay beneath the sheets, buried beneath the layers of cotton, his body enveloped in a comforting warmth, not one that brings pain and sweat, but ushers in the tide of sleep, welcoming the swell with open arms.

He rarely allowed himself to relax, to truly surrender to the illusion of safety and security. His world was far from safe, far from normal. He lived a life on the run, and such comforts were a rare luxury. But tonight, knowing you were safe on the other side of the wall, Roy allowed himself a modicum of human comfort. He allowed sleep to pull him into its welcoming arms and under the blanket of darkness. He hadn’t rested so well in weeks, laying beneath the stars - although peaceful, was not a balm for an anxious mind. Danger roamed all around, and any sudden sound would rouse him from his broken rest. But here, under the swell of soft cotton blankets and four walls protecting him, Roy drifted into a comfortable slumber.

Dreams came to him in vivid bursts. Some swept by in a flash, some lingered and imprinted on his waking memory. Some played like a motion picture in his mind, clear and in perfect detail.

For once, they were simple memories, some were even pleasant. Memories of old lovers, glimpses into past lives where he found peace. Then there was you. In his unconscious dream space, Roy saw a life he could have with you, felt the depths of the love he could have, and ultimately, his dreams served to cement all his waking thoughts. Perhaps these dreams meant the end to his neverending torment, perhaps you would be the one to finally bring meaning to this unusual existence. In any case, not even the cottony haze of sleep could erase thoughts of you from his mind.

No man can run from their past indefinitely, and here in this sleepy town, the ghosts of Roy’s checkered past caught up with him, under the watchful gaze of the stars. Neither of you heard the crunch of hooves in the dirt through the soft veil of sleep, the cock of a pistol in the dead of night, but the sound of gunfire and boots scuttling across a creaking wooden floor certainly pulled you from the depths of your peaceful dreams. Disoriented, the sands of sleep still hanging in the corners of your eyes, you found yourself viciously dragged out of the soft cotton sheets, a warm and calloused hand pulling you from the safety of your bed towards the open door. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, to see it was Roy, the man who had escorted you here, now with alarm lighting his eyes, and his whole body on alert, pulling you away from the large open windows.

“Stay low, there’s a bitta trouble brewin’ downstairs but you’ll be fine with me ma’am.”

Unconscionable villains from his past had followed him here, tracking him across the desert into a place nobody expected to find trouble, yet it seemed to stalk Roy wherever he went, clinging to him like a bad smell. He couldn’t shake the spectres of times gone-by. It seemed that no man could escape his fate, even in a town that man forgot. This was not a lifestyle he ever sought out, it was a cruel fate thrust upon him in his youth, inflicted upon him by a crooked character, who used a child for his own selfish means. It wasn’t something he ever wanted or embraced, yet his youth was deeply rooted in violence and bloodshed. Some men chased infamy; Roy did not. He ran from it, disguised himself behind the veil of a regular man. He hid the parts of himself that disgusted him in the dirt, buried deep until they were needed. Now, as bullets pierced the thin walls, indiscriminately whizzing past his head, Roy drew once again on those long hidden talents.

He never expected to turn around and behold you with pistols drawn, ready to face into the fight alongside him. Ideally, Roy wanted to slip into the night without firing a single bullet, if he could manage to escape this place without drawing more attention, he might prevent leaving more death and destruction in his wake. There were no soldiers here, no armed forces willing to fend off raiding highwaymen. There were only potential casualties, collateral damage in a war he never intended to spark. He wanted to avoid any needless bloodshed, draw the bullets away from sleeping bodies and unsuspecting victims.

This was the last place you thought you’d need to draw your father’s pistols, but as you crouched with your back leaning against warm brick walls, Roy leading you away from the distant sound of bullets, you could already smell the familiar and pungent sulfurous odour of gunpowder hanging heavy in the cool night air. You knew the lessons of your childhood may come in handy, should you be set upon by one of those bandits. You’d killed before, but no more than a woman’s survival called for, and only ever to protect yourself from grievous harm. From those who wished to take their pleasure, from those who were determined to take what wasn’t theirs. You never relished in killing another, as your father seemed to, but you knew it was necessary on occasion. You’d never allow a man to sully your virtue, to force you into a situation unbefitting a lady, you would pull a trigger, press the cold steel to a man’s temple before ever succumbing to their wanton brutality. If you had to use your skills to protect yourself, or others in harms way, you had no problem doing so.

“I’m afraid this is all my doing, I’ve been trying to outrun my past but it seems it’s finally caught up with me..I’m bad luck.” Roy spoke softly, his voice only a whisper above the crunching of dust and sand beneath your feet. Before answering, you simply looked at the man beside you. His sun scarred face and stunningly blue eyes could not hide the man beneath, the kind hearted soul that found itself entangled in trouble. You couldn’t even be angry with him, not when he pulled you from your sleep to save you from a bullet. “We can’t outrun our history Roy, we can only reckon with it…and it seems like yours has come a’ knockin’” you chuckled, glancing around the corner to ensure the path forward was clear. Roy simply stared at your shadow, stunned by the specimen of a woman standing before him. Something about you seemed so oddly familiar, perhaps you too had been reincarnated, perhaps you’d been reborn in another form as he had been - yet he couldn’t place where he knew your soul. As you ducked into the shadows, Roy kept that thought firmly in his mind, before sliding past you to lead you through the darkness, hoping to avoid gunfire.

You slipped through the darkness in perfect sync, weapons drawn and ready.

As if performing a well rehearsed dance, a routine you both had mastered in some past life, you moved in tandem, stepping into Roy’s larger footprints to avoid leaving more tracks than necessary. Slithering through the shadows, you followed Roy’s slight form through the night, around every corner and alleyway until you were sure you’d dodged the immediate danger. The next challenge was making it to the horses.

Naturally, your steeds stood across the open square, in full view of the miscreants that plagued the streets of this sleepy town. Only the light of the pale moon illuminated their path, the dim light glinting against the polished metal of their pistols. Street lamps had been destroyed, veiling their wicked deeds in a shroud of darkness.

As you ducked behind a low stone wall, your knees screaming with the effort, you plotted and schemed with Roy in hushed tones. Even as you weighed the limited options, you occasionally found yourself simply staring, mesmerised by his sad eyes, which looked through you, into the root of you, into your very being.

Under the cover of darkness, you came up with a plan to escape.

“I’m smaller, less likely to be spotted. Plus I’m a woman, they won’t be on the lookout for me..” There were plenty of shadowed nooks and darkened side streets you could slip into, but it was dangerous nonetheless. If you were caught, the repercussions would’ve been grave. Even so, you were determined to prove your skill. Roy would’ve been too conspicuous, too practiced and smooth to be believable if he got caught.

“All I need to do is reach the other side, unbridle the horses and gallop away…I’ll meet you down the road a ways. If you could eh, provide a distraction…that might help..”

“A man alone can be invisible, if he knows what he’s doing…” Roy mumbled to himself, as if agreeing with your plan, in theory at least. “I’ll give you a few minutes, throw a few punches..should draw their eye for a bit.”

“But we need to draw them away from these folks, there’s no fight to be had here, just a slaughter…” you hummed as you mulled over the plan. Although it would work to secure your escape, it did little for the people left behind. You refused to put your selfish needs above those of the people who’d so graciously taken you in, who’d fed and watered you, and given you a place to sleep without expecting a penny in return. You’d need to lure these bandits away from this place completely.

“What if we swapped clothes? If I pretended to be you, turn their attention elsewhere, away from these people for a minute.. “ The men looking for him knew how he dressed, knew the weapons he used. “I’ll lure them out into the open, to a place where no one’ll get caught in the crossfire, you follow behind and take care of them when we’re away from this place…where nobody else can get hurt” “Mmmm…it’s not an awful plan. Still, I don’t like the thought of those fellas chasin’ after you with only a pistol to keep you company.” Roy whispered, his voice dripping with a concern you didn't expect to hear. His head tilted towards you, heralding his hushed words directly towards your ears. Even in the dark, you admired his understated beauty. And with an uncertainty evident in his face, you felt compelled to reassure Roy. Your confident tone dripped from every word.

“I’ve kept myself alive till now, haven’t I? I’m lighter, horse’ll have less trouble whisking me away..”

You hardly had time to consider the ramifications, before Roy was stripping to his undergarments before you. It wasn't quite the way you'd imagined, but there he stood in a state of undress, before widening eyes and hitched breath. The darkness hid your wandering eyes, which surveyed his sculpted body, your sins hidden by the shadows and the dimming of the onlooking moon by passing clouds..then it was your turn.

To his credit, Roy turned away as you shed the thin layers of fabric from your body, quickly donning the garments he'd handed over before the chill of the night settled into your bones. The garments were still warm, still smelled like him. The musk of sweat and sandalwood surrounded you, wrapping your body in a lukewarm hug as you adopted his persona, if only temporarily.

You hugged the walls of the towering buildings around you, keeping to the shadows as you made your way across the open square. Slipping through the night with muted steps, the darkness providing cover to your cunning plan. You held your breath, danced like a specter through the night, towards the animals awaiting their riders.

The horses whinnied when they sensed your presence, a soft acknowledgement of your mutually respectful relationship with these glorious creatures. You reached a hand out, the tips of your fingers brushing the glossy coat of your recently groomed steed. He simply leaned into your touch, and huffed into the night air, not loudly enough to draw unwanted attention, but enough to greet you as a friend. From there, your actions were frenzied, yet measured. Quick yet precise. Your fingers worked against the worn leather and buckles of the saddle with a heightened sense of urgency, yet working the metal and fabric with skill. In a matter of minutes you had readied both horses for riding while avoiding prying eyes, and mounted your familiar steed, ready to ride into the hills, drawing the lingering danger away from the people of La Belle.

Before setting off, you decided, perhaps unwisely, to make some noise, truly draw these cockroaches from the far corners of the town and rid this gentle place of each and every one of them.

Riding in dizzying circles around the square, your steed kicked up a mighty amount of dust and dirt. Your pistol sounded against the night, a shrill crack through the still night air. It certainly had the desired effect, drawing men from every narrow laneway and shadowy doorframe, until you had a mob staring directly at you, ready to pounce at any minute movement. It was only then, in full sight of these heathens, that you set off at a gallop in your predetermined direction. Riding through the cloud of gunpowder and smoke, you set your horse in the direction of more open ground. You let off a shot or two as you rode, for good measure. Just to keep those leeches on your tail, that is, until Roy emerged from the shadows behind them, trapping them between the two of you. Once Roy had your fathers lone pistol aimed squarely, his quick glances communicating silently, you made yourself scarce. He drew their eye, allowing you to slip off unnoticed. As you darted across open scrubland, you heard the far away thunder of gunshots, the ringing of the death knell for some faceless soldier

You hoped it wasn’t the one keeping you company on this winding road, the gentle soul protecting you and making a subtle warmth bloom in your chest, even in the sweltering frontier heat. It was a funny thing, becoming so attached to a man you hardly knew, and lord only knows if he felt the same…but you couldn’t help but succumb to the desires of the heart, no matter how ill advised.

It wasn’t until the drumming of hooves against packed dirt rang in your ears that you considered perhaps he was still alive. Perhaps he hadn’t been slain by those miscreants in La Belle. And as his form crept towards you, his muscular frame slumped against the glow of the pale moon, against the smooth muscle of the gentle creature carrying him, you saw that he was injured, his flesh pierced with a bullet in those haunted streets, now he bled onto the back of the creature that carried him to safety. It led him back to you, now it was up to you to patch him up, to make sure he survived the night.

A rather crude iron bullet had gone straight through his shoulder, luckily avoiding any vital organs in its path of destruction. If you were able to get the bleeding under control, and perhaps clean out the wound a little, he’d pull through.

It wasn’t the first time you’d had to plug a bullet wound, and judging by the company you attracted, it certainly wouldn't be the last. After ripping a few strips of fabric from the hem of your oversized shirt, you cleaned and bandaged it up as best you could, though the circumstances weren’t ideal. In another life perhaps you’d have made a decent nurse. In this one, you were plagued to live amongst men who enjoyed the company of their guns more than women, and who liked a fight even more.

In truth, you admired Roy’s selfless endeavour, he had seen too many people die in the neverending pursuit for his capture, and he did his best to avoid more pointless bloodshed. It was a far sight from your father’s greedy exploits, which often ended in the same result.

Unfortunately, you knew he wouldn’t get much fruitful sleep that night. A bullet wound was a tough one to heal, it destroys everything in its path, and those on the receiving end are often lucky to escape with their lives. If he made it through the first few hours, he’d be fine, but he’d be plagued by fitful rest and riddled with fever and pain. You remembered the state your father would often be in, even as you diligently tended to his wounds, cleaning and dressing the holes littering his flesh. Fever would wrack his body, push him close to the brink, yet somehow he always pulled through the other side - well, almost always…it got him in the end.

The one that finally ended his tyrannical reign was a wound far beyond your skill. It was a large caliber, and tore right through him, making an utter mess of his body on the way out. There was simply too much blood, too much tissue damaged for your limited supplies to patch. In truth you were surprised he even made it through the door…but the moon took him with it as it ducked beyond the horizon, making way for the early morning sun. He never saw another sunrise, and you were determined to see Roy through this night alive. His wound wasn’t that bad, and judging by the scars littering his skin, it wasn’t the first bullet that he’d seen the business end of. Still, his body would be weakened, and he needed all the help you could give. It’d surely steal your sleep as well, as you wiped the sweat from his brow with another rag, dampened with water from a nearby stream. It was a lucky thing you were near La Belle, as it wasn’t fit for drinking but it’d surely cool down a raging fever. It was clear enough to wash his skin free of blood, return him to the same handsomely rugged state you found him in earlier that very day. If you were any further inland, any further into the deserts of the Western plains, water would have been scarce, and disease would’ve run rampant through his open wound.

Dabbing the blood from his clammy skin seemed strangely intimate, and although his stunningly blue eyes were closed, you couldn’t help but become slightly enamoured by the softened angles of his face, the plump outline of his lips. You felt a strange guilt wash over you in that moment. In a time of pure vulnerability, surrendering himself to your care, you let your mind wander, let your impure thoughts cloud your judgement. Perhaps there’d be time to return to those feelings, to reassess those misguided stirrings in the light of day - if he survived his wounds, if he lasted till morning.

Although you fully intended on keeping watch over him all night, soon sleep pulled you under its spell, and before long you woke to the blinding glow of the early morning sun. You had fallen asleep on Roy’s chest, though thankfully in his pain induced haze, he didn’t seem to notice.

The fever had broken and he still seemed to be breathing, the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek alerted you to that much, but you quickly removed yourself from his body, rising from your inappropriate perch against his sleeping frame. Guilt once again engulfed you; you were supposed to be watching him, tending to his wounds, instead you selfishly gave in to the pull of sleep, and ontop of the injured man of all places. Hopefully, in his fever ridden state, Roy didn’t notice you there.

Sadly, you weren’t that lucky, as the first words out of his mouth that morning were “Hope you had a comfy night’s sleep…” with a sly smirk plastered across his face. “Christ….I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you started, but he didn’t let you finish. “It’s fine miss, don’t fuss…you kept me alive, least I can do is be a soft spot to rest your head eh?” he chuckled weakly, his body still recuperating from its ordeal. “Well…I suppose, but still, it wasn’t right. Let’s forget that bit shall we? How do you feel?” “Like I’ve been run through…but nothing I haven’t felt before. I’ll be right in a few days.” “I know a healer a while down the road, might be wise to bring you there..make sure my efforts didn’t do more harm than good…” “I think we’d have found out by now..I’m here ain’t I?” Roy chuckled, though it hurt to laugh. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t hit anything vital, it went straight through the spongey flesh of his shoulder and straight out the other side. Didn’t nick any veins or anything important on its way through. For a man who claimed bad luck, he was remarkably touched by the good stuff.

Unfortunately your luck wasn’t quite as reliable, and as quickly as the sun had risen, it ducked behind some rather angry looking clouds. “Looks like we gotta bitta rain comin’”

“It’s just water, you ain't gonna melt. It’ll be gone by noon” Roy replied, his humour seemed remarkably intact for an injured man, you supposed it was a blessing of sorts, sickness hadn’t set in overnight. “I mightn’t, but you’re the one stuck here…we better find shelter somewhere, before you drown under that rock.” you replied cheekily, though Roy accepted your outstretched hand with a sigh, and followed behind you to the horses tied up nearby. He could walk, but not for long before being out of breath, he doubted he could ride for very long either before he’d need a break. “Mind sharing? Not in the best state to ride right now..” “Sure, here I’ll help you up.” You boosted Roy onto the horse first, before taking your seat behind him. It was a strange reversal of roles, yet it didn’t feel uncomfortable or unnatural. Somehow you were strangely at ease with this near stranger perched in your lap. The warmth of his body was oddly comforting.

You wrapped your hands around his waist to grasp at the reins, and found yourself hugging his body tight to you, in order to reach them properly. “Relax, you can breathe, you know. “ You laughed, sensing his evident discomfort.

“Just not used to it, is all”

“What, someone helping you?”

“That, and a lovely lady wrapped around me..” he whispered, secretly hoping that you wouldn’t hear over the whinnying of the horses. You couldn’t stop the rush of blood to your cheeks, the crimson flush that pooled at the tips of your ears and the warmth blooming once more in your chest. You couldn’t even respond, let alone make some witty remark in return. You simply continued to ride, maintaining the slightly awkward silence. Luckily Roy couldn't see the rosy blush that stained your skin, but you thought perhaps he might've felt the way your heart drummed in your chest, the hitch in your breath as he finally settled comfortably against you.

At one point you thought he might've dozed off, his head lulled against your shoulder briefly, his calloused hands resting against your own, and for the shortest of moments, you felt what it would be like to have him in your arms, totally at ease. The fantasy was short lived however, as a clap of thunder roused him from his tentative slumber. As quickly as he had fallen, Roy bolted upright, his body leaving the warm embrace of your own, sitting upright, ready to face the incoming threat. Luckily the only enemy in sight was mother nature, flaunting her might and painting the night sky with the most wondrous flashes of light.

The low bass notes of thunder rumbled in the distance, growing closer and closer to your position. It spooked the horses, though you were only concerned with the one you’d currently mounted. “Whoa, easy now, easy boy” you soothed the animal, though your words rang hollow when a rather terrifying clap of thunder sounded above you. The drizzle of rain didn't help matters, it only made your saddle slipper when you tried to right yourself upright.

The steed beneath you started to rear in the traces - breaking loose from your hold on the reins before violently bucking you both into a nearby ditch. It took a second to register the pain, and the reality of your rather dire situation. It took slightly longer to raise your head from the ground, before cursing the animal for reacting so poorly. As you raised your head, something wet dripped down your forehead. It wasn't rain, it felt thicker, stickier… “Shit..” you muttered under your breath, as you prodded the source of the liquid.

You'd been cut in the fall, nothing serious but enough to make you dizzy. Enough to make everything around you spin. It was only then you remembered Roy, and clambered in the dark to find him. Through the damp foliage and thorny brush, you felt the ground where you fell, patting the earth blindly in the hopes of feeling him beside you. Nothing. Sweeping further, with only your hands to guide you, eventually you poked at a warm mass in the shrubbery. It was Roy, no doubt, but he didn’t move…not until you grabbed him and shook him, rattling the brains in his head until his eyes sprung open. Even in the darkness, those dazzling blue orbs shone brightly. The dim moonlight glinted against them, catching as he looked up at you.

“Jesus Christ woman, I’m awake, no need to scramble my brains”

“Just makin’ sure you’re alive is all…sshit…” the pain in your scalp got worse, still profusely bleeding, and it was all you could do to hold your hand to it.

“Y’alright ma’am? I can’t see much but that’s the first time you’ve complained all day..” Roy enquired, the tone of his voice conveying his concern. “It’s only a scratch, I’ll be fine” you mumble, as blood clinged to your skin, oozing from the gash in your hairline. If it didn’t stop, you’d need to patch yourself up, but the horse had run off with most of your supplies.

You’d always been resilient, tough, though with a father like yours and a rather unconventional upbringing, you had to be. With the throbbing pain spreading through your scalp, you found it harder and harder to maintain your toughened exterior, especially when mother nature saw fit to test your resolve this day, as the sky continued to dump its contents ontop of the two of you. “Damn, Roy, we gotta move. We’re sitting ducks in this ditch.”

“We might get lucky, find the horses down the road a ways. Doubt they’ve gone far..” Roy mumbled, though his eyes never left your face. Even as you shakily pulled yourself upwards, steadying your sore muscles on your two feet, Roy's eyes followed you. Whether out of concern or some misguided guilt, he felt the need to keep you in his sights, even as you extended a soiled hand to pull him upright.

As he grasped your dirt crusted hand, and rose to his feet, he stumbled slightly in the mud underfoot. Your instincts kicked in quickly, reaching through the night to grab onto his arm and without thinking, you pulled him tight to your chest - an action that knocked the wind out of you both for a second.

You immediately felt different, in that small moment your chest leapt, an unfamiliar desire settling below your lungs.

It was difficult to let him go, though you couldn’t quite explain why. His muscular frame, though battered and injured, provided your aching muscles with some much needed comfort, and you almost immediately considered just not letting him go, ever. What if you stayed there, if you crumbled back into that ditch with Roy in your arms. Would it be so bad? Some strange thread of fate brought you together, and Roy endeavoured to keep you close, despite you being a total stranger. The entire day, Roy had kept you in his sights, stayed in your orbit and hovering nearby, even sleeping in the room next to yours. Perhaps there was quite a simple reason for it, perhaps he felt the same spark, the same stirring that seated itself deep in your core.

These silly ideas were quickly replaced with reality, when the blood from your head trickled into your eyes, brutally dragging your wandering mind back to the present moment. Back to the unusually cruel twist of fate you'd found yourself wrapped up in.

Of course, you weren’t the only one hurt, Roy faltered on his feet several times as you trudged back onto the road, following the dark path in search of your mounts. This tumble certainly didn’t help the radiating pain from his gunshot wound, and moving became quite a chore. Every muscle screamed in protest, his feet felt like lead bricks against the damp earth.

But he never complained, even when the blood soaked through your handmade bandage, even when he felt weak from the loss of it. Even when you rejoiced at finding your horse a ways down the road, and dragged him onto the back of it - pain running rampant through his body as he swung a heavy limb over the back of the animal, and settled into the saddle in front of you once more.

Despite the comfort of your body behind his back, despite the warmth penetrating his damp clothing and sending a shiver through his weary flesh, Roy knew he was in trouble, yet never complained, not once.

He simply enjoyed the comforts of such a unique woman for as long as he was able. He saw the way your eyes lingered on his lips just a little longer than was polite, he felt how your heart leapt when he held you close. Though he never imagined loving again, feeling deeply for another human in this mess of a life he’d found himself in, moments like these proved to be rare and invaluable. Ones he couldn’t let slip through his fingers, ones he simply had to embrace.

As the horse sidled down the dark path, guided only by the dim light of the moon, shrouded in cloud, Roy made his first move.

He plucked one hand from the reigns in front of him and brought your delicate digits to the crest of his mouth. He lay the gentlest of kisses to your knuckles, resting his plump lips there so that his meaning became devastatingly clear. Next, he peppered your open palm with affection, once again, resting there until he felt your heart drumming against his back. It was then and only then that he turned to face you. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t comfortable either, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Moments like these came and passed so rarely, and women like you existed in only minute numbers in this world. He wouldn’t let such a thing pass him by again, not if he had the strength to do so.

“I've been itchin’ to do this for days..”

With a gasp, Roy pulled you close, crowding out all the oxygen in your lungs, before pressing a tender kiss to your lips. The horse whinnied gently beneath the two of you, clearly mimicking your surprise. The warmth of his fingertips pressed against your cheek, the brush of untrimmed facial hair bristling against your delicate skin. You melted into his rugged hand, calloused skin rough against your cheek. Ever muscle relaxing into his strong grip. His tongue explored with vigour, pushing past the barrier of your lips to pry them open, before delving into the waiting wetness of your mouth. It was sudden and passionate, yet dipped in gentility. He wasn’t taking his pleasure, he was ensuring a mutually enjoyable experience for you both. But as you pulled him tightly to your chest, getting a little too lost in a moment you never thought would materialise, he suddenly recoiled in pain.

Roy winced, finally looking down at his torso at the source of his pain and seeing a large pool of blood marring the surface of his shirt. With wide eyes, you lifted his baggy shirt to reveal another bullet wound - one he hadn’t disclosed. This time, piercing the soft flesh of his abdomen between his abs and the valley of his hip. Even in the dark you could see how angry it appeared, and blood wept from the open flesh profusely. How could he have kept such a thing a secret? How had he managed till now?

“I eh, yeah I knew that one would be bad. Seen men expire from less..” Roy grumbled, clearly aware of his looming mortality. Roy grunted inwardly, hissing and gasping for air, the pain of his wound finally overwhelming his weakened body.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do..” you panicked, seeing that much blood and seeing a man so strong succumb to his injuries had you in a fluster. Your hands immediately flew to his side. You tried to apply pressure, to hold the edge of his shirt to the wound but it was no use, you had no leverage and the rag became sodden with blood after only a few minutes. It wasn’t long before he collapsed under your fingers, crumpling like wet paper over the edge of your steed before your hands could scramble to steady him upright. You threw yourself from your horse, following him onto the muddy ground.

In the dark, Roy lay in the soggy earth, your hands cradling his head and shoulders. You couldn’t do much to fix this, no basic first aid would staunch this wound. It was your father all over again - a man you cared for defeated by such a small shard of metal, such devastation wrapped in such a small package. Luckily the dark shrouded your grief, the blackness of the night hiding the tears that rolled down your cheek, staining your trousers with sadness.

It came quickly, without warning, a tidal wave of sorrow for the man you could have known and the kind soul you’d been protected by these past few days. Waves of anguish washed over you for the affection you clearly shared, yet failed miserably to express in the time you had together. You grieved not only for the man, but for the life you could’ve had, ripped from your grasp before it had a chance to bear fruit. Now, it was all too clear that you were entirely too late.

His last words rang in your ears, a soft mumbling “I’ll be back again”. A promise of a dead man, a hollow salve to the sting of losing someone you’d only just grown close to.

Even as his body went limp in your hands, that sound lingered in the air, as tangible and real as the man himself. His voice hung on long after his soul had departed.

As much as you wanted to believe you'd see each other in some far away life, that you too would be reincarnated into the world to live again, in your heart you knew that this life was the one chance you got, that revisiting this celestial ball was not on the cards. Whatever lay in wait for you after the curtains closed, whatever came next, you knew the likelihood of another chance at life here was very slim. You would’ve loved to get to know this sweet man, to explore what fate set out for the two of you, but a bullet and the man consumed with rage behind the trigger had other ideas. Some things are too good and too pure to be written in your destiny, that much had been proven over and over again through the course of your life. But just one time, you wished fate had been a little kinder.

Life moved on, unfortunately the ticking of the clock didn’t cease with the passing of a kind soul. One man’s demise didn’t stop the setting sun, even the loss of the purest of souls wouldn’t stop the earth spinning or the stars growing brighter in the sky. No, things went on just as they were. You were forced to return to the life you led before him, one you had chosen to lead, yet now it seemed a little emptier. In a matter of months, you found yourself wandering the streets of yet another sleepy mining town, directionless and simply floating through each day. It could have been any town, any place complete with children scurrying around the streets and men marching off to work the mines each morning. It wasn’t home, you hadn’t found that yet, some part of you was beginning to think you never would. This place was nowhere close to feeling safe and secure enough for that, but like the others, it was quiet enough to rest your head, to refuel and restock without the threat of bullets whizzing past. Like every other momentary rest stop, it would do for a few days, as long as you weren’t getting shot at, you’d be happy to close your eyes each night. It was only one in a string of sad, dilapidated places you’d encountered on a long and lonesome road. Despite losing his battle with a bullet months previously, your mind frequently conjured images of the man you’d come so close to saving, only for him to be ripped unceremoniously from your grasp. You often saw Roy in fleeting glimpses; lingering in the shadows, appearing in blurry reflections of windows and still water. You even smelled his musk on the falling drops of rain, he was everywhere, invading your senses and pervading your dreams. You thought perhaps he was haunting you, reminding you of your woeful inability to save him, reminding you of your failure. But in life he was nothing but a gentleman, something that led you to believe that even a disgruntled version of his soul wouldn’t be quite so cruel. Perhaps it was just your mind processing grief in its own way, playing tricks on you and drawing on your biggest regrets. Regardless of the cause, you dearly missed those dazzlingly blue eyes and his body, god you missed his body. Even the feel of his muscle underhand… the thought of it forced you to mourn what could have been. Each time he appeared to you, you missed him a little more. Even if you only knew him for a few short days, Roy’s sapphire blue eyes were painted into your memory in the most vivid of detail. You remembered his soft features, how the sunlight glittered off of his sunkissed skin. The sun-bleached streaks in dirty blonde tousled hair. He had the visage of a man who’d seen entirely too much in life, yet it never detracted from his beauty, it merely framed it.

Some nights you swore you heard his voice echoing through the trees; that gruff, gravelly, yet oddly soothing sound lulled you to sleep, yet it was no replacement for the real thing, merely a reminder of the fleeting nature of such a perilous life. Love was tough, but loneliness on the road was twice as hard now that you had tasted proper companionship. Before Roy, your own company was enough, but having sampled a love like that, only for it to be cut short, it left a void you simply couldn’t fill. Despite your insistence on living a life of adventure, you had to concede that it was a perilous and rather abysmal way to spend your prime years, denying yourself love to spite your father was no way to live, it was survival at best. Those few days with Roy by your side brought you joy you’d never known, even if he did bring danger and death along with him. He gave you a glimpse at possibilities you’d never even considered, yet no man had drawn your eye since. You never reckoned with mourning a man you barely knew, but grief hit you hard and all at once - especially as you watched the light drain from those bright eyes, and his skin grow pallid as you held him tight. That image stained your memories, lingered in your waking consciousness, and somehow you couldn’t shake the guilt at your part in his demise.

But then you saw him in the flesh.

It felt like a dream, an apparition of the mind, yet one morning he was simply there. Stood in the middle of a busy road, in a beam of glowing light. People passed in front of him, whirred around him, yet he never disappeared from sight. One drunkard even walked straight into him, knocking him to the side a little before he regained his balance, yet his eyes remained fixed, utterly locked the target of his affections. He looked exactly as you remembered, exactly as he had once been, and as real as any other. He occupied a space in this world, yet you had a hard time believing the apparition before you. Roy’s eyes glimmered in the midday sun, as vibrant and vivid as you remembered. Two turquoise pools of water in a drought, your breath stuck in your chest at the sight, your mouth too dry to speak. Even through death, he remained just as handsome as you recalled, just as beautiful as you’d pictured all these months. You almost forgot to breathe, but for the ache in your lungs. As you inhaled, and tried to settle your dazed mind, his boots shuffled through the scorched earth, dead set in your direction.

He sauntered, a confident walk of a man who knew he was right. Of a man who knew that death wasn’t a permanent end. He walked with the gait of a man who still had business yet unfinished.

You stood stock still, frozen in place as the dust swirled around your ankles, and Roy closed the gap, until you could feel his warmth embrace you. Until you felt the comfort of his arms wrapped around your trembling frame. The scratch of stubble against your cheek, the thrum of his heart against your chest. And it was only when you felt his hot breath brush against the shell of your ear, that reality truly set in. That your mind caught up to the unlikely truth - he was real and he was here, holding you. It wasn’t until you felt the rumbling of his gravelly voice that you could truly relax into his firm, yet comforting grasp.

Roy didn’t vocalise it, but he knew exactly why he had come back, yet again. He knew he had found what he was searching for all these lifetimes, and it was his mission to spend whatever time fate afforded him in your presence. He had found a woman worthy of his love, worthy of worshipping with his whole being. It was a feeling he had when he first saw you, but one that was cemented with his dying breath. An undeniable connection that spanned lifetimes, that crossed the realm of possibility into reality. An unfathomable love that his soul had eternally sought out. That’s what brought him back, perhaps for the last time. That’s why he awoke in a shallow grave days later, heart leaping from his chest; he simply needed to find you, wherever your travels had taken you. He spent all this time chasing your trail, following you across the country in hopes of reuniting once more. Even though his memory of that life was hazy, he remembered enough. He remembered you, and how he died. He could recall small details, like the waft of vanilla and sweat hanging on the crisp night air. He remembered the warmth of your body embracing him atop that horse on that fateful night. He remembered the way your eyes darted to his lips, just before he had a chance to kiss you. The only chance he had..and it simply wasn’t enough. After traversing death yet again, Roy was determined to make this lifetime count.

You didn’t even notice his hand cradling your jaw, thumb brushing across the plump crest of your upper lip. All you could see was the sparkle you loved so dearly emanating from two sapphire orbs, radiating the light of the sun. All you could see was a man you thought dead, a man you watched fade in your arms, now very much alive. All you could feel was overwhelming relief that he had kept his promise, that he had come back again and was now wrapped around you, with all the warmth of a living, breathing man.

“Told you miss, I’ll always be around”

@eoinmcgonigall @poetmayne @ecoustsaintmein @carriganrose @stitch-me-not @gydima @miggleverse @theboyfromcork @eoin-mcgonigal @derry-rain @davidstirlings @skyearth85 @coldcrimsoncrypt @ang3l0fd34th

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Rosie