#roulette fic

Especially because he knew the words stitched into Catherine’s skin by thosesame hands.  They burned so clearly intohis mind’s eye, he could recite them, except he already had.  He remembered finding them and being so angryabout them, that the last thing anybody would say to her would express somedoubts to her excellence.

But this was worse.  Far worse thandoubting her excellence, they were just shy of disparaging her character.

Both of them froze, staring at each other. Tilly and Mrs Adler watched them, confused, wondering what was going on.

Catherine gasped then and choked on a sob before dismounting in a rush, andArthur knew she was going to come to him, except he didn’t know if he wouldstill be standing here when she arrived. The whole world was torn open and he did not understand why it wasn’tswallowing him up at the revelation that all he’d ever wanted had never beenhis since the day he’d been born.  Whatwas promised to him had been given to others, and the very moment she waswithin his grasp again, God Himself was taking her away.

From the very beginning, he was never meant to be whole.

Throwing herself into his arms, Catherine kissed him, unmindful of the risks toher health, or even his.  More sobsstrangled her, and she wished Mrs. Adler would simply shoot her dead this veryinstant.

Everything seemed so foolish now.  Allher efforts, all her suffering.  What hadit all been for if there was never a chance to save him—even for a few monthsof peace?

Why had God promised him to her at birth if he was going to die immediatelyafter she was able to offer him safety and freedom?

What was the point of having a soulmate at all if they never had a chance tobelong to each other?

There was suddenly so much she wanted to say—chiefly that she loved him somuch that she’d died by more inches this past year than she knew she possessed,and that she was so sorry.

Just so goddamn, miserable sorry that he’d gone through so much believing hedidn’t deserve better.

Arthur wanted to say that he’d always known, deep inside, that she wasprobably the one—not Mary, despite all the warmth and love he still felt for her–because even though he never spoke her name again, or wrote about her in hisjournal, or replied to her letters, her voice and laugh had always run throughhis mind.

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t right she’d been promised somebody likehim in the first place, and that it was proof that even God made mistakes.

But they said none of these things, because they had said the lastthings.  The final words had been writtenat the beginning, and there was no changing them now.

Arthur pushed her away, hands rough in their determined abruptness.  He turned then, and mounted Slim, urging himforward before he was even secure in the saddle.  His time was over.  He’d never been meant to be whole, and therewas no changing that.