Ugh. Sorry about the lateness. What a rollercoaster these couple of weeks have been in a very tumultous set of months.
Finding Connor
Chapter 27
The other Charles stared at him, blinking owlishly. It was as if the man didn't comprehend that there was a bullet through his heart.
Then again, the man likely didn't know. He'd probably assumed that all was in his favor and forgotten his own caution.
Charles glared up at him through triumphant pain-filled eyes, hands still tightly clutched around the small pistol he had hidden in his coat.
Served him right for what he'd been about to do to Charles...and after Charles had decided not to kill him after all!
Charles gingerly pushed himself up, one hand leaving the pistol to press tightly against the bleeding wound in his belly. He winced as blood seeped through his fingers.
Thank God his counterpart hadn't been paying more attention. Just the fact that he was still conscious and, given that he had been stabbed, relatively well, it looked as if his counterpart hadn't hit anything of import. Just a flesh wound likely, though God knew how lucky Charles was for that to have happened.
Dying once was bad enough. Charles had no intention of dying two times.
Charles hobbled over to his defeated nemesis and stared at the cooling body of his counterpart.
Really, it was most inconsiderate of the man. Forcing Charles to kill him when Charles had gone through all that trouble to find a way to keep from killing him.
He deserved punishment for that alone, the ungrateful sod.
He considered the body for a bit. Then, with a sigh, he slowly stooped down, careful not to aggravate his wound, and knelt by the Alpha.
With care not to jostle his belly too much, he tentatively reached into the folds of the man's jacket and bared his shirt.
Relatively clean. It would have to do.
With a grimace, he took a hold of the shirt and, with a forceful pull and a sharp cry as his belly protested his movement, tore a strip from the white cloth.
He'd never make it back to civilization as he was, bleeding out through his stomach.
Ten minutes later, after he used the dead man's whiskey to clean and bind his wound (and Charles found he had new respect for every soldier that had been injured in the field without a field doctor nearby), he turned a considering gaze to the body before him.
Call him maudlin, but he was hesitating at disposing of it. It seemed disrespectful to himself somehow. The thought of unceremoniously dumping the man and assuming his place.
And yet...what else could be done? He was already dead. Even out there, where few would likely venture, it was possible that someone would stumble upon the body. As unlikely as it seemed, Charles could not take the risk that the body be discovered. It would put their entire plan into jeopardy and remove any and all possibility of Charles returning to his son alive.
And wasn't that worth a little sacrilege?
To see his son again and make amends for his selfishness. To be with the last gift his wife had given him.
Charles closed his eyes.
He could just imagine his Connor rocking their son, that soft smile on his face as he lifted his head for a kiss from Charles...
Tears pricked at his eyes, and he brushed at them angrily.
Damn it. He thought he'd finally gotten over it. Finally let his rage and grief run his course.
But the thought burned in his head, and he glared anew at the dead man in front of him.
How dare his counterpart not appreciate his wife more. How dare he treat his Connor so callously, more than even an enemy merited. Did he not realize how fortunate it was that his wife still lived? Did he not realize how blessed he was?
And to try and kill Charles and nearly ruin the one chance Charles had to returning to the only family he had left...
It was unforgivable.
The other man did not deserve kindness, did not deserve consideration.
And so Charles would not waste his time thinking of him.
----
"Master Lee!"
Charles smiled wanly as Ronald stared at him. He was a sorry sight he knew, clothes ripped and dirty, blood stain on his clothes from where his wound had soaked through.
"Sir!" Mary ran up to him. "What happened? Are you well?"
Charles allowed her to fuss over him.
"Just a few bandits, I'm afraid. After I saw my cousin off, I ran afoul of an attack on a caravan shipping goods. There were only a few so I took care of them speedily."
"Oh sir," Mary's eyes misted as she worried over his healing wound.
"I am afraid one of them managed to stab me, though not well."
"A rather small blade to attack someone with," Ronald murmured, leaning in for a closer look.
"It was all he could muster as I had disarmed him of his intended weapon."
Understanding lit in Ronald's eyes, and he looked to Charles with pride.
"Very good sir."
Charles nodded wearily.
To be greeted so, as if he were in his own home...He began unbuttoning his coat, intent on being treated by a doctor and then taking to bed.
"Sir, I have news of your wife."
And he froze.
"And pray," he whispered, almost afraid to ask. "What news is there?"
"That he begins to wake," came a new voice.
Charles spun around, wide eyes lighting upon none other than Doctor White.
Finding Connor 27
Finding Connor
Chapter 27
The other Charles stared at him, blinking owlishly. It was as if the man didn't comprehend that there was a bullet through his heart.
Then again, the man likely didn't know. He'd probably assumed that all was in his favor and forgotten his own caution.
Charles glared up at him through triumphant pain-filled eyes, hands still tightly clutched around the small pistol he had hidden in his coat.
Served him right for what he'd been about to do to Charles...and after Charles had decided not to kill him after all!
Charles gingerly pushed himself up, one hand leaving the pistol to press tightly against the bleeding wound in his belly. He winced as blood seeped through his fingers.
Thank God his counterpart hadn't been paying more attention. Just the fact that he was still conscious and, given that he had been stabbed, relatively well, it looked as if his counterpart hadn't hit anything of import. Just a flesh wound likely, though God knew how lucky Charles was for that to have happened.
Dying once was bad enough. Charles had no intention of dying two times.
Charles hobbled over to his defeated nemesis and stared at the cooling body of his counterpart.
Really, it was most inconsiderate of the man. Forcing Charles to kill him when Charles had gone through all that trouble to find a way to keep from killing him.
He deserved punishment for that alone, the ungrateful sod.
He considered the body for a bit. Then, with a sigh, he slowly stooped down, careful not to aggravate his wound, and knelt by the Alpha.
With care not to jostle his belly too much, he tentatively reached into the folds of the man's jacket and bared his shirt.
Relatively clean. It would have to do.
With a grimace, he took a hold of the shirt and, with a forceful pull and a sharp cry as his belly protested his movement, tore a strip from the white cloth.
He'd never make it back to civilization as he was, bleeding out through his stomach.
Ten minutes later, after he used the dead man's whiskey to clean and bind his wound (and Charles found he had new respect for every soldier that had been injured in the field without a field doctor nearby), he turned a considering gaze to the body before him.
Call him maudlin, but he was hesitating at disposing of it. It seemed disrespectful to himself somehow. The thought of unceremoniously dumping the man and assuming his place.
And yet...what else could be done? He was already dead. Even out there, where few would likely venture, it was possible that someone would stumble upon the body. As unlikely as it seemed, Charles could not take the risk that the body be discovered. It would put their entire plan into jeopardy and remove any and all possibility of Charles returning to his son alive.
And wasn't that worth a little sacrilege?
To see his son again and make amends for his selfishness. To be with the last gift his wife had given him.
Charles closed his eyes.
He could just imagine his Connor rocking their son, that soft smile on his face as he lifted his head for a kiss from Charles...
Tears pricked at his eyes, and he brushed at them angrily.
Damn it. He thought he'd finally gotten over it. Finally let his rage and grief run his course.
But the thought burned in his head, and he glared anew at the dead man in front of him.
How dare his counterpart not appreciate his wife more. How dare he treat his Connor so callously, more than even an enemy merited. Did he not realize how fortunate it was that his wife still lived? Did he not realize how blessed he was?
And to try and kill Charles and nearly ruin the one chance Charles had to returning to the only family he had left...
It was unforgivable.
The other man did not deserve kindness, did not deserve consideration.
And so Charles would not waste his time thinking of him.
----
"Master Lee!"
Charles smiled wanly as Ronald stared at him. He was a sorry sight he knew, clothes ripped and dirty, blood stain on his clothes from where his wound had soaked through.
"Sir!" Mary ran up to him. "What happened? Are you well?"
Charles allowed her to fuss over him.
"Just a few bandits, I'm afraid. After I saw my cousin off, I ran afoul of an attack on a caravan shipping goods. There were only a few so I took care of them speedily."
"Oh sir," Mary's eyes misted as she worried over his healing wound.
"I am afraid one of them managed to stab me, though not well."
"A rather small blade to attack someone with," Ronald murmured, leaning in for a closer look.
"It was all he could muster as I had disarmed him of his intended weapon."
Understanding lit in Ronald's eyes, and he looked to Charles with pride.
"Very good sir."
Charles nodded wearily.
To be greeted so, as if he were in his own home...He began unbuttoning his coat, intent on being treated by a doctor and then taking to bed.
"Sir, I have news of your wife."
And he froze.
"And pray," he whispered, almost afraid to ask. "What news is there?"
"That he begins to wake," came a new voice.
Charles spun around, wide eyes lighting upon none other than Doctor White.
"Oh."
He knew not what else to say.