Quinn's Library by Jasmine L
After the tragedy at Washita, a hidden side of Sully
comes to the surface that Michaela must help him face.
"The door of the human heart can only be opened from the inside."
~ William Holman Hunt
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It had been a few weeks since the tragedy at Washita occurred. A cloud of pain and sorrow still hung over Michaela and Sully's hearts, but they were healing. With the busyness of the town and their upcoming wedding, they were able to distract themselves. Michaela, putting in a lot of time at the clinic and Sully, well she wasn't sure exactly how he was healing. On a number of occasions, he insisted he was fine, when she would ask; but they hadn't really discussed the matter.
Her mind began to wander as she pondered on Sully, her soon to be husband. The thought brought excitement and nerves, good nerves, to her stomach.
It would be painful, experiencing such a joyous, momentous change without the presence or love of their dear friends, the Cheyenne. That familiar sting of agony pained her heart again and she suddenly got a strong urge to see her fiance.
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Sully did his best to focus on his work, but he found it difficult. The house, all except the back door was complete and today it would be finalized. He was proud of his craftsmanship and more so because of the enthusiasm and pleasure Michaela found in the abode.
Today, however, as hard as he tried to work, his mind wandered. Well, not as much wander as it did remember. It seemed to be heavier than usual. He couldn't understand why, part of him didn't want to understand. He just wanted to forget; but with the most recent devastation, it was all becoming to heavy.
Tossing the hammer to the ground, Sully stepped away from his work. Holding his head in his hands, he tightly shut his eyes, willing the thoughts to flee his mind.
"Sully?"
He hadn't heard her approach. She seemed to have been there for sometime, seeing as Flash was tied to the fence.
"Michaela?" His brow furrowed. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I just missed you," she came closer. "And I brought you some lunch," she held up a basket in her hand.
"Thanks," Sully touched her shoulder. "But I gotta finish this."
He turned and lifted the hammer from the ground.
"You could take a break," Michaela said.
"I can't, Michaela," he returned to his work.
Michaela knew something was wrong; not only because she witnessed him walking off from his work, but he also turned down a meal. Time and again he had told her how much he loved when she visited and they shared lunch and a conversation.
"Sully," she put the basket aside and stood behind him. "What's wrong?"
He tensed when her hand met his back. Michaela felt it.
"Nothing," he kept his attention from her.
"Sully," she was now at his side. "Something's troubling you," she said.
"Yeah, I've been trying to get this door on all morning," he blew out a laugh.
Michaela sighed. Reaching out, she lowered his hands and stood before him.
"It's not just the door," she knew.
Sully lowered his head. His shoulders slumped and Michaela could see the heaviness weighing on him.
"What's troubling you?" Michaela held his hands.
He remained silent.
"Is it the house?" She thought. "Sully, if you're having trouble you don't have to-"
"It ain't the house," he cut in.
Letting go of her hands, Sully turned around in frustration.
"Then what is it?"
"Nothing," he said.
Michaela sighed, upset with his stubbornness.
"Sully, you can tell me," she said.
He sat on a pile of wood and laid his head in his hands. He nearly seemed...defeated. Michaela's heart went out to him and she knelt before him.
"You don't have to carry all this alone," she stroked his leg. "Since Washita you've been so quiet and distant. You haven't had a chance to talk about things."
Sully tisked and turned his head away.
"Sully," Michaela's voice was direct but still gentle. "It won't get better until you talk about it. You can't heal if you don't allow yourself to feel. Believe me, I know," she touched his cheek.
Sully looked at her, his jaw tense with emotion.
He knew he could open to her, he knew she would never reject him, that she would help him.
"I...don't know how," his voice was just above a whisper.
Michaela could feel his pain, not just because she went through the same experience, but whenever he was hurt, emotional or physical, it twisted her heart.
"To start, you have to allow yourself to feel...everything. Sadness, anger, pain," she sat beside him.
"That's not what my ma told me," he had a far away look in eyes.
Michaela hadn't expected that. In all the time she knew him, Sully only mentioned his mother once. It was brief, but he disclosed that she had drowned in the Hudson River.
"She told me just go, don't...don't feel. Take care of your brother."
No longer was Sully talking to Michaela, but reliving painful memories; and she realized he wasn't just hurting about the Cheyenne. A tear escaped from his eyes, but he wasn't crying.
Michaela put a hand on his back and he blinked as if awakening from a dream.
"You were so young," Michaela sympathized. "To be left alone...I can only imagine your pain."
"Been alone my whole life," he said.
His words weren't a cry for sympathy, but a simple statement.
“You’re not alone anymore, Sully,” Michaela said.
He remained still. She knew he heard her, but he couldn’t listen. The tension was rising to his throat and he wanted to run away. He didn’t want Michaela to see him in such an emotional state.
Sully's breathing became heavier and Michaela sensed he wouldn't be able to keep the emotions contained, but he trying ever so hard.
"It's all right, Sully," she spoke softly.
He began to to shake his head. Michaela rubbed soothing circles on his back, hoping that he would let his emotions out. She didn't want to see him hurting, but she knew how painful it was to keep everything inside.
"I-it was my ma," Sully's voice broke. "My brother, Abigail, m-m...my baby, the Cheyenne," the tears now were freely flowing. "I...lost everything."
Michaela wanted to pull him into embrace, but he had more to grieve.
"I..." his breathing was labored from emotion. "I miss...my family," he cried.
"Oh, Sully," she clasped hand.
He wasn't looking at her, but he stayed close to her.
"I don't understand what I did," he said. "What's wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you, Su-"
"She left me," his cut in.
He wasn't aware of Michaela's words; realizing that, Michaela kept silent and held his hand, letting him know he wasn't alone in his pain.
"I asked her, where...where she was going and...she told me just go, don't feel, just go."
Tears welled in Michaela's eyes; she did her best to conceal them, but they began to flow as Sully went on.
"I...I followed her, she saw me and she still did it," he cried. "There was nothing I could do."
Michaela now understood. Sully's mother didn't drown in the river, she killed herself.
Sully looked at Michaela, freely weeping.
"Sully," Michaela wiped the tears from his cheeks.
"I just...I miss my ma," he broke down.
Michaela pulled him into her arms and he could no longer contain his grief; she also mourned.
He remained in that state for a while, saying how he missed his mother. Through it all, Michaela held him, his pain became hers and she spoke loving words in his ear.
Finally, his breathing relaxed some and he pulled back from the embrace.
"I'm sorry," he wiped his eyes.
"Shh," Michaela kept close.
"I never told anyone about my ma," he looked at her. "How much it..." he stopped, still struggling.
"Hurt you," she knew.
"Hurts," he said.
Michaela looked at him with sympathy and love.
"I don't understand why she left me," he said.
"Perhaps her own pain was too much to bear," Michaela reasoned.
Sully nodded.
"If I only I could of helped her," he said.
"None of it was your fault, Sully," she said.
"She use to say I reminded her of Pa. Maybe I drove her to..." he stopped, not wanting the emotions to consume him again.
"Sully," Michaela touched his hand. "You were a child, a little boy. Nothing you did or didn't do could have caused your mother's death."
"I feel guilty," he lowered his head.
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm angry at her, at Pa. They left me. They...hurt me. I was alone and...scared." his voice cracked.
Michaela reached out a hand and caressed his temple.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Sully looked at her.
"I don't want you to be sorry," he said.
"What do you want?" She asked, genuinely.
He sighed heavily, still feeling the pressure of the sorrow.
"Ever since my ma...killed herself, when I saw that...the way she looked at me just before jumping in... I feel like my heart's...broken."
He let a few tears escape, but he didn't want to cry anymore.
"Sully," Michaela wiped the moisture from his face. "I don't know what I can say or do to help you. If there are any words to take away your pain. But I promise you, that now and in the years we'll share together, I'll help put back the pieces of your heart."
He raised his head, their eyes met and his became glossy with emotion again; from his sorrow and also her words.
"I don't think you'll ever stop missing your family, but you have a new one to hold onto. Me and the children and whoever...might come our way..."
Sully swallowed hard and reached for her hand.
"I don't know if...I'll ever get over it," he stroked her soft palm. "But I promise to be the kind of father I didn't have and give you and our children the love that I needed."
Michaela wiped her own cheeks and a gentle smile graced her lips.
"You can always come to me with your pain, Sully. You don't have to carry all this alone. I know you were abandoned and hurt so young, but you'll never be alone again. I'll never leave you in life or in here," she reached out to touch his chest, his heart.
They cried a little longer. Sully still sorrowful and afraid, like in his youth, but Michaela's love eased his pain and fear. She rocked him in her arms and his soul began to calm. The pain was still present, but wasn't as persistent or maybe Michaela's presence masked it or perhaps, he was healing.
"Sully," she said after a moment.
"Hmm?" His head lay on her chest, his face tucked in her neck.
"What was her name?" She kept rocking him.
Sully drew in a breath and looked up at her.
"Kathrine," he revealed.
Michaela looked at him and stroking his beard, smiled.
"She would have been proud of you," she said.
A faint smile grew on his face.
"She would of loved you," he added.
"I love you."
Sully reached forward to kiss her lips.
"I love you too," he whispered. "Thank you for helping me fix the door...to my heart."
The End
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