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1908, Beecher's Hope
A thudding sound filled the air of the master bedroom in Beecher's Hope as Abigail punched her pillow in frustration. It was the third time this week that sleep had eluded her.
"What's the matter, darlin'?" John asked, half asleep, moving his arm out towards her in an open invitation for her to come closer to him.
" What's the matter ? What's … the … matter ?" She growled, emphasising every word he had just said to her back to him through gritted teeth. "I can't sleep because I'm so damn uncomfortable. And there's your damn snoring, John Marston… all of this is your fault, you know." Throwing his arm back towards him, she flopped back down in the empty space next to him.
"So you keep tellin' me," he chuckled lightly, ignoring her earlier protests, and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her towards him. "And while I may have played a small part in makin' you feel this way, I think you'll find that it's this one here who is causin' all the trouble," he grinned, placing a protective hand on Abigail's ever-growing baby bump.
Not being able to resist a chance to swipe at her husband she muttered, "Small part indeed," under her breath, causing John to shoot her a pretend hurt look. Taking a second to steady her thoughts, Abigail apologised, placing a hand on John's chest. "I'm sorry. I'm just fed up of bein' pregnant now. I just wanna meet our daughter."
"Daughter?" John raised a quizzical eyebrow towards her. "How can you be certain it's a girl?"
"I'm not, but this time feels completely different to when I was carryin' Jack… so I've just got it into my head it's a girl this time."
John kissed the top of his wife's head, feeling her instantly relax into his body. "Well, I can't wait to meet them either, no matter if they're a boy or a girl, but you need to get some rest before they get here. You're cranky enough as it is without sleep; throw in a newborn awake all hours of the night, and I reckon you'll kill us all," he teased, rubbing her back.
Abigail nodded with heavy eyes, "I know… I know. But I think I might be able to sleep now - you're far comfier than my pillow is… even if you are still quite boney."
John playfully rolled his eyes at her insistence to always get a dig in at him. He knew that while her barbed comments may seem uncaring to an outsider; he used to think the same thing himself when she'd make comments whilst living in camp together, he came to realise that her callous words were just a way of hiding how scared she was of saying how she really felt about him out loud. While John might have appreciated Abigail telling him that she loved him out loud, he already knew that she did and would smile to himself when she tried to hide the fact once more under an insult to his face.
Brushing a loose hair from her angelic like features, trying not to laugh as she swatted his hand away, John grinned, watching her finally fall asleep. He couldn't help but internally kick himself that he never wanted to do any of this all that time ago when she was carrying Jack and was never really around for them both in the years following his birth.
He'd always held a soft spot for Abigail, ever since she first walked into camp all those years ago, the sting of her sharp witted tongue dulled by her outstanding beauty. But within a few months of meeting her, she'd fallen pregnant and told him he was the father and it suddenly felt it was like someone had placed a giant millstone around his neck. Back then John just wanted to drink and be merry with his campmates and had thought his life was to have a greater meaning than being a sole provider to two of his campmates. He even ran away from his responsibilities for a whole year to try and find out what it was he really wanted from life, but that hadn't helped him find what it was that he was looking for. No, it had just left him with a feeling of guilt and regret he'd left his chance of having a proper family behind. He'd come back with his tail between his legs, but still couldn’t summon the courage to be a proper father to little Jack, let alone be a good partner to Abigail.
He had tried though, in the years that followed, especially after they finally got Jack back from the clutches of Angelo Bronte, and later on in the aftermath of the gang's demise, John had tried to give Abigail and Jack what they needed from him; but it never seemed enough. They'd rent a room somewhere while they both looked for good, honest work… and within a few weeks, or months if they were lucky, they'd be moving on again. Abigail nagging once more at him that it was because John couldn’t help but get himself in trouble for trying to protect them.
But watching his wife sleep soundly carrying their second child and knowing their eldest was safe in a bed of his own, with a roof over his head, it suddenly dawned on John that this right here was what he'd been looking for for all that time; stability and safety for his family. He'd spent years looking over his shoulder making sure no-one could hurt the two things he loved most in this life, and only now with Arthur's death avenged and Micah laying dead up on that mountain, the unbearable weight had been lifted from John's shoulders. For the first time in a long time, it felt like they could live the life Arthur had sacrificed himself for and John could finally breathe again.
Closing his own eyes, he started to dream of all the good things that could be waiting for his ever growing family in this new chapter of their lives… only to be rudely awoken by Abigail sleeply hitting his chest.
"Damnit John, quit with the snorin' will ya?"