The Fateful Heart

Evaline was so sure that James wasn't going to be impressed with the gift, but then he gently took the book out of her hand and started talking.

And the more he talked, the more she realized she thought about it all wrong. James was thrilled. This was verified when he let out the biggest smile and, later, a small squeal.

His happiness was contagious, and it won out any anxiety that kept teasing her for the whole day. Evaline copied his smile and let out a warm laugh.

"I'm so glad you like it," she said with a smile meeting her eyes, watching as he seemed to hug the book. She impulsively decided to just say the things she wanted to tell him before, even though she could feel her cheeks turning warm—but it wasn't out of embarrassment.

"I wanted to give it to you as a thank you gift. I know it's not much, but I wanted to thank you for, well, everything. I know I probably slow you down, but..."

She wanted to feel nervous with these words, but with James in the most elated mood she had ever seen from him, it was hard to feel that way.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm glad we're travel companions, and I appreciate you putting up with me."

Because at the same time, it was also an apology present for all the things she did wrong in the past. The lies, the deceit, the anger, the violation...

But she didn't quite have the courage to say that part.

James continued to hold the book close, and his smile faded as Evaline spoke. Not for lack of excitement, or for lack of happiness - but he knew what she was saying was sincere, and he wanted to listen and take it seriously.

He looked back up at her, and took in a deep breath, releasing some of the tension and holding the book at his stomach instead.

"I really appreciate the gift, Evaline. More than you know," he said slowly. "And--"

He sighed, and smiled again.

"The feeling's mutual. I'm glad you're here, and I'm more than happy to have you as a traveling companion."

Evaline smiled, meeting his eyes for a second before dropping it to the ground, then back at James, then away again. It looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead she shot him another shy smile and pulled the book behind her back, turning around to walk forward again.

"No need to get sentimental now," she said as light attempt of a joke as she glanced back at him with the beginnings of a smirk. "It doesn't fit your mean face on the wanted posters."

James blinked, and his smile disappeared. He turned to hurry to follow Evaline, leading Elliot behind and still holding the book in one hand.

“Wait, what?”

He wasn’t sure what she even meant by that.

“You saw... more than one? You saw some?”

Evaline immediately knew she messed up. The mood shifted, and James hurried back along the steady pace, worry steeped into his voice.

Why, of all things, did she mention the wanted poster? James was so happy and she just... ugh.

She tried to not let the regret or panic show, but it was difficult to do.

"Yes. I saw them," she said quietly, grateful that the night could somewhat shield their faces from each other.

James didn't say anything at first. Of course she might've seen the posters. She went to the sheriff's station, and the likelihood of his face being somewhere there, on display, was very likely. But why bring it up? Did something about them leave a lasting impression? He himself had seen a poster or two - well, only the one kind, really.

It was kind of like seeing a ghost. A ghost of his past.

It had only been a year, and yet, he was a far different person than the person depicted on the posters.

He looked out into the forest, then at the ground, and cleared his throat.

"Well... they're probably outdated," he commented. "Though I - I think they made me look angrier than I normally look. People who draw portraits are prone to... exaggerate."

Evaline almost wanted to laugh from the irony of his words. If she wasn't the one who updated the posters, she might have even teased him.

She felt like she had to tell him, but she didn't want to. But she still felt like she had to. But... well. Would he be disappointed?

The picture of his scruffy beard that Butch had criticized. It didn't look too far off from him now. It wouldn't be the case if Butch hadn't come in and told her everything she should change. She tried to defiantly defy his words by changing the little things, like wrongfully placing the scar or changing the part of his hair, but it didn't change the fact that it still looked like him.

She glanced back at him to note his changeable features, which really was just his hair and beard.

"Do you think it's time for a new look?" she asked after a brief pause of silence between them. "Maybe have bangs, and grow out your beard, but not too long."

James frowned and looked over at her, though he couldn't quite perceive her features in the dark.

"Do you think I still look too much like the posters?"

It was a fair assessment, of course, but... bangs? He didn't know if he would look good, but of course, that hardly mattered as a wanted man.

Not the old one, she wanted to say, but the words were stuck at her throat.

Evaline wondered if he was somehow going to wring this information out of her too, but she wasn't keen on just handing it over.

"Well..." she began, picturing the new poster she drew that resembled him more. Did Butch ever return to the station to point out which of the three posters would be the most accurate? Maybe it wouldn't be around towns at all. Maybe it was a one in three chance. Those were still terrible odds.

"You were certainly drawn to look a lot angrier. And there were some features that aren't accurate, but... you're still recognizable."

James had to stop for a moment, as a thought occured to him.

Evaline has seen his posters. She’d gone to the sheriff’s office. She’d gotten a job as a sketch artist.

No. That would - no. A coincidence like that was too uncanny. But—?

“Evaline... you didn’t - were you -“ he stuttered.

“Did you have to draw me?”

Evaline wasn't sure what gave it away, but a part of her was glad that James seemed to figure it out without her having to outright admit it. Other than the shock in his voice, she wasn't sure what he thought of this.

This time, she was the one who slowed down and stopped walking. She didn't think James would be mad, but she didn't want to risk having any more negative moments that leads to tension lasting for days.

"I—I didn't want to," she began, skipping over the question and already trying to defend herself. "But the sheriff insisted. So I tried to give you features that look less like you, and I might have gotten away with it, but Butch came in, and he—well, I made the changes, and now I'm not so sure that..."

She looked away and bit her lip, shaking her head.

"I don't know which poster they'll pick, but one of the posters does look more like you now," she said quietly.

James stopped, and he wished he could see her expression more clearly. But he could hear it in her voice. She was worried about how he would react. Anxious. And sorry. He could tell that she was without her even saying it - and he didn’t want her to. This wasn’t something she needed to apologize for.

“Evaline,” he saild calmly, reassuring. “You had no way of knowing any of that would happen. It’s not your fault.”

He hesitantly reached out and touched her shoulder.

“It’s okay. Worst comes to worst, I grow out my beard. We keep traveling. And Life goes on. You did what you had to do. I understand.”

Evaline let his words sink in, and she turned to look at his hand on her shoulder.

James wasn't mad, or disappointed, or blame her in any way. That was a relief. She didn't strike him as someone who would be as this was something beyond her control, but the irrational side of her that was prompted by guilt kept saying that he will blame her.

After all, if that poster ends up helping a bounty hunter to recognize and thus capture him, how could he not blame her? How could she not blame herself?

He said he understood. He said it wasn't her fault, and she was glad to hear that, but it didn't alleviate any guilt.

"Grow out your beard," she quietly echoed, turning to face him, but not to meet his eyes. He had a stubble now, just like the poster.

"You could do that. But not too long, because I also had to draw that."

She honestly wasn't sure if this would even help at all, but at least she'd feel a little less guilty if he looked different now.

James smiled a little.

“Sure. I can do that. I’ve never really grown a full beard before, so you’ll have to tell me how it looks. Mirrors are hard to come by around here.”

He pulled his hand away and hoped a little bit of light humor would help with whatever was weighing on her, but he knew it was only a small offer.

A little part of her thought she'd wanted James to worry with her to reaffirm her thoughts and rationalize away the paranoia, but she ended up appreciating him not taking this route, instead brushing it off with a lighthearted attempt of humor.

The edge of her lips turned up a little, but it felt force. She replayed the memory of James being giddy in her head, and that certainly helped alleviate the anxiety a bit.

"Maybe, if you'd let me," she attempted to quip back, but her voice was monotone. "Since, you know, worst style and all."

It was hard to tell if this was an attempt to tease him, or if she was expressing the pettiness from him tearing apart her peasant outfit all those weeks ago. It certainly didn't help that she looked at him with a blank face with her usual almost-frowning expression.