It had been two weeks since Farson's death and Susannah's disappearance, and despite Jon's knowledge that she hadn't deserted the cause he was losing hope that he would see her again. Every day Becky asked when mommy was coming home, and every day he assured her it would be soon, but this morning he'd only been able to say 'I don't know'.

When he heard the knock on the door his heart skipped a beat, but Sue wouldn't knock. Jon opened the door and immediately stepped back in shock. "Hello, Lane."

"Jonathan." Lane nodded, his face void of emotion, but his red eyes giving it away despite his efforts.

"Come in." Jon opened the door further and stepped out of the way. The sinking feeling in his stomach was getting deeper as he saw the box in Lane's hands. The 'slinger also wasn't wearing his guns. Something was not right. "Would you like something to eat? Drink?"

"Whiskey?"

"Scotch?"

"That'll be fine." The gunslinger looked like he needed a good, stiff drink.

Jon poured them both a short glass and they sat at the table. When Lane downed his Jon did the same, expecting his nerves would appreciate it.

After the initial warm sensation receded, Lane pushed the box forward on the table. "A gift, for your daughter. I hear it was her birthday a week back."

Jon nodded and peered inside the box to find an old, beaten teddy bear.

"It was Rebecca's. A gift from a mother she never knew."

Jon didn't like the way he said that, but thanked him before getting to the point. "Sue? Rebecca, I mean? She's… is she…"

"She was executed yesterday afternoon for the deaths of the Council of Gunslingers."

"Executed," Jon breathed the word, squeezing his knees with his hands. "Executed," he said again, trying to marry his wife with the word. She shouldn't have been caught. She was a gunslinger, for Gan's sake. But so were they.

"How did they catch her?" he finally asked.

"She let them." Lane's voice was steady; he'd already done all of his crying. It wasn't the first of his friends he'd watched reach the end of the their path. "She could have been out and gone before they caught her, but she stayed on purpose. There was a lot more going on between her and the Council than anyone ever knew. Veriss…" Lane shook his head. "She didn't want to live with it anymore."

"Man Jesus, Sue." Jon rubbed his face with a hand. He refused to break down in front of this man; brother, friend, lover, whoever he had been to her. "So the Council is dead, and so is Farson, and she was a traitor to us both. Christ."

Lane smiled. "Aye, that's Becka. Traitor to everyone but herself. She sold her soul for the guns and then sold it again to spite the first act."

Lane was quite familiar with this side of Rebecca, but Jon had only ever known Susannah, his wife, and he couldn't understand what he was hearing.

"Would another suit ya?" He asked, nodding to the empty glasses.

"Suit me just fine," Lane replied and sat back. If circumstances were different he could see himself as good friends with this man who Rebecca had grown to love. Indeed, Lane couldn't blame him for falling in love with her. She was a lying, deceiving, self-serving bitch, but there was a spark of life in her that no other woman had, and it was easy to be drawn in.

The gunslinger took the second glass gratefully and downed it before standing. Reaching into his pocket, Lane removed a ring and set it on the table. "She asked me to see that you got this back," he said. "I'm glad you made her happy for a little while."

Jon stood and shook his hand, the ring glistening in the side of his vision. "I will see you then. Good luck."

Lane smirked. "Good luck to you."

They parted ways with the knowledge that they would see each other soon, on the opposite sides of a gun.

xxxxx

The Red Army and the White met on opposite sides of Jericho Hill outside the city. The Gunslingers shot from the cliffs, but they were outnumbered by the men and women in red: Rebecca's Army. She had given each side the best she'd had, and now it would be up to Ka to settle the rest.

Donald Baine was one of the first to fall to his daughter's army. There was no resentment as he reached the clearing at the end of his path, only the wish that he could remember the face of his father in his final moments and do him proud.

Lane Morgan, and any who survived the cliffs, made a final, desperate charge onto the Red Army, knowing the cause was lost but not allowing the shame of living through the massacre. Lane was hit with an unknown bullet, and as he fell he saw Rebecca's face instead of his father's. His blood bloomed red against the white rocks of the hill.

Gilead fell to the newly-appointed Good Man, Jonathan Fairmoor.

xxxxx

Swarms of men – red and white – crowded through the roses at the base of the black, imposing Tower. They walked the stairs single-file, each seeing their own memories in the open doorways, each picking a door to walk through.

Lane watched as his life passed him by and continued walking. He almost opened the door that showed him the memory of the café', but looked up at the dwindling staircase, only a few souls continuing beyond him. He followed them, passed as they opened doors, climbed up the last thin steps and saw a door at the top. There was a girl facing it, her body just beginning to bloom into womanhood. She turned and smiled as he stopped.

"You're going to like this one, Laney-boy. You'll call it your 'beautiful world'." Rebecca took his hand and led him through the doorway to a bright, early summer day by the river where she ran ahead and splashed in.

A/N: That's all, folks. I hope you enjoyed it. If you're interested in that "beautiful world" mentioned at the end, let me know. It's not fanfiction anylonger (or, at least not directly) so I can't post it here, but there's a whole 'nother book-worth of Rebecca, Lane, and Jonathan. And Veriss, of course. You can't have a good Rebecca Story without Veriss. Ciao!