Disclaimer: Never have, never will own anything. Ever.

A/N: My dear readers, I'm so sorry to have left you with such a cliffhanger for so long. As of right now, I'm planning on continuing this story, but it will be a slow, stuttering process. Hope that you enjoy what comes along. Have a lovely Valentine's Day!

Dear Journal,

Last night, after I finished my letter, I was entirely too emotional to continue writing my entry.

The letter I received was from my beloved Will, as you, my one confidante, have most likely assumed.

There. I have tucked it into your pages, along with the still fresh flower that was wrapped within the wrinkled note.

My Dearest Viola,

Forgive me for I will have to be germane. I have not much time to write. I am in your village, and I have found passage for the two of us back to England.

Meet me in the stables tonight, at eight o'clock, or whenever you are most at ease to slip away tonight from that damned Wessex.

My heart burns after yours, my love.

Ever your loving fool,

-Will Shakespeare

Ah! If I had had the time, I might have traced the impressions his fingers and pen made in the parchment, but luckily, I needn't fret too much about treasuring the ghost of his hands. The real Will was near enough that I would soon be able to touch his warm hands myself. His letters seemed much less substantial than they had over the past year.

Coming out of my reverie and romance (or as much as I might be expected to), I realized that it was nearly eight then, and I would need to gather the few things I would require.

Raising suspicion in my hated spouse was not even a question to be considered. Wessex had been stupid with drink all evening, sneering and slurring epithets at my son that I choose not to reflect upon. He eventually toppled over a chair. It had not taken long for him to start snoring.

Before leaving that house which held no sentiment for me, I collected spare clothing for Nathaniel and myself, his things, my letters, and finally, my son. Our son. Nathaniel.

How I had stopped when I considered this most important factor in our getaway! What would Will think of his toddling son? I am sure he would be pleased with him. Still, I suppose I am so accustomed to Wessex's frigidity and intolerance that I have little faith in paternal pride.

When I responded to Will's first letter, I had not been entirely certain of my condition, so I had dared not mention the pregnancy, for fear that if I were wrong, it would somehow, unnecessarily complicate some matters beyond my knowledge.

I wish that I had given voice to my concerns, especially considering that Will had only secured two places on whichever ship he had come from. Of course, they would—they must—allow a baby aboard. Little Nathaniel would take up no room at all, and his little appetite could not require victuals enough to make a difference in the ship's economy.

Will is staring at me again. I must go.

-Viola