Hey,

So I'm trying something new - this is an AU fic. Interested to hear any feedback you may have. I already have 50 pages or so written, but I'm going to post smaller updates over the next few weeks as I continue to write...hopefully this will avoid the *ahem* lengthy spaces in time where I leave you all hanging for the next chapter. :)

Enjoy. Or don't. Whatever works for you.

She was cold. Her shoulders hunched in a futile attempt to keep warm as she sighed irritably. Grumbling to herself, she burrowed her gloved hands deep into the pockets of her heavy coat. Chin pressed tight against her chest, she trudged methodically through the snow; desperately trying to ignore the frantic wind that found its way through every crack in her carefully layered clothes.

Skimming across the top of the frozen snow she trod carefully; not wanting to slip. Her hip still hurt from her fall last night; and she was barely able to control her grimace each time her left foot hit the ground. Falling directly onto her revolver had been a stupid mistake; and as her holstered gun rubbed unsympathetically against the large bruise it had left she took it as a punishment for her error. In a different situation, it could have been a deadly mistake.

Her flashlight provided a small circumference in front of her. Everything else was a blur of frozen blackness; as if she were in outer space. It was the kind of cold that made her hands freeze and prickle with fire; it seized the air from her burning lungs and gave her an instant headache. It had been this cold for weeks; and if the wind was any indication, it would continue for days to come. The air felt heavy and damp, as if snow was about to fall any second. If possible, her mood was even fouler than the weather.

As she approached the barn a shrill whinny traveled by the wind and she managed to muster a tight-lipped smile. Thundering hooves loudly traversed the icy ground and she could accurately pinpoint the mare's origination and subsequent path in from the field as the noise came closer, shattering the silence of the dark winter night.

The sliding barn door protested shrilly as she shoved it open just enough for her to slide through. Reaching up, her trembling hand found the light bulb and she twisted it firmly until it grudgingly sputtered to life. She walked down the barn aisle, turning on all of the subsequent lights in the same manner, enjoying the various greetings from the animals huddled inside. They were equally desperate to avoid the chill of the night just as she was, save for the dimwitted mare out alone. In the dim light her smile widened when the heavy, sleep-laden eyes of the older mare blinked gently. The mare nickered gently; as soft as a caress, and as her eyes adjusted to the light they were filled with adoration.

"You only love me because I give you food," she told the dark mare as a carrot appeared from the pocket of her jacket. When the mare's head appeared over the door to receive the treat, she picked a few pieces of straw from her thick forelock and straightened her mane.

"You're one of the smart ones, staying in here out of the wind. Your idiot daughter is all the way down back, taunting the coyotes." The horse munched the carrot happily, ignoring the frantic snorts of the younger mare as she finally made her way in; nostrils flaring and tail held high.

"Hi, idiot." The warmth in her voice betrayed her demeaning greeting. She entered the stall, the stunning palomino standing proudly in front of her with flashing eyes and heaving sides. The horse stepped forward and pushed its muzzle into her pocket, confident that there was another carrot.

"You think you're so smart," she said as she produced the expected treat. She pulled through the mare's forelock and rubbed behind her ears. Her thick winter coat made her almost white in color; a far cry from the gold tones she wore the rest of the year. Pressing herself in between the powerful necks of the two horses, she greedily absorbed their warmth. For several minutes she enjoyed the utter tranquility that she could only find in the barn this late at night. The horses exhaled as they gently explored the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped from her hat; causing her to laugh when their crystalline-covered whiskers tickled her face.

"Okay, let's get you set," she said finally as she extricated herself from between the two mares. Moving quickly she unlocked the feed stall and gathered a generous amount of hay and tossed it in the corner of the stall. As they moved to eat she picked the stalls clean and added extra straw.

A shrill shriek caused her to jump and she self-consciously rubbed the back of her neck once she realized what caused the sound. Taking off her heavy gloves, she pushed her hair back; her dark eyes darting around sheepishly even though she knew she was alone.

She strode purposely down the aisle of the barn to the last stall; the large light-colored forms inside appearing before her eyes easily despite the dim light.

"You're an asshole," she addressed the pompous gander that was responsible for the noise. He waggled his tail feathers at her and let out a loud hiss as she opened the door.

The friendly female geese waddled heavily over; eager for the stale bread that would undoubtedly appear from the deep pockets in her coat. Crumbling up for them she scattered it across the straw-laden bedding; watching with affection as they cocked their heads and chattered deeply to each other in excitement.

"Fuck off," she swiped one long leg out at the gander when he nipped at her pant leg. "What makes you happy about being such a miserable dick all the time?" He regarded her seriously, as if he was considering her question.

Making sure they had enough pellets and cracked corn, she closed the stall door that would keep them safe for the evening. They had already lost four geese and countless chickens this winter to the coyotes; despite the aggressive gander and patrolling donkeys. It had been such a long and brutal winter the coyotes were becoming more and more brazen and were willing to take a potentially life-ending kick from the ill-tempered donkeys.

"Too bad they didn't get you," she retorted as he nipped at her again when she turned to leave the stall.

Muttering further insults under her breath, she checked to make sure all of the other animals were fed and watered before locking up the valuable feed and hiding the key. She spent over an hour tidying up around the barn, preparing for the next day, and making sure each animal had clean bedding and enough water for the night.

Finally, her hands numb, she was finished. Making sure the eggs she had collected from the geese, ducks, and chickens were cushioned carefully in the straw-filled wire basket, she glanced around the barn once more; ensuring everything was done to her liking. Managing a tight smile, she nodded to herself; pleased.

Closing the heavy door behind her, she burrowed her head down into the recess of her coat and shoved her trembling hands back into her gloves in preparation for the trip back to the house.

"Great. More snow," she said aloud to herself. In the short time it had taken to complete her chores, a light dusting already covered the ground. She didn't bother clicking on her flashlight for the journey back to the house, better to save the batteries. Besides; the house sat like a beacon high on the hill and was lit up like a goddamned Christmas tree.

It was easy, in the darkness and swirling snow, to miss the small set of footprints and occasional drops of blood in the newly fallen snow that had followed hers to the barn; footprints that did not belong to her.

She was covered in snow by the time she stomped back up to the house. As soon as she got inside she flung her sodden hat and coat off, releasing her thick mane of unruly brown curls and scattering water droplets everywhere. The house wasn't overly warm, but it still was a wonderful contrast to the frigidness of the winter night outside.

"Leona!"

She cringed at the voice.

"What, Ma?"

"Don't get the floor soaking wet. How many times do I have to tell you?" Her mother stood; hands on her hips, a pile of unfolded laundry at her feet. A little dog ran around at her feet; complete with oversized ball in her mouth and wagging tail.

"Sorry," she muttered as she grabbed one of the towels to wipe up her mess.

"It's okay," her mother's voice softened as she resumed her folding. "Everyone alright down there? Looks like its getting nasty out."

"It is." Twin pairs of dark eyes met, each acknowledging the worry mirrored there. "Snow's coming down heavy."

The older woman sighed almost imperceptibly as she took the basket of eggs from her daughter. "Well, something's gotta give sooner or later. They can't just expect people to starve. I mean, really, how long does this have to go on? I'm scraping by here the best I can but if they come and take anything from us we won't have enough to get by." Her face began to fluster as her voice became shrill.

Leona glanced toward the hall, spying a small shadow. She jutted her angular chin out at her mother and motioned in that direction before sitting down in a vacated chair at the table. The dog eagerly put paws up on Leona's lap and she tickled behind her furry ears.

"We can always just give them that nasty gander," she smiled in attempt to lighten her words. "He bit me in the ass again tonight."

"No!" Pajama-clad feet ran into the room; and a hurtling body flew onto Leona's lap. "We can't spare Happy, he's my best friend!" The little boy's ice blue eyes were wide with worry.

"Leona, watch your language," her mother chastised halfheartedly. "And Fonso, you know we'd never bring ill will onto Happy."

"I'd be happy having Happy for dinner," Leona responded as she hugged her brother. She grinned at him to show she was only joking. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

She picked up the boy effortlessly and held him up toward their mother. "Kiss Ma," she ordered. "Alright, bed. I'll be right in to tuck you in."

"And to make sure it's safe," Fonso added seriously as he trotted to his room.

"And to make sure it's safe." Leona agreed.

Her mother regarded his departing form; worry etched on her finely-lined face. "He's not alright."

"He'll be fine. Just let him be."

"This is all your father's fault," her mother argued. "I swear to God above if I find him, I'll kill him."

"Ma, I can't do this tonight. I'm tired."

"I know. I'm sorry." She continued folding the laundry as the younger woman kicked off her tall boots. She glanced at her daughter; sensing the underlying tension that didn't match her confident aura. "Leona, are we going to be okay?"

She regarded her mother warily; the strain palpable on her angular features. "I don't know. I hope so."

Before her mother could add anything else, she kissed her gently on the cheek before making her way upstairs.

Fonso was already in bed, his small body almost invisible under the barrage of blankets. His dark hair was mussed, and she suspected that he had already been asleep before being awoken by their mother's shrill voice. He watched her intently, holding his breath in anticipation of what would come next.

Leona ignored him for several seconds as she made a careful sweep of the room; her posture tall and unflinching, her intelligent eyes canvasing every possible inch of the room. She bit back an insult at the prone form of her older brother who lay slumbering obnoxiously in the adjacent bed.

"Look under the beds," Fonso whispered. His small hands clutched the edges of the blankets.

She hated seeing him like this.

She bit back a groan as she got down on her hands and knees to check under both beds.

"Nothing but dust bunnies under there, little man."

"Okay."

"Goodnight." She kissed him on the top of the head and helped him wriggle further under the covers. "Keep underneath, okay? It's cold out there tonight."

He nodded in agreement.

She gave a final disparaging look toward her other brother as she left the room, clicking off the light on her way.

Her room was adjacent to the one the boys shared and she was grateful the small bathroom was unoccupied. She bit back a grimace as she undressed and unclipped her revolver; her bruise an obnoxious contrast to her otherwise olive-tinted skin. Washing quickly, she eagerly changed into her warm pajamas and slid into thin slippers. Glancing at her sullen face in the mirror, she jutted her chin out at her reflection before leaving the room.

As she crawled into bed she double checked to make sure the revolver's safety was on before sliding it underneath her pillow. She closed her eyes; now grateful for the darkness and the warmth of the blankets.

The house was still and quiet, despite the howling wind. If she strained her ears she could make out the quiet sounds of her mother working downstairs; the gentle sigh of the clean laundry being put away, and the quiet taps of the eggs sliding against each other as they were put into the refrigerator. Finally, her favorite sound, the gentle and methodical click of the dog nails as they made their way carefully up the wooden stairs and down the hall. The clicks stopped abruptly, and Leona felt the full weight of the dog on her chest. Wasting no time, the dog licked every inch of Leona's face before settling down under the covers to sleep.

She smiled into the darkness and shut her eyes.

An hour later she was awoken by a strange sound and her hand found her gun underneath her pillow instinctively. She sat upright; dark eyes scanning the darkness for movement. The noise sounded again and she realized it was the distant horn of a lonely freight train echoing off of the barren walls of the under furnished room.

There hadn't been a train in these parts for years. The nearest crossing was miles away in town and the last time she had crossed the tracks they were overgrown and unmanaged. How could there be a train? If new tracks were being built, someone would have said something. She would have heard about it somehow, wouldn't she have?

When she was a child, the quiet peace of the countryside was frequently interrupted as the trains passed each other, one heading West and the other East. During the day, cars spent minutes waiting at crossings as the slow-moving behemoths lumbered pass. At times the lines at the crossing would be backed up for a country mile due to a train breaking down. Farmers driving tractors, ranchers on horseback, and mothers who were chronically late in picking their children up from the local daycare were forced to either wait impatiently or turn around and choose a different route. As night fell, Leona's dreams would always feature a long and low moaning monster. She and her friends would talk about it at school; regardless of how many times the parents or teacher would explain that it was nothing more than a simple train, the children didn't believe.

As the children grew up, the trains proved to be a challenge instead of something to fear. Leona spent hours on the tracks with her friends; playing chicken with the oncoming trains, catching a ride on a lumbering caboose, gleefully lining the tracks with pennies, and tormenting the hitchhikers who would jump off in the middle of a cornfield. Once she reached high school, the frequency of the trains began to decrease. Leona had outgrown the desire (and truthfully didn't have the time) to visit the tracks anyway; there were chores to be done, books to read, and essays to complete. Some of her classmates weren't as lucky; faced with the impending future of what it mean to be an 'adult', it was a common occurrence for a despondent teenager to sacrifice himself to the monster of his childhood dreams by walking the tracks at night. Staring down the bright light of the train as it came closer and closer; the low warning moan would cause the ground beneath his feet to tremble with the fear of what was to come. Still, he would will it to consume him, and accept his fate readily. Rumor had that one boy's shoes were found in the next town over.

As quickly as it came, the agonizing drone gently faded as the train headed further toward its destination. She furrowed her brow; trying to remember the last time a train had gone through these parts. It had to be at least ten years. Shipping had evolved, and most of the trains were phased out. The once bustling commuter train to the city was long abandoned as the divide between city and country furthered and as the jobs available for the country folk decreased. People moved to the city, seeking a stable meal and reliable energy, leaving their vacant houses and half-grown crops. The trains had nothing to give or take anymore, and simply ceased to be necessary. The Royal Family had taken full control of product distribution, and as far as she knew they were only using trucks.

Envious of the train headed for a greater adventure she lay awake, her dark eyes luminous in the gentle light that reflected off of the blinding snow and streamed in from the threadbare curtains. She listened for any other sounds; pleased that nothing else was out of the ordinary. From the pronounced ticking of the grandmother clock on the downstairs mantle to the subtle hum of the heating system as it struggled to maintain the drafty farmhouse on such a cold night, everything was as it should be. Each simple nuance held a memory from long ago fresh in her consciousness as if she were a child again.

If only she could be so lucky to start over. She imagined what it would feel like to be an infant again; helpless and vulnerable. Not altogether very different from how she already felt. If she were able to start over, would she be born to parents who had prayed for her and cooed over every wiggling finger and chubby toe? Or would she be born unwanted, left to fend for herself while wrapped in a blanket and dumped at the local Baby Safe Haven? Times like these they were becoming more populated. When you live in a dying small town with nothing to do besides give the boys blow jobs behind the 7-11, it isn't surprised that an alarming percentage of girls in her class had been pregnant with no money to support a baby.

Her toes curled tightly against the inherited blanket, the same one she loathed sleeping under when she shared her grandmother's bed in this very house; this very room, as a child, she thought back to how things were before. Before she was old enough to understand cause and effect and before she was old enough to understand love and hate. Before she could fathom how tightly the latter two could be intertwined, and just how powerful the feelings could be.

Hatred can be created like a fine gourmet meal. As long as there are ingredients available, hatred can be concocted with enough flair and finesse to hide the true complexity of the dish. Like any talented chef, Leona had managed to mixed up a wicked brew of bubbling, sputtering, hatred toward almost everything effortlessly. A pinch of doubt about her intelligence, a generous dash of disheartened ego combined with an overage of dreadfully low self-esteem, a sprinkle of two dysfunctional parents, topped off with finely grated anger about her present situation had resulted in a dangerous recipe. Topped with an unearned swagger and deadly precision with a revolver, Leona was a ticking time bomb placed in the middle of a mine field surrounded by delicate flowers.

Now, old enough to realize that things were never going to change for her, she still felt too young to accept the fact that her chance to make things good for herself was indeed over.

"Enough," she muttered to herself, her hands twisting in the blankets. She had a long day ahead of her; one just like all of the others. She needed sleep; four am would come much too soon.

She heard the low moan of the train again; once more, as it reverberated its way out of the valley. It was headed East, which made no sense. There was nothing there, not anymore.