Chapter Text
The first time Nicole’s eyes graced the young Waverly Earp the smoke billowed around them as they both departed The Bristolian number 473 locomotive stepping onto the platform amidst the grandeur of Paddington Station; her fiery red hair whipped up a storm around her face it’s cardinal colour attracting every gaze that was in their vicinity; people stared unabashed, faces judged and a few exuded jealousy at the pretty little flaming red creature before them. The only one who didn’t glare, who didn’t stare at her wide eyed and mouth set agape hungry for more, was the petite young lady who she would later come to learn was the youngest of Ward Earp’s daughters, Waverly, the brunette watched Nicole with an awe that cut right through the steaming hiss of the train engine beside them, loud bustling voices and building commotion that indicated their arrival into London; their eyes connected only briefly, lingering, intense; neither smiling but both understanding what the other stranger was feeling with just one pointed look. The world literally slowed down to the the pace of her breath as she held it deep within her chest, lungs burning, stunned by this beauty that wouldn’t look away, holding her gaze passionately.
“Nicole..!”
It jogged her forcefully from her daydream, just as the brick pillar greeted her forehead with an audible ‘thud’ rendering her and her instantly starry vision momentarily dazed; searching around blindly her fogged up vision settled on the girl again, the distance between them was now a good twenty feet in the wrong direction, a worried look printed on the brunette’s face like she longed to stop and ask the redhead if she was okay, but she was bustled further away down the platform by a rough looking gentleman in a dusty brown suit, hard featured his grip on the girl’s forearm made Nicole’s forehead crinkle with concern.
“Nicole..?”
A strong hand on her arm pulled her back to reality as the shadow leaned over embracing her, pressing a small peck to her left cheek, her own hand lightly brushed over the tender bump just above her right eye, no blood, but it would leave a bruise. She focused on the stranger now, his smile warmed her heart, bringing the corners of her mouth into a smile that eventually worked its way up to her eyes as she returned the embrace and held on a little longer than she would have normally, an aching in her heart pushed emotion into her face as it flushed despite her obvious joy at seeing this familiar person again;
“Are you getting soft on me in your old age?”
“Hey!” she pulled away quicker than a hot poker and thumbed him playfully in the arm; “You’re older than me idiot!”
“Older and wiser-”
“Unlikely, older and crankier, especially when you don’t get enough sleep ehh brother?”
She ribbed him and her eyebrows raised a small smirk working its way across her lips in triumph, she’d hit the nail on the head and with a resided sigh Ethan merely nodded his defeat before he offered to carry Nicole’s case and held out his arm so that she could take it and walk with him into the heart of London.
--
“Was it bad at the end?”
His voice was soft, but she heard him and he didn’t need to clarify any further, she knew what he was asking and she was afraid to answer should she not be able to hold her composure. She let the silence beat on for a minute or two before she gripped his jacket a little tighter and swallowed hard.
“It was peaceful-
She lied.
He knew it too.
-She’s with him now, they're together and that's all that matters”
Ethan didn’t press for more information; instead he pulled her tighter into the crease of his shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
“I wish I’d have been there” his voice muffled in her hair.
“Me too” she whispered barely audible.
Truth is she hadn’t been there in the end; she’d been half way across the United States in Arizona when the news arrived by pony express, a short but sweet letter with a hard hitting truth that had sent Nicole flying out of the small dusty town on the next railroad train bound for the Canadian border. For three days she travelled in nothing but the clothes on her back and the shoes on her feet; worn down to the insoles, filthy appearance, her bright crimson hair turned reddish brown by the dirt. She was a mess and amidst the awkwardness it was refreshing, she wasn’t noticed, she wasn’t sneered at or regarded with a feeling of jealousy by other women because their suitors or husbands wouldn’t look away. She wasn’t an officer; her jacket was also covered in dust and unless you were looking you’d be hard pressed to make out her name badge let alone her ranking position. She was just a Haught, just Nicole trying to get home in time. But time and she had had their differences in the past, and time just couldn’t wait for her to say goodbye. It was the family priest who told her her mother had passed in her sleep the night before she arrived on the homestead porch. And just like that, she and Ethan were orphaned in their early twenties. After that everything in their hometown had felt foreign, she now had no fixed abode, she had had to sell the family home to pay for the funeral costs and all the while her only kin was over two thousand miles away on the other side of the world. She’d felt alone for the first time in her life and no amount of familiar places could fill that feeling, she wasn’t sure it ever would again.
Rules were stuck to like steel and women were forbidden to travel unless accompanied by a man which, understandably, infuriated Nicole. It didn’t seem to matter that even in her officers uniform which should have raised flags for her capability and status, she was still judged by her sexual organs and deemed unfit to travel alone. As morning light creaked through the blinds, the redhead was already awake, driving hairpins into her auburn locks, pinning it tight against her scalp under a top hat as she pulled the velvet black jacket over her silk shirt and rearranged the cravat, buttoning the jacket high and the last and final button secured the fabric at her neck, the soft material gently stroking her chin; tight fitted trousers and knee length socks graced the edge of her boots as black on black complimented her finished appearance; a fine young gentleman (woman) ready to make his journey to a new life in England.
And so, on the day of Winter’s first snowfall, Nicole boarded the Great Republic - a clipper ship from Boston to London, under the assumed name of Cole Haught, cane in one hand, case in the other. Nicole watched as the shore of the Americas slowly disappeared from view.