The origin of this story is a ficlet prompt that I was sent on Tumblr, where the sender asked for a Sasil story that was set 5-10 years after the Season 1 finale. So I wrote it up and it ended up being very long (clearly a sign I had a lot to talk about!) and I realized that I really loved this AU with Hasil and Sally Ann and what happened in the years they've been apart. Readers of the ficlets (A Beautiful Thing) will recognize Chapter 1 (there, it's Chapter 18: "Brought Back to Life"), but the chapters that follow are entirely original to this story. Enjoy!

Walking down the hallway of the lawyer's office, Hasil glanced up at the harsh florescent lighting that blanketed the walls and carpet with its lifeless, uniform glare. He blinked rapidly and had to look away. So many winters he had been coming here and he still could never quite get used to it.

His task for the rest of the day was relatively simple: at the home supply store, he was supposed to pick up an assortment of items – some metal tools and seed packets, a new pair of glasses for Krake, a replacement chain for the motorized saw they had acquired two winters ago – and pay for it all with the blank check now folded in half inside his pocket. These days, there was no more stealing when they went on runs, no more showing up and scaring everyone half to death. It was mostly just Hasil, driving down the mountain in the truck every few weeks or so, a more familiar presence to the town's inhabitants, even if he still remained an object of some curiosity.

Things had changed for the clan in the eight winters since that sweltering day when Big Foster died and the invaders made their way onto their land. The mountain, as always, had protected her children, sending the storm with lightning and thunder, the invaders scattering in its wake. After that, everyone down there – the police, the coal company – seemed to understand that there was no real question about getting the clans to move off the mountain, and besides, there were few people willing to go up there to work, not when it involved the risk of deadly storms or unexplained cave-ins. So the company struck a deal with the clans, and promised to leave them alone as they dug a handful of mines on a small, uninhabited part of the mountain. After several days of bargaining, they also agreed to pay for accompanying water and timber rights, all that money going into a trust that the clans could access, with Hasil and G'win as its executors.

G'win had become a strong Bren'in, ruling judiciously over all of them. No one had challenged her leadership, not even Little Foster, whom she had finally married after a tumultuous but rewarding courtship, and now they had a fine four winters-old son, a red-headed terror named Foster Farrell the Eighth, the pride and joy of his father's heart. As for Asa, no one had seen or heard from him after the day he killed Big Foster; all they found was the door to the box wide open, the keys still sitting in the lock, the man himself up and gone like the powerful and brief summer storm he had always been.

Not as much had changed in Hasil's life. He still lived in his cabin, sitting on his porch and carving animals on warm summer nights, helping Krake man the still with the knowledge that one day it would be his to operate alone. He had finally become a reader, mostly so he could decipher the documents presented to him at the lawyer's office, but every so often on one of the runs he purchased a book along with all the other supplies. At first, he had made slow progress in his abilities, but soon enough he found himself tearing through book after book, always eager to know more. Right now, he was in the middle of a story about a boy named Tom Sawyer, and he was looking forward to later tonight, when he could sit with his book in the soft lantern light and lose himself in the escapades of Tom and his friends.

Hasil had likewise settled into his role as unofficial liaison between the mountain and the town; he liked coming down every so often, even though he mostly kept to himself. Being down here, it reminded him of all the things that were possible in the world and, almost always, it reminded him of her. She, too, had left on that summer day, and even though he had searched for her again and again, all that fall and into the winter, he had never seen her again. She was a steadfast figure in his dreams, though, her smile always sweet and bright as the mid-day sunshine, and then he would wake, a sense of loss and emptiness coiling like a dull ache through his chest.

He pushed the glass door open – it gave easily against his hand – and walked outside onto the sidewalk, the skies overcast and a faint autumn chill lingering in the air. The truck was parked right out front and as he walked towards it, he started digging around in his pocket for the keys. It was only once he reached the door, the key held firmly in his outstretched hand, that he looked back along the sidewalk, catching a glimpse of something in his peripheral view. There was a bench about twenty feet away, and sitting on it was a woman. But it wasn't just any woman. It was her.

At first, Hasil didn't understand what he was seeing. Perhaps he was dreaming while he was awake, experiencing some small vision, the kind he knew was granted to members of his clan from time to time. Perhaps he had just gone crazy. Because she looked exactly the same, just like the girl he had met in the store, the girl with warm brown skin and two beautiful names whose hair and eyes and smile had radiated with burnished light, the girl who he had lost his heart and his soul to so many summers ago.

For one moment, he let himself entertain the thought that she was real, that she had finally come back to him after all this time.

And then she stood up, looking right at him in that cautious, expectant way she always had. The strangest thing, though, was that she wasn't alone. Sitting behind her on the bench was a small girl, maybe six or so winters old by Hasil's estimation, a halo of chestnut-colored curls atop her head. Her skin was a golden, tawny brown, but there was no mistaking that heart-shaped face, the wide, dark eyes that made you want to drown within their depths. The girl was Sally Ann's, there was no question.

All Hasil could do was stare as she wrapped the girl's hand in her own and they began to walk towards him. Even if he had wanted to, he wasn't even sure he could speak, not with his heart lodged in his throat and the beat of it thrumming violently in his veins. There were too many thoughts, too many questions spinning around his head, all wrapped up in hope and fear and wonder and disbelief, and he could feel his knees buckling just a bit. It was like seeing a ghost, someone brought back to life.

The two of them stepped around the front of the truck, coming to a halt a few feet away from him. The girl leaned towards Sally Ann, eyeing Hasil warily as she pressed her face half-way against her mother's waist.

"Hey," Sally Ann said. Her eyes were warm and bashful, a tiny smile on her lips, as if she was trying somehow to make light of her single-word greeting.

"Hi," he managed to croak out. He could feel the rough throb of the truck keys in his palm; he hadn't even realized how tightly he had been clutching them.

"It's been a long time," she said, the smile growing a little wider.

"Mmmm-hmmm." At this point, he didn't even think he was capable of words.

"Hasil, I…" She made a little soundless laugh, glancing quickly down at the ground and then back up at him. It took his breath away to see how beautiful she looked. "It's good to see you. But, um… I wanted you to meet someone." She gazed down at the girl, pressing her forward a little with her hip. "This is Lena. My daughter."

Hasil looked down at the girl, seeing again all the clear resemblances to her mother. There were differences, though: her forehead was a little broader, with strong, serious brows arching across it, her nose just a touch more rounded at the end. On some level, it seemed beyond his comprehension that Sally Ann had a child; looking at the two of them, though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, there…" he said to the girl, although it didn't seem to do much to quell her shyness. He tilted his head and gave her a small grin. "Th' pleasure's mine, Miss Lena. My name's Hasil. I'm…" – he glanced up at Sally Ann, their eyes catching for one brief moment – "…well, I'm a ol' friend a' yer ma's."

The girl didn't smile or say anything, but her gaze grew a little softer, and his heart warmed as he watched her stand a little straighter, pulling away from her mother just a bit.

"Will you take a walk with us?" Sally Ann asked. "I remember there bein' a park with a playground a few blocks from here. Unless you got somewhere else to be…" she added, the smile fading slightly from her face.

"Nah, I ain't got nowhere else ta be," he said, shaking his head, and it was true. At this point, there was nothing in the wide world that could have dragged him from her side.

The three of them walked in silence up to the park, but even so there was a hum of something in the air, an anticipatory tension that crackled and sparked each time his arm brushed against hers, each time their gazes momentarily caught. The girl was oblivious, tugging and pulling on her mother's hand, pointing at all the new things that had temporarily captured her attention. And once they reached their destination, her two companions were all but forgotten as she scampered off to play with a few other children atop a large, brightly-colored metal structure in the middle of the grass.

Hasil and Sally Ann found a bench nearby, close enough so she could keep an eye on her daughter, and he found himself sneaking tiny glances at her as they sat side-by-side. Neither of them said anything at first; for Hasil, at least, the moment was so strange and wonderful and unexpected, and while he had so many questions, it was as if he didn't even know where to begin.

"I heard you're still livin' up on the mountain," she finally said.

"Mmmm-hmmm. I com' down ev'ry so often… for supplies an' such," he added. "But wha' 'bout you? Where ya livin' now?"

"We're in Pittsburgh…. It's a big city, about a six hour drive from here."

There were so many things he wanted to know – Why that place? Why did she leave? – but instead, he nodded in the direction of her daughter, all laughs and squeals as she tumbled down the large metal slide.

"Ya got a husband there?" he asked.

"Uh-uh," she said, her gaze dropping down towards her lap. "I was with a man for a while, when Lena was younger, but he's gone now."

Hasil knew he ought to be feeling something – a stab of jealousy, perhaps – but for some reason it wasn't forthcoming. If she had been happy, at least for some time, then that was all that mattered. If he couldn't care for her, protect her, provide for her, then at least there had been someone else that could.

"And you?" she asked, and Hasil could have sworn he heard a waver in her voice. "Are you with anyone?"

"Nah," he replied, glancing over at her, his cheeks rounding slightly as he shook his head. "There weren' no one else, not for me…"

That wasn't the whole story, but none of it was fit for her ears. After she had left, Hasil had been beside himself for weeks and weeks upon end, not knowing how to find her, how to bring her back. It had been the night of the first snowfall when he had finally realized that she was gone for good, that he would probably never see her again, and that night he had gotten so drunk on Farrell wine that even now he couldn't remember half of what he had done. He had woken up with the daylight, two girls – Shay and McGintuk – in bed with him, and he had promptly rolled over and vomited onto the floor. After that, there had been a few other women, mostly when he was in need of physical companionship, but never one he felt much of anything for. Because all ever he saw was her face, her skin under his hands, her lips pressed against his. Some days he had wondered how much longer he could live like this, knowing that his heart no longer remained in his body, that she had taken it with her when she left him. It was on those occasions that he sought refuge in his books, in his carvings, in his long conversations with Krake. But there were always moments that ached something awful, like watching Little Foster run the gauntlet, seeing the love in his eyes for the woman standing in front of him, the woman who would soon bear his child, and the only thing Hasil could think about was how badly he wanted that for himself, and how it would most likely never happen, not in this lifetime at least.

But all that – the sadness and pain, the dark thoughts that haunted him late at night when everyone else had banked their fires – it had vanished, now that she was here, sitting right next to him. For a moment, he wondered whether Sally Ann had harbored similar feelings while they were apart, but he thought the better of asking her. This was not the time for that, he knew. Instead, he glanced back at her daughter, still happily at play.

"She's beautiful," he said.

Sally Ann smiled widely, her cheeks rounding out with pride and pleasure.

"I know," she replied. "Although her doctor says she's small for her age. Don't see why, she eats everythin' in sight."

"How ol' is she?" he asked. He wasn't quite sure why he asked, but there was something that instinctively told him it was important.

"She turned seven in May," she said, turning slightly towards him as she spoke. Her knee momentarily grazed his leg, and rather than pulling it away, she let it linger, allowing the connection between them to remain. "Old enough, though, to start askin' about her daddy."

Hasil said nothing, hearing only the pounding rhythm of his own heartbeat. May, he remembered, was in late spring, a full nine months after late summer. And the girl was already seven winters, older than he had originally thought.

"I didn't just want to tell her about her daddy, and who he was," she continued. "I got this idea, all stuck in my head, that I would introduce her to him. So here we are."

She slowly reached out and placed her hand along his arm. He looked down, his attention captivated by the graceful lines of her fingers, the pale pink nails trimmed so roundly and precisely, the thin golden band she still wore on her first finger. He understood everything she was saying, but still he didn't. Because such a wonder was impossible; yet here it was, the mystery of his own heart, laid right at his feet, and he had no idea what to think.

"Lena, she's mine," she said softly, "but she's yours, too."

Hasil glanced up at her, saying the first thing that came into his mind. "How?"

She bit her lips together, eyeing him in gentle exasperation and amusement. "I don't think I gotta remind you of the 'how,' Hasil. I woulda thought you'd remember."

"Nah, a' course," he said quickly, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "I remember… I def'nitely remember," he added with a smile, feeling heat rushing towards his cheeks. He recalled all the times they had been together, every single instance, all those beautiful days and nights in that deserted house where all they had was each other. They had made a home in that place, at least for a time. But now, it turned out, they had made something else, too. "How come ya didn' say nothin'?"

"I didn't know, not for a while," she said. "And by the time I knew, I was gone, and I didn't know how to come back, how to tell you." She ran her hand down his arm, quickly finding his hand and enfolding it into hers. "I'm sorry, Hasil. I just… I didn't know what to do."

He nodded, pulling her hand more tightly into his grip. "'S okay," he murmured. "Ya'll are here now. Ya brought my child back ta me."

Hasil could feel himself seized by a great wave of emotion, the threat of tears welling in his eyes. Because it was true: so much time had passed, so much sorrow and loss, but it was enough to have her here now, enough to know that together they had made this beautiful and miraculous creature, a living piece of himself that he knew, even now, he would die for.

"I thought about comin' back and tellin' you a thousand times," she continued, "but I didn't. I couldn't imagine what you would say or how you would feel, after so long. I was scared, I guess…"

He could hear a slight tremor in her voice, but even so she kept talking, the words continuing to flow out of her mouth, as if by using so many of them she could outrun what she felt.

"And then knowin' she has this other family, who may not even want her because she's not one of them… it made it so hard to know what to do. So I didn't do anything. But she deserves to know where she came from. And you deserve to know her…" She paused, but just for a moment, taking a quick breath before she began again. "So one morning I got her dressed and instead of takin' her to school, we just got in the car and started drivin'. Once we got here, I didn't know how to find you, but people said you come down every so often…"

"Sally Ann…" he said quietly.

"But now we're here," she continued, shaking her head, "and I don't even know what I'm doin'. I don't know what can come of this." She slowly let out a breath and stared out into the distance, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

"Sally Ann, ya came back," he said as he squeezed her hand. "Tha's all tha' matters. An' tha' girl – my li'l girl – she's got a clan now. They already love 'er. They jus' don' know it yet."

She quickly turned her head back towards him, tiny bright tears gracing the inside corners of her eyes. All he wanted to do was wipe them away, to tell her that everything would be fine now, that he would take care of her and their daughter and she would never have to be afraid of anything ever again. But even as he knew that only a fool would make those kind of promises, it didn't stop him from wanting it all the same. And it didn't stop him from raising his left hand – which still bore the proof of his love for her – and softly brushing his thumb against the delicate edges of her eyes.

"They love her?" she asked.

"Mmmm-hmmm," he murmured. "She's one a' them."

"Could… could she even go up and meet them?" she asked tremulously. "Don't they still have guns?"

"Nah, 's diff'rent now. 'S like how I firs' told ya it was, beautiful an' calm. There's a new leader now… no more guns, no more stealin' from th' town."

"That's too bad," she said, smiling through her tears. "How are you Farrells gonna meet any women that way?" She laughed a little at her own joke, and then he was laughing too, and in the pleasure of the moment, she leaned towards him, letting herself press up against his side, her head resting against his shoulder. It was so wonderful that he closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the warmth and the scent of her.

"We can wait, though, if ya want," he said quietly. "I can jus' come down here for a while, spend time wi' both a' ya'll, get ta know her better. Then, maybe, a li'l later, I can take ya'll up again ta meet ev'ryone. An' this time, I got a truck," he added playfully. "No more walkin'."

"Yeah, okay," she said, letting out a soft sigh. "I'll think about it." She paused for a moment and began to trace her thumb against the back of his hand. "Y'know, Hasil, I always used to think of you and that mountain… On nights when I couldn't sleep, I remembered everythin' you said about the sky and the stars and all the new wonders. The whole time I was gone, I never saw anythin' like that."

Hasil smiled and leaned down so he could gently press his lips against her forehead. Hearing a sudden squeal, he looked across the grass, catching a glimpse of his daughter arcing higher and higher on a swing, the curls of her hair flying every which way, her sweet face alight with joy and happiness.

"Aw, Sally Ann, there's wonders ev'rywhere," he said. "Ya jus' got ta know how ta look for 'em."