This is a MM from one of my favorite episodes "The Jailer." Yes, there are spoilers!
"Gunsmoke" belongs to CBS. If it were mine, the series would have ended much differently. This is my first GS fic so be gentle... I cry easily.

Reflections By the Gallows

Etta Stone's sons had barely been out of prison when they took the first step in helping their mother seek revenge. Matt Dillon was the target, and Kitty Russell was the bait. A kidnapped and bewildered Kitty fought to keep a ring on her finger, but with the help of one of her sons, Etta was able to remove it. Etta then sent it back to Dodge City with her eldest son, Lou to prove to the marshal that they had the owner of the Long Branch Saloon and his heart, at their homestead.

Upon arriving at the Stone's place, Matt and Kitty were informed the reason the marshal was lured there was so Etta could avenge the hanging of her husband six years prior. Kitty was there to participate as Etta had, those many years ago. Aside from getting to watch Matt's hanging on the morning of the second day, she got would get visitation rights. Pitifully the same as Etta received. Two times a day for ten minutes.

It was her second ten minute visit. Mike Stone held the door for Kitty to enter the tackroom, where Matt was being held before his hanging. Matt was stunned at what he saw.

Kitty's hair was in shambles, as she initially stepped into the room like the walking dead, her face bearing the marks of Etta Stone's anger from the night before. Kitty snapped out of her daze at the sight of Matt, andfor a brief moment lost composure in his arms.

"What happened?" He asked in earnest.

Regaining that lost composure, without missing a beat, Kitty responded in her usual satirical manner. Matt knew it well. She could be the poker faced woman of ice or the sarcastic jokester to retain control of a situation.

"I must look like I fought the war between that states, single handed... and lost."

Matt was undaunted by her automatic reaction of using humor, and escorted her to the edge of the lone cot in the room. He slid beside her quietly.

"Tell me about it. What happened last night?"

Not really knowing where to start, Kitty blurted out.

"That woman's crazy. Do you know what she did? She shot her own son!"

Kitty explained that she had convinced Jake Stone to help in an escape, but was caught by Etta. It sickened Matt to imagine how the reddened hand print came to be on Kitty's cheek. Realizing that Kitty could have been more than just 'slapped around,' was almost more than he could bear.

"Kitty, I'm sorry I got you mixed up in all this."

He stood, crossing away from her. He couldn't say what he needed to voice feeling the warmth of her body so close to him.

"You should have gotten outta here by yourself, when you had the chance."

Kitty reacted to his suggestion like the spitfire he has known her to be.

"And leave you here? Not on your life." Realization hit her. "Or is that a bad joke?"

Ignoring Kitty's gallows humor and trying to stay focused; Matt asked if she had spoken with the two younger people, Ben or Sarah. It seemed that they wanted nothing to do with the hanging. Matt believed that their best chance for escape was with the help of one of them.

"I'll try talking with him, but I don't think she'll be much good. They have her frightened out of her own shadow."

For a brief moment Matt and Kitty gazed at each other. The sound of the gallows continuing to be built outside Matt's window rattled Kitty, snapping their wordless connection. She was afraid for Matt more than herself.

"Matt, we don't have much time."

Always the pillar of strength even in a helpless situation, Matt crouched at Kitty's feet. His steel blue stare searched her sorrowful face, hoping to make her believe.

"Kitty, a lot of things can happen before tomorrow morning."

She saw, in the depths of his crystal gaze, his concern for her. Matt's eyes had always spoken louder to her than his words, but at that very moment they shone deep with a love shadowing a mask of concern. Kitty shifted her eyes to the ground.

"Are you trying to proposition me, cowboy?"

She cocked her head, not making eye contact. Matt gently put a finger under her chin to coax her face up to his. There was a single track from a tear on her cheek, which he tenderly wiped away with his thumb.

Kitty smiled, but her eyes expressed a great sadness. After kissing Matt's thumb, she closed her eyes, rolling her cheek into the palm of his large hand. Seeing her this way felt like a vice on his heart.

"Aw, Kitty honey, come here."

There was a dark need in his voice as he helped Kitty to her feet. Matt threw his shackled hands over her head, pulling her into the safety of his arms. They stood there; souls sharing each other's strength. Her face was buried in his broad chest, while his was in her tousled red hair.

"Promise me you won't do anything crazy, Kit."

Matt could feel her shoulders bounce, as she chuckled against his body.

"We're gonna get outta this, Kitty, together"

Her fisted hands clutched the back of his vest as she clung to him tightly.

Matt whispered, "One way or another we're goin' together."

The next moment the door flew open; their world shared for ten minutes a day, twice a day came to an end.

Reconciliation: Matt Style

Matt stood staring out the window, until his gaze was stifled by the blackness of night. His mind kept wandering back to Kitty, as he tried to consider ways of escape. Succumbing to the cot, Matt's eyes bore through the dark at the ceiling, but found all he could think about was Kitty. Kathleen Russell...a lovely young fiery headed saloon girl who had caught his eye and his heart fourteen years ago.That painted cat had been an irresistible attraction, for any young healthy American boy, he thought. What had started out as possible animal attraction, grew into a connection that he found to be indescribable. Matt smiled to himself, thinking proudly of the brassy girl that had grown into a saloon owner. A girl that had evolved into a strong, smart, beautiful woman.

They had had many a disagreement over the years. For the first time in over a decade, he recalled their first blow out argument. It had been a day that they were to spend together relaxing by Silver Creek. Matt had foolishly suggested that she didn't need to put on the "war paint." Bad move or, at the least, bad choice of words. It was then that he learned that this redheaded firecracker could have a short fuse. They had bickered over his meaning. Matt stammered enthusiastically about how he loved her freckles. He back peddled, she pouted, he apologized, she apologized and their often used ritual of apology was born. Each time being a little different, but the physical passion always matched.

When he first met Kitty, she had been such a thin slight thing; all pink and white almost seeming fragile. That was a poor judgment call, he mused, now believing that her very will is stronger than most. Matt grinned openly to himself. The girl had grown into a ravishing, round, soft, freckled woman, whose body fit so perfectly against his. It was that body and face that kept him on the trail home when he could or should have stopped, made camp and rested for a spell. Envisioning her as he was at that moment; was just as he'd done it many times on the long trail back to Dodge. It didn't matter what his condition was. The thought of her soft naked breasts pressed against his hard body always helped quicken the time. Of course, these thoughts often made for a certain discomfort in the saddle.

"Woman, what you do to me." He lamented quietly as he raised his hips, trying to adjust his pants that were constricting the reaction to his wandering thoughts.

Why the hell does she stay with me? What has being the marshal's woman brought her?

She was unlike any woman he'd ever been with. Always giving, never really making demands of him with ulterior motives. Their relationship grew through mutual respect, and a physical need that had, at least on his part, had become his life's blood of existence, other than the badge.

Matt started to drift into an uneasy sleep. Thoughts of Kitty in his arms comforted him, and it was then, that he really began to understand that he couldn't live without her.

Reconciliation: Kitty Style

Kitty paced the tiny room that Etta Stone was keeping her in, trying to reconcile herself over what Matt had said earlier and the next day's hanging. She hadn't realized how long she'd been walking the floor, until she noticed shadows on the wall. The sun had set and the warm glow of a small oil lamp threw odd shadows around the room. The notion of her moving shadow looking like a crazed animal slightly amused her, since Etta had referred to the room where Kitty was locked as a cage. Matt would find humor in caged animal, she mused, since he'd been known to call her a wildcat on occasion.

Her reflection traveled back to Matt and their last embrace. Dwelling on an escape was seemingly futile; wayward thoughts trailing back to Matt's apology for having gotten her involved in this situation. It was the closest he'd ever been to saying he wished she wasn't in his life.

Frustrated, Kitty marched across the room, plopped down on the small bed, and continued her evaluation of the Marshal in her life. He still took her breath away. She remembered the very first time she had set eyes on him. Aside from thinking he was the biggest man she'd ever seen, it registered that she thought he was a fine example of male beauty. Kitty giggled realizing that she hadn't remembered her first thoughts on Matt, and how they were still so true.

Things weren't always smooth between them. Matt's job and the badge always seemed to come first. She was usually the one to try to kick him out of her life, thinking it would be less painful if she'd move on. Kitty closed her eyes; time took her back to the first time he'd bowed out of a date they'd set. Shaking her head at herself, she recalled how very young, impulsive and furious she had been with Matt. So angry, she'd ended up on the floor crying, picking up hair pins and pieces of fragmented porcelain. The lovely hair receiver he'd bought her in Topeka burst, same as her heart, when the vanity piece hit the door that Matt had exited.

Not knowing what to do, Kitty remembered seeking the advice of someone older and wiser. Doc had become a friend as well as a father-type figure in her new life in Dodge. After Kitty had verbally danced around the problem, Doc had told her Matt could be a little oblivious, but that she needed to accept Matt's obligations in respect to his job.

"Matt would never intentionally hurt you." Doc had advised her. "You know what to do, honey."

After having given Doc a big hug, Kitty had rushed to the jail hoping to find out if Chester knew when Matt would be returning home.

"Well, Miss Kitty, it won't be till real late, I'd imagine. Is there anything I can help ya with? Mister Dillon'd want me to help ya out, um sure," Chester voiced sincerely.

Kitty's response had been equally sincere dotted with amusement knowing that Chester had had no idea what she'd needed the Marshal for. Her need had included Matt and his needs only.

She smiled broadly to herself thinking Chester would probably still be faltering and blushing to this day, if he'd known what she had wanted the Marshal for.

Chester had figured Matt would be back in Dodge after midnight, "more likely 'round 1am." Kitty had then explained that it was very important that Chester tell Matt to come see her as soon as he is was able, clarifying that she would be working late, so the time wasn't an issue. She'd be waiting for him.

It was a little after twelve thirty in the morning when there was a tiny rap on Kitty's door. He stood outside her door, playing with his hat, staring at the floor. She'd been on his mind all the way back to Dodge, and wasn't sure what to expect.

"Welcome home, cowboy. Come on in. There's something we need to discuss."

Dressed in a simple robe, her hair flowing over her shoulders, she greeted Matt with a glass of whiskey. Knowing how upset she was with him, the young marshal was prepared for the worst. As he began to apologize, Kitty stopped him.

"Hush now. I understand, Matt." She cut him off gently. "My outburst the other day was a bit much, if I say so myself. No strings. Your badge and your work are very important to you, and wouldn't have you any other way. Well, there is one other way," she said smoothly. "Take off your clothes."

The big strong marshal was slack jawed. Being tired does that had that affect on him, but then again, Kitty Russell did that to him too.

"Follow me, big man, I'll wash your back. Bring that drink with you."

She grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards the hot bath. He'd figured she had just gotten done bathing, but the tub was filled for him. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she helped him undress. Kitty noted with amusement that Matt was blushing as he undressed to enter the tub with her in attendance.

"I'll do all the work, Matt. You deserve it and I owe ya!"

A slightly wicked grin played across her face as her robe hit the floor. Before Matt had a chance to protest, she was in the tub with him, smiling coyly. His eyes were big blue saucers after Kitty leaned forward placing her small hand in the middle of his chest and kissed him tenderly on his whiskey flavored lips.

"By golly Kitty," Matt sighed warmly. "More men'd probably take baths more often if their women offered to help like this!"

Back in real time, Kitty remembered Matt's big boyish grin after that statement. A warm pulse flowed through her. He was unlike any man she had ever been with. There were never ulterior motives in his actions, and he had treated her with respect from the first moment they met. What made him a good lawman made him a great lover. Matt learned quick, paid attention to detail, remembering what he did, how he did it and what got the best responses from his ministrations.

The man has the verbal communications skills of tumbleweed sometimes. Kitty smiled to herself, knowing more often than not, he got his point across. Thoughts of her life with Matthew Dillon and the hushed voices in the other room lulled Kitty into a soft sleep. The knowledge that they would be together one way or another sheltered her from the darkness.

Epilogue: As Fate Would Have It

It is said that shadows have a way of playing tricks on ones mind. Maybe that trick could be used to a person's advantage. It seemed the least likely person to help Matt and Kitty was the one to step out from behind the shadow of evil and sneak a gun into the tackroom for Matt. Kitty's final resignation with impending doom was to kick the recently delivered food tray. It was then that they found that Sarah had braved the wrath of Etta by replacing Matt's last meal with a loaded gun hidden under a napkin.

Destiny shot down Etta's wish for revenge. In her mind, she'd lost three sons and a husband to the law. Little did she know that her fourth son was also being lost to the law, only the right side of the law. She called Ben a coward for not helping his mother's cause, shooting down Matt Dillon from his perfect vantage point.

Sarah's love for Ben gave her the strength to take a chance and do what was right. With the gun from Sarah, Matt was able to fend off both Mike and Lou Stone. Kitty retrieved a gun fatefully left on Mike's dead body. A force more powerful than Matt imagined Kitty capable, gave her the strength to shoot Etta as she leveled her shotgun at Matt.

Love mixed with a little fate created a new day.

"Destiny has two ways of crushing us-- by refusing our wishes and by fulfilling them." Henri Frederic Amiel 1821-1881