I enjoy Westerns. I like the genre. For some reason, I’m all about the drama that often unfolds when an uptight Easterner travels West and clashes with the wildness of the lawless land.

I also relish in the potential for a star-crossed lover moment – Last of the Mohicans is one of my favorites. So, this show, Walker: Independence kept popping up on my list of “recommendations” and out of curiosity, I decided to give the first episode a look-see. It’s not a great show, but it had potential, and some of the episodes and topics touched upon were good, but because of what I saw in those first few minutes…I was inspired to write a new fan fiction.

There is absolutely something going on between the two characters above, Abby and Calian, and despite the series only being one season of 13 episodes, there is plenty of subtly between them to examine and expand upon. Who knows what the show’s writers intended for these two, but if you watch their interactions, you’ll see what I saw.

So, yeah. Here we go again.

If you’re unfamiliar with the CW show now on HBOMax, Abigail Collins and her husband, Liam are on their way to the town of Independence, TX where Liam is to be the new sheriff. One night, when they stop to rest, an unseen shooter attacks them, killing Liam and leaving Abby for dead.

Abby is saved by Calian, and healed by his tribe, who give her the Apache name “Walks in Tall Grass”. Once she’s recovered, she travels to town to inform them about what’s happened, and runs into the new-new sheriff, Tom Davidson, who she is certain is the shooter. Abigail Collins, now Abby Walker (see what they did there?) along with Calian and an outlaw named Hoyt join forces to stop Tom and his family from enacting whatever plans they have for the town.

I’ve put myself on a strict self-imposed writing goal of one chapter per episode per week. I don’t want to linger and think too much. I just want to write. I’m currently writing chapter 5.

After watching the show and seeing Abby and Calian’s relationship not really go anywhere thanks to having only 13 episodes, I checked out Archive of Our Own to see if anyone else had written about them. They had not. Not only were there no fics about these two, there were only a handful of fics in total. Talk about a small fandom.

The fic is titled, Through Calian’s Eyes and it’s rated PG (for now). This was a CW show, so it’s pretty tame, but I’m having thoughts, so the rating may change in the last chapter which would be non-canonical. I’m sharing Chapter One, and eventually it will get its own section under the Scribbles heading here, but if you’re interested, you can follow along over on AO3.

I hope you enjoy!

Untitled Pilot aka And Then There Were Three

It was warm on the prairie. It was the kind of day where the heat rising from the plains could play tricks on the eyes, but Calian knew the difference between worlds, or so he thought. When his little sister appeared to him, leading him when needed, he knew it wasn’t her. It had been many years since she had gone missing, and the figure that showed itself to him was her young self, not the woman she would have become in the years since, and yet he followed her, every time.

This time, she ran amidst the swirls of light spiraling off the land, leading him further than she had before until she finally stood still and pointed to a blue-green blur a short distance away – 

– a woman.

A white woman…teetering on the edge of death.

She had been shot. Left for dead. From the look of her, she had walked a good distance before collapsing under the desert sun. Her alabastor skin was made even more fair by the compliment of copper colored waves surrounding her. Her features were so unlike his own, and yet there was something about her Calian couldn’t name, a deep seeded desire to help her, and not only because his sister had brought him to find her. Calian contemplated the consequences of being discovered with her. The townspeople were quick with their vile thoughts, believing his people capable of every type of ill intent.

But he couldn’t leave her.

There was still life in her. Her golden green eyes fluttered just once, but that was all the encouragement Calian needed. 

She was small in his hands, and a fierce emotion of protection flooded his entire being. It was a feeling unlike anything he had felt before. He didn’t know what it meant, and he could never guess at what it would mean for him in the future, but at that moment, he knew he needed to safeguard her.

He took her home.

To his people.

Days later, when her golden green eyes fluttered open again, Calian was sure to be the first face she saw. His friend, Augustus had told him once that he had a kind face, and he knew for a woman, such as her, the emotion he could evoke would most likely be of comfort to her when she discovered where she was. 

He was still concerned for her overall well being, but he was also curious about her. How had she come to such state? Who wished to inflict such pain upon her? The placement of the shot in her shoulder had meant to wound her, not kill her, at least not right away, so was she still in danger? He held her gaze, and found her eyes entrancing, and noticed, she, too, found it difficult to look away.

Despite her circumstances, and her initial fear, being near him had brought her a sense of calm. He could feel it. “How are you feeling?” He tried to keep his voice steady.

“How…how long have I been here?” She looked around nervously. Realizing she was in her smallclothes, she made a little effort to bring the blanket closer upwards in a discreet move of modesty.

“Four days.” Her face registered her disbelief, but Calian continued. “We found you in the plains. The Elders healed you.”

Her first thought was of thanks, something he appreciated more than he should have, but he quickly realized it was, in part, because of the way she looked, and what treatment he had become accustomed to from those that looked like her. She was surrounded by strangers, those reviled by the settlers, but she didn’t have the same look in her eye that he was used to seeing. She didn’t shrink away from him. Maybe they thought differently in Boston.

She tried to rise, but she was still in pain.

“Where are you from?” He tried to distract her.

“Boston. It’s east, in…”

“Massachusetts.” He found it delightful that she was surprised by his knowledge. “I’ve read of Boston.”

“Where did you learn to speak..?”

“I used to scout for the US Cavalry.” 

His people whispered behind them. They did not like how comfortable he and the woman seemed to be, but it amused Calian all the same.

Her ears perked up when she heard the same phrase uttered a few times. 

Djon-deh-zee.

“What…what does that mean? Djon-deh-zee?” Tears continued to pool, but he could see the strength behind the sadness too.

“Walks in Tall Grass. What they call you.” He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

“My-my name is Abigail. Abigail Collins.”

“I’m Calian.”

And then her sorrow had reason. A husband. Past tense. “..supposed to be sheriff…” She asked if Calian knew where the town of Independence was, which, of course, he did.

She was hopeful, and he couldn’t deny her.

After she rested, now that she had finally awakened, Calian took Abigail to the hilltop that overlooked the valley where the new town was expanding. Calian stood a respectful distance from her.

“I need to tell them what happened.” Her voice held a certain resolve.

“Find Deputy Augustus. He’s a good man.” Calian turned back toward his horse, a strange knot in his chest. “He’ll help you.”

“You aren’t coming with me?” He saw the disappointment on her face, heard it in her voice.

“Some might not want to see an Apache with a white woman.” Saying what so many believed aloud was almost as painful as leaving her.

“Well, that should change.” 

He knew she meant it, and that was a salve to his soul. “Maybe one day.” He smiled again as he mounted his horse.

“Thank you. I hope to see you again.”

He responded in Apache, hoping to leave an impression on her. And then they each turned, not willing to watch the other leave.

When evening fell, Calian felt compelled to return to the ridge that overlooked the town – to where he had said his farewell to the intriguing woman who had so quickly turned his head. He sat quietly alone, wrestling with the warring emotions within him. He wanted to go to town, he wanted to find Abigail, to see her again, but given who he was, he knew the town would be suspicous of him, even in spite of everything he had done for them.

And as if on cue, Gus rode up to greet him. “Little bank robbery earlier.”

“Been a while.” 

“Yeah. Took a hostage. A woman. Folks at the bank said her name was Abby. Abby Walker.” Calian knew Gus was fishing, he just wasn’t sure why. He had told Abigail she could trust Augustus, and she would have mentioned Calian’s name, but Gus was looking for something more. He could still hear Gus talking, but the words stopped holding meaning as his mind wandered. Something struck him.

Walker. She had taken her Apache name.

Such knowledge brought him a great deal of joy.

Gus rounded his horse around Calian, and Calian took the moment to calm himself. “I’ll track her first daylight.” He knew, at least in some part, that was what Gus wanted from him, so he obliged.

It was also an opportunity to see her again.

“Yeah. Or…you can ride down with me.” They looked at one another, an unspoken conversation between old friends happened in a matter of moments until Calian acquiesced and obliged Gus again. Together they rode into town.

Calian was unaware of the celebration happening to honor the new sheriff when he arrived, so he kept to the shadows, to the outskirts of the townsfolk so he could observe the happenings without being noticed. There was singing and gun fire and dancing girls and then there was Abby…with a man. 

They looked like they knew one another. They were speaking in hushed tones, their faces were twisted as if tight with anger or stress. She had made a fast friend, so it seemed, and a pang of jealousy struck Calian’s heart. Would he ever be as fortunate to find himself in her confidence? To stand close to her, in the view of any and everyone.

He turned away, frustrated.

What he had not seen, and what he would not know for some time was that Abby had tried to kill the new sheriff. She believed him responsible for her husband’s murder, and Hoyt had intervened and saved her. He would be grateful to the man later, but just then, he did not like how close the stranger was able to stand beside Abby.

The next morning, Calian tracked Abby to the site of her attack. He could hear her cry out as she found her husband’s body. He also heard the click of her “friend’s” gun.

He called out her Apache name first, so she would know it was him. He tried to keep the disdain out of his voice as he followed up with, “Tell your friend not to shoot.”

He heard her reassure her friend that she knew him, and while he approached her cautiously, he could see she was relieved to see him again. It caused yet another pang to his heart that he could not control.

“And then there were three.” Her friend, Hoyt said. Calian didn’t quite understand the reference yet, but he would.

Abby picked up a tossed aside rifle, as if it might bring her strength, and then she asked, “Will you help me bury him?”

They did.

He spoke reassuring words in Apache, “There is no death. Only a change in worlds.” He knew she couldn’t understand him, but he hoped his presence would bring her some comfort. “His soul goes to the air now.” It was what his people believed, and he tossed some of the dirt at the grave to the air symbolically. Abby, too, offered her own rite of passage, the placing of her ring upon the stones that marked the burial. Hoyt then spoke words of solace, something more appropriate for their people, and it all seemed to bring her closure.

As they left, Abby spoke of a conversation Calian had not been privy to, about revenge. But she had learned something about herself in a short time. She wanted justice for what had happened to her and her husband. 

She had found a sense of belonging in Calian’s absence or maybe because of his presence. He found himself truly hoping it was, in part, the latter. In spite of everything he knew of this land, he had discovered a sliver of hope he never thought possible. He knew it was too soon to think such thoughts – they were from different worlds – they might never be accepted – she was in mourning – but he had been destined to find her, and he could not deny their connection. He had no idea what might be in store for them, but he was willing to risk a great deal to find out.

He couldn’t stay away from her. He didn’t want to. And he was willing to bear Hoyt’s presence to be by her side. “And then there were three.” Hoyt had said. Calian now understood.

~ * ~

Are you a fan fic writer? Are you working on something different from your usual? Wanna share so we can all support you? Drop a link in the comments.

Happy Writing!