Chapter Text
He walked a fine line of life and death, yet death always won. Propped up against that rock and facing west as he basked in the sunrise with one final breath, his final sunrise. The morning sun rays graced his sickly pale and bruised face, the buck faced his death still body on the other side. Waiting for him to join and be a part of nature once more.
The word of his death had made its way all over to those of whom he had helped, many said their condolences to John. Sharing how he was a good man when they had crossed paths, the stories being shared with such fondness in their eyes and it made him wonder what type of man he was when he wasn’t in the camp. A tragedy that he would never get to see that side of the man more until those final moments before his death.
Sitting at his grave for hours at time, in silence and sometimes with tears. Yet he never said anything, just sat in the early morning to watch that sunrise every day. Leaving around midday every time to return back to his family, of course he had other visitors but that was just the smaller animals of nature sleeping against his grave or nibbling on the flowers that were left every week much to John's dismay. But he knew the man would like that these animals that gave his grave company, still hated how they nipped at the flowers Abigail would hand pick and put together so diligently. Putting so much thought and care into them, how John wished the man could see how they were now. Free and happier, how big Jack was getting and how things were finally starting to look up for him. A wish to see him once more at the entrance of his ranch in Beachers Hope. A simple wish he could hope to one day be real but knew that it never would.
A groan of pain escaped from his lips, parched as he sat up and rubbed his throat. Blinded by the afternoon sun high in the sky above, looking around with an unreadable expression on his face. Looking at the man that stood next to him and facing the overlook of the wilderness below. Checking his golden pocket watch that was in hand.
The strange man dressed in a black suit with a matching tie. Hadn’t he met the man before? He did, he was the one that dragged him to the Saint Denis doctors. What did he tell him again? He couldn’t recall properly.
“Mister Arthur Morgan, glad to still have you with us” He closed his pocket watch and tucked it away safely. Helping the man stand and handed him a canteen of cold and fresh water. Drinking it greedily to help his parched throat and it worked.
Handing it back but the man refused, only then noticing how he had his guns and satchel on him. His possessions still in his satchel. “I passed, so why am I here?” He crossed his arm with an arched brow.
“Yes, you very much did. You, the Van Der Lin gang I mean, just left Colter and now are at Horseshoe Overlook. Your death is in three months. Yet the time didn’t feel right.” Arthur just gave him a puzzled look, pinching the bridge of his nose as if was going to ease his confusion that was paired with a pounding headache. It made him dizzy.
“What’s the nearest town?” He sat down on a rock, trying to subdue his pounding headache that made him hurt to even think.
“Saint Denis, a saloon with comfortable bedding, and hot baths not to mention the hot piping meals. With your high honor, you’ll be able to get by just fine. Careful on your way getting down Morgan, this is a chance that will never come again. Use it wisely.” Arthur looked at him through his squinted eyes and watched him leave. It took him until sundown to finally stand up and carefully make his way down.
Coughing into his hand before he approached his horse, yet no blood had come. A simple and normal cough to which he was thankful for. Approaching his Clydesdale horse, giving her the best scratches he ever gave her. Remembering how he stayed with her in her last moments. He brushed her coat, brushing gingerly over where the wound would have been at. Giving her hay and extra pets before getting on.
The ride to Saint Denis was long as always, hand resting on his cattleman revolver. The horses pace at walking speed as he kept quiet, besides the few praises here and there he gave his horse. Listening to everything around him, before having his horse come to a halt and getting off to stretch and pick herbs that were around him. Sitting down in a soft patch of grass, pulling out his journal to sketch and write about his well— this second chance he got at his life once more. Seemed to be hours as night had come, closing his journal and putting it back in his satchel. Getting back on his horse, petting her and giving her nothing but praises.
Lemoyne raiders were in the distance, a small group of them. Arthur knew he could take them on, yet was hoping that this wouldn’t cost him his life. Logical thing would be to mind his own business and pass by, yet this was just a mother and her son trying to pass by and into Saint Denis. Pulling out the double-barreled shotgun, quickly double checking it to make sure it was in good shape.
“The hell you doing?”
“Best keep movin’ along if you know what’s best for you.” With a reload and two clean shots that blew off their heads. Shots rang out, no one seeing how the small family fled for safety in Saint Denis. Arthur was down to one bullet, breathing heavy as he had hid himself behind a rock larger than him.
Resting to catch his breath and check his body for any major wounds. Deeming that he was fit to stand up once more, grabbing and leading his horse to the Saint Denis stable for the time being and he went to find a hotel. The sun peeking out between the buildings, businesses opening their shops with others going and coming back from work. He listened to those small conversations between one another, about their life, their struggles, their losses and their loves.
Entering the saloon, paying for a room and a hot bath. The bath was first as he was covered in dirt and dried up blood, paying that extra 25 cents for the deluxe. Giving the lady a small smile. “Any talk for this bath today?”
“No thank you.”
“Alright mister.” The deluxe was about a good 25 minutes before the girl was finally done. Leaving him so he could dry off and change into cleaner clothes. Rising out of the tub and stepping out, he grabbed one of the towels and started to pat down his body. Using a different towel to dry his hair. Dressed in all black with hair pomade in, he exited the bathroom and entered the saloon once more. This time for food as he was starving.
Getting a prime rib to fill his belly. Eating at a table in silence, still trying to wrap his head around how this all occurred. But his head kept pounding when he thought about this, maybe he wasn't supposed to think about it and forget about all of it. Leaving up to the room he rented for the night, looking at himself in the mirror.
He looked healthy and strong once more instead of being weak, underweight and deathly sick. Looking better than he ever was before. “I need a damn shave..” , scratching his overgrown beard.
His beard was quite shaven down and not overgrown, yet wasn't a fully clean shave. Not the best, but it'll do for now, he'd go for a haircut the next day. Opening the doors to the balcony and pulling the chair out from under the table, sitting down. Not knowing what to do now.
“Fine town ain't it?” The man dressed in black sat in front of him, two cups of coffee in hand in which one was for Arthur. He took it with caution, the cup helping to warm his cold hands.
“What's your name?”
“You know, it's the darndest thing. I can't remember.” His hands folded neatly on the table before taking a sip of his coffee. Arthur let out a huff, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Just, tell me your name and where you know me from.” The man gave him a glare, waiting for his answer.
“Well I know you from Blackwater. I know you from back up North. Oh I know you from all over..” The man kept his cool, holding eye contact with Arthur. Arthur could just feel that small shiver run down his back, his headache coming back as this encounter felt a little familiar yet he wasn’t the one that experienced it.
“See you around Arthur.”
Arthur watched the man leave, the headache soon fading away after the man in the suit and tie had left. He needed to start making notes of these encounters with the man and his headaches, pulling out his journal and did exactly that. It took him from morning to late afternoon to finish that entry, closing it and tucking it away into his satchel before entering the room. Tiredness washed over him, getting into his sleepwear and into bed to fall asleep till the early morning.
“Thank you.” Arthur tipped his hat at the Saint Denis stable workers, leading his Clydesdale out of the stable and mounting himself whilst he whispered her a small praise. Going at a walking pace out of the city as a safety precaution, letting out a yawn and stretching his right arm. Not getting much sleep even though he went to sleep early, he had been tossing and turning. Waking up at random times of the night because of the pounding headache and awful cough of his that would not go away.
He had some luck on his side as he got a peaceful morning and didn’t encounter any Lemoyne raiders, having the pace of his horse speed up and fed her a carrot. His own hunger slowly chipped away at him, he could hunt and cook his own food, but after what he’s been through. He’d rather just get a fresh hot one instead. Dismounting and hitching his horse with a quick pat, he walked to the parlor and pushed open the doors.
Ordering a beef stew, not wasting any time to eat it all. A short and quick meal was all he needed before he exited the building and got back on his horse, now heading straight back to Horseshoe Overlook. Exiting and entering the New Hangover grounds by the peak of noon, slowing his horse down as he started coughing heavily into his hand. Eventually getting off and bending over to help his coughing.
A sigh of relief left his lips,
No sign of blood.
Mounting on his horse, still the peak of noon and didn’t seem to be going down anytime soon. Good, he still wanted to enjoy the day the best he could. Mounting back onto his horse and riding in what would be silence but he just needed a small tune to hum to keep himself occupied from thinking so much from well.. Everything .
“Whoa there girl” He pulled on the lead as a snake startled his horse. “Your okay girl, you're okay” , he whispered and dismounted himself once more. Pulling out a brush and brushing her coat, even though she didn’t need it, but it always calmed her down. Arthur whispered he praises left and right with scratches behind her ears.
“There you go girl, good girl” He praised her and fed her hay, giving her a few pats before walking with her lead in hand, she contently followed him. Besides, he needed the walk to let that jelly feeling in his legs go away. The feeling being there since well– since time had been rewind. He did die after all.
His headache came back, yet wasn’t as bad as it was before. Still, he needed to stop thinking about it. Humming a tune he would be lulled to sleep by his mom. Still remembering the soft tune after so many years. He’s probably sung it to Jack when Abigail couldn’t put him to sleep. Maybe even Issac..
‘ I should visit their graves soon ’ He kept walking, lost in his own thoughts and humming. A peaceful walk, too peaceful for his liking, felt eerie. He hitched his horse by the nearby woods, as he grabbed his long back shotgun and held it with a tight grip, he entered the woods.
And damn he hated that he was right.
There in a small clearing was a child, seeming petrified as the group of O'Driscoll's surrounded the little one. It was evident that the child was foreign due to the language they were speaking. Yet they had a small jewelry bag in hand, fuckers held her at gunpoint for it. Disgusting . A shot ran out, blood splattered on the grassy patch and on the little one's face. Soon the gang's attention was all on him and they forgot about the child. Good.
Ten of them and just one of him, though he’s taken on more by himself. Shots were being fired back and forth, bullets grazed him. Arthur’s bullets hit, keeping a mental count of the men that he took down.
One
Two
Three
Four, five, six, seven, eight. Where the fuck were the other two– sick bastards. Using the small child as a human shield, how sick were these ones. It made his blood boil. Readjusting the grip on his gun just to toss it aside. The dark curls of theirs hid their face from Arthurs view, he couldn’t tell if the child trusted him at that moment but he could only hope that they would.
Holding his hands and stepped out from behind the rock he was taking cover behind. Slowly observing the two, they looked like amateurs compared to him. One slowly approached him, gun in hand as he pointed it at Arthur, searching him and stealing all his money. “Damn! This has to be well over three thousand” , amazement in his voice and let his guard down.
Quickly drawing his revolvers, he shot at the man in front of him and at the O’Driscolls hand that had a gun pointed at the child. The man killed in an instance, the other dropping the gun. Attempting to flee with the child tucked in his arms if Arthur hadn’t shot his kneecaps. The man buckled and fell to the ground in a pitiful groan of pain. The child scurried out of his arms and quickly hid from the situation, clutching the small bag of jewelry close to their chest.
Arthur would check on her in a minute.
“People like you make me sick” He turned the O’Driscoll over to his back. Punch after punch, hitting him with the man's own gun at points. Not coming to a halt to his actions until he knew the man underneath him was dead.
Blood pooled around where the man's head would be. His face beyond recognition, jaw broken in along with his nose. Eyes nowhere to be seen, literally. Half of his face looked like it was mauled by a bear due to the gun in his hands. He wasn’t at all proud of what he did, but that was a child. He’d be damned if he let them kill ‘em. And it was still noon.
A huff, he stood up, looking everywhere in the surrounding area, yet couldn’t find them no matter how hard he looked. It didn’t feel right but he ended up leaving the woods, picking up his gun. Getting to his horse that seemed unbothered, approaching her he could tell she was staring at something.
Gun pointed and aimed as he turned around, he was met with a little girl. Her dark curls fell in front of her face, yet parted so she could see clearly. He immediately lowered his gun, only crouching down when she approached him. Handing him his satchel and her jewelry bag.
He took his satchel, but pushed the jewelry bag back towards her. “No, you keep it” , she stared at him. Seeming to understand his actions. Giving a small ‘thank you’ in her language, even though Arthur didn’t understand.
He watched as she scurried off back into the woods.
“Arthur! Where the hell have you been?!” He knew that voice all too well, standing up straight and looking over his shoulder before completely facing him.
“Bill get caught by bounty hunters again?” Javier shook his head as he got off his own horse. A tug at the corner of his lips.
“No no, not this time. But Dutch and Hosea seemed anxious that you haven’t been at camp for a while. Where have you been?” The man approached him, looking somewhat concerned about where he’s been for the last five weeks.
“Traveling, must’ve lost track of time.”
“Well come on, Dutch wants you back at camp.” The two mounted their horses, riding in silence back to the camp. Arthur questioned if he should even go back to the camp with the knowledge that he now has.
That there will be a day where Dutch chooses a man, a rat, over him. That he’s been hearing lies from him, always telling him ‘ One more score ’. Yet it was never just one more score, a lie, this just felt like a lie. Arthur will just lose the people close to him if he repeats the path that leads to his death. Yet against his better judgment, he just couldn’t do it. Where would he go anyway? There’s no future out there for him, he’s a wanted man, a 5,000 dollar bounty on his head by the government. He’s fallen for a lie for the rest of his life.
That headache came back, worse than the last. His face pinching and twisting into that of pain. He tried to keep his mind preoccupied with other thoughts, looking west through half lidded eyes to see such a beautiful sunset. One that he used to be a part of. One he admired, it was beautiful.
Arthur wished he could stop and bask in it, admire it even more. Watch a dance of light before evening had washed over it like a sea. How it painted the clouds pink with those hue highlights of light and brighter shades of orange. A comforting and soft blue mixing in with the orange and yellow. The beauty of nature.
“It's unlike Dutch to worry, Hosea maybe. But Dutch?” Arthur tore his eyes away from the sunset and glanced over at Javier.
“Dunno, seemed to be nervous. Glancing and watching the entrance to camp from his tent. He hasn’t really got any sleep either. Hosea seemed more calm, well on the outside, but he seemed to be equally worried, maybe so even more. Keeping watch all day and all night, yet he’ll still outlive us all.” Javier chuckled with Arthur letting a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He truly would. They approached the camp's entrance, dismounting and leading their horses as they walked.
“Who’s there?” Lenny aimed his gun, Lenny..
“Javier and Arthur!” The kid almost dropped his shotgun as he heard Arthurs name and saw him. A smile formed across his face, approaching Arthur and giving him a warm and tight hug. Evident that he missed the man, Arthur wasn’t hesitant to hug him back just as tight, he always had a soft spot for him. Patting his back after a short while, the kid letting him go. Arthur hitching his horse.
“Holy shit, Arthur your back” John seemed to have got everyone's attention, as in a matter of seconds he was swarmed by everyone. Questions were thrown left and right, the women worried and being scolded by Miss Grimshaw. The men called him a dumbass for not checking in once in a while.
“ Arthur !” Dutch’s voice rang out, having everyone snap their mouths shut. Moving away so Arthur could make his way towards the man, who was standing in front of his tent. Having Micah on his right side of him with Hosea on the left. ‘That little rat ’, was all he could think as he made his way towards the three. Micah could only let out a scoff and walk away by Dutch’s order, harshly bumping into Arthur’s shoulder on purpose as he did so.
The three men entered the tent, the flaps coming down and soon silence washed over the three of them. Arthur was looking at both of their backs, it felt like he was going to be scolded just like when he was little.. He missed those times sometimes, the times where it was just the three of them. But he also likes these times.
“..You scared us son” Hosea was the one that finally spoke up, an evident crack in his voice as if he were on the verge of tears. Yet the older man held them back and embraced him in a tight hug, tighter than Lenny’s. Felt like his back was going to break, Arthur didn’t know he held the same strength twenty plus years ago. But he wasn’t hesitant to hug the older man back. His grip on Hosea tight whilst the older man let out a chuckle. A rare sight to ever see any of the three show their feelings like this, yes indeed it was.
Hosea pulled away as he wiped away a tear that fell from his eye. Stepping back and lightly kicking Dutch’s foot, a way of silently telling him that it was his turn. The man didn’t budge, a heavy silence settling over the three. Hosea's lips formed into a thin line, looking at the floorboard of the tent and soon clearing his throat. Slowly it had been getting awkward until the man finally turned around.
Dark circles around his eyes, his beard seemed to have grown out more and unkept. Eyes red and seemed to be tear stained. Hair disheveled, he didn’t even notice that it was all disheveled instead of being all neat and slicked back. He stared, stared at him to make sure he was real and his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
Deeming that he was standing there and that he wasn’t hallucinating from the lack of sleep from the past five weeks. He walked over to Arthur, quickly pulling him into a hug. Having such a tight hold, like he didn’t want to let go of him, as if he were still that small boy that they found.
“Don’t ever scare us like that again” The man mumbled as he held him tighter. Arthur was ,is his son, he’d never show it but he cared, he really did.