Chapter Text
The warm sun in the mountains was a pleasant change from the scorching sun of West Elisabeth. The trees had just started to get their first yellow leaves and the animals were roaming around, preparing for colder weather to come. The days had started getting shorter, and the evenings colder, but the sun still provided plenty of warmth in the changing of the seasons.
He could live like that, Charles thought to himself. He could start anew, despite his aging. This place was his now, he had found himself a shack in the wild, he had land to live from, he had himself.
He could start anew.
He just recently made himself a fishing rod. He had never quite enjoyed fishing, but he had a soft spot for it; a certain cowboy taught him.
His food supplies were running low, and he would rather starve than eat another rabbit. So he decided on a short trip with Taima. The girl needed to do some running, anyway, let out all the stored energy. He packed some apples, some for him and some for the lady, fishing bait and the rod, and rode to the nearby stream.
The sound of rushing water calmed his nerves. He was not a man meant for water. He was just fine with land under his feet, but he couldn't deny the pleasantness of it.
He dismounted Taima and left her unhitched to roam freely while he worked up a bait. “Bread is good, but cheese is what really works ‘em up”, said a thick southern voice in his head.
Charles chuckled at the memory. It was a day just like this one, when Arthur offered to teach him fishing. Not really offered, no, more like demanded.
—
“C’mon, big man, get yer ass up on that horse of yours, we got fish to catch,” said cowboy, already lifting himself on Boadicea with two fishing rods prepared, leaving Charles no option to back out. And like he would.
He had joined the gang about four weeks ago and in this time, he had grown closer to the man than he had ever to anyone. He was reluctant to let himself get attached so quickly, but Arthur pressed into him until he had no choice but to go along. They had ridden together when they weren't robbing or killing, grasping every chance they got. They had explored the whole West Elisabeth, headed even western and northern, when they had no jobs to attend to. It had become something of a pattern, something to look forward to.
Charles couldn't say no even in his wildest dreams.
They rode together in silence. Arthur didn't tell him where they were going and Charles didn't ask. It was easy between them like that. They understood each other on a level no one had understood either of them before. They saw each other for who they were - ugly and beautiful. The trust they shared needn't be said; they would follow each other to the end.
At that point, they hadn't had words for what they had. They hadn't yet addressed the gentle stares, light voices and whispered touches. He, for himself, had known that that was out of fear. The fear of losing something so precious, if it was addressed. That tended to happen in his life - losing something important when only just getting it.
He hadn't known of Arthur’ reason then. The man was proud enough of his likes of men. He wasn't going around yelling about it - he was smart enough to know that would've gotten him killed faster than being caught robbing a bank - but he wasn't ashamed of it around the gang. So, Charles then wondered, what was Arthur's reason for not talking proper about it.
Charles hadn't known about Mary back then, and Eliza and Isaac. He hadn't known of a crippling sadness that surrounded his partner, the grief that he held in himself about his past lovers and family. But he didn't push the cowboy. He knew that something was there, hidden beneath that toughness. But Arthur hadn't wanted to address it, and Charles was known as a patient man. The older man would come around to it when he wanted.
They dismounted when they arrived at the Owanjila lake. They let their horses unhitched that day also. The two animals were trustful enough to be left at their own devices and they liked each other enough that they wouldn't bicker. They liked each other a lot actually. Taima hadn't been a really social horse, she always preferred peace and quiet - got it from her owner, Carles guessed. But with Boadicea it was different - she actively seeked her out, and nuzzled with her whenever she had the opportunity.
Arthur got his fishing rod ready and waited for the man beside him to do the same.
“Normally, if it's bigger fish yer after, you'd use a lure,” said cowboy, “but I ain't got one. And I ain't exactly a good fisherman.”
“You're better than me, that's for sure,” chuckled Charles and followed Arthur's movements into throwing the bait into the lake.
“And now we wait,” instructed Arthur.
“I can do that.”
“See, I knew you were the right man for the job,” grinned Arthur and made himself comfortable on the grass near his rod. “I ain't too patient for this, but ‘sea said I needed to go fishing. Something about ‘taking it easy’ and ‘livin’ in a moment’.”
Charles hummed. He had been wondering why Arthur invited him for a fishing trip, given his lack of patience. Hosea making him go would explain a lot. And he could see why the older man had instructed this. Arthur had been working himself off, followed Dutch's every command, did the hard work around the camp and was preparing for a big job with Hosea. He did need to take it easy, even if that meant Charles had to fish with him.
So they waited, seated on the grass. The sun was proud and hot above them, enough that they broke into sweat even while being seated. Arthur let his eyes close for a bit and filled his lungs with fresh air. Charles, meanwhile, took out his dagger and some wood he found nearby and started to whittle - a quiet hobby of his. After a while, Arthur joined him with his own little craft - a journal and a pencil.
There were times where a rod would shake and one of them would have to reel in the fish, but other than that it was nice, peaceful. They both needed that, he decided.
“A'right, I can't take this anymore,” Arthur announced as he suddenly closed his journal and stood up.
Charles watched him, one eyebrow lifted, as the man started undoing his bandana. His shirt was next to follow.
Charles - he tried to be discreet, he really did - couldn't take his eyes off the man currently stripping in front of him. He could feel himself growing hotter in the face with every cloth that left the cowboy’s body. His eyes noticed every muscle, scar and faracle and his thoughts traveled where they shouldn't as he tried to make himself whittle.
Why exactly was the other stripping in front of him?
“A'right,” announced the cowboy, now only in his bottom undergarments. “Will ya just stare or will ya join me?” He asked with a devilish, knowing grin, and made his way into the water.
If he could, Charles would have turned even more red. Instead, he silently stripped himself of his clothes and followed Arthur.
The water was a blessing on his skin, and the view; Oh, the view. The muscular body in front of him, the crow's feet framing those lake-blue eyes squinting in the sun, the dimples forming on either side of the grin, the soft scrub shaping the chin and the sides and the sandy brown hair waving gently in the breeze.
It was a picture he would keep in his memory forever.
—
Charles watched the string sway gently in the water.
There was no body on the mountain that day. He searched and he tracked, but he couldn't find him. There was a body of Ms Grimshaw, but no Arthur. There were traces of him - bullet shells, rushed and unsteady footprints, blood smears on the rocks - but no body.
He had long abandoned the hope of him being alive. There was more proof of death than of him surviving. A man with his condition had no way of living. John told him about his last minutes with Arthur, how, even in his last moments, he would look after his family first,
put himself last.
If he were alive, he'd have found him by now. Or John.
‘Would his hair still be brown?’ he found himself asking. ‘Or would a decade make itself known and make it gray?’ He sure looked older now, rougher. But Arthur was still the same as before, frozen in a memory.
Charles let himself breathe, blinking away the tears. It was a sunny day and that was over a long time ago.