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The first time it happened, there was a lot going on.
They were shooting the O’Driscols up in the mountains. It was cold. Charles could barely feel his fingers, and yet the shooting pains whenever he bumped his hand on anything were unabated. Just his luck.
It was going pretty well. They were clearing out the camp, when suddenly they were back at the ridge, looking down on the camp, whispering about which way they could go.
Charles jerked back, glancing around. What the hell? Had he hit his head in the fight? Had he been shot? Was he in danger, right now, as he relived the glorious memory of shivering in the cold a couple of minutes ago?
“You alright, Charles?” Arthur murmured. He hadn’t said that before.
Charles hadn’t panicked like this before. This was really happening. So what the hell had he just seen, then? It wasn’t just a memory. He’d been there.
But Dutch was calling Arthur’s name, so Charles shook his head. “I’m fine. See you down there.”
Except, Arthur didn’t go the way he was supposed to. This time, he peered over the cliff, then deliberately stepped over the edge and slid down the side of it with a pained grunt. Charles glanced down, bewildered. The man just brushed himself off and continued off the next ledge. Dutch didn’t bat an eye, he just kept heading down the path they’d just talked about taking.
Arthur got too bold. Charles caught him out of the corner of his eye as he leapt off a ledge that was much too far from the ground. And then he blinked, and they were all at the top of the mountain again.
“What the hell?” he said out loud. Everyone turned to look at him.
“Something you need to share, Mr. Smith?” Dutch asked.
Charles tried to think of how he could possibly communicate this in an efficient manner. “I think I’m in a time loop?” he tried. “Twice, now. Back to this spot.”
Bill snorted. Javier raised his eyebrows.
“Well, have your visits to the future shown you anything that would be useful to know right about now?” Dutch asked, a slight bite to his words.
Charles shook his head. “Not yet. We haven’t made it through the battle yet.”
“That’s comforting.” Javier muttered.
Dutch just shook his head. “Keep your head on, Mr. Smith. Let’s go.”
The raid of the camp was successful, but then Arthur went up to the cabin to get Colm and was promptly shot through the skull.
Charles blinked. Back up on the damn mountain again.
“Everyone, I’m stuck in a timeloop.” he said. “Arthur, Colm’s not in the cabin, there’s a man with a gun in there. Be ready.”
Arthur scoffed. “If Colm’s not in there, why bother searching it?”
Charles shrugged.
“Excuse me, but what the hell are you two talking about?” Dutch asked dryly.
Arthur jerked his chin towards Charles. “He’s stuck in a timeloop, Dutch. What don’t you understand?”
There were a few smothered snickers from the gang. Dutch just narrowed his eyes at them.
That time, Kieran saved Arthur just a moment before he would have been shot again. The fight was over, the battle was won, and Charles braced himself before cracking an eye open.
Nothing. It really was over. He relaxed.
Back at camp, John pointed his spoon at him over their stew. “What the hell was that about a time loop?”
Charles shook his head. “I really don’t know. That’s never happened to me before.”
It happened again and again, as time went on. They’d be in the middle of something, and then they’d be back at the beginning. Charles would say “It just happened again.” Some people would groan in annoyance while others would scoot in to listen to what he had to say. Mary-Beth thought he was clairvoyant. John thought he was cursed. Arthur pretended it was perfectly normal, always immediately trusting his word. Charles loathed to know what the man really thought of it. But if he could prevent people from getting shot, what choice did he have?
One day, the strangest thing happened. Charles wasn’t even at camp when he suddenly got hit with a tidal wave of too much information to process. It was so overwhelming, his stomach turned inside out and his ears rang. It was all just flashes of people in different places, but he knew it hadn’t happened yet. And then, right at the end, there was Arthur, bleeding to death on a rocky cliff as the sun rose.
Bile rose in his throat again, but he pushed it back down. Something big was about to happen. He didn’t know what it was, but it seemed to involve Arthur, so he whistled for Taima and began tracking him down.
He found him outside of a run-down house in the middle of the countryside, talking about repaying debts to a woman, a child, and a scrawny guy who looked half dead already. The dots connected. Thoughts clicked into place.
“Arthur.” Charles said urgently.
Arthur whipped around, staring at Charles incredulously. “Charles? What’re you doin’ here?”
“I’ll pay his debt. Do not do this.” Charles pleaded. “Come with me. Please.”
Arthur just stared owlishly, glancing between him and the sick man as though trying to figure out how he could possibly lose this fight. Ultimately, though, his sympathy won out, and he sighed. He surprised Charles by getting on the back of Taima instead of whistling for his own horse. Had something happened to her?
“What was it this time, Charles?” he asked.
“I don’t even know how to explain it, but it was bad.” Charles said. “Worse than anything else so far. It must have been years of deja vu all at once. I think you might have caught whatever disease he had.”
Arthur grunted. “Well, glad you came an’ stopped me, then.”
“Of course.”
It did not occur to him that he might be the one getting shot one day.
The bullet lodged in his chest, right in his heart. Immediately, the feeling of wrong overwhelmed the sense of pain. He felt cold. Everything went black.
And he gasped as air entered his lungs, back in camp. Before the raid. Before they’d even gotten on their horses. He was just sitting at the campfire, choking down air like a drowned man.
“Charles!” someone shouted.
He’d just died. He had just died. He felt over his heart for the bullethole, but there wasn’t one yet.
“Charles, look at me.” Warm, firm hands grasped him by the shoulders. Arthur Morgan was crouching in front of him. “You’re alright, Charles. Just breathe.”
Something must have shown in his face at that, because Arthur chuckled and said “I know that’s what you’re doing. You’re just doing a pretty shit job at it. Look at you, you look ‘bout ready to fall plumb off this log.”
It hadn’t occurred to him that the spinning, dizzy feeling in his head might translate to anything visible. Charles steeled himself, putting everything he had towards matching Arthur’s breathing. It was always so annoying how it felt like he was suffocating himself by breathing slower, yet that was always what needed to happen.
When the ground stopped turning beneath him, Charles gave Arthur an awkward pat on the back, and the man let go. He sat on the ground by the fire instead. Charles glanced up and met several curious faces.
“What happened?” Tilly asked.
Charles swallowed. “I think I just died.”
“Obviously, but how?” Bill snapped. John elbowed him in the side.
“There was a shootout in Valentine.” Charles said, closing his eyes and massaging his forehead. “Pinkertons. They knew who we were. They were waiting for us. It was a massacre.”
Arthur frowned. “Who all was there?” he asked.
“You, John, Dutch, and I. Dutch asked me to come along to ‘future-proof’ it.”
Arthur glanced at John, who grimaced.
“Gentlemen!” Dutch said, bursting out of his tent. “John, remember that sheep-rustling gig you were thinking about doing with Arthur? How about you meet me in the Valentine Saloon when you’re done with that? Charles, you’ll go with me, just to be safe.”
“No!” everyone at the campfire yelled.
Dutch raised his eyebrows. Slowly, he began laughing. “That’s all it takes?” he said. “I just have to think about taking Charles, and he comes back knowing what went wrong?”
“He died, Dutch!” Arthur admonished. “Leave the poor man alone!”
Dutch’s face soured. “Oh, give it a rest. He hasn’t died yet.”
There was another round of outcries around the campfire. Dutch raised his hands in surrender. “And he won’t be dying anytime soon. Not if I have anything to say about it.” He patted Charles on the shoulder twice as he walked by. Charles suppressed the urge to shudder.
A shadow fell over Arthur’s face. Charles did not ask about it.
His quality of life rapidly went downhill from there. It seemed like almost every raid they went on, every mission, Charles was now at the forefront. Instead of scouting ahead or tailing behind, he was right in the middle of it all. This was not a good position for him, he thought, as he was shot in the chest and left to bleed out in the street. Dutch squatted over him and said, “Let’s try attacking from the left next time, Mr. Smith.”
Charles blinked, and then Dutch was standing over him again, saying “Well? How did it go?”
“Give him a second, for cryin’ out loud!” Arthur said, reaching out but not quite putting himself between the two of them.
“He’s got a gift, Arthur!” Dutch said, a point of argument that had long gone old. “It would be a waste not to use it.”
“Sure, by making sure the person most at risk of dying is the only person who’ll remember it! Yeah, that makes sense!” Arthur tossed his hands up. “Not like he wasn’t helping before!”
“It’s efficiency, Arthur. Efficiency. If Charles isn’t in the middle of it when things go wrong, how will he know what happened the first time around? He’d have to go through it a second time to get a better angle, and then we’d have to do it a third time to get it right. This is just the fastest way. You wouldn’t want him to go through that more times than necessary, would you?”
“You said,” Charles interrupted, still panting for breath, “to attack, from the left. Next time.”
Dutch beamed. “See?” And he stalked off to his tent.
Arthur sat by his side, that steady hand back on his shoulder again. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” he said.
“What choice do I have?” Charles said. “I’ll just end up back here again.”
“You could leave.” Arthur urged. “Could get as far away from here as you can.”
“I was far from here when I saw you die.” he whispered.
Arthur sighed.
He woke up screaming that night. He blinked furiously, hands on his head, combing back through his memories.
“What’s happened?” Javier whispered urgently. “Are they coming? Do they know where camp is? Did we all die?”
“Is Charles okay?” Marry-Beth whisper-shouted from across the way.
Charles shook his head, eyes closed. “It wasn’t anything. It was just a nightmare.”
Javier bit his lip. “Are you sure? You’ve never had one like that before.”
“How many times have you died this week?” he snapped. He regretted it immediately upon seeing the look on Javier’s face. “Excuse me.” he muttered, crawling to his feet.
He took off on Taima and didn’t return for two days.
Four days later, it happened again. He sat up, massaging his throat. If this was going to become a regular thing, he needed to stop sleeping in camp. There was no way he hadn’t just woken everyone up. Even Uncle would have jolted at that.
Javier glanced up at him, worrying his lip. Charles glanced at him sideways, daring him to ask. He apparently thought better of this time, rolling over and pulling his blanket back up.
The night air was brisk. There weren’t any clouds out. It was just the moon, the stars, and the embers of the campfires. Charles walked away from everything and everyone, wishing as he stepped on twigs in the dark that he’d taken the time to put on his boots.
Out of the trees, the view was fantastic. The sky was gorgeous. Charles looked over the cliff’s edge and wondered when and where he would wake up if he jumped.
“Hey.” Arthur’s soft voice said, careful not to startle him. Charles startled anyway, glancing wildly around until he could pick out Arthur’s silhouette. He was sitting with his back to a tree, his legs crossed.
Without saying anything, Charles made his way to his side and joined him on the ground. They listened to the crickets and owls and the wind.
After a while, Charles could also hear Arthur repeatedly opening his mouth, then changing his mind. Over and over again.
“Just say it already.” he said.
Arthur sighed. “I was just—it gets easier, is all.”
Charles turned and stared at him. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Well…” Arthur anxiously fiddled with his hands. “Let’s just say, for example, that when you realized what was going on back in the mountains, that your first instinct wasn’t to tell everyone that you were stuck reliving the moment over and over again until you got it right.” He swallowed. “Let’s say it was to pretend nothing had happened at all. To keep it secret. About how long, d’you think, would it be before you decided to never tell anyone?”
“Arthur.” Charles whispered.
“’Cuz if it was me, I’d say it’d be right about when someone died and nothing happened. Nothing reset. I didn’t get to go back and save them.”
“Arthur.” Charles repeated, horrified.
“An’ now I’ll never know if I coulda saved them, but I didn’t, ‘cuz I thought I’d have another try at it. Yeah, I think it’d be right about then.”
Charles rested a hand on his shoulder. “How long?”
“All my life, I think.” Arthur cleared his throat. “No idea why it started happenin’ to you all of the sudden, though.”
Charles frowned, thinking back. “Did… Were there any loops in the six months that I was with the gang, before we went up in the mountains? In Blackwater, maybe?”
Arthur shook his head. “I wish.” he said mournfully.
“So, what if…” Charles’s eyes widened. “…what if it’s always just been you doing it, somehow, and I’m just able to remember it?”
“But I remember, too, Charles, and I’ve never seen myself die from illness. Or, well, died from illness.” Arthur corrected himself. “Seen a lot of other crazy stuff, though.”
“Like what?”
Arthur paused. “I shouldn’t’a said crazy. It’s just a whole lot of death.”
Charles hummed.
They paused for a minute, just listening to the sounds of nature. It smelled very strongly of grass and decomposing leaf litter.
“Listen.” Arthur said, sitting up straight. “I don’t like the way Dutch is using you.”
Charles snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, really. I think—“ he leaned in close, “—maybe we should leave.”
Charles looked at Arthur, the loyal right-hand-man of Dutch, who had practically been raised by him and Hosea. Arthur, who worked every day to protect and provide for this ragtag gang that was his family. He looked at him, and he wondered what he’d gone through. What he’d seen. What he’d done.
“We could hit the road, just the two of us. Go out West. Go clean, start a homestead.”
“How would it even work?” Charles asked. “Won’t we still loop, even when we’re not here?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Arthur said, determined. “And even if we do still loop, maybe… Maybe we should try and see how far it can go.”
“You mean… Let it just keep looping?”
Arthur nodded, a grim look on his face.
“But what if—“
“It’s a risk.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Well, I don’t like watching you die!”
There was a desperation in his voice that sent chills down Charles’s spine. He shivered.
“Okay.” he whispered.
Arthur looked up, hope dancing in his eyes. “Okay?” he repeated.
Charles nodded. “Let’s wait for a good loop first, then try it out.”
“Define a ‘good loop’ for me.”
Charles opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no good answer for this. Why had he said that? He didn’t want death.
“You were thinking of Micah, weren’t you?” Arthur winked.
Charles pointedly looked away.
They had to repeat the next loop four times to keep Tilly alive. The loop after that, half the camp was under fire. The next loop after that, though, started over every time Micah was caught by the law.
Charles blinked, and he was back at the campfire. He wondered why it was here that he came back to. He didn’t really feel like he spent that much time there.
Moments later, Arthur strolled in, the widest smile that Charles had ever seen spread across his face. “Mornin’, Charles.” he said.
“Arthur.” Charles nodded back. “It’s a nice day for some hunting. Are you in?”
“Of course.” His eyes twinkled.
They leisurely walked over to their horses and mounted up. Only then did Dutch come out of his tent.
“Arthur! Charles!” he said cheerily. “Come over here! I’ve got something.”
“What’s that, Dutch?” Arthur called to him. “Come closer, we can’t hear you.”
Dutch approached. “I said I’ve got something. Our next big hit! Just one last act, and then it’s the wide open prairie for us!”
“Oh, that sounds terrific!” Arthur smiled. “Can’t wait to hear all about it soon as we get back from this hunting trip.”
“You’re taking Charles?” Dutch said, surprised. “Hunting?” he tacked on half a second later.
“Well, that is his specialty.” Arthur said.
“I’m tracking the most magnificent elk I’ve ever seen.” Charles lied. “It’ll feed the camp for a week, at least.”
“No, no, no. I need you both here. Now! This has to happen today.”
“Today?” Arthur said incredulously. “Why didn’t you say so yesterday!? We got plans for today. You can pull it off without us, Dutch.”
Dutch’s eyebrow twitched. “Arthur.” he said patiently.
“Bye, Dutch! We’ll see you later!” And they turned tail and rode off.
There was an angry shout from behind them, so they nudged their horses into gallops and took the most meandering route any soul had ever taken to get to the Heartlands. When Charles was certain they couldn’t have been followed, they finally stopped by a nice little stream and let the horses recover.
“We may have just ruined it.” Charles commented.
Arthur nodded. “I dunno why I didn’t think of that beforehand.” he said. “If we’re not there to cause Micah to get arrested…”
“Do you think Dutch will count this as abandonment?” Charles asked.
Arthur sighed. “I’m sure he’d give us a few days to come back with a legendary elk, first.”
“So we have time.”
“We have time.”
They looked at each other.
It was nice. Arthur was wonderful company. Charles watched as he sketched their horses, then the plants nearby, then a stray raccoon, and finally the landscape, complete with their crossed legs at the bottom. Only then did he seem to notice Charles had been watching. Charles had never seen him turn so red without the help of alcohol. Neither of them spoke, though. It was tranquil. Peace.
Just after sunset, though, Charles found himself back at the campfire.
Arthur strode over to him, beaming twice as much as before. “Mornin’, Charles! Looks like a great day for some hunting, doesn’t it?”
“When do we sleep?” Charles whispered.
Arthur shrugged. “Don’t think we need it, really.”
They rode off before Dutch could so much as shout at him.
Maybe it was just the peace in the field, or the sun beating down overhead, but they did start to get tired. Charles leaned back on a grassy hill, and the next thing he knew, his head was tucked onto Arthur’s shoulder. What was stranger was that he realized he didn’t mind one bit.
Arthur flipped open his sketchbook. “Shit.” he whispered.
“Hmm?” Charles mumbled.
“Oh, s’nothing.” Arthur hushed him. “Go back to sleep.”
Well, who was he to deny him? Charles snuggled closer. This gave him a great vantage point to see that all the drawings Arthur had done in the previous loop were now gone.
He fell asleep to the gentle scratchings of Arthur’s pencil.
He was gently shaken awake just as the sun touched the horizon.
“Thought you’d want to watch it, too.” Arthur explained.
Charles smiled. “Didn’t know you were a romantic, Arthur.”
“Well, I—ha.” Arthur said, hiding under the brim of his hat.
They watched as the sky began to turn from blue to purple.
“Wait.” Charles said suddenly. “Could I see your drawings?”
Arthur’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know about that.”
“That’s alright, then.” Charles said. “It’s just a shame that they’ll be gone soon.”
“That it is.” Arthur said, leaning back.
The sky turned from purple to pink to gold, all at once, the puffy clouds giving the colors a pastel glow.
“Of course, sometimes the art is in its temporality.” Charles commented. “Those drawings will only exist now. They’re locked into this moment. Ephemeral, like snowflakes in the winter.”
“Alright, alright.” Arthur sighed, getting his journal out of his satchel. “If you care so much, fine.”
“I didn’t mean to press you, I really meant it.”
“Look at the stupid pictures, Charles.”
Charles took the journal and smiled. He’d drawn different things today. The clouds in the sky, Taima from a front-on angle. It looked so goofy, yet so incredibly her. Charles couldn’t help but laugh.
“Told you.” Arthur said, looking away.
“Arthur, this is amazing. I wish I could frame this one.” Charles said. “I’ve never seen anyone draw a horse from the front before.”
“Yeah, well, now we know why.”
Charles noticed something showing through the page from the other side. There was more! “May I turn the page?”
“I—well, I… Yes, I suppose, but—you might not…”
Charles considered sparing the poor man, but his curiosity won out. He flipped the page and was suddenly face-to-face with himself. His own face, close up, from the perspective of Arthur as he’d slept on his shoulder. Fine hairs hanging over his face, long eyelashes, every scar and mark on his face were captured in incredible detail. It was him, but not how Charles was used to. Because this wasn’t what Charles saw in the mirror. This was how Arthur saw him. And it was…
“Soft.” Charles whispered.
“Not sure if that’s the word I’d use.” Arthur said uncomfortably. “The proportions ain’t quite right, an’ I didn’t sharpen the pencil ‘fore I started, so—“
“Arthur, it’s beautiful.”
“—I didn’t get it—oh.” Arthur scratched under his collar, looking anywhere but at Charles. “Thank you, I guess.”
“Thank you for showing me.”
“Sure.”
As the sun sank lower on the horizon, Charles suddenly felt a little bit brave.
“…and for letting me use you as a pillow.”
Arthur burst out with a surprised laugh. “Ha! No need to thank me for that one.”
“That so?” Charles grinned, scooting closer. They knocked their knees together.
“Aw, hell, Charles.” Arthur laughed again, finally looking straight at him. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“And then we’ll meet again, back at camp.” Charles wrapped an arm around him, pulling him even closer. “Forever and ever, until we get sick of it and finally go and save Micah.”
Arthur pulled a face. “Can’t see that ever happening. I’d gladly spend an eternity by your side.”
At that one, they both paused.
“Me, too.” Charles whispered.
“Thank Christ!” Arthur swore, putting his face in his hands. “If that hadn’t gone over well, I don’ know what I’d do.”
“That would be awkward.” Charles agreed.
And then he was back at the damn campfire again.
“Mornin’, Charles!” Arthur called, jogging up to him. “Nice day for some hunting, right!?”
“That it is.” Charles smiled.
Someday, they would feel ready to leave their perfect days behind. Someday, they would go back to camp with a mission. Someday, they would whisper secrets to Tilly and Lenny, give instructions to John and Abigail, and offer to take Karen, Mary-Beth, and Molly on a trip. Someday, they would walk up to Hosea, hand in hand, and tell him the truth. Someday, they would put an end to Micah before he put an end to them.
But for now, they took a much-needed rest. And they took it together.