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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv. Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality.

Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand.

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

“I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?”

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon.

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s.

Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules.

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache.

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her. The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell. No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

“Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off. “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah.

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed.

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile.

“Hey Lobo.”

Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised.

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.”

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her.

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers.

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.”

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.”

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air.

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play.

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him.

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.”

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her.

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring.

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert.

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah. “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke.

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

“I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

#leave no one behind #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson x original female character #Ari Levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Ayato Route ー Chapter 3

ー The scene starts in the hotel room

Yui: ( Ayato-kun still hasn’t returned it seems... )

( I wonder where he went? Should I go look for him...? )

*Rustle rustle*

ー She goes down to the lobby

Yui: ( Ah, I recognize that back... )

Ayato-kun!

ー She runs up to him

Ayato: ...Chichinashi...

Yui: Where were you? I was worri...ーー

( ...Huh...? )

Hey, what’s wrong? You seem kind of tired...

Ayato: Shut up. I’m fine.

More importantly, are you well enough to be up and running again?

Yui: I’m fine, but...

Ayato: Mmh. Let’s go look for the locksmith together then.

Yui: Yeah...We have to find some sort of lead first though...

Ayato: I’ve got one. Seems like he’s hanging out in Saint Nore Park.

I found this person who spotted him there, you see...

Yui: Eh...?

( Then, could he have been looking around for the locksmith on his own this whole time...? )

Ayato: We might lose track of him again if we sit around too long. Let’s go.

Yui: Gotcha.

( ... )

ー She reaches for his hand

Ayato: ...Why did you grab my hand all of a sudden...?

Yui: S-Sorry...But...

( I was thinking of a way to say thank you and suddenly felt like doing this... )

Ayato: Hm, whatever. Anyway, let’s hurry.

Yui: Yeah!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Saint Nore Park’s venue

Yui: It’s still as crowded as ever...

Ayato: Yeah, you’re right...

Yui: ( What to do? Even if we know he’s here, with this many people around... )

Ayato: Well then. Guess it’s time for these bad boys to make an appearance.

Yui: ...? Ayato-kun, are those...?

Ayato: Hehe. I figured out what the dude looks like while I was gatherin’ information on him.

I drew this portrait of him. Whatcha think? There’s just no way we won’t find him with this, right?

Yui: ( ...I thought it was an animal of some sorts...But it’s actually a portrait... )

( Ayato-kun seems very confident but...I’m honestly a little worried... )

Ayato: ...What? Got a problem with my drawing?

Yui: Eh? ...No, that’s not it, but...

Ayato: ...? But, what?

Yui: Well...

Selection

→ Beg the question

Yui: ...No, it’s nothing...

Ayato: ...Hmm. Well, whatever.

→ Praise him (☾)

Yui: ...No, it’s nothing. I just thought your art style is very distinctive...

Ayato: Hah, right? You’ve got a good eye!

Yui: ( Either way...I feel as if I’ve seen this face somewhere before... )

( ...Am I just imagining things...? )

Ayato: ‘Kay! Let’s go ‘round the whole park showin’ people this portrait!

*TIMESKIP*

Ayato: Che, fuck...We’re not havin’ any luck...

Yui: Yeah...You’re right...

( We’ve been walking around the park asking others for information, but we haven’t even gotten any clues... )

( I guess it’s impossible with just a single portrait... )

Ayato: Hm? ...Ah!

Yui: ...What?

Ayato: Oi, take a look over there...!

Yui: Eh...?

???: Hahaha, then afterwards...

Yui: ( For some reason...That man vaguely looks like...the portrait drawn by Ayato-kun...? )

Ayato: It’s definitely him! Oi, let’s go!

Yui: Y-Yeah...!

( Way to go, Ayato-kun! ...I guess? )

ー They run up to the man

Ayato: Hey, Old Geezer! You’re the locksmith, right?

???: ...I can’t deny I’m the one and only but... ...! You’re that guy from yesterday...!

Yui: Eh? ...Ah! You’re...!

ー A flashback ensues

Vampire gentleman: I was shocked to find you passed out here! Did you come with someon...ーー

ー Ayato runs up to them

Ayato: ...Oi! What are you doin’ to her!? Back off at once!!

*THUD*

Vampire gentleman: Uguh!?

Yui: ...! Ayato-kun!?

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( The guy who helped me yesterday...And who was kicked by Ayato-kun...! )

( Who would have thought he was actually the locksmith...! )

Locksmith: What do you want? I didn’t think I would run into you two again here...

Just when I was enjoying the Parade too...

Take a look! My smile has been turned upside down because of you!

Yui: W-We’re so sorry...!

Ayato: Che...For real? No wonder the guy struck me as familiar when I was drawin’ his portrait...

Listen, dude. I’m sorry for what I did yesterday...I was convinced you were...

Yui: Um, we truly feel sorry. It’s just, Ayato-kun honestly didn’t mean any harm.

He just got the wrong idea and...Well...

Locksmith: Hmhp! A little late for those excuses now. Besides, I’m enjoying my vacation right now.

I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t disturb me. Now leave.

Yui: ...But...!

Ayato: Listen up. There’s somethin’ we wanna ask of you.

Locksmith: ...Of me?

*Cling*

Ayato: ...It’s this. We have to fix this key by the end of today, no matter what...

I’m beggin’ you. Can’t you please help us out?

Locksmith: ...And give me one good reason to do that!? The answer is no.

Ayato: Didn’t I say ‘please!?’ If not, she’ll...Yui will...

Yui: ...Ayato-kun...

Locksmith: What does she have to do with it?

Ayato: ...Long story short, we need your skill to be able to save her!

So stop complainin’ and help us out!

*Thud*

Yui: ...Ayato-kun! C-Calm down...!

Locksmith: Hmph! You should probably do something about that short temper of yours.

...Anyway, if I don’t fix that key, something bad will happen to the young lady over here, correct?

...I suppose I have no other choice then. Let me make you an offer then.

Ayato: An offer?

Locksmith: Exactly. I challenge you to a game of go-cart. If you win, I will help you out.

Yui: ...! Really?

Locksmith: Yes, I mean it. Hey, you. This is how you negotiate with someone. Take mental note.

Ayato: Che, the fuck? This locksmith thinks he’s the shit...I don’t like him.

But fine. I just need to beat you in a go-cart race, right? Challenge accepted! You better brace yourself!

Oi, watch me, Chichinashi. I’m takin’ this victory home for sure.

Yui: Yeah...!

( Good luck, Ayato-kun...! )

Explanation: The player controls the go-cart of the character. Hitting the obstacles will slow you down. By touching the arrow, you can speed up. Use the D-pad to alternate lanes and reach the finish before time runs out.

You can play this game in EASY, NORMAL or HARD mode.

Ayato: Awesome, I win!

Locksmith: I didn’t think you could win against me in a go-cart race. ...As to be expected of Karlheinz’s son.

Yui: Eh? You knew...?

Locksmith: ...Guess so. That’s exactly why I wanted to beat him.

Ayato: Anyway, you’ll fix this key as you promised, right?

Locksmith: Yeah, of course. You won fair and square after all.

Ayato: I did it, Yui!

ー He scoops her up in his arms

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah!

( Gosh, Ayato-kun...! )

Ayato: Heh! Didn’t I tell you? Yours Truly never loses...

There’s nobody out there who can beat me. I’m always number one!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the locksmith’s shop

Locksmith: Well then, come on in.

*Thud*

Yui: ( Wow. There’s many keys I’ve never seen before... )

Locksmith: ...Well then, show me the broken key.

Ayato: Yeah. It’s this bad boy.

*Cling*

Locksmith: ...Hm, this is...

...

Yui: ( ...He went quiet. He looks a little troubled... )

Ayato: Oi, what do you say? You can fix it, right?

Locksmith: ...I can. However...I will need a special mineral to do so.

Yui: A special...mineral?

Ayato: You just have to attach one side to the other, right!? Then why not use whatever you have laying ‘round to glue it together!?

Locksmith: ...No, that won’t work. Well, let me just show you. For example, if I try to use this metal...

*Cling cling*

*Thud*

Ayato: ...!?

Yui: ( ...The metal bounced off...? )

Locksmith: ...See? This key has been manufactured in a special way and can only be fixed by using an identical material.

It’ll be difficult to repair the key without the right mineral.

Yui: No way...

Ayato: Then we just gotta dig up that mineral from somewhere, right!? Where can we find it?

Locksmith: Even here in the Demon World, you can only find it in a select few locations.

The closest site would be...Right. The abandoned mine on Smaragd Volcano...

That place used to be a goldmine for all sorts of minerals. I’m sure you could still dig some up to this day.

Ayato: The volcano, right? ‘Kay, gotcha! Oi, Chichinashi! We’re leavin’ right away. Follow me!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah! Ayato-kun!

ー The scene shifts to Diamante Fountain

Ayato: That bein’ said, how are we gonna get to this abandoned mine...?

It can’t be helped...The Four-Eyes might just know a good way.

Okay, I’m gonna send him a message through my Familiar.

*Flap flap flap*

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun’s trying his very best... )

( He barely got any sleep last night either, did he...? I feel kind of bad... )

( For one, I wonder if this stuff we’re doing right now is really what the Count expects from us...? )

( I won’t deny that we broke into his house and broke the key, but... )

ー A flashback ensues

???: ...Exactly. While everyone else is too preoccupied with the Parade.

???: ...I will act as the decoy. ...As for the location, is Zartan’s Mouth okay?

???: Yes, I do not mind. However, there’s a few issues...

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( They were being kind of suspicious, right...? )

( I wonder what exactly that key is for...? )

( If those guys are trying to commit a crime using that key... )

( We basically aided them in that, no...? )

( In that case, the Count will... )

Ayato: Oi, what’s wrong? You’ve got a frown on your face...

Yui: ...Ayato-kun...

Ayato: I got a response from Reiji. That bastard really knows all the weird shit, huh?

But it saved our ass this time. It seems like we’ll need some tools, so let’s go collect them right away.

Yui: Y-Yeah...But...

Ayato: ...? What?

Yui: Shouldn’t you take a little break first?

You know...You haven’t been able to rest at all since yesterday, right?

Ayato: ...That’s what you’re worried about? I’m totally fine.

Besides, it’s my fault all of this happened in the first place, right?

You really think I can sit still and rest now...?

Yui: ( Ayato-kun... )

Ayato: The quickest route to the volcano is to take a gondola and go up the canal.

I’m sure you’re tired as well, but let’s push through a lil’ longer and rest on the journey there, ‘kay?

Yui: ...I’m fine. I’m much more worried about you...

Ayato: Didn’t you hear me when I said I’m fine? You weirdo. ...Let’s go.

Yui: Yeah...

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Rubien Canal

Ayato: Accordin’ to Reiji’s message, there’s a lake at the end of this canal.

And the entrance to the mountain should be somewhere in the nearby forest.

Yui: ...

Ayato: ...? Oi, what’s wrong? You’ve been actin’ off this whole time, you know?

...You’re not feeling sick again, are you?

Yui: ...I’m not! There’s just been something on my mind...

Ayato: On your mind? What is it? Tell me. You shouldn’t keep secrets from me.

Yui: ...It’s about that key...

Ayato: ...The key?

Yui: ...Yeah. I was just wondering what they’d use that key for...

Ayato: ...Well, it didn’t seem like they’re up to any good.

Yui: ...! You think so too?

Ayato: I mean, those dudes in the basements were obviously actin’ suspicious, no?

They were hella pissed we listened in on their conversation as well. I’m sure they’re up to something.

Yui: ...In that case, what we’re doing right now is...

Ayato: ...Hmph. But you know, what’s the point in worryin’ ‘bout that?

Anyway, it’s my fault the key broke...

If they won’t forgive me unless I get it fixed, then I have no other choice.

That’s all the Count told us. We don’t exactly have the time to worry ‘bout what comes after, right?

Yui: You’re not wrong but...

Ayato: Oh, seems like we’re here.

ー The scene shifts to Tilkeys Falls

Yui: ( Waah...What a beautiful place. )

Ayato: ‘Kay, let’s keep goin’. Here, gimme your hand.

Yui: Yeah.

*Rustle*

( Swan-shaped boats...Everyone seems to having a lot of fun... )

( I would have loved to come here on a date with Ayato-kun instead... )

( However, now’s not the time for that. )

Ayato: ...

*Rustle*

Yui: ...Kyah!

( Ayato-kun, out of nowhere...! )

Ayato: Why do you keep makin’ those gloomy expressions?

Don’t worry. Once we find the right mineral real quick and get the key repaired...

I’ll for sure retrieve your heart from the Count, okay?

Then afterwards, let’s enjoy ourselves here to the fullest before headin’ home. How does that sound?

Yui: Ayato-kun...

( Could it be, he’s trying to cheer me up...Right? )

Fufu. You’re right. We better hurry then.

Ayato: Yeah!

ー The scene shifts to the mine site

Ayato: Che, this place’s pretty slippery...Oi. Watch your step, ‘kay?

Yui: Yeah...

( It’s pretty creepy in here...It looks rather worn out as well... )

( It won’t collapse, right...? I’m a little worried... )

*Thud*

Ayato: There we go...Guess ‘round here should do. Let’s try diggin’ into the ground.

Yui: I’ll start over here then...

Ayato: No, you don’t need to help out. I’d rather not have you collapse on me again. Just sit there and watch, ‘kay?

Yui: ...But...!

Ayato: I just said it’s fine, right? Anyway, let’s get started! Heave...hoh!

*THUD*

*Rustle*

Ayato: Uwah!

Yui: Kyaah!

Ayato: Che, bats...? Don’t give me a scare...There...!

*THUD THUD*

Ayato: Reiji knew more ‘bout the mineral.

It’s some kind of magic crystal about the size of a fist which gives off a silver shine.

Yui: Silver...?

Ayato: Yeah. That’s why the dark will work to our advantage! If it shimmers, we should be able to spot it right away!

*THUD*

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah!

( Again...! Is something lurking around...? )

Ayato: Hah, whatcha pissin’ your pants for? I bet it’s some lower class Familiar again?

*Flap flap*

Ayato: Che, it’s hella noisy though. It keeps on distractin’ me. I’ll chase it away!

*Thud*

Ayato: Imma go take a look up ahead so you stay here, ‘kay?

ー Ayato walks away

Yui: A-Ayato-kun...

( He left...Will he be okay...? )

Ayato: Hm? The fuck’s this? ...Wait. Uwah!?

*CAW*

Ayato: Uwaahーー!!

Yui: ...!? Ayato-kun!?

( O-Oh no...! )

ー She rushes to his side

Yui: Ayato-kun, what’s wrong!?

( ...He’s gone...? )

Ayato-kunーー!?

*Flap*

Ayato: Chichinashiーー!!

*CAW*

Yui: Kyaah!!

( Ayato-kun...! He’s been caught by a giant eagle!! )

( W-What should I do...!? I have to save him...! )

Ayato-kun! I’ll be right thereーー!

Ayato: Forget that! Look! Inside its nest!

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: You can see it right!? There’s a silver light! Couldn’t that be the crystal!?

Yui: Ah...!

( He’s right...! There’s various silver crystals inside the eagle’s nest...! )

Ayato: Hurry up and take one! Make haste!!

Yui: ( B-But... )

*Chirp chirp chirp*

T-The chicks have got their wings wrapped around them...If I get close, I’m sure...

( The Mother bird will get upset...! )

*Flap flap*

*CAW*

Ayato: Like we have the time to worry ‘bout that! Hurry up while I keep the big one busy!

Yui: O-Okay...

ー Yui runs over to the nest

*Chirp chirp chirp*

Yui: I-I’m sorry...I only need one, okay...

*Rustle*

( Those crystals seem very dear to them...Right, I’m pretty sure birds are known to like sparkly things... )

...

*Flap flap*

*CAW*

Yui: ...Kyaah!

Ayato: Fuck! Seems like she noticed you!

What are you takin’ your sweet time for!? Just snatch one already! ...Uwah!?

*THUD*

Ayato: ...Ow...

*Flap flap*

*CAW*

Ayato: You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me! Look! The eagle returned to her nest. Now it won’t be easy to get close to it.

That was our chance! What are you doin’...!?

Yui: B-But...!

( I just can’t...! Even if it’s from an eagle, it’d still make us thieves...! )

*Flap flap*

*CAW*

Yui: ( ...She’s wary of us... )

Ayato-kun, let’s go outside for now...

Ayato: Haah? Are you givin’ up? But why...!?

ー Yui walks away

Ayato: Oi, wait! Chichinashi!

ー The scene shifts to the entrance of the mine

Ayato: ...God, what are you playin’ at!? We were so close!

Yui: I’m sorry...But listen...

Those chicks were holding the stones so very dearly...

I just couldn’t bring myself to take them away...

Ayato: Haah? They’re eagles, remember? The fuck you sayin’...!?

Yui: B-But you know...We’re going around trying to clear our name so...

So don’t you think that by stealing something valuable from those eagles, we’d just be committing another misduct?

Ayato: ...

Yui: Besides, when dealing with a human, we can always apologize and explain the situation to them.

However, when it’s an eagle, we would never be able to get their forgiveness, right...?

Once I realized that, I just couldn’t bring myself to steal the crystal...

Ayato: ...Haah. You really love to overthink stuff, don’t you...?

But well, whatever. No point in crying over spilled milk.

Let’s look for a different way for now. We still have to get our hands on one of those crystals no matter what after all.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun...He understood... )

Want to move locations and try digging along the tunnel? I’ll help this time too...

Ayato: Mmh. Well...Guess we have no other choice...

Monologue

In what followed, the two of us went on our way,

digging around the entire mining site,

but we were unable,

to find the magic crystal.

With both of us completely exhausted,

we had no other choice but to return to the city empty-handed.

ー The scene shifts to café Tarte Tatin

*Cling*

Ayato: ...So what are we gonna do now...?

Yui: ...Yeah...

( For real, what should we do? )

( We have to get the key repaired by the end of today...Yet, we weren’t able to find the crystal in the end... )

Ayato: Say, I’ve been thinkin’. Don’t you think that Count might have one of those crystals in his possession?

He’s been goin’ ‘round stealing treasures from all ‘round the Demon World, so he’s bound to have one or two magical crystals amongst his collection...

Yui: ...I can definitely picture it...

( We had no other choice but to steal from the eagle to repair the key...I’m sure the Count watched all of that go down as well... )

( He might just be able to give us some advice at least... )

...Good point. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask

Ayato: We don’t exactly have much other choice. With that settled, let’s quickly finish our meal and get goin’.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Rubien Canal

Ayato: Oh, oi! Check that out!

Yui: Eh?

Waah...!

Ayato: It’s the Water Parade. Seems like we got here just on time.

Yui: Yeah, you’re right. It’s really pretty...

Ayato: ...

Say, listen...

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: ‘Bout the eagle’s nest from earlier...I’m sorry.

You actually weighed your options, didn’t you? Yet I kept on givin’ you crap for it...

Yui: ...

It’s fine. I should apologize as well.

Even though...You tried so hard to get that crystal...

Ayato: ...Hey, Yui. Lift your face.

ー He steps closer

Yui: Eh? ...Nn...

Ayato: Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: ( ...What a gentle kiss... )

( It’s always as if his kindness is being conveyed to me... )

Ayato: ...Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: ( I can tell even if he doesn’t say it out loud. That deep down... )

( He’s really thinking of what’s best for me... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 2

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 4]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ SUBARU]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ RUKI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ KOU]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #4 [W/ YUMA]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #5 [W/ SHIN]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #lunatic parade #diabolik lovers translation #lpayatochapter3

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fafulous · 4 years

Text

Take Me Home (2/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

a/n: I dedicate this chapter to my LOML @sinner-as-saint. Happy Birthday Darling! ILY!

Part 1

Warnings: Small Hints of Abuse.

—

It was your full day shift at the library

You still couldn’t stop thinking about that horrid graffiti left out on Andrew’s Garage door. Why would anyone write something so horrific? It is never a common occurrence to accuse someone of being a murderer; Besides, you didn’t even truly know who the man was.

In one of your breaks while sipping on your hot cocoa, your curiosity got the best of you and googled about him. Those amateur press reporters wouldn’t crowd around a random vandalism; you knew something was up.

To your dismay, you came across terrifying articles of his family. Specifically, about his son.

You read about how Andrew Barber, the Local district attorney of the Newton County was found to be tangled in a murder case because of his son. You didn’t bother to read further for the headlines were awful; described how his 14-year-old son was in trial for the murder of his own classmate.

The details were too horrifying. The press reported every court proceeding but you didn’t proceed to read about what happened. Perhaps his son went to jail? Or he was declared not guilty but was separated from his family? You thought how a good handful of weeks passed and he had absolutely no visitors to his house. Best decision you made was to close the articles for it made you sick to the stomach.

Not only did it feel like you were invading on someone’s privacy, it was also not difficult to picture your son in Jacob Barber’s shoes.

You felt bad for the man, you really did. But then you recalled how he questioned your parenting. It takes years to build self-confidence, but just one statement to shatter it all.

It didn’t feel right reading about your neighbour, it felt like you were a stalker. And so, you resumed to stock up and label the new pile of books.

The Librarian desk was placed in such a way that you would immediately know if anyone entered the library. It would normally be teenagers and college go-ers labelled as nerds who would spend hours and hours of studying and reading. But this time, the one approaching your desk was the last person you ever wanted to see.

Nikolai’s father.

A week ago, Chad did make an appearance into your life out of the blue, asking you to take him back. But you couldn’t for you believed in two things: Your self-respect wasn’t weak, and that Nikolai didn’t deserve a pathetic excuse of a father. After you found out about his infidelity, you mentally decided not to take him back and that was a final decision.

You dropped whatever you were doing and made a beeline to Chad. “You can’t drop in during work like this.”

Quarter of an hour perhaps was spent on arguing back and forth in whispers. You will never deny that how it would be perfect for Nikolai to grow up with a father, but you kept reminding yourself not to give in to him.

“Listen Y/N. I really am sorry for barging like you on this. I want to make things right. “

“You can’t Chad,” you whispered, “I can’t. It is not fair to Nikolai and to me. Just go.”

Chad suddenly pushed you back to one of the bookshelves by gripping your shoulders. His shoulder touches were something that he used to do to offer you comfort at times of distress. But now this was causing you stress.

He gritted his teeth. “Why can’t you just fucking take me back?”

“Because I wasn’t the one who slipped into my co-worker’s vagina!”

Before you realised Chad was going to get unpleasant with you, another familiar voice interrupted the small run-in.

“Hey everything alright?”

You turned around to the stern voice only to see your neighbour, Andrew. You were fixated on him to the point where you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

He looked so handsome.

He was wearing a formal dark navy suit, his tie almost matching his hair colour. His hair and beard were neatly groomed with just a hint of messy. His beautiful trench coat accentuated his arm muscles. He did look like a textbook District Attorney.

Andy on the other hand exchanged looks between the both of you, glaring at the man who dare pushed you back against the bookshelf. He got near to them which made Chad leave his grip and take a few steps away from her.

Chad continued the conversation with you without acknowledging the intruder’s existence. “I’m going to leave now. Think about it. I’ll come in a few days to pick up Nikolai.” He soon left, making sure he didn’t make eye contact with the formal dude who seemed to be much taller to him.

Andy approached you cautiously while your hand pressed the wrinkles off of your shoulders. “Couldn’t help but hearing the whole co-worker slipping into your vagina statement. That man your ex?”

Dealing with two arrogant men simultaneously was not something you signed up today. “Be careful Mr. Barber, the attorney in you is showing.”

Andy stiffened his shoulders but did not let go of his grin. He liked a woman who was snappy, especially when he has seen the caring side of you. “So, you know about me?”

“I can take care of myself,” deflecting from his question. You didn’t want to admit about your slip up that you read about him from an online article. “You didn’t have to do that whole saviour stunt on me Mr. Barber,” you walked away from him, heading outside the library to catch a breath of fresh air. Andy followed you like a puppy would.

“You didn’t have to do it alone too, Miss”

You noticed how he didn’t call you formally. “Andrew, I told you I-I am never going to have a conversation with you ever.”

“I know I know.” He paused and you crossed your arms, waiting for him to say something while you admired the beauty of his trench coat on his frame.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy. M-my shift ends in an hour.”

“I can wait.”

“No Andrew, my car is in the repairs and I’m bailing on my assistant to drop me home-“

“I can drop you. We literally live next to each other. Please Y/N,” He neared you, anxiously looking over at you, “Give me this tiny speck of a chance.”

You stood there trying to pull off a stern look, trying so hard not to display you inhaling his musky cologne that made you excited. Who would’ve thought you would fall for a meanie who just had a pair of needy, blue eyes?

“Alright fine,” you said giving in. “Read a book or something inside.”

Andy was happy at his sweet victory.

In that time Andy decided to look through the well-ventilated library. It was quite spacious, his senses hitting with the smell of old books and natural pesticides to keep the books from deteriorating. There were enough tables for people to sit and read at their leisure. He even recognized familiar books he used to read with Laurie every night. It was an intimate ritual for them; so eventually for the past few months, he gave up on reading.

Andy then noticed you scuttling around for a while till you plopped on your desk. Your work attire was silk white blouse with a yellow pencil skirt. There was a strut of confidence every time you took a step or gave orders to her assistant.

Neither of you would deny the lingering glances you gave each other in that time.

An hour passed and both of you stood outside near his beautiful black car.

“What is it Andrew?”

“I wanted to sincerely apologize to you. This is not right I know. I know I’ve hurt your feelings and this apology doesn’t even cover it. I stepped out of line many times even though you remained to be kind to me.”

You puffed out a breath of air. Judging by the tone of his voice, you knew the man before you were being sincere.

“Just let me make it up to you one day at a time please. It would kill me if I didn’t do anything.”

“Y-you don’t have to anything Mr. Barber. Its just-“

“I know take your time. I hope we could hit the refresh button excluding the part where I make it up to you.”

“Yeah no um- I also owe you another thanks for helping back at the Library- uh Chad? The bloke you interrupted me with?”

Andy nodded. “It was nothing really. So, can we start fresh?” He extended his hand to you and a firm handshake was exchanged.

“Apology accepted I suppose.”

Soon you found yourself in Andy’s car, who was kind to even open the door for you. Chivalry isn’t dead.

For now.

The ride back was quiet, you observing in the interiors of the sleek black car. The seat felt so comfortable, along with the man beside you. A comfortable silence prevailed the drive back home, Andy popping in superficial questions about your work and Nikolai and vice versa.

“So any plans for tonight?”

“Nikolai wanted to watch a Disney movie tonight with some Chicken Lasagne. Oddly, specific I know but kids these days, right?”

“Yeah.” You noticed how his face fell slightly and so you tried to change the topic. “What about you?”

“The usual. Netflix and Takeout. Trying to cut on the beer though you know with the new job and all.”

“Thanks for the drive back home Mr. Barber.”

He took this as a good sign. “From now on you can call me Andy.”

“Listen Mr. Barber- Andy I have to get something off of my chest. “

Andy unbuckled his seat belt and faced you, unsure of what she wanted to say. “Sure please, go ahead.”

“Okay Andy. I just want to clear the air that only know about you as an attorney because my curiosity irked me after your whole garage shed incident. I didn’t dig much because I felt like the inner me was being like a creep.”

He raised his eyebrows heart slightly sinking that you had already become the judge of his character. “So, you do know about me then?”

“Not more than how your son was involved in a murder trial,” you fumbled. “I don’t know the outcome and I don’t know why I am telling you all of this oh my god.”

Andy chuckled to see you covering your face in embarrassment, feeling a little relieved to know that you didn’t have much of an idea of who he was. He reassured her that it was completely fine, and you saw you going back home.

The next couple of days went smoother for both you and Andy. After a week it seems you and Andy always left home for work at the same time, passing casual morning greetings…which you had to do by successfully covering your blush because he never failed to look nothing less than good looking even though he was now just a swimming instructor.

Andy told you that day he apologized to you at the library was the day when he gave in an interview for the Swimming Instructor position opened at the community gym. He said it was something he used to do in his free time, and he wanted to give it a shot

You weren’t even surprised to find your mind in the gutter when you thought about Andy in skin-fit Speedos that stuck to his thick thighs and broad back. Or would he just wear trunks? You smacked your head; this what happens when the last time you got laid was two years back…

No offense to your expensive vibrator.

Andy would drop you to work if you didn’t feel like it and pick you up too. He even would take Nikolai alone for car rides which he enjoyed.

“Mommy! Wandi car go zooooom!”

He once popped into the library telling you that he would like to be a member. You would have never thought that this man was a bookworm. He soon told you how he used to have a habit of reading a book every night and now that he wants to revive it.

Normally for new inquisitive children or young adults who wanted recommendations to begin the practice of reading was handled by your assistant, Tracy. You weren’t surprised when Tracy was almost proactive when she saw Andy. But to the utter dismay of your assistant, Andy wanted to hear it from you.

Its not like you won a battle with your assistant, but you happily concurred with you head held high. He wants me. (You smacked yourself mentally again, jealousy is an ugly stain).

“How do I know you’re not bluffing Andy?” you whispered.

“Hey hey,” he leaned nearer to your ears. “I’m new to this place and I want a couple of books and recommendations that’s all. It can get lonely at home sometimes.”

As Andy and you spoke over books, you saw he had no shred of the hostility he had in these past few weeks. Andy also noticed how you looked much more comfortable than you were initially. For the both of you a new friendship was blooming.

For now.

“What kind of books are you into Mr. Barber?”

“Well I was the thriller and mystery kind, but things have changed, looking for a change rather. Nothing old sticks on to me now.”

“Ah yes. Every reader has that phase and I have just the solution.”

He was almost puzzled when you took him to the young adults section and handed over two books or rather two parts of a beautiful story.

“Harry Potter? Isn’t that a children’s book?”

“Objection your honour!” You went on to tell him the premise of the books without spoiling much for him. It suddenly struck him that Jacob had these books at home too. But he was able to push the twinge away when he hears your sweet whispers of excitement. He did complain he has watched the movies but the bookworm in him knew that books are always better than the movies.

“Okay okay! Objection is sustained.” He laughs. A genuine laughter after what seemed like eons.

You didn’t want the conversation to end. It felt refreshing to talk to Andy and so you felt generous.

“You can drop the usual food takeout today yeah? When was the last time you had home cooked meal?

Andy thought for a while. “An awfully long time Y/N. It’s okay-“

“Dinner is at my house. No excuses.”

Andy found a little purpose to be excited in life.

–

On Mondays, Andy comes home with a bottle of wine to beat the heat of a horrid Monday morning.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Andy flaunts his cooking skills to you and Nikolai. Surprisingly, he has not lost his touch over cooking. He loved it how the little boy gets the food names all jumbled up and how, much to your embarrassment, he would ask him for food requests. Can we have Pawsta and bwed? Or Can we have spwagety?

Wednesdays and Fridays, Andy chilled out on your sofa having a tea party or fighting an alien invasion with Nikolai while you effortlessly cooked to your delight.

It’s almost become a ritual over as the weeks go by. Andy and you talk a lot, but never about each other. Both of you talk about books, or debate over politics or even talk about movies.

It was in these nights when both of you unintentionally spills the beans of your past.

First was Andy when was discussing about how he loved the Harry Potter books you suggested that the waterfall of backstories began. After dinner got over both of you sat on your couch talking about the day’s work, while Nikolai fiddled with toys on the cushioned chair. He mentioned how Jacob had these books.

“Who is Jacob?”

Andy looked ahead at Nikolai sitting at one of the comfort chairs with a couple of his figurines while his eyes fought with slumber, “My son.”

“Oh, how is he? Is he with his mother now?”

Maybe it was too soon to ask. You literally saw with your own eyes how Andy’s eyes drooped, and his figure slumped before you. It even became confusing when he shook his head slightly sideways.

Realising you may have overstepped a line, you tried to steer the conversation to another direction, but Andy blurted it out as if he needed to remind himself the truth.

“Jacob died in a car accident and his mother is in prison for the very same.”

Whispering a oh my god underneath your breath while covering your mouth didn’t stop your eyes from pricking with tears.

Andy narrated the events of the trial briefly while he grabbed the bottle of wine drinking from it directly, not getting in too detail. He mentioned how his son was dropped of all the charges and how after one vacation, everything changed. He mentioned how his now ex-wife successfully attempted to kill Jacob in a car crash because she was convinced that her son was the actual murderer.

Andy was numb to this story (the kinder version where you didn’t know he was the son of the murderer Billy Barber) and he didn’t realise the kind of reaction it would evoke from someone who had no idea about his past. Guess he was surrounded with nosy people all his life until now.

He internally panicked to you see your tearful state.

“Andy I’m so sorry.”

In an instinct you pulled Andy to you, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug. Andy needed a hug so bad he may have wrapped his arms around you an inch closer while he rubbed your back in assurance. He heard your small sniffles, which made him hug you tighter.

His hoarse reassuring whispers that he was alright made you even more devastated. “Hey look Y/N. I am alright okay?”

You pulled away from his embrace in embarrassment. Andy’s heart was hard as a rock, he gave you a half-hearted smile, “God I’m such a fool sometimes. Quick to come to conclusions. I shouldn’t have been so judgmental.”

“If you’re forgetting that was me a couple of weeks back.” His gently touched your cheeks wiping a tear or two away. “Hey come on now. Tears don’t suit you momma bear.”

“So, I’m a bear now huh?”

A little giggle came out of your lips and Andy felt warm. Your mind was fluttering as Andy still stroked your cheek with his thumb. You never realised could be so soothing until a worried Nikolai tried to scramble up on both of your laps.

“Mommy why you cwying?”

“Nothing peaches. Its just-“

“I ate your mommy’s cookies Nikolai,” Andy interrupted earning a dramatic gasp from the little boy while you stifled your laughter.

“Its okay Wandi. Mommy you can take the cookies fwom my jahr. Don’t cwy mommy”

After a series of awws from the two adults, Nikolai went back to his toys. It was time for Andy to leave, standing on the threshold of your house.

“This fresh start is not happening for me at all Y/N. You have been such a wonderful person entertaining me these nights but, I still can’t sleep you know. It’s haunting.”

“Andy,” you still sniffed. “The minute the garage incident was over, that was the minute you stepped away from prying eyes. No one is going to bother you now Andy. You can start fres, infact I think you already did. You bagged a Swimming Instructor shift at the local gym, you have got a new house and most importantly, or not, is that you have Nikolai and Me.

“We all have skeletons in our closet Andy, that’s the unfortunate truth. Its not going to be easy but life has to go on because little do you know you have people depending on you.”

Andy knew you were referring to Nikolai, but for him he had no one depending on him. What was the point of moving on?

“Good night Y/N”

He only left the threshold after he realised you had placed a kiss on his cheek and gave him a hug on your tiptoes.

Another night, it was your turn.

Andy soon realised Nikolai wasn’t anywhere around the house. The toys were neatly placed, and the Television wasn’t running. Music was playing from your phone, but it was low and from the smell of it, you were cooking Chicken Lasagne, Nikolai’s favourite dish.

“Where is Niko? Is he sleeping?”

“He is with his father and the grandparents.”

The dinner went awfully quiet, sure he tried to sneak conversations here and there, but he wasn’t able to hold it. He learned how you decided to actually listen to Chad’s wishes under the conditions that his grandparents would be around. Andy saw your little smile when he learned that Nikolai was extremely reluctant to go with his father. A rational side of you didn’t want to separate Nikolai from his father.

It was while you were flipping through the channels that you broke out like a dam.

“You know Andy, what you heard that day in the library was the truth you know.”

“Niko’s father Chad?”

“It was Nikolai’s first birthday. We were all gathered at home for a small birthday party. Chad and I called in our co-workers that day. In the name of this little one everyone began drinking by around four when we scheduled the party at six.”

Andy noticed how you sardonically laughed in between.

“Before we could cut the cake, I went in search of Chad because Niko wouldn’t cut the cake without him. So, I went around searching for him because I remember Chad was kind of drunk. And then I find him in our room fucking his co-worker while he screamed her name.”

You looked below and began fidgeting with your fingernails. “The next half an hour went in a haze. The guests left. Chad and I went hysteric. We were at each other’s throat. I screamed at him and Chad somehow became sober and began to um- hit me uhm-“

You were breaking and Andy didn’t want to ask you to stop narrating. You must have trusted him enough to talk about something that you evidently found traumatic. Andy scooted closer and took your palms in his hands.

“And I didn’t even realise how I was scarring Niko. He was sitting on the couch all alone scared at our hysterics. In that half hour I- I- forgot about him. The guests were gone, and he didn’t cry. Niko just sat there with his beady eyes clutching his figurines, looking at me in horror after that bastard went up to his room like nothing mattered. I’m the reason for Nikolai’s state.”

“Hey what state Y/N?” Andy stroked your cheek; the lines of formality were blurred between you two. Right now, it was just one soul comforting another in a time of agony. “Nikolai is such perfect child. I have never seen such a brilliant three-year-old in my life.”

You whimpered, “N-Niko hates birthdays. The sight of candles on a cake make him cry and disturbed. H-his nursery is left incomplete because he has these terrible nightmares when he is left alone. He comes crying in horror even if I try to let him sleep alone for once. He always sleeps with me. W-what if I damaged him Andy? Wh-what if he likes his father more in this visit? What if he leaves me?”

You sobbed uncontrollably into Andy’s chest. He didn’t hesitate in cradling you and stroking your hair. He pulled you closer, leaning back at the couch. He waited for your crying to die down.

“You’re such an amazing mother darling,” he whispered, the loving nickname going unnoticed because it seemed so right, “So caring, so kind. Nikolai loves you, you know that right?”

He felt you nodding your head at his chest while none of you bothered to acknowledge how both of your legs were intertwined now. Andy scooted lower on the sofa, lying down with you still cradled to him.

“Chad was a fucking scoundrel okay? Anybody would have reacted like that like you did.” Andy gritted his teeth when he recalled that he hit you but suppressed his emotions because his emotions wasn’t important now. “Nikolai is going to be simply fine. When he comes back, he’s going to run into your arms and say how much he missed you and then proceed to ransack the living room with his toys.”

That genuinely made you laugh. You didn’t want to let go of Andy. His cologne was calming. His sweater shirt was soft. You even felt his little belly; he did mention he was drinking a lot of beer and whiskey when he can’t sleep in the night. It felt so intimate; it felt so right in spite the fact the neither of you are dating.

“You’re a good man Andy.”

Andy places a chaste kiss on your forehead. He saw your cheeks scrunch up, like you were blushing. His lips felt soft on your forehead, a warmth running through the both of you. Andy decided to leave but your grip on his meant something else. Looking down, he felt your soft breaths on his neck now for you tucked your head on his neck. You must be clingy he wondered, but he didn’t mind. He needed a dose of clingy looking at his current state of life.

“Good Night Y/N.”

He was supposed to get up slowly and untangle from your limbs and spread a blanket on you before he left. He was supposed to go back inside his house and have another round of sleepless nights.

Not cuddle and have a good night’s sleep peacefully with you in your soft sofa?

–

Finally, Saturdays and Sundays are the lazy days, ironically both of you don’t hang out as much on the weekends for deep inside Andy thought he was invading Nikolai and yours family time.

When Nikolai was back the next day, just like Andy had mentioned, he ran into your arms and kissed you so much. He even hugged you harder and said he didn’t want to go back to his father.

“He’s not like Wandi. Wandi likes tea pawties. Papa says tea pawties is for guhls and not for boys.”

“Peaches that’s not true, you can play tea party any time you want. You can play with me and Andy okay?”

“Yeah okay. Can we play tea pawty inside Wandi’s cahr too?”

“Niko!”

Your little boy also managed to change your mother-son ritual into a mother-son-neighbour ritual. He persisted you into calling Andy for the everyday evening picnic at the lawn. You knew your son loved Andy but a little voice asked if this was too much.

Apparently it wasn’t. Andy was extremely happy to join you and Nikolai. He kept asking if it was okay but a few reassurances later Andy joined you with a jar of lemonade. “I may have peaked out of the window and seen your daily picnics. None of them have this baby.” (Of course he was talking about his lemonade).

“Mommi look, Wandi made lemonade! Yaaaay!”

He runs over and hugs Andy as tight as his little hands can.

“I bake this boy five types of cookies and he falls for your lemonade? Blasphemy Andy. What are you doing to my son?” you ask him with feigned wound in your heart.

“Oh Y/N. He’s just found a new friend. Don’t be jealous now.”

Seeing your son and Andy bond made you heart make a little small wish; that Niko and you find a companion like Andy. Wishing for Andy himself is like wishing for a star. Why would this perfect man fall for a broken person like you?

Andy and you spoke while the little boy ran around the lawn with his toys and it was then his senses came alive and he took in his surroundings.

A pink stained sky; clouds imitating to be cotton candy. A beautiful house in a quaint neighbourhood. The faint smell of your warm cookies and refreshing lemonade while your son ran around. A woman of his dreams weaving her palm through the strands of her hair. This was a dreamland.

And in that moment, he scooted near you and he entwined his hands into yours. You were perplexed at what he was doing but you went with the flow. He wanted his utopia.

“Andy? What are you-“

“Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

After a few minutes later, your answer gave all the reassurance that he finally got his fresh start; that he can finally start a new life without the demons in the closet.

Right?

–

Part 3

–

Taglist (IS OPEN): @art-estrange @sinner-as-saint @captainscanadian, @kakakatey @bluevelvetsam @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @anqelicstarc @lcandothisallday @https-bucky @readermia @chrisevansforever @ruthyalva96 @thedarkplume @sammyfresh @bloglovelylady @stuckys-dirty-girl @rindaastridfreakinreign @buckys-plums3 @marvelouspottering @sweetlittlegingy @emilykjhgsj @poppunkdork @bval-1lovepeacefood @captainchrisstan @hista-girl @xlanawriter @denisemarieangelina @xoxabs88xox @adreamemporium @yoncevans @oceanlenny @ididntchoosethislife @evansinlove @ninaminaromina @sodonutnutnut @nickysurfer28 @captainchrisstan @charmed-asylum @lovepeacefood @trashboggart @elementoffire1988 @kelbabyblue @princess-evans-addict @secretlyactivated @harryismyonlyangel @agentmstark @firstangeldragonranch @tessa-bl @morganclaire4 @i-ship-it-ironically @kiza4 @morganclaire4 @may-machin @shikin83 @lovingonshawn @turtoix @tenaciousperfectionunknown @in-a-constant-daydream6 @dangerdolns @fckdeusername @missus-rogers @themadhattersqueen @heatherhollowayst @littleprincessma @this-is-serenaa @youllbemineandillbeyours @cevans-is-classic @funfickgirl22 @mery-be @jojo-lindholm @evans-dejong

#Andy Barber #Defending Jacob #Andy Barber x reader #Andy Barber Imagines #Chris Evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #defending jacob spoilers #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst #chris evans x you #andy barber imagine #defending jacob finale #andrew barber #jacob barber

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justjessame · 3 years

Text

The Deal Chapter 45

Negan knelt in front of me, his hands on my face, rough thumb pads swiping under my eyes. I watched him as he stared at me, trying it seemed to see straight through me. I closed my eyes, and let my hand cover one of his where he rested on my cheek. I couldn’t deny that I liked his touch. I couldn’t say that I felt NOTHING for him, but I also couldn’t agree to become whatever he considered his “wives” to be.

I was holding his hand to my face when I felt the thumb of his other hand touch my lips. I sighed, letting the air in my lungs wash over his fingers. Why did he have to ask this now? Why did he have to make it more complicated than it had to be?

“Jessi,” Negan’s voice was raw, as though he was torn by the mere thought of speaking. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

I opened my eyes and met his gaze. “Why now, Negan?” I asked, thinking that if we dealt with all of it like a bandaid, that maybe we could rush past it, and get to the real issues. My family and his people were going to go toe to toe.

“I told you, Jessi, I-” his eyes closed and he took a deep breath. “I need to know that you won’t hate me if he dies. If he dies during this fucking war that him and your dad seem to need so damn badly.”

When his eyes opened, he saw me studying him. “I didn’t hate you when you killed Abraham, Negan.” I started, and he opened his mouth to speak, but my free hand brushed over his lips to stop him. “Let me speak, please.” His nod gave me the clear to keep going. “I didn’t hate you when you killed him, or Olivia, or Spencer. I didn’t hate you when those deaths happened because I think I understand why you did it.” I sighed again. “This world. The world we live in now, it’s not the same as it was before. Before we had the luxury of high morals, of knowing firmly right from wrong. Now, it’s kill, be killed, or be killed again. Every single person, every LEADER in this new world, has a new set of morals. A new set of right from wrong. A new set of rules.” I closed my own eyes to collect my thoughts. “I’ve watched Daryl leave a barn after beating a man from a rival group for information. I’ve watched my own father attack another man in the middle of Alexandria because he felt he had the moral high ground. I’ve watched women who never once raised a hand to defend themselves against abusive men in their lives kill without blinking.” I opened my eyes to see he was listening intently to me. “I may not always agree with the rules of each leader. I may not always agree with their tactics or their motives. In the end? It doesn’t matter what I agree with. If I choose to follow someone, then they are the leader and I am not. Because I don’t want to LEAD, Negan. It’s not something I’m interested in. I don’t want that responsibility. I don’t want the weight of the lives of followers on MY shoulders or conscience.” I took his hand from my face, but kept our hands together. “If Daryl dies at your hand, or one of your people’s hands, then you have to know that I will experience the pain of losing him. I will grieve him. But hate you for HIS choice to fight? No. That won’t happen.”

His eyes, ever changing, were dark again. He had listened, but did he HEAR me. “Are you really sure about that, Jessi?” He let his fingers link with mine. “That his death, or your dad’s, or fuck, Carl’s, won’t make you hate ME?”

I shook my head. “Death is one of the few constants in our world, from before and now, Negan. Men and women died before this shit started, and they’ll die after your war with Dad and Daryl.” I knew I sounded defeated, because I was. This was something he couldn’t fix. They couldn’t fix it. I would never be better in this one sense. The inevitability of death didn’t make it more reasonable or easier to deal with. “I will grieve, Negan. I will be sad and angry about their deaths, or yours, because it could go either way. But hating you? Or them for that matter? Why would I? I haven’t hated them for anything else, I can’t hate you for it either. You’re all so certain it’s necessary. All I can do, all I can promise is to try my damnedest to help you understand them, and in that you’ll find a way that the cost isn’t as great as it could be.”

“I don’t want you to disappear inside yourself over this, Jessica.” His eyes were still locked on mine. “I don’t want you to lose yourself because of this shit.” I could see he meant it, and I didn’t know why he was so concerned.

“Negan,” I was staring at him, trying to think of a way to phrase what I wanted to know without raising the tension in the room to a fever pitch again. “Why do you care, really?” Our fingers were still linked. “Don’t you have enough wives?” I tried to make it sound flippant, but I was honestly trying to understand him.

He got to his feet and used his free hand to run down his face. His other was still holding my hand and he used it to pull me from my chair. Sitting down in his spot on the sofa, he tugged me onto his lap. His face found my neck and he inhaled the scent of my skin, seemingly to calm himself or to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, his breath fanning against my skin. “I don’t know why I care. I don’t know why it matters if you hate me, Jessica Grimes. I just fucking do. I care. I want you to-”

When he stopped, a groan left his lips as though the mere thoughts he wanted to give life to by voicing them. I felt like I was holding my breath, but then his hands were cupping my face and he was staring me in the eyes again. And then his lips met mine and my eyes closed. Kissing me, Negan felt like he was as tormented as he’d been in trying to explain himself, but he was trying, I could tell to show me.

I let the kiss go on for as long as I could, but I wanted answers. Making out with Negan was well worth the time, but the truth was that being physical with him would NOT make what we needed to get clear come out easier. I finally pulled away, watching his eyes open when I moved my mouth from his.

“Words, Negan.” I begged. I needed to understand, and kissing it away wasn’t going to work. Not for me.

“I want YOU, Jessi. I want you and me, I want US.” I knew I looked confused because I felt it. He swallowed hard and glanced down. “What we have, what I want us to have, it isn’t the same.” As? I wanted to ask, but I waited. He was talking now, I didn’t want him to clam up. “My wives, they were offered a deal, or some offered me a deal-” Another swallow, and I stayed quiet. “What you offered? Was YOUR LIFE for someone else. You wanted to die and use me to do it, but you also wanted to SAVE someone with your death.” It was the truth, but I didn’t quite understand. “You had no fucking clue I’d bring you here. That I’d let you live, that I’d work to bring you back to yourself.” Also all true. “When I asked you if you wanted me, I had to know that you didn’t assume it was part of you being alive still. That this, us, wasn’t part of it. That you aren’t THEM.”

I leaned back, staying on his lap, but wanting to see him. His face, his posture, and his eyes. “When you say they, the wives, had a deal?” I wanted to know, he had his curiosity, so did I.

Negan sighed, his eyes tight. “The ones that had partners, were offered a place with me, for their own safety and to keep their men in line. The others came to me, wanting the same protection and perks.”

“Perks?” I asked, starting to understand a bit more.

“No points. No fighting. Safety and luxury.” I nodded, showing I wanted all of it. “In return, I owned their bodies. Their partners couldn’t touch them again. They were my wives, after all.” He said it as though it made perfect sense. His harem for their luxurious lives.

“That’s why-” I closed my eyes at the memory of the man’s skin burning. The smell of burnt flesh. “Because she cheated.” I whispered, remembering him and the woman, her vows of her love for him and I felt sick. “What about me?” I wanted to know, I needed certainty even with his multiple wives that the rules didn’t apply to him.

“It’s a one way street, Jessi.” His voice was quiet, he was clearly watching my face. “They get a better deal than me, in so many fucking ways.” Sure, I thought, they didn’t have to be with you every time you rang the bell. Or hell, maybe there were nights when they all took him on, how would I ever fucking know?

“Of course,” I stood up and moved out of his reach. “Pretty clothes, safety, and unlimited shit that they don’t have to work for-” except flat on their backs, or on their knees. “What about Eugene?”

“Eugene?” He clearly forgot that his harem was currently keeping Dr. Mullet company.

I was standing at the window, staring out into the darkness so different from my own. I directed my next words to the glass. “Yes, Eugene, the bullet maker. Aren’t YOUR WIVES keeping him entertained?”

“They aren’t fucking him.” He offered, clearly bothered by the very idea. “I’m not even sure he’s capable.”

My hand pressed against the cool glass. “And me? Would I be entertainment for your next pet?”

“Jessi,” Negan groaned, and I heard him stand. “Didn’t I say that you’re fucking different?”

“Don’t come closer, please.” I didn’t turn around, but I needed him to not touch me. “How am I different? Because I wanted to DIE and you saved me? Because I didn’t offer to sleep with you for my freedom or gifts? Because I wanted to DIE and I became a martyr in your eyes?” I turned finally, and let him see the pain on my face. “Negan, I’m not a fucking saint. I’m not a martyr. I’m someone who gave the FUCK UP. I couldn’t stand this fucking world. The pain, the death. Watching my baby brother turn merciless. Watching my dad and the man I love decide that they are willing to let people DIE so our people can have ‘more’?” I sighed and leaned against the wall beside the window. “You think you see me so fucking clearly. You don’t see me any better than they did.”

He started forward, but I held up my hand to stop him. “You take the bed, Negan, I’ll take the couch.” It was final. And he knew it. I needed space. And since he wouldn’t let me leave this room without him, then I’d be sleeping alone. Period.

#negan x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #rick grimes daughter #The Walking Dead #alternate universe #darkness #mental illness

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oscars-wifeyyy · 4 years

Text

Chapter 12 (The Innocent)

Now the group started to not believe Jamal, but Elizabeth did believe him. She had to go home so she bid everybody good night, but turned back to Cesar.

“Go to my house after you drop off Monse,” Elizabeth smiled, “you’re crashing with me and my mom knows,”

Cesar grinned at his friend with Monse, “thank you, mana,”

“I got your back always. Oscar doesn’t need to know and he usually doesn’t come over, but if he does then there is a window out to the backyard through the window,” Elizabeth winked and walked out.

Oscar stood around the corner and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his girl walking alone with her attire. He started to go towards her to walk next to her. She turned to see him, but turned back to look forward.

“Bebe, I’m sorry. I don’t know what went through me when I said those things so please forgive me,” Oscar sighed.

Elizabeth sighed, turning to her boyfriend, “Oscar. I forgive you, but the next time you snap at me because things are ‘rough’ then it’s over. Relationships are teamwork, not whatever you think a relationship is,”

Oscar nodded with a smirk on his, “now tell me why you’re walking home alone with that dress,”

“Shut up and walk me home,” Elizabeth laughed and continued walking.

When they got to her place, they stood in front of the door and just gazed at each other with the look of adoration on both faces. Elizabeth, however, had to go inside and get the guest room ready for Cesar and Leticia knew this so she opened the door.

“Hey, Oscar. Happy New Year! Now I gotta get Elizabeth inside. We’re doing something for her. Breakfast tomorrow morning though! Be here at 9 am. Do not reject either,” Leticia grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, “good night and thank you for walking her home,”

Oscar chuckled, “Gracias, ma,”

Leticia closed the door and rushed her daughter to the guest room to rush the process so when they were done then everything would be ready for Cesar. It was right on time because when they heard the knock they were done with the room so Elizabeth rushed to the door and ushered the little brother in. She led him to the room.

“Here is your room and Oscar is going to be here tomorrow morning at 9:30 am so you should probably be out by 9 am,” Elizabeth smiled.

“Thank you, Eli,” Cesar smiled sadly at his best friend.

“No problem. Now go to sleep. You probably got a big day tomorrow with Jamal and Monse,” Elizabeth closed the door behind her.

The next day came and Elizabeth was up at 8:30 am and decided to make Cesar a little breakfast before his adventure with Jamal, Ruby, and Monse. When she was done it was 8:45 am so she walked into Cesar’s room and jumped on the bed to wake him up.

“Eli! It is 8:45 am...oh,” Cesar chuckled.

“I made you breakfast so eat up and get ready, puto,” Elizabeth laughed and walked out.

Cesar walked out and ate breakfast with Elizabeth sitting next to him cracking jokes. It didn’t take long for Cesar to be done so he washed the dish and put it on the drying rack, hugging Elizabeth before running out of the house to meet with the rest of the crew. Now 15 minutes later, Leticia and Elizabeth were awake and in clothes that weren’t their pajamas, cooking breakfast with the music on high, dancing away. A knock interrupted the dance session so Elizabeth ran to the door and opened it to see her boyfriend there with his “Spooky” face, but it dropped when he saw Elizabeth. He walked inside and smelled the food, making his stomach groan at the nice smell. Elizabeth gave a kiss to his lips before gesturing to the chairs and table and going back to dancing with her mom and the music on blast.

Oscar sat on the chair and smiled at the sight of his lover and her mother dancing away as if there were no stresses, cooking for the three of them. Soon after, breakfast was done and the three sat around the table enjoying the food and each other’s company.

“Oscar, what are you going to do today?” Leticia asked with a smile.

“I’m gonna relax and chill with the homies. What about you, ma y mi amor?” Oscar turned to his Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s phone dinged so she looked down and saw it was a text from Ruby telling her to meet up with him and Olivia to go help Cesar, Monse, and Jamal. “I am going to help Ruby and Olivia with something,” she stood up and kissed her mother’s cheek before moving onto Oscar, “I’ll see you guys later. Oscar, I’m gonna go with you to the bodega for your party,” Oscar nodded before she left the house and to Ruby’s. When she got there, Ruby was there looking sad and angry while Olivia looked a little sad. “What’s up with you guys?”

“I’m tired of having nightmares and ptsd! I just want to live the normal life before the shooting,” Ruby ranted, “you got shot because of your boyfriend’s gang! When is our life gonna be ok?”

“I don’t know, Ruby. Why aren’t you at church with your family?” Elizabeth asked.

“I don’t know if there is a God. This shouldn’t have happened to us. No shooting was supposed to take place,” Ruby shoved passed the girls and started the journey to Monse, Cesar, and Jamal with Olivia and Elizabeth following.

They were about to walk past Oscar’s place, but Ruby grabbed Olivia’s hand and motioned for Elizabeth to follow, she didn’t know what to do except follow her friends. There was a hope inside of her for Oscar to stop them and ask how they were doing and it was answered.

“Hey,” Oscar called out, “Hey! I’m talking to you,”

Ruby stopped and turned so fast to walk towards the leader and kicked the crate that Oscar’s foot was resting against, “What?”

“Just wanted to check up on you. You good?” Oscar asked.

“No, I’m not good!” Ruby freaked out.

“Yo, chill out,” Oscar frowned.

“Chill out? That’s all you got as you sit there on your damn throne? I got shot! Your girlfriend got shot! For what? Nothing! Nothing but some cullshit beef that means nothing! And that night won’t stop playing on auto repeat in my head, and every time I move my arm, which is often because I’m a gesticular, it kills, furthermore reminding me of that night, thanks to you so don’t tell me to chill out!” Ruby ranted as the Santos looked at each other.

“You must be in the anger stage,” Oscar took a sip from his Redbull while Santos laughed.

Olivia went to meet up with the other three friends while Ruby and Elizabeth went to the bodega with Oscar. They had walked in with Ruby holding the basket and Oscar walking close to Elizabeth.

“How many times can I say I’m sorry? I know I stepped out of line,” Oscar grabbed a Corona from the fridge, “but I really don’t have time to be your valet.”

“We need a few nopales,” Oscar continued walking.

“We need a cart. This is getting heavy,” Ruby complained as he tried to keep up with Oscar and Elizabeth.

“Do you ever not complain?” Oscar looked back.

“Well, no one told you to bring me,” Ruby said.

Oscar smirked, “what else don’t you like about me?”

“Nope,” Ruby denied, “I’m not falling for that,”

“It’s not a debate. What else don’t you like?” Oscar grabbed something from a hook.

“Is this like Queen for a Day sitch?” Oscar stopped and looked back confused, “it’s a legal expression whereby someone can say anything they want and their words can’t be used against them,”

“Speak, Queen,” Oscar turned down an aisle.

“Well, you guys call yourself ‘the Santos,’ the Saints, and yet you hurt people, so what’s the point of you, really?” Ruby raised his voice at the end.

Oscar turned so fast while Elizabeth had her eyes wide open, “you’re coming at me! But I didn’t start this war,”

“Yeah, said the complicit one,” Ruby glared at the leader.

Oscar dropped a bag into the basket, “you like history?”

“World or American?” Ruby asked.

“Freeridge. Doesn’t get more American than that,” Oscar started walking the freshman back, “Back in the day, the pinches Prophets terrorized Freeridge. Didn’t matter who you were. Paletero trying to make a living. Viejita coming home from church. You were a target. They went to the cops. But you know how that goes. Until, finally, Lil Ricky said, ‘no más.’ This neighborhood is his familia, and you don’t mess with family. He started the Santos to protect the hood.” Oscar motioned outside.

“Great,” Ruby spit, “now you have two groups terrorizing the neighborhood,”

Oscar leaned in really close to Ruby’s face, running his hand down his mouth and chin, “terrorizing?” he grabbed the bag behind Ruby, “you mean protecting. It’s complicated. The Santos are a family. Families are complicated,” Oscar walked to the fruit section.

“What do you know about family? You threw your own brother out!” Ruby spit.

“I said it’s complicated,” Oscar yelled, “Cuchillos made that call and no one questions Cuchillos.”

“Cuchillos can suck a dick!” Ruby yelled at the leader, but everyone turned in horror, “look, all I’m saying is if you’re a saint, then save people. Don’t kill people,” Ruby’s phone started ringing so he shoved the basket towards Oscar and answered it, walking away to get some privacy.

Elizabeth turned to Oscar, “thank you for taking it easy on Ruby,”

“Of course, mami. You ain’t the only one that got shot for my brother’s mistakes,” Oscar stood really close to Elizabeth who put her hands on his chest.

She just rolled her eyes before kissing her fingers and giving him a soft slap on the face while he chuckled at her alternative to kiss him rather than actually doing it. Ruby came back and the three went back to Oscar’s house and, by the time they got back the sun was down. Elizabeth stood next to Ruby, on her phone, looking through her email to see one from UCLA providing all the steps she needs to take for the future classes she is going to take.

Oscar looked at the way Ruby was cutting limes, but stopped him, “learn how to cut a lime. You cut like a serial killer,” Oscar showed the right way before giving Ruby the knife back. Ruby did it the right way causing Oscar to nod, “good. You’re excused,”

“I’m excused?” Ruby asked confused.

“Yup,” Oscar said, “I listened, you listened. We’re good. You can go,”

Ruby glanced at Elizabeth, “uh...ok,”

Oscar opened a beer and setting it down in front of Ruby, “or you could stay,” Ruby took the beer as Oscar grabbed an octopus tentacle, “taste it,” Ruby made a disagreeing noise, “expand your palette, homie,”

Ruby ate it then his phone dinged telling him that a text came in so he unlocked it to see a text from his mother, “damn. Yo, get off me already. It’s my mom. She was on me about going to church, on me about hanging out with friends. Now she’s just blowing me up wondering where I am. Can I just be left alone already?”

“Pressures of the privilege,” Oscar said.

“Privileged,” Ruby scoffed, “I live in a house with bars on the windows. With two parents inside and a college future waiting outside. Don’t whine to me about your mom. No one took care of me and Cesar when my mom was out there,”

Ruby looked down, ashamed, “I didn’t mean to-”

Oscar cut him off, “be ungrateful? I get that you and Eli got shot, but why do you think no one came to finish the job, huh? ‘Cause of me. Think about how fast that truce happened. Me, again.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said, “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, there are a lot of things you don’t know,” Oscar chopped the food, “like what it’s like walking into a job interview with a record. You think Walmart’s gonna hire someone with two strikes?”

“See, I wouldn’t work there. They have poor employee satisfaction,” Ruby said being a smart ass, again.

Elizabeth flicked his cheek while Oscar let the knife fall, “it ain’t a joke, Ruby!”

“This shit’s real! That’s the kind of stuff that makes a man snap! But being mad at the world ain’t gonna help you. It’ll only hurt you,” Oscar went back to chopping.

Ruby decided to leave then so Elizabeth walked to Oscar and made him stop chopping food to wrap her arms around him. The two stood like that for a few minutes until Oscar had to turn the food over and the two of them had enjoyed a nice dinner before Oscar drove Elizabeth home and stayed with her since Leticia wasn’t home yet.

#Oscar Diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagines #spooky diaz #lil spooky #spooky diaz x reader #the innocent oscar diaz fanfiction #julio macias #julio macias fanfiction #julio macias fanfic #omb #on my block #netflix #netflix on my block #netflix omb

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madamebaggio · 4 years

Photo

Notes: So...

Let’s talk for a second.

Remember I said I was procrastinating so hard that I was considering resurrecting old works?

Yeah… This is one of them… lol

It was going to be a Sansa/Willas/Oberyn, then it became a Sansa/Willas and now I’m not so sure.

I’ve stopped quite a while back on it with just two and a half chapters done, so I’ll just post it here and you guys tell me what you think.

Sounds fair?

***

Willas Tyrell quietly chuckled as his friend Oberyn Martell kept pretending he was an innocent human being. Oberyn’s “trust-me-I’m-a-saint” face never failed to amuse Willas.

The Tyrell was about to tell his friend to cut the shit -not with these words, because Willas would never be this crass -when they heard the library door opening.

“I should give up on having a sex life.”

“I should wash your mouth with soap for even suggesting it.”

Oberyn and Willas exchanged curious looks. The first voice was clearly Sansa Stark; her charming accent was unmistakable. The second was Margaery, obviously.

The two older men were hiding in the library, escaping the party. Olenna Tyrell gave the classiest parties in King’s Landing, but they were also crowded with hopeful socialites trying to grab a husband, and Oberyn and Willas were prime game. Therefore, this was a tactical retreat, before they inevitably had to go back to the party.

The young women hadn’t seen them because the men were behind a bookcase, sitting side by side on armchairs. As a matter of fact, they also couldn’t see the two ladies, but they could hear their conversation quite clearly.

“Well, it’s been… Disastrous, for a lack of a worse word.” Sansa continued.

“I’m pretty sure ‘catastrophic’ is worse than ‘disastrous’.” Margaery informed her, quite matter-of-factly.

Willas saw Oberyn opening a grin at that.

“Marge, I’m serious.”

“I refuse to believe that. It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was.”

Willas was wondering what he should do. This was obviously a very private conversation, and they had no right to be listening to it. Sansa was a reserved person and she’d probably feel embarrassed if she knew they could hear something so personal.

“I mean, sure, there was Joffrey…” Margaery was still talking.

“Do I need to say more?”

No, she didn’t. Willas hated the little piece of shit with a passion, and so did Oberyn. It was quite clear his friend was fighting to hold in his comment.

“Selfish little prick, treated me like crap all the time, including the two times we had sex. But at least the second time made me realize I needed to get rid of him fast.” Sansa’s tone was derisive in a way Willas had never heard before. Normally she was a really sweet girl who wouldn’t use a single bad word.

Though… If anyone deserved every single bad word ever invented it was Joffrey.

“Then there was Harry, who thought that his big…”

“Cock?” Margaery offered innocently.

Oberyn pressed his lips together, now really fighting to stay quiet.

Sansa sighed. “Yes. He thought that meant he’d already done his part and everything else was up to me.” They heard Margaery making a noise of disgust. “Besides that, he never took care of me before it…” Now she was sounding really embarrassed. “So it was always painful for me.”

“What a waste.” Margaery grumbled. “Harry doesn’t deserve to have a big cock.”

Sansa’s chuckle was completely humorless. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Did you have sex with Baelish?”

Willas and Oberyn shared identical looks of complete shock. Were they really talking about Petyr Baelish?

Sansa sighed again. “Thank the Seven no. I’m grateful I was never that stupid.”

“And you escaped Bolton.” It wasn’t a question.

Willas arched an eyebrow at Oberyn, asking if he knew of that one, but his friend just shrugged, also looking confused.

“Yes. He tried to grab me, but Robb punched him on the face.”

“Your brother is so hot.” Margaery fawned.

They giggled together and Willas couldn’t hold in a smile. He liked the fact that Sansa Stark was a true friend to his baby sister. It was just one of the many things he liked about her.

“So they all sucked.” Margaery concluded.

“Well…” Sansa dragged the word and Willas could almost see her biting her lower lip as she decided if she should say something or not. “There was Jon…”

“YOU FUCKED YOUR COUSIN?” Margaery said it so loud, that it wouldn’t be shocking if Olenna came in to hear the rest of the gossip.

“Almost.” Sansa let out a long-suffering groan. “We were drunk at a family party, he was feeling shitty, I was feeling shitty… We were talking, next thing we know we were snogging…”

“Then what?” Margaery demanded and Oberyn was almost falling forward on his seat, wanting to know as well.

“He…”

“What?”

“He… Gave me… He…”

Willas furrowed his brow, wondering at what she could possibly be trying to say.

“He ate you out?” Margaery offered.

“MARGE!” Sansa screeched.

“You can just say it.” Margaery teased.

“Yes, he did and it was amazing, but… When I was about to… Reciprocate… He called me ‘Ygritte’.”

“Ouch! Talk about killing the mood fast.”

“He was feeling bad, it was the red hair. At least he said it before we actually had sex, so, there’s that.” It was easy to realize that even Sansa knew this was a weak compensation.

“And you got great oral out of it.” Margaery tried to sound cheery about it.

“Yes, but it was also the first and only time ever.”

“Wait! Are you honestly telling me…”

No, this couldn’t possibly be true. Sansa might be younger than him, but Willas wasn’t blind; she was a goddess. How could it even be possible…?

“Do any of the previous mentioned boyfriends sounded giving to you?” Sansa asked dejectedly.

Margaery’s sound of disgust was answer enough.

“Anyway. This disastrous ending is why I’ve never told you about Jon.”

“Makes sense.” Margaery conceded.

“And that’s it.” And fuck, if this was the extent of Sansa’s sex life he was angry on her behalf.

What was wrong with the boys out there that a woman like Sansa would feel so damned unloved? Willas was quite aware she’d been a bit of a brat when she was younger, but then again, so had Margaery. Sansa was smart, charming and absolutely gorgeous; she deserved much better than that.

He didn’t even have to look at Oberyn to know he was thinking exactly the same thing.

“Don’t say that.” Margaery’s voice was gentler now. “You’ve just had rotten luck so far.”

Sansa snorted. “That’s one way of calling it.”

He heard his sister humming something. “What you need is an experienced guy to give you a few orgasms and restore your confidence.”

Oberyn was nodding along with that particular suggestion, but Willas was more interested on Sansa’s answer.

“Sure, do you keep one of those in your pocket?” She snorted, opting for sarcasm.

“There’s always Oberyn.” His sister offered.

The man in question arched an eyebrow, now clearly delighted by the turn of events even as Sansa screeched in protest.

“I’m serious.” Margaery insisted, with her musical laughter. “He has the fame of being a sex god. It can’t possibly be a lie.”

Willas wasn’t one bit amused by this whole conversation, but Oberyn was clearly having the time of his life.

“How would you know?” Sansa challenged.

It would be a terrible moment to find out his sister had slept with his best friend. There were some things he’d rather never know.

“I met Ellaria. She’s not the type of woman to pretend to have an orgasm just to spare a man’s ego.” Margaery indicated reasonably. “And she was not complaining about him at all. In fact, the things she told me…” Her voice trailed off suggestively.

“He’s older than me.” Sansa indicated, but it didn’t seem like a protest at all.

“But he’s not old.”

“I’m not considering this.” Sansa said, but it sounded like she was talking more to herself.

“You’d have to be dead not to think about it.” Margaery insisted. “Come on! If sex was a person, it’d be him.”

That got a giggle out of Sansa. “So what? Should I just walk up to him and say…” She trailed off so Margaery could complete.

And his sister didn’t disappoint. “Cure me from my orgasm deprivation.” She proclaimed dramatically.

Oberyn shrugged, seemed sold on the idea. Willas gave him a warning look.

“You’re the worst.” Sansa said, but she was laughing.

“You love me.” Margaery sang aloud.

“But… maybe you’re right.” Sansa mused. “Not about Oberyn, I think he’d see me too much as an inexperienced little girl.” Willas was the one to almost snort this time. Sansa might be younger than them, but Oberyn would not see her like a little girl in a thousand years. “But maybe I do need to find a man just to…”

“Fuck?”

“I give up on you.” She declared. “Let’s get more champagne.”

They heard the click of heels, then the door opened.

“How about Willas?” Margaery suggested, as their voices started to get farther.

Now Oberyn was giving him one hell of an annoying look.

“Marge!” Sansa barked a laughter. “Are you seriously pimping your brother out to me?”

“Are you saying my brother isn’t…” But the rest of Marge’s question was cut by the heavy door closing after them.

“Don’t.” Willas spoke immediately, because he knew Oberyn well enough to know where this was going.

“I wasn’t about to say anything.” Oberyn told him, the huge devilish smile on his lips immediately denying his words.

“Oh please.” Willas gave him a flat look. “You’re dying to make some inappropriate comment on this whole situation.”

“I resent that.” Oberyn somehow replied with a straight face. “How do you know it’d be inappropriate?” He challenged.

“Because I know you.” He replied dryly. “Besides that, what we heard was an extremely private conversation. If there was any way we could’ve revealed ourselves without embarrassing Sansa, I’d have done it.”

Oberyn sighed. “You’re right, of course. She’s quite sweet and I don’t think she’d be happy if she knew we heard that.”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

“Don’t you feel like beating them all up, though?” Oberyn immediately added. “How is it possible that they all had her and managed to be so bad about the whole thing, she’s considering quitting on sex all together?”

“She’s young.” Willas said, though it sounded weak even to his own ears. “She just needs to find a better lover next time.”

“Don’t make it sound like she’s a child, Willas.” Oberyn rolled his eyes. “She’s… What? 23?”

“24.” Willas corrected.

“And these bad experiences will just make it harder for her to choose next time. She needs to know how good sex can be, so she can feel more confident about it.” Oberyn insisted.

“Oh really? So what are you saying exactly? And choose your words carefully.” Willas warned.

He realized soon enough his mistake; he’d been too vehement on his defense of Sansa’s honor, and now Oberyn was looking at him like he was a particularly interesting bug.

“Oh Willas, that’s so adorable of you.” He cooed.

“Shut up, Oberyn.” The other man grumbled.

“You’re sweet on the lady.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Willas protested. “She’s way too young.”

“Hardly that young. You wouldn’t be taking advantage, if that’s your concern.”

“After what I just heard? I think I would.”

Oberyn let out a long-suffering sigh. “Why are you always so eager to play the martyr?” He wanted to know. “If you like the woman, ask her out.”

“No.” Willas said firmly. “Now let’s talk about something else.”

Oberyn’s look made it quite clear he knew what was going on in Willas’s head, but he humored his friend by changing the subject.

Thank the Seven.

#madame baggio #crackship #alternate universe #modern AU #game of thrones #gifs not mine #possible fanfic #Sansa Stark #margaery tyrell #willas tyrell #oberyn martell #maybe Sansa x Willas x Oberyn #maybe just Sansa x Willas #i haven't figured it out yet #my delirium

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emaspin · 4 years

Text

Sankta Anastasia

@grishaversebigbang

Materialki

@luvidlovearts

https://luvidlovearts.tumblr.com/post/628438192931110912/piece-i-did-for-the-grishaversebigbang-for-the

@lady-ekatherina-de-mika

https://lady-ekatherina-de-mika.tumblr.com/post/628551127583064064/galena-for-the-grishaversebigbang-our-dear

@sammiemai

https://sammiemai.tumblr.com/post/628419233060126720/some-more-grishaversebigbang-content-these-are

Corporalki

@booklovingturtle

The story behind Sankta Anastasia has been forgotten over the years. Like many Saints she has slipped into folklore. Here is the story of the love and revenge that led Sankta Anastasia’s life.

Chapter 1 Galena placed the dried herbs into little tin boxes. She was proud of the new little system she had come up with. It was much better than her mother’s old messy cabinets. Galena liked to think that she did everything just a little bit better than her mother. Her mother worked hard but Galena worked with talent, maybe that was the difference. Galena kept up her organization for most of the afternoon, she was lost in sorting the dried herbs when a single knock sounded at her front door. Feliks walked in without announcing himself, he knew that he was always welcome. He admired her system for a minute without a word. She kept sorting.

“Have you been working on this all day? Feliks held one of the little tins up to his eye level. Feliks was always tinkering with things. He liked to know how people used all sorts of tools, he was known around the town for being able to fix a farmers plow faster than everyone else. It was a skill the Galena knew would serve them well when they had their own little business, although repair shops and healing shops didn’t normally go together she saw something almost poetic in the notion of repair of body and equipment. At the end of the day they were the same, she knew that they would be very happy together once he realized that he loved her.

“Basically, I slept in a little bit but other than that this is all I’ve done.”

“Impressive, I couldn’t sit in one place that long.” he fidgeted with the tin box that he was still holding.

“Careful, you’re going to spill the rosemary in there.” Feliks put the tin down.

“Oh,” his face lit up like he had just remembered something, “have you heard about the family that just moved in?”

“No. Who are they?”

“The Kravtsovs. They have a teenage daughter. I think she's a year older than you.” he nodded his chin in her direction, “I’ve heard that Mr.Kravtsov makes his money mining, so he’s away a lot. Maybe we’ll see them at church?” Galena hoped she would, there wasn’t anybody in the whole town that she didn’t know. She wasn’t about to let the new people ruin that.

Galena and Feliks spent the rest of the afternoon talking and sorting dried medicine ingredients. Galena adored the easy conversation they fell into. She loved the perfect famileraty she felt when she was with Feliks, Feliks was the main constant in her world. Everything she did was a step towards their future. Galena looked up at him, she sun filtered through his dirty blonde hair and hit his light eyelashes in a stunning array of shading. His caramel colored freckles were growing like an infestation across his cheeks and nose. She could look at him in the hazy sunlight forever. She knew that someday she would get to glimpse him with messy hair and sleep still in his eyes. Someday she might get to gaze on a baby that had his big brown eyes and her own warm chestnut hair. Someday, someday soon. He looked up and his eyes met hers.

“What?” It wasn’t a declaration of love but she could wait.

“You have dirt on your cheek.” she shook her hard as she stood and dunked a washcloth in the tepid water sitting in the sink. Galena tossed it to Feliks. “Has that been on your face all day? What were you doing this morning?”

He furrowed his brow, “fixing an old wagon.” She rolled her eyes skyward.

“You're like a toddler, you would be completely lost without me.” he looked like he wanted to argue in his own defence but she put her hands on her hips and gave him a look that told him not to bother. Something glazed in his eyes. He seemed to struggle not to say something for a second, then he stood.

“Church is starting in about an hour, I’m going home to eat.” he left before she could ask if the invitation extended to her. He must be tired, some time to himself would probably do him well. Galena decided to look extra pretty for the service this evening. She picked out the flowy pale blue dress and braided her hair into a crown around her head, letting small sections hang down to frame her face. She felt pretty. She pinched her cheeks to add some colour. She made food for her mother and herself as her mother quickly bathed and dressed. Galena packed a small jar of berries to share with Feliks when she got there. She was excited for tonight, things were changing. Galena could sense it humming in the air like an incoming storm.

Chapter 2 Galena held the jar of berries with two spoons and scanned the crowd for Feliks. When she finally spotted him she waved. He didn’t notice her, he was talking with a girl who had long raven black hair, it fell to her waist in soft curls, Galena’s own hair only fell to her mid back. The girl's blush pink dress matched the shade of pink growing across her cheeks as she made conversation with Feliks, Feliks grinned brilliantly at something she had said and her pink blush turned to a much deeper red. Galena’s gut twisted, who was this girl? Didn’t she know that Feliks was hers? She must have been the girl who just moved because Galena didn’t recognize her. Galena elbowed her way through the people talking before the service started. She stood right next to Feliks and linked her arm with his.

“Hi Feliks!” Her greeting was loud and she had interrupted the new girl mid sentence. She could barely stifel her smirk.

“Galena,” Feliks' voice was strange and it almost seemed like he had cringed when she had linked their arms, “This is Anastasia. She just moved here.”

“Hi.” Anastasia said with a stunning smile. Galena didn’t like her.

“How long have you two known each other?” Galena addressed both of them but the only person that she actually wanted to hear from was Feliks.

“Oh, we just met. Feliks was kind enough to come and talk with me. He was helping me avoid looking like the weird new girl with no friends.” Anastasia was animated when she talked, it annoyed Galena how engaging she was. Feliks was quiet.

“Yeah, Feliks is so nice like that.” Her voice was colder than she had intended. Anastasia blinked, confused, then she smiled again and the look made Galena’s stomach curtle.

Galena smiled back and was relieved to hear the preacher calling everyone to their seats. Galena led Feliks away before Anastasia could ask to sit with them, Galena saw her walking with who she guessed was her mother. She offered Feliks some of her berries but he denied her offer. She was annoyed with how he was acting. What had him so weird, he seemed fine when he was talking with Anastasia. The sermon passed quickly while Galena contemplated what could possibly be wrong with Feliks. She had decided that he was probably tired. They bowed their heads when the preacher said the prayers, they prayed mostly for the Plague that was bringing havoc to neighboring towns. The prayer ended and Galena turned to Feliks

“You should go home and sleep, you’ve seemed weird all day. You must be tired.” Feliks looked annoyed.

“I’m not a child, I’d know if I were tired. I don’t need you to tell me what to do or how to feel.” he turned away. Wow, he was really grouchy.

Galena turned to go home, her mother had left during the service to attend to a woman who was giving birth and she would meet Galena at home. Galena decided to talk the long way home, the walk would take her by the river and seeing the water shine in the setting sun was always beautiful. She walked for about fifteen minutes and was finally near the river. She had stopped to take off her shoes and dip her feet in the water. She sat there for a little while, daydreaming about a future with Feliks when she heard laughter coming down the trail behind her. It took her a second to recognize Feliks’ voice. When she did she snached up her shoes and shoved them on to her still wet feet. She ran into the bushes surrounding the path as quickly and quietly as she could. Crouching down so they couldn’t see her as she listened.

“So Galena, she seems like fun.” Galena couldn’t tell if it were her own dislike but she couldn’t bring herself to see anything good in Anastasia’s tone.

“Yeah, she’s a joy.” Galena could all but see Felik’s eyes roll. She chewed on her cheek in an effort to keep quiet. “She’s a little bit controlling, but she’s my closest friend so what can you do?” What did that mean? Before she could puzzle out what Feliks was trying to say Anastasia spoke.

“You know you don’t have to let her boss you around.” a small plunk sounded and Galena couldn’t tell which one of them had thrown a stone into the river.

“She doesn't always pick up on the subtler hints I throw her.” were they only here to insult her character? Galena picked at her nails and retreated into her thoughts for a minute, she zoned back into their conversation when she heard their laughs. She gritted her teeth, she wasn’t going to sit here for their whole conversation, but she couldn’t get up without revealing that she had heard the whole thing. They seemed deep enough in conversation for her to go unnoticed if she crawled through the bush and came out further up the path. Once she had emerged from the bramble she felt tempted to go back down the path and push Anastasia into the river. Instead she walked back towards the church and went home. She wasn’t sure what had happened with Feliks but she knew one thing, he was hers, he would always be hers. She would deal with it in the morning. Right now she had twigs in her hair and dirt all over her knees. Only she knew of the blow her dignity took tonight but she still felt embarrassed. She crashed into bed as soon as she got home. Galena was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Chapter 3 Galena was confused by the conversation she had overheard the other night, it had churned over and over in her mind all day. It taunted her and she couldn’t find a solution that made sense. It put her on edge. She had still been thinking about the whole dreadful ordeal when Feliks walked into her house.

“Hey, how has your day been? Healed anyone?” Feliks question was so shockingly casual it caught Galena off guard. She glared at him, did he take her for an idiot? His friendliness dropped and nervous energy overtook him. “What do you know?” his question proved that he hadn’t spotted her in the bushes last night.

“Why were you talking to the new girl about me?” Galena crossed her arms over her chest.

“I was just getting to know her, how did you even know I was talking to her after the service?”

“I’m not stupid Feliks.”

“I never said you were.” his shoulders were tense and he looked exhausted. Galena had no idea why he was exhausted. She was the one dealing with a stupid teenaged boy.

“What do you even see in her anyway? What makes her worth your time?”

“Are you listening to yourself? She's a person ,Galena. She deserves some basic respect. I’m sorry if I was being too nice to her when she's new and knows nobody.” Feliks snapped. Galena had rarely heard him raise his voice like this. She had always assumed that he never really got mad. Maybe he was more passionate than she had given him credit for.

“You’re being unreasonable.” something flashed in Felik’s eyes and it made Galena’s blood run cold, she would regret saying that.

“Don’t just dismiss me, don’t just dismiss how I feel.” Feliks looked at her and she could tell she had made a hugely personal mistake. “I’m entitled to feel things, Galena, I’m entitled to feel things that you haven't assigned to me.” Galena was struck hard by that. She did not assign him emotions. Maybe she had a plan for her life that involved him but it wasn’t like he had any other options. In her mind they were soulmates, destined by fate to be together, all of her plans for her future revolved around them, together. She had a plan, but that wasn’t telling him what to feel. So what the hell was he going on about? Galena clenched her fist and looke Feliks dead in the eyes.

“Feliks, we are meant to be together. It just hurts me to see you with her.” Feliks let out a dry laugh and Galena knew he didn’t actually find anything remotely funny. His reaction stung like a wasp bite. She could almost feel the venom leaching away at her hope.

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” his galre felt like a sharp shard of shattered glass cutting open her skin. She expected herself to cry but instead anger bubbled up her throat. She choked on it and could barely form a coherent thought. “I like Anastasia. I don’t really care how you feel about it because it's my life. I get to live it.” he didn’t look away from her when he delivered this blow. It was cold and vicious and all she wanted to do was cross the room and slap him. Simply to get some power, some control, back into her grasp. She was used to holding all the power in their friendship and it was jarring to see how easily he had taken it. Like he had let her hold it in the past, like he could have taken it at any moment. Her heart hurt, but more than that she felt rage. It burned her skin and vision until she couldn’t hold it back anymore. She crossed the room and picked up the teapot on the counter. Galena threw it on the floor as hard as she could. It shattered across the kitchen. She was about to turn to Feliks when she heard him speak.

“I’m not staying here and watching you throw a tantrum. Get it together Galena.” Then he turned and left. The rage boiled over again and Galena had destroyed four more plates before she could think rationally. She stood in the kitchen surrounded by shattered glass gulping down breaths.

She recounted the whole argument while she swept the floor. She hadn't said anything she didn’t truly believe. Galena wasn’t sure what had come over Feliks but she was sure it had something to do with Anastasia. He had said that he liked her. Galena was sure that he meant in a romantic sense. Fine, if he needed to have a relationship with her before he accepted that he and Galena were made for eachother then so be it. She could wait, but it still stung like a poisonous nettle. Galena didn’t like taking hits to her pride and this definitely was one. She was so angry at Feliks. She was completely astounded at the way he was acting. This was a direct attack on her plans. This was a direct attack on her. Galena could hardly breathe as another wave a rage crashed over her. Did he even understand what he had said to her? Did he understand all that he had thrown away? Thrown in her face. He had thrown her plans in her face. He taunted her with her perfect plan, then ripped it away. She hated him, yet Galena knew that she would do anything, absolutely anything to get him back. It would let her get her life plan back. Her direction was entirely pinned on Feliks. There was no way she was giving that up, there was no way in hell she was surrendering that direction to Anastasia. She hated Anastasia more than she hated Feliks. Galena turned and slammed the door with the beginnings of a new plan on her mind.

Chapter 4 Galena’s steps smacked hard on the ground as she made her way to the river. She knew that Feliks and Anastasia would be there. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to hold her temper and avoid pushing Anastasia into the river this time. If she were lucky Anastasia would get dragged in by a under current and drown. One could wish, maybe she should get a big stick to hit Anastasia upside the head just to be sure. Galena’s thoughts of murder filtered away as she got closer to the river. She knew that hoping for Anastasia’s death was awful and at this point she had settled on worming her way into their alone time together and making it awkward for both of them.

Galena heard their voices, Laughing and joking. Anastasia’s giggle was nauseating. She clenched her fists and her jaw, nearly biting into her cheek. She kicked a rock down the path and it went rolling down the river bank. Feliks noticed her then.

“Galena, what can I help you with?” his voice was cold. There was less emotion than there had been when they had fought. She still trembled with the rage from that argument and it was disconcerting how quickly he got over it. Or maybe he wasn't over it. She still had hope that he cared. Maybe the laughing she had heard was faked for Anastasia’s sake. The smile on Anastasia’s face made her doubt that.

“I just came to spend some time with you two.” Galena felt sure that Feliks hadn’t told Anastasia about their fight, it would paint him in a bad light and afterall, if he liked her he would want to seem his best in front of her.

The annoyance in Feliks eyes was piercing but Galena had thicker skin than most people would give her credit for. She glared right back. Then to add insult to injury she smiled coldly at Anastasia. Anastasia looked confused, she chewed on her lower lip with nerves. Galena thought that was the stupidest thing she had ever seen. Who has a habit of chewing their lips? Was she flirting with Feliks that shamelessly? Was she making it extra obvious because Galena was here? Galena set her resolve higher, she would push Anastasia in the river if she had to, but she could be sneaker, more clever, more underhanded than that. She didn’t need to resort to obvious violence. She smiled when she sat down, she made sure to sit closer to Feliks than she sat to Anastasia and the subtle annoyance that showed on Anastasia’s face for just a moment let Galena know that it was working. Anastasia wasn’t perfect after all. If she could just push enough of her buttons she could expose a ugly, spiteful girl to Feliks and he wouldn’t be interested anymore. Hopefully he wouldn't see the spite in her own actions, but everything she was doing was for them, it was all for him. They were made for eachother and all she was doing was pulling out a weed in his life while it still had shallow roots. This would be good for him in the end. Galena was confident that he would see that reason. She felt confident that he would come back and apologize for his hurtful words once he realized that what she was doing was for his best interest. She loved him, it was all for him. For their future.

“I didn’t know you kept tabs on him so tightly.” The comment from Anastasia was so unexpected that it took Galena a second to even process that she had said it at all. Apparently Anastasia wasn’t here to play around either. Galena almost missed Feliks subtle smile.

“Well it's a good thing I do.” Galena had the chance to not say what she was about to say, but she desperately wanted to put Anastasia in her place. “The two of you sneaking off to the woods alone, people talk in this town. You have no idea what kind of rumors might spread.” she prayed that Feliks had missed the underhanded threat. She knew that Anastasia would hear it.

“Would you really do that to Feliks? You know how much that would hurt him, how much it would hurt anyone. I’m trying to see good in you Galena, but you can’t even joke about starting a rumor like that. Lies like that start bigger issues than you can imagine.” Anastasia spoke passionately. Angry disbelief blazed in her eyes.

Galena almost thought that she had gotten away with her threat without Feliks noticing when she saw Anastasia’s words register on his face. Oh no. He turned to her, appalled.

“Galena, you wouldn’t.”

“I would,” she snarled before she could stop herself. “I could spin all sorts of tales that wouldn’t even put you at risk.”

“Please, if you ruined my reputation nobody but you would ever consider me worthy of talking to ever again. That's what you want isn't it?” Feliks spat the words at her with pure disgust.

Galena took half a second too long to answer. She expected Feliks to be livid, and he was. What she hadn't expected was Anastasia's rage. Anastasia curled her fist then threw her hand to the ground.

“People would believe anything about you, nobody knows you!” she knew she had made a huge mistake as soon as the words came out of her mouth. She had never seen Feliks look so angry. He jumped up and tackled her to the ground. Only, as he did this Galena’s foot slipped on the wet earth and they both fell into the river.

The cold water hit like a stone and Galena plunged deep into the river. It didn’t help that they had fallen into the deepest, fastest, most unpredictable part of the river. Galena trashed but she couldn't find up. The current was strong. And an undercurrent pulled her down. She desperately pushed up but it was useless. Her boot caught on a rock at the bottom of the river. No, she couldn’t be this deep already. Her lungs screamed. Her head pounded. The current started to pull her back. Galena wanted to scream, but then the current was pulling her upwards. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the surface. She broke the surface and coughed out water while at the same time she took the deepest breath of her life. How? That was all her delirious brain could fit together. Feliks was clinging to the river bank in a much shallower part of the river. He was shivering and looked badly shaken. Galena didn’t think that she looked much better. How? How was it possible for both of them to survive? Galena looked up and got her answer. Anastasia was redirecting the current around her so she could safely swim to shore. Anastasia looked exhausted, no doubt holding back a current that strong took a lot of effort. Galena didn’t wish to challenge luck again, she swam to the shallows with Feliks as fast as she could. They dredged themselves out of the water together. Anastasia ran to meet them. Her skin was glowing, she looked bright and luminescent and the look that Feliks was giving her made Galena want to throw a rock at her head, even if Anastasia had just saved her life.

“Oh my goodness! Are you okay? Are you guys hurt?” Anastasia’s panic was tangible. Her eyes were wide and fear was choking out of her. “Please tell me you’re okay.” Anastasia was crying. Galena felt awful. It was what she had said that got them into this situation. It was her jealousy and actions. Before her guilt could borrow any further she realized with a start that Anastasia could manipulate water. Galena now knew someone else with supernatural gifts beside herself. Shocked, she stood and gaped up at her. Feliks barely reacted and Galena questioned if she had already told him about her abilities. His grateful smile confirmed her suspicions. Galena looked at Anastasia again. Abilities like this would have her hunted down and killed for witchcraft. There was no way that, if Galena was in Anastasia’s shoes, she would have exposed herself like Anastasia just did. Maybe that made Anastasia a better person than her. Galena had always been grateful for her gift, it was easy to keep hidden and whenever she used it to heal people she knew they wouldn’t go running to the church. For half a second the thought crossed Galena’s mind, she could expose Anastasia to the church. She knew that Feliks would never love her if she did that. So she discarded it as a plan. Galena had been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed that Feliks and Anastasia had been talking for a while now.

“Its okay, nobody saw, and nobody will find out.” Feliks had his hands on Anastasisa’s shoulders. “Right?” he added as he turned to her.

“Right.” she nodded dumbly. Anastasia looked panicked.

“Are you absolutely sure that nobody saw?” her face was pale and her hands trembled slightly. Galena couldn’t bring herself to feel any pity for her, she hadn’t been the one to take a plunge into the deep end of the river.

“Yes, if anyone saw Galena and I fall in they would be yelling, nobody in their right mind would sit back and quietly wait to see what you would do.” Anastasia giggled nervously at that. Galena was shocked to see how hard Feliks was working to calm her down. He had never bothered to take such personal stock in her emotions. Galena clenched her fists.

“You do understand why you can’t tell anybody right?” Anastasia had turned to her and Galena would have been offended by the question if not for the raw emotion in Anastasia’s voice. It caught her off guard and delayed her response. “I need you to keep this to yourself, I could get accused of witchcraft, I know you don’t care about me all that much, but if you told someone you would be putting yourself in danger too. I’m not one hundred percent sure how people would react, but worst case scenario you could be in trouble too.”Galena’s blood went cold. She knew how badly this would affect Anastasia but she hadn’t considered that it would have impacts on herself too. Feliks looked at her and she knew how badly it would hurt him if she betrayed Anastasia. She wouldn’t tell anyone about today. It made a difference though, a big difference. Galena now held something over Anastasia, something that Anastasia had foolishly handed to her. She could hardly imagine what she could hold over Anastasia with this turn of events.

Chapter 5 Galena knew that the man her mother had dragged into the kitchen of their home was dying. He wasn’t dead quite yet but there was very little chance for him. It had been three days since Galena’s encounter with Anastasia and Feliks at the river. She hadn’t seen either of them since. Galena was glad for the distraction the man on their table held. Her thought had centered around Anastasia and Feliks every waking minute since the fight. Galena stood gathering towles and bandages for the man. Her bathroom had buckets of boiling water that made the space stuffy and humid. She heard her door open and footsteps come in. Galena’s mother was far too busy working to notice that someone had walked in. Galena paid little attention until she looked up and saw Feliks standing in the doorway.

“We need to talk.” Feliks looked her in the face, he wore little expression and that startled Galena.

“What makes you like her so much? What does she have that I don’t?” Pleading and anger were spilling out of Galena as she stood in the cramped and stuffy bathroom clutching the bloody towels to her chest. She didn't care if the blood got on her, hell, it already was all over her. Her mother was desperately attending to the bleeding man on their kitchen table and Galena was supposed to be getting more water and bandages. Instead she was fighting with Feliks.

“Anastasia is smart, she’s beautiful, and she’s powerful. She’ll be a living saint one day.” Feliks looked like he wanted to continue but rage tore through Galena and she couldn't hold back her words.

“Oh so just because she can manipulate water she’s suddenly a saint. I’m not normal either Feliks.”

“Galena you’re just a healer. You bandage the injured. That's not anywhere near what Anastasia can do.” she thought her anger had been at its limit but it bubbled like a pot of water boiling over. Power rippled through her and she turned out of the bathroom. Feliks followed. She pushed open the door to the kitchen and her mother looked up at her. Galena shoved her aside, she glared at Feliks with pure and undiluted rage and slammed her palms down on top of the knife wound in the man's chest. His flesh began to knit together from the inside out. The chambers of his heart reunited and it started to beat. The tissue slowly closed and he was left with a long scar across his chest. He was still asleep on the table. Galena’s mother was gawking at her in shock and awe. Of course she knew about Galena’s gift, and so had Feliks but they hadn't known the extent of it. They had seen Galena heal small cuts and bruises. If Galena was being honest she wasn't sure she could have saved that man without her anger as a crutch. She looked up at Feliks and was shocked to find that his expression had not changed.

“Anastasia doesn't use her power to prove a point.” He turned and walked out. Galena was exhausted, emotionally and physically. She turned and ran to her room. Hardly getting past the door frame before the tears came. She changed out of her blood soaked dress and into a light blue one. Her hair had been braided away from her face and secured in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She took out the pins keeping it in place and undid the braids around her face. She was still crying, although the tears came less forcefully. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was running. She ran her fingers along her sore, swollen eyes and they returned to normal. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, it itched for a minute and then stopped running.

Everything had been concrete her whole life. She had been in love with her best friend and simply waiting for him to feel the same. All that had changed when Anastasia Kravtsov had moved to town. Galena hated how quickly everything had changed. She loathed how fragile her relationship with Feliks had been. She didn’t believe they were soulmates anymore. Galena wasn’t sure she believed in soulmates now. She did still believe in power. Galena knew that no matter what changed in the world, power would always be attractive. If Feliks wanted a saint, then Galena would give him a saint. Galena was out the door a moment later and had walked into the town's marketplace blindly. An old, weary looking man was sitting in the shade. He was coughing when Galena approached him. Without a word she placed her hands on his shoulders. Her palms were warm as she called forward her healing abilities. The man had stopped coughing but his eyes held panic.

“What did you do?” his voice was raspy, as if he hadn’t used it in days. His eyes were wide as he stared up at her.

“You are healed. Spread the word, tell everyone that the world strongest healer lives in this very village.” she hoped that sounded saintly enough for Feliks. The man stared at her incredulously.

Galena spread her palms outward and turned to the gathering crowd. A small boy had a scraped knee and Galena made her way towards him. She was almost to him when an older boy stepped in front of him, a brother maybe? He pushed his arms in front of himself to add distance between the little boy and Galena.

“We don’t want any of your witchcraft.” his snarl was jarring. Galena had never thought anybody would view her gift like that. In anger she clenched her fists at her side. The older boy's face went pale in panic. He grasped at his throat, desperately clawing with wide, anxious eyes. Galena didn’t even realize that she was collapsing his windpipe until a woman cried out,

“She’s strangling him!”

“Witch!” another man cried as a small stone hit her shoulder.

Galena unclenched her fist and the boy took a deep, shuddering breath. The panic was still in his gaze.

“What’s your name?” his voice was trembling but still held a bite.

Galena hesitated for a moment. An idea sparked in her head, it was a long shot but she had spoken before she could reconsider. “Anastasia, my name is Anastasia Kravtsov.” The immediate guilt that clawed at her stomach made the lie harder to accept as a thing that she had actually done. The boy looked her in the eye and she knew she had just sentenced Anastasia to death.

Chapter 6 Galena had sprinted into the woods in an attempt to get away. She had cautiously followed the sound of angry yelling to the town square. What she found shocked her. Everyone was gathered in the town square, around a wooden box on which stood Anastasia. The real Anastasia, not Galena, who had been the one who had gotten her into this deadly situation. Anastasia had tears running down her face. Galena’s gut twisted as guilt burned her throat. She had made a mess that she couldn’t fix. The yelling had been refined into a single chant, over and over again it rang like a bell in Galena’s ears.

“Burn. The. Witch. Burn. The. Witch. Burn. The. Witch.” Galena was surprised to find herself crying. It was getting harder and harder to breathe properly. Her hands were shaking. Her breaths were thin when a hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, certain that she was about to be thrown into the crowd and put to death. Instead she turned and faced Feliks.

“What did you do?” his voice was cold but livid fury flashed in his eyes.

“I-” Galena started but had to force down a deep breath before she could get any words out. “I made a mistake.”

“A mistake? And that's why Anastasia, the healer, is getting put to death?” so he had heard about what she had done.

“I wasn’t thinking, Feliks, don't be upset.” she was reaching out her hand to touch his arm but he snached her wrist midair and held it tightly.

“I have every right to be upset, but I’ll keep it together long enough to help Anastasia, and so will you.” Galena knew now that there was nothing she could do to fix how badly she had broken her relationship with Feliks. Even friendship was off the table now. Galena was hurt by the way he was looking at her, but the panic of the situation she had put them in masked it.

They hurried across the edges of the crowd and watched as Anastasia was bound and thrown into the back of a wagon. The men who were driving it down the worn path weren't paying much attention as Galena and Feliks took the only chance they would get. They rushed forward as soon as the cart was out of town. The men had stopped to move a log that had fallen across the path. Feliks cut the rope tying Anastasia down and Galena helped her out of the ropes holding her wrists behind her back. They ran into the woods and Feliks guided them back to his house. These moments came in quick flashes of focused energy. Galena’s panic brought her attention to only freeing Anastasia. Feliks’ large family made their living farming, he found a wagon easily. It was packed with the most basic supplies and tools within minutes. With a small goodbye he and Anastasia were off into the night. Feliks hadn’t told her where they were going, Galena wasn’t sure he even knew. He was doing the right thing, leaving was smart. But Galena couldn’t help feel that they had abandoned her.

Her head buzzed with the same thoughts that had been plaguing her for the past week. Her mother wasn’t there when she walked into the house. Galena couldn’t bring herself to care where she might be. She hadn’t noticed that she was packing until she was nearly done. Almost as if she were in a trance she finished stuffing all that she would need in bags and found herself on the road. Galena had managed to talk a farmer delivering stock to a nearby town into giving her a ride. She didn't sleep as she stared out at the road ahead. Wondering where Feliks and Anastasia would be.Galena wished she was in Anastasia’s place, horrific as it might be seeing as her own actions had nearly gotten Anastasia killed. At least Anastasia had Feliks. They stopped in the next town. Galena had healed three people before she realized that she was leaving a trail for people to find. She didn’t care, at least she was leading Witch Hunters away from Feliks and Anastasia. She owed them that much.

Chapter 7 Galena hadn’t been in that town long before she moved on to the next. She was at that one an even shorter time. She went on traveling, healing in each town. Weeks blurred together and in what felt like a blink, time slipped through her fingertips. It had been nearly two months since the night she ran, she hadn’t stopped running and the constant movement left her hollow and alone. Galena’s reputation grew and the number of people asking for healing grew with each town she passed through. The irony that she was occasionally called a saint wasn’t lost on her.

She mostly healed people who were sick with the highly contagious plague. She had gotten even better with her gift as she continued to work on the illness. She was familiar with how it worked now. With that experience had grown fame. People traveled while in the worst of the plague just to see her. They said she was the only one capable of healing it. Galena hoped that Feliks and Anastasia heard about the healings and knew it was her. That petty thought grew stronger and stronger at each town she stopped in. She hoped they regretted everything that had happened, how they had pushed her to act. She had felt guilty that first night but as the weeks passed the guilt twisted and contorted into anger. They had abandoned her. Anastasia had stolen Feliks from her and then they both left her. She didn’t feel guilty anymore.

Galena had just healed the last plague victim, a young boy with sunny blonde hair, and was about to set out on the road again when she saw seven large and heavily armed men talking with heads bent in the shade of a building.

“Sankta!” a young woman to her left called out as Galena passed. The praise would have made Galena smile if one of the men hadn’t snapped his gaze up to stare at her. A deep chill flooded Galena’s blood. She desperately shushed the woman but she was preoccupied with chattering about Galena’s power. The man who had looked up at her was working his way towards her through the crowded streets and Galena snapped the woman’s vocal cords shut with a pinch of her fingers. The woman gasped and held her hand to her throat, the same panic that had flooded the boy she had stopped the heart of filtered into her gaze. The tall man was walking toward her even faster now. As if she had just confirmed his suspicions. Galena knew that this wouldn’t be an easy situation to get out of. She ran. Her feet hit the road hard and the crowd that had gathered to watch her heal got in her way at every turn. She swept her arms out, palms open. Forcing the crowd to part. Outraged cries echoed behind her.

I can use my powers to heal the plague infested, but the second I use them to keep myself safe everyone is offended? Galena thought bitterly. She glanced behind her, she was losing the man who had originally moved towards her, just as she was starting to feel proud of herself she noticed another man coming from her left. She turned right, as fast as she could, into an ally. Galena barely kept her bag from flying off of her shoulder. The ally was dark and shadowed and she didn’t notice the man until she had run into him. His hands gripped her shoulders then quickly pulled her hands behind her back before she could even think to stop his heart. Rage boiled deep in Galena. They had herded her right into this ally. She tried to stomp on his foot but he spun and pushed her, face first against the brick wall.

“Don’t try anything foolish, witch” He spat the word witch with so much hatred that Galena shuddered. “Don’t talk either, I’ll slit your throat before I’ll let you talk your way to freedom.” he knew what he was doing, he had probably hunted others gifted like her. A weak, desperate plan was stirring in her head. She knew it was a long shot, and if he figured out what she was doing he very well would slit her throat but she didn’t have any other options. His grip on her wrists didn’t restraign her fingers. With a twitch she sent a muscle in his calf spasming. He reached down to grab his leg, a grimace on his face. Galena snached her hands away from him and before he could react, stopped his heart. He paled and fell to the ground. Galena didn’t allow herself to stop, she had to keep moving. She sprained out of the ally the same way she had come in. She moved through the crowd without parting them, she blended in much better than she had before and was able to avoid the rest of the men by keeping her head down. She was on the outskirts of the town within minutes and was able to find a merchant that had come to see her who was willing to give her a ride to the next town. She cried that night. She hadn’t realized the danger she was in, she hadn’t known she was being hunted. She wondered now, how long until they caught up with her again. The man who she was traveling with informed her that there was only one town in the area. She was stuck with an extremely traceable path. Galena resolved herself to stay a couple days in that town, if she were lucky the hunters would assume that nobody was stupid enough to stay in a town they knew she would be in and move on ahead of her. She didn’t know what she would do after that, or what she would do if they found her. Galena didn’t sleep that night. Everytime she started to drift off she felt herself run into the man in the alley again, she felt his cold words again, she felt his heart stop at her hand again. She stared blankly behind the carriage the whole night.

Chapter 8 Galena had arrived in Arkesk almost two days ago, she had healed too many people to count. She had slept and dined on the generosity of people who called her Sankta and gazed at her with wide, adoring eyes. She felt the creeping sense that someone was following her all of the time. Constantly looking over her shoulder to find nothing, the feeling only grew as time went on.

The anxiety that had been flooding her was at an all time high when she heard about the wedding. The first time the wedding was mentioned an old woman had suggested that she attend and bless the couple. Galena had dismissed the idea, not caring about a couple she didn’t know. Then she heard the bride’s name, Anastasia. She knew then that she had stumbled into the town where Feliks and Anastasia fled to. There was of course the chance that it was just another young woman named Anastasia but her luck was never that good. She had decided at that moment that she would go to the wedding. She had to stay in Arkesk for three more days to attend the wedding. Her anxiety had dissipated as soon as she learned that it was Feliks’ and Anastasia’s wedding.

The next three days passed in a blur. Galena spent most of the time healing others. The plague, which had been especially bad in Arkesk, had almost disappeared due to her tireless work. People were more appreciative here as well, it boosted her confidence and the whispers of worship that followed her brought a pleased pride to her spirit. She was sure that Feliks and Anastasia had heard of the Sankta healer; she figured that they were avoiding her. The town was small and it wouldn’t have been that unlikely to run into them. Galena wondered if they would be surprised to see her at their wedding, she thought it would have shocked her if she were in Anastasia’s place but Anastasia had always seemed to have a better grasp on what Galena was doing than Galena did on her. She shouldn’t care, she should have moved on past both of them. Galena had renown and followers. They called her the healing saint, cries of “Sankta” followed her from town to town. People knew who she was. Nobody, or at least nobody outside of this small town knew who Anastasia and Feliks were. She still wanted Feliks though. And that thought that Anastasia had taken him from her was inferating. They were engaged to be married, but the wedding hadn’t come yet, she still had a chance to steal him back.

When the day of the wedding finally came Galena marched to the church with furious determination. There was nothing and no one who would stop her from taking back what rightfully belonged to her; Feliks. She was seated alone in a pew against the back wall of the church. Alone, staring straight at the altar, with her arms crossed and her anger boiling she went surprisingly unnoticed. She expected that she would have made more of a stir, with the whole, ridding the town of the plague thing. Once again Anastasia overshadowed her. The thought made her anger pitch even hotter. Her anger only raised more as the wedding party made their way down the aisle. Feliks stood at the front of the church, grinning, it made Galena want to hurl. The music changed and Anastasia was floating down the aisle like an angel. That made Galena want to hurl even more. It also made her want to stand up and tear the stunning white gown off of Anastasia. She didn’t. Her anger cemented her to her seat. Anastasia took her place at the front and smiled a wide, radiant smile at Feliks. Galena’s hands curled into fists at her sides. They started their vows. Galena tuned them out. Lost in her own thoughts, until she saw the first of the tears slip from Feliks eyes. She was shocked. Galena had known Feliks for years and she had never once seen him cry. He had seemed to feel life in an apathetic way, never reacting very strongly to anything. In the time he had met Anastasia she had seen that change in him. She knew for certain that Anastasia had somehow taught him that it was okay to free his feelings. Galena had only ever taught him to lock them up. That small realization acted like a key, opening a locked door full of truths that she didn’t want to face. Before she had even realized it was happening her anger slipped away. Galena watched, entranced as tears flowed freely from Feliks. He held Anastasia’s hands like they were sacred jewels. Anastasia herself was smiling the most beautiful, all encompassing, joyful smile Galena had ever seen. She was glowing, glowing with pure undiluted happiness. Galena realized then that Anastasia gave Feliks something that she had never given him. Anastasia was home for Feliks, and he was home for Anastasia. Galena’s heart hurt, in part because of the pain that Feliks would never look at her the way he was gazing at Anastasia, but mostly because she had caused Feliks pain for so many years and had never even realized it. She hadn't noticed her own tears until a fat drop rolled down her cheek. Feliks was saying his vows in a wobbly emotional voice. He was gazing at Anastasia like she was a brilliant sun set. Galena knew then that she had been wrong. Wrong on so many occasions. Feliks and Anastasia belonged together. It was time for her to stop interfering. She didn’t have the slightest idea what to do now, she just knew she needed to stay long enough to apologize to both of them.

Galena was in a similar awe-like state the rest of the ceremony. Feliks and Anastasia shared a joyful glow that lit the whole room. Galena stumbled along with the crowd of guests as they made their way into the church’s basement for the dinner. Feliks and Anastasia joined them a moment later. A short girl with dark hair and eyes who was bouncing with excitement chattered to the room about Anastasia and Feliks. Galena was standing against the back wall. The girl’s bubbly monologue was fumbled as her attention caught on a tall man who was whispering something to Feliks. The look on Feliks face made Galena’s stomach drop. Then she heard it for herself, the crisp military voices echoing from the top floor of the church. Witch Hunters.

Chapter 9 Panic was flooding Galena’s blood. The Witch Hunters were her for her no doubt, but if they knew about Anastasia they would take her too. Judging from the tall man and short girls concerned expressions they thought that it was possible the hunter were here for Anastasia.

Well, a very sidetracked part of Galena’s mind mused, it’s good that Anastasia and Feliks have made close friends since moving. The sudden and sharp sound of footsteps on the stairs yanked Galena’s attention back to the matter at hand. The small girl was now pushing through the crowd in the way only the very short could, Anastasia and Feliks trailing behind her with the tall man at their backs. Galena followed their movements without thinking. She was almost stopped in her tracks when she saw one of the men who had herded her like cattle in one of the last villages.

“I’m looking for the bride,” his voice boomed with authority, “I’m looking for the girl named Anastasia.” it took Galena a moment to wrap her head around the statement. His band of Hunters had been looking for her last she knew, they had followed her from her own home town if she guessed correctly. Then it struck her, a memory painful like a slap to the face. She had given Anastasia’s name. These men were hunting Anastasia as surely as they were hunting her.

By the time they reached the small door that led off to a side room the wedding guests were stampeding for the door. Galena slipped inside after Anastasia and Feliks. The short girl and tall man were gone with the crowd. It was just Galena, Feliks, and Anastasia in the room. Feliks had his head half in the fireplace that took up one wall of the small room.

“Galena?” Anastasia’s voice was shocked. Had she really not realized that Galena was in attendance?

“Hello Anastasia, Feliks.” she nodded to Feliks who had turned from the fireplace very suddenly. “I’m going to help you escape,” she added when neither of them spoke.

She heard the footsteps on the other side of the door and without thinking whirled and, gazing through the window curled her hand into a fist. She saw the man tumble to the ground. Anastasia gawked at her. Galena’s mind was spinning. If the Hunters broke the door down and saw Anastasia in her wedding dress they would kill her as well as Galena.

Feliks gasped and pulled Anastasia toward the fireplace.

“We can climb up the fireplace. It's the only way out.” he was urgently ushering her into the fireplace. Anastasia tried twice to climb into it but her skirts were too full to fit in the narrow passage. The idea came to Galena,

“Trade dressed with me,” Galena said. Anastasia looked at her for a moment before the panic cleared and she understood. Anastasia nodded. She turned to Feliks.

“Go, please, climb up first and I’ll meet you at the top.” he shook his head fiercely.

“I won't leave you.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’d be wasting time, we're wasting time even now.” This seemed to convince him. He was already climbing the chimney as Galena and Anastasia traded clothing. As Galena pulled off her dress and handed it to Anastasia.

“I’m sorry, Oh Anastasia, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Anastasia shook her head but she didn’t know the extent of Galena’s betrayal. She didn’t know that Galena had named her as a witch and caused all of these problems to begin with. “It is, all of it. I’m sorry. I could say it everyday for the rest of my life and it wouldn’t be enough.” Anastasia was helping her button up the back now. “He really loves you, I’ve never seen him love anyone or anything so much. You are his whole world. Please cherish him. I know he will always cherish you.” Anastasia was crying, silent tears and nodding. Galena knew that Anastasia was well aware of what she planned to do. Galena whirled away from her then. “Go, please. I can't open the door until you’re climbing up.”

“Thank you” that was all Anastasia said before she turned and started climbing up the chimney.

It took Galena a moment to work up the courage to open the door. There were men in the basement of the church. They had been searching the rooms and it had been by pure luck that they hadn’t checked the room she had just come from. Well, at least one of them had. Maybe the only luck she had was that he hadn’t screamed when she stopped his heart. One of the men whirled to look at her. Before she could think he was sprinting to her. Viciously grabbing her wrists and yanking them behind her back. The other hunters were on her too. They marched her up the stairs, Anastasia was taller than Galena and she kept tripping on the skirts. To her luck they didn’t pay much mind to her wardrobe malfunction. She was shoved to her knees outside of the church. People had gathered around. Cries and chants of “witch, witch, witch” echoed in the town. It was funny to her, Galena thought as the hunters tied her hands very tightly, that one day she was Sankta, and the next she was Witch. The hunter had tied her hands very thoroughly. Going as far as to tie her palms together so she couldn’t use her power. He tied her ankles next, then threw her into a wagon. She was too tired to fight. Too exhausted and humiliated and hurt by her own actions to make herself stand up. She could do nothing but hope that Anastasia and Feliks had made their way out of the town. She bounced in the back of the wagon, tied up like a hog for hours. She was almost asleep when she heard the yipping and snarling. She suspected wolves. The snarling and howling were getting closer. She finally let herself scream.

Chapter 10 Anastasia stood at the steps of the church and looked lovingly at her husband as he ran down the steps after the clumsy, chubby cheeked toddler. Their clumsy, chubby cheeked toddler. Feliks and Anastasia had been married seven years ago. Every anniversary they made their way to a church to remember Galena. She had been sanctified three years after her death. They called her Sankta Anastasia, which always made Anastasia cringe. She wished more than almost anything in the world that Galena was remembered in her own name. The only two things that soothed this was that Feliks remembered Galena, and that the image painted and crafted in stained glass windows was entirely Galena. It held her image, kind and merciful, with serene wisdom on her face. That was not how Anastasia had known Galena for most of the time they had been acquainted but it perfectly encompassed how she had been right before she died. Anastasia was grateful every moment of everyday for Galena’s sacrifice. If she hadn’t made her sacrifices Feliks and Ananstasia could have never been as they were now. Anastasia looked down at their son again, he was only here because of Galena’s sacrifice.

It was Anastasia’s goal as a mother to raise her son into a man that Galena would have been proud to die for. The wise mature Galena who had made a decision so hard that Anastasia doubted she herself would have been able to make the same one.

“Gotcha!” Feliks grabbed their son and swung him up onto his shoulders. Anastasia beamed. Anastasia had caught up to the boys and slipped her hand into Feliks. “I love you Ana.” He said as he brushed a kiss to her temple. He had called her Ana almost the whole time he had known her. The only other person who had ever called her Ana was her mother.

“I love you too Feliks.” He had loved her, every moment they had been together, just as Galena had said he would. An all encompassing love, as if nobody else in the world mattered more than her. At least, until their son was born.

Anastasia ran her hand over her round belly. She was about seven months along with her second baby and it was their biggest source of excitement nowadays. The baby, another miracle that they could thank Galena for. Anastasia knew that she would spend the rest of her life counting things she could thank Galena for, her children, eventually her grandchildren, to be able to see Feliks’ hair slowly pepper into grey, to be able to hold her son when he told her of falling in love with a girl, to gather flowers for her children’s weddings. So many moments, big and small, that she would only have Galena to thank for. She turned to look at the church again, the stained glass image of Galena caught the setting sun and she glowed a soft gold.

Thank you, thank you for all of it. Anastasia turned her gaze to Feliks. Thank you for him most of all.

#grishabigbang20 #grishaverse #gvbbfic20 #gvbb2020 #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone

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milwrites · 4 years

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Weird that it happened twice, right?

chapter three - masterlist

A/N: this one’s awkward and was my problem child. the pov switches, i think you can see the change the first time and then from then on it’s “narrator / john pov” in normal text and reader in italics.

word count: 3.2k

T/W: swearing? blood/ semi-graphic violence and a single mention of smut, does including the Smiths lyrics count as a trigger?

A week later, and the Grays and Braithwaites were realising Dutch's alliance with the other. The Grays had already launched an offensive upon some of the men while in Rhodes; Sean lucky to escape with his life after a bullet passed clean through his shoulder. As of yet the Braithwaite family seemed to be ignoring the gang.

“Jack, kiddo, listen to me. If you go to sleep now we can play cowboys tomorrow, I promise.” John’s voice was strained as he bargained with the small child, who was obstinately refusing to take off the man’s hat and (empty) gun belt. Both of them looked to me for back up, the boy grabbing at my hand, John waiting for me to speak. I sighed. “Would it help if I took him down the path to see the deer? I’d only be a few minutes.” I spoke to John, who nodded gratefully, before I turned to the eagerly waiting child. “You wanna come with me to see the deer buddy?” Jack’s face lit up and he nodded his head exuberantly, his father’s hat falling to the ground. He set off determinedly to where Bonnie was grazing, stroking the mare with his little hands.

John kissed my forehead as we followed Jack to the horse, I mounted bonnie first with John passing the boy up to me, where he proudly sat in front of me gripping Bonnie’s long mane. I clicked the horse into a slow walk so that Jack could stay balanced and to help the boy settle down from the excitement of being a cowboy. He’d leaned back against me and was watching the trees pass by, occasionally lifting his arm to point at the rabbits that skittered across the forest floor. It wasn’t too long before the woods thinned and the sight of pastures extending down to the lake side pricked Bonnie’s ears and raised her head. “ah ah ah,” I scolded her, knowing exactly that my horse wanted to gallop through the open fields as she tossed her head and tried to bring the bit between her teeth. I sent a warning tug down the reins, her admitting defeat and lowering her head again. Jack had spotted the deer ambling by the lakeside and was bouncing in the saddle to get a better look. I shushed him gently and pointed in the direction of a fawn that was hovering at the water’s edge. He was enthralled by the movements of the tiny doe, more than happy to be lifted from the saddle to sit on my knee while we leaned on a log to watch the deer, who remained unbothered by us. Bonnie settled near, huffing down our necks and looking dangerously close to rolling in the clay mud of the lake. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the scene; Bonnie’s gleaming coat matched by the deer, Jack falling asleep while curled into my sweater, and two armed men approaching us.

“Can I help you?” I spoke coldly, on edge by the closeness at which they had positioned themselves to me and the now sleeping child. They remained silent. I stood up, Jack in my arms, and moved toward my golden horse, my other hand near to my holsters. Empty. I cursed myself as my fingers skated over the leather, finding no trace of cold metal. The men were still watching us from horseback, blocking my exit on either side. I shook her head a little, mortified at what I was going to have to do, and filled my lungs to shout for help - I presumed we were close enough to Clemens Point for someone to hear me. I never got the scream out, as the butt of a revolver hit me square in the back of the head, knocking me cold.

Bonnie wandered into camp hours later. Alone.

She was gone. Had left him. Not two weeks into being with him and she’d fucking upped and left, taking his son with her. He pushed them away, refused to belive his intrusive thoughts, knowing she would never do that to him and yet losing more and more faith in her with every passing moment that she wasn’t there. He didn’t think himself enough to keep her with them, would never assume she would stay for him, but bargained with himself that if she was really gone she would have taken Bonnie with her: that flighty little horse meant the world to her and he knew she would be unable to leave her behind. So he held out hope through the night that she would come and push open the flaps of his tent, jack in tow, with a grin on her face and a wild story to tell and he would have her back in his arms. He swore softly, barely two weeks he’d had her and now he couldn’t last a night without her warming his bed.

Morning broke with a lazy kind of peace, rudely interrupted by a string of expletives from Dutch. he stalked to where John was, for want of a better word, brooding as he cleaned his revolvers with more force than was strictly necessary. “John, son. They have her and Jack.” Dutch’s voice was calm but his anger was audible. John’s jaw clenched, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Who.” The word was flat, monotone, ground out from gritted teeth. Dutch wordlessly handed him a letter written on creamy parchment. He read it, his face darkening with every line. It was from Catherine Braithwaite. She had taken (Y/N). She didn’t intend to take the boy, she had written, but “he would serve as collateral should the girl continue to act like a hellcat.” John huffed a humourless laugh at the woman’s description of his girl. “I’m going to get her. Them both.” “We all are.”

He rode to Braithwaite Manor in silence, listening to Arthur and Dutch cursing the old hag and readying himself for the inevitability of a fight. Old Boy seemed equally riled up, snorting and threatening to pull the reins from John’s hands, unused to his rider being so tense on his back. John snapped out of his haze, leaning to pat Old Boy’s neck with a murmured apology. He brought him to a halt near the other horses, and removed his repeater from the saddle - feeding a full magazine of ammunition into it. “I need you to stay calm, John.” Dutch instructed to the man beside him. John said nothing, knowing full well that his voice would either break or betray his anger completely.

I laughed, a delirious little laugh born of the unremitting pain I felt. A trickle of blood ran down my chin, my lip reopened by the blow to the face one of the lackeys had inflicted upon me. It mingled with the drying blood at the corner of my mouth, a gory lipstick that painted them red and stained my teeth. I lay back onto the mattress on the floor, still panting out small laughs, and looked up at my captor. “You hurt a hair. On that boy’s head. And I will kill you all.” I rasped, the lack of water and my screaming having left my voice in tatters. The man watching me strode over, looked me in the eye, and kicked me in the midriff. I groaned from the impact, curling in to protect myself. He walked out.

She wasn’t there. John checked every room in the godforsaken house and she wasn’t in a single one of them. He blindly followed Dutch out the manor, taking no notice of the woman he dragged behind him, or the crackle of the house as it was set on ablaze. He heard the woman say that Angelo Brontë had them, had her, that they were in Saint Denis if they weren’t already on a boat to Italy. He didn’t wait for permission as he drew his revolver, aimed it in the woman’s wretched face and pulled the trigger. He emptied the whole magazine into her skull, then followed Dutch once again back to Old Boy.

“Don’t go too deep into your head. You won’t come out again.” John registered Arthur's voice, the affection masked by a hard exterior that John knew he had crafted for years. He nodded, still unwilling to open up for fear his every anguish and demon escape out of him into existence. So he nodded again. “This ain’t what we should be doing,” he started, “they’ve got my- my son and my (Y/N) and we’re what? Going finding somewhere else to live?” He finished his sentence bitterly. Arthur chided him, John knew that they were moving because the law was closing in on them, and that they were no use to (Y/N) or Jack at the end of a rope. It scared arthur, seeing the man he saw a brother seemingly so broken, and the ferocity with which he now fought. The straggling Lemoyne Raiders at Shady Belle were unable to put up any fight at all, barely raising their weapons before John had cut them down or painted the floor with their brains. Arthur watched his eyes deadening with every hour that his family was missing, and knew that Dutch was taking too long.

They taunted me. Let me listen to Jack’s cries at being alone and hungry for so long, at having heard every wound the men had made on my body, at missing his father. They threatened me. Told me that John had a few days left before they killed me. Before they killed Jack. I offered my life for the boy’s, told them I would die quietly if they let the boy back to his father.

Dutch had charmed his way into Brontë’s home with apparent ease, Arthur having found his whereabouts after a single trip to Saint Denis. John couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing as they sat and drank Italian alcohol in Angelo Brontë’s company. He seemed to be playing along with Dutch’s “this is all a big misunderstanding can we please have the child and the girl back” narrative, portraying himself as a good man who had no idea the people he was housing were hostages. Bullshit. He called for his servants to bring Jack in first. It was a clever move, Jack had been bathed and the clothes he had gone missing in had been cleaned and pressed. He looked for all the world like nothing was wrong as he ran to John and hurled himself into his father’s arms. “Can you make (Y/N)-“ he hiccuped, “-stop crying, papa?” John patted the boy on the back, telling him he’d try his best, before turning to Brontë expectantly. “The girl.” Arthur spoke threateningly before John could open his mouth. Two men left the room at a nod from the Italian.

“You’re back!” I welcomed them sarcastically, raising my head weakly to look at their blank faces. One of them moved to where I was lying on the floor, arms tied behind me, and helped me to my feet. I stared at them in surprise while they led me out of the room. I caught sight of my face in a gilded mirror hung in the hallway and winced, telling myself that John loved me for my winning personality not my face or once pristine body.

Arthur saw her down the hallway and instantly put a warning hand on John’s arm to keep him seated. “Marston.” he growled. “You gotta keep calm or this’ll end bad for her.” She stepped into the room. Saw no one except John, going to him as he moved from his place on the sofa. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, heart breaking as he felt her body rack with sobs.

He held me until they subsided, both blissfully unaware of our surroundings. I pulled away from him, wanting to see his face, and he took me in fully. I was a mess. shirt ripped and bloody, showing welts and bruises across my body; ranging from deep purple to vivid yellow green. My face was beaten, my lip split and still bleeding, heavy bags under my eyes and another bruise forming under my jaw. He noted it all, even as I was admiring how beautiful he was, and tucked me away into his arms again.

Brontë watched us all with beady eyes, waiting for one of them to shoot first. The three men stood up, I was held up by John and Jack was in Arthur’s arms. They all knew that if they tried to exact their revenge now, it would only result in Jack or me being caught in the crossfire. No one hindered our exit from the building, Brontë pleased to have us gone. I greeted Old Boy in a whisper and leaned against him for support. John mounted first, reaching down from the saddle to lift me up as if I were no bigger than Jack. He gave me the reins and held me with both hands, scared I could slip off at any moment. “We gotta mansion now, sweetheart, you’ll love it.” he said, his hands rubbing my side, avoiding bruises as best he could. My voice had regained some strength, having had a drink the moment I’d stepped foot out of the building, my tone lighter and more playful. “That’s good, really good. Almost like home for me. You can bang me against a wall now.”

shady belle - 1899

The long abandoned mansion may have been dilapidated, damp and crawling with pests, but it allowed my wounds to heal, my bruises to fade and my spirit to very much return. John had held me with heart breaking gentleness my first night back, as if scared I would shatter if he gripped me too tight. I had clung to him like a child, taking comfort in his warmth and the safety his arms gave. It had knocked me badly, the stint with Brontë, and for a good week I was reluctant to leave camp without someone with me. I bounced back. I always do. Gradually going further and further away from Shady Belle alone, even managing a trip to Saint Denis one morning, about a fortnight after I had returned.

“I’m ready.” I was close to tears, frustrated and angry with the men around me, all telling me I was in no fit state to rob the city bank with them. No state at all. I looked to John for back up, who refused to meet my eyes, looking instead at the floor as if were of the greatest interest. I chewed the inside of my mouth and turned then to Dutch, eyes imploring but voice steely and determined. “I’m ready. Take me with you, you know I’m good. You know I can rack safes and you know I’m a better shot than half of the people you’re already taking with you.” Dutch caught Hosea’s eye, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded, unable to say no to the girl he saw as the daughter he never had. I reminded him of bessie, he’d told me, and he thought if he’d ever had a child with her, he’d have loved it to turn out like the fiery woman in front of him. My whole demeanour changed, my smile sweet now that I had my own way and my eyes lost their harshness. I left the room humming to myself, heading to the horses.

John refused to talk to me the entire ride to Saint Denis, despite me being right next to him the whole way; Bonnie protesting violently if I tried to move the mare away from Old Boy. I didn’t push him to talk to me, sensing that it wouldn’t go well for either of them. I stole glances at his face once in a while, embarrassed at how attractive I found the anger clearly written across his clenched jaw, hard eyes and hands that were gripping the reins so tightly that every one of his veins stood out from them. I swore under my breath as he spotted me staring, giving me an unimpressed glare, his eyebrows raised slightly and his head inclined to the side. I raised my hands in defence, scowling at him once he was no longer watching me at his apparently unfounded anger. “What the fuck is up with you?” I couldn’t keep it in anymore. He didn’t answer. Choosing instead to shake his head, eyes rolling a little, and kicking Old Boy to move faster. I stopped Bonnie from following, the mare turning to look at me with those piercing ice blue eyes, but I was crushed by how done with me he was acting.

I let myself really enjoy robbing the bank. God knows I deserved it. The rush of adrenaline stopping me from noticing John’s gaze the entire time. I busied myself instead with threatening and charming the bank tellers into submission, and making my way into the vaults. I know he heard my astonishment as I opened the safes from his exasperated sigh, and was somehow shocked at the filth of my language upon seeing the stacks of money within them. He called to me to hurry up and to watch my language - the law was outside and I was swearing too loudly. I hated how happy I was to even hear his voice, and drew my weapons again, grinning beneath my mask.

The first lawman to fall had a handlebar moustache. I remembered noting it before sending a bullet through his brain and another through his neck for good measure. The others were less distinctive, a swathe of blue coated police men giving way to checker print Pinkertons. Dutch shouted to us that it made no difference, keep shooting, he was blowing a hole in the wall and then we’d get out. The sound of breaking glass and police whistles almost drowned out my scream as John was knocked to the floor by a police baton. I fell into a blind rage, no longer taking the time to aim as I shot at anything that moved in my direction; I thought him dead, thought the last thing I’d said to the love of my fucking life was “what the fuck is wrong with you”, thought he’d died angry with me. A heartless hand on my shoulder, pushed and it was over, alabaster crashing down, my hands pulled behind me back into cuffs, my vision so obscured by tears that I only saw the tail of Dutch’s coat as he left me to be dragged into custody.

I awoke groggily. The sound of water and wading birds filling my ears, the smell of kerosene and smoke assaulting my nose. A man was leaning on me, a mop of black hair on my shoulder, and I elbowed them in disgust. He sat up, blinking against the light, and I cried out in relief to see the grey eyes of John Marston looking back into my own. “‘M sorry, I’m so sorry, i-“ “Shut up. I’m sorry too.” He kissed me once, pulling back to look over my face for signs of injury. I was broadly unscathed, a slight black eye but no sign of serious harm. Only then did he look around him to see the island we were headed to, the armed prison guard, the other convicts and the looming silhouette of Sisika Penitentiary. I whispered a single question that I knew the answer to only too well.

“They’re going to hang us?”

#john marston x reader smut #rdr2 #john marston #john marston x reader

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

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The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Thirteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

Unspeakable Acts

I should be doing more.

She couldn’t shake the guilt.

I should be combing the state. I should be pulling the land apart looking for him.

Fear was stopping her. Contentedness. Security. There wasn’t much of it in this new life of hers but the little that was there was enough to quell the potential possibility of uncertainty.

Why should the words of a known liar spur her in to action anyway?

But what if he’s not lying.

She just couldn’t rid her mind of the circles she kept going in.

Staring into the murky water, Ada tried to picture for the hundredth time what her brother would even look like, all these years later. Thirteen years later. Would he have changed his name? Would he even remember her?

Why are you even thinking about this when he’s dead?

But what if he’s not.

Lifting her head with a long inhale, she banished the thoughts from her mind, or tried to. When she wasn’t working, when she wasn’t with Arthur, they were always there, sometimes loud, sometimes quiet.

Today was a loud day. The actions of the O’Driscolls only hours ago had brought them back into sharp focus.

She was tired, so tired, of the uncertainty, of the doubt. Should she just start looking for him, just for that tiny chance of ‘maybe’?

But he is dead.

But what if he’s not.

Again, back to the start.

The sound of cantering hooves down the main path was yet another welcome distraction.

Pushing herself up, Ada turned on the jetty and brushed the dirt off of her hands onto her thighs as she walked towards the three arrivals. Lenny, Dutch and Arthur slowed their horses and, as she approached, she very quickly realised something was wrong.

Dust and sweat covered them, there were bruises on their faces and Dutch had a nasty looking red mark on his forehead. Other members of the group gathered around them as they dismounted and were already asking what had happened so by the time her hands were cupping Arthur’s face, he was already explaining.

“There was an incident at the station. Angelo set us up. There was no money there, nothin’.”

Her heart dropped as she stared at him, Lenny taking over.

“The law turned up real quick. Probably had someone watchin’ the place, waitin’ for us.”

Oh, fuck...

“Dutch, are you all right?”

She finally looked away from searching Arthur’s features to look to their leader at Javier’s question. He definitely looked... off.

He smiled slightly. “I’m fine. Just took a knock to the head. A lie-down is all I need, that’s all.”

Lenny helped him towards the house, the group disbanding with murmurs and sympathetic noises.

Ada returned her gaze to Arthur’s. He was watching the older man, his mouth set in a thin line. Concerned.

Her hand dropped to take his.

“Come on,” she murmured, leading him to the side of the house.

He didn’t say a word, following her. She took him to the shack on the water at the back of the grounds, only releasing him when the shack blocked them from the view of the house. She spun, cupping his face again, and his hands went to her hips.

“Are you all right?” she said before he could speak.

Nodding, he exhaled a breath. “Yeah. I just... I knew it, I fuckin’ knew it wouldn’t go right.”

“Do you truly believe it was a set-up?”

“Yeah. Can’t be anythin’ else, Bronte owns the town.”

Her heart sank again, her stomach twisting as her hands moved to his chest.

“Arthur...”

“What? What is it?” he prompted when she didn’t continue after a moment.

She swallowed hard, her voice low. “What about what Angelo gave me, Arthur? About the bank? Could that be a set-up?”

He took a breath before shaking his head. “I don’t know. Probably not. Hosea had heard about it, too, and from someone not close to Bronte.”

“But Angelo gave them to me specifically to give to Dutch, and now he very much appears to have set him up?” She shook her head, blowing out a breath. “Why do that if he’s his supposed friend?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

She wanted to go on, to figure it all out, to find an answer, but he looked so tired and worn out she managed to hold her tongue. Glancing towards the house, her fingers curled into his shirt.

Concerned lovers needing a few moments alone was good enough cover for peace but people were always milling about.

“Hey.”

Her gaze darted back to Arthur. Cupping her cheek, he smiled gently.

“It’ll be all righ’. Whatever happens, if somethin’ does, it’ll work out.”

There it was again, the blind faith. She didn’t want to get into another argument right now.

Returning his smile, she nodded. Then, rather than allowing lies to pass her lips, she raised her chin and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His arm instantly wrapped around her lower back and pulled her closer.

He whispered beautiful words into her ear, his lips left a burning trail down her neck and his hands held her anchored to the moment.

She closed her eyes to the world.

—

He was gone the next morning.

Rolling over, she stretched her legs out, her arms wrapping around his pillow. She stared out of the window on the other side of the room.

Thomas.

The bank.

Colm.

Dutch.

Her mind picked up the stream of anxieties she’d suppressed with Arthur’s help from the day before. They’d been shoved away by him insisting she read to him from the book, ‘you and Hosea won’t shut up about’, in his room while he inspected his bruises and cleaned his guns and knives. Then had come the call for dinner and he’d made them sit beside Hosea so they could discuss the book, well, her and Hosea anyway; Arthur just watched them both, slightly bemused as they might as well have been speaking Latin. Then, they’d returned to his room and he’d insisted that she carry on reading because ‘I must be missin’ somethin’ about this Frankenstein feller’, and so she had read to him as they lay on his bed, nestled together, his fingers idly playing with the ends of her hair. Then, she’d closed her eyes and the next thing she knew... Here she was. Awake.

She knew he’d orchestrated it all to distract her. That made her chest ache.

But he didn’t know the half of it. And here the thoughts were. Again.

She only had one conclusion; she didn’t know what to do.

So, she put a distance between the issues and herself, a barrier. Delusional, wandered into her mind before she quickly dismissed it.

She took her breakfast with the girls, listening to Mary-Beth explain how wonderful the tailor’s in Saint Denis was, that they should all go, that a night out in the town with just them would be nice and exactly what they needed. No one could be bothered to argue that that would be ridiculous and risky. Mary-Beth needed her fantasies, anyway.

She and I are like two of a kind.

It was a quiet day. Dutch was apparently still spending the day resting, not making an appearance. His lack of action seemed to slow down the general activity in camp, everyone staying close, besides Arthur, wherever he was, and Ada took the day to help the girls out with anything they needed. Later in the day, she took a watch with Sadie, delighted to laugh with the other woman and share a cake Sadie had bought in town.

“Oh, I missed cake,” Sadie groaned through a mouthful.

“Mmh, me, too,” Ada agreed, brushing crumbs from her mouth.

“I used to make ‘em as often as I could and me and Jake’d eat ‘em in a day. I could make damn good ones.”

“I’d be honoured to try one some day.”

Sadie snorted. “Sure, let’s go huntin’ in the bushes for an oven.”

Ada laughed, looking back towards the main path. “Hey, you never know what you could find out here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the locals would be very accommodatin’.”

Sadie fell silent as Ada chuckled, tapping the butt of her rifle against the dirt. The silence lingered.

“I’m thinkin’ of goin’ off in a couple’a days.”

Ada’s gaze darted to her and she paused.

“Oh, really? Where would you be going?”

Sadie watched her. “I’m gonna go after the O’Driscolls. What remains of ‘em, anyway.”

Ada couldn’t help but pause again. Her mind raced. What could she say? It would be a waste of time to try and dissuade her from doing so, Sadie wasn’t the kind of woman you dissuaded from anything, but what else could she do? Encourage her? Should she be jumping at the chance to help her? Would Sadie be suspicious if she didn’t? Mercifully, Sadie continued after a moment.

“You’re more than welcome to join me.”

Not an order, just an invitation. A gentle invitation.

Ada smiled lightly.

“I’ll think about it.”

She’d deluded herself into thinking she could have just ignored her circumstances. Yet fate had dealt her a Sadie-shaped hand, and it—

“So...” Her eyes darted back to Sadie as the older woman spoke, her lips twitching. “... You gonna tell me about you and Arthur or what?”

Ada laughed, very much welcoming the relief it brought.

“Oh, Sadie...”

“Is that the sigh of a woman in love?”

Ada laughed again as she shook her head, looking down at her hands. “No, no... Just of a woman enjoying a certain situation she’s found herself in.”

“Well, good for you, lady. I ain’t known either of you long but I can tell you’re both happy.”

“Yeah, it’s something,” Ada smiled.

When Sadie left to hunt, the invitation rolled around in her mind for the rest of the evening until she forced herself to retreat to her bandstand, Arthur having not returned. Again, the invitation greeted her as her first thought of the day when she rose. Upon getting breakfast, she discovered Arthur must have returned some time in the night because there he was sat at the table with Dutch and Hosea. They were deep in conversation so she didn’t disturb them or even try to catch his eye, instead opting to take her bowl of porridge and sit on the jetty, watching fish swirl about in the water.

‘You’re more than welcome to join me.’

I should.

I don’t want to.

And there it was. That thought, that ugly, cowardly thought, that had burrowed into the back of her mind and no matter how hard she tried it just wouldn’t go.

“So, guess what I saw last night.”

She nearly dropped her bowl at the sound of his voice and boots behind her.

“Jesus Christ, Arthur...”

He chuckled as she narrowed her eyes at him, taking a seat beside her.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t realise you’d lost your edge.”

“I was just very much enjoying my breakfast.”

Another lie to add to the mountain of them.

“Sure, Pearson’s porridge is just that good.” Lighting a cigarette, he shook the match out as he grinned at her. “C’mon, though, guess.”

Raising her eyebrows, she shrugged. “I have no idea, enlighten me.”

“An alligator.”

If her eyebrows could have risen any higher, they would have. “... An alligator? You do know we are surrounded by them here?”

He chuckled. “Nah, not just any alligator, darlin’, it was the biggest alligator I’ve ever seen in my life, probably that anyone’s ever seen.”

“Right, and what were you doing out seeing a big alligator?”

“We were securin’ a boat, me and Dutch.” He continued as she frowned, “So we can get over to Bronte’s.”

She set her bowl down. “You’re going to Bronte’s? Why?”

A corner of Arthur’s mouth lifted slightly. “Seems Dutch’s taken the trolley incident very personally.”

She stared at him. “What’s he going to do with him?”

Arthur shrugged. “The aim is to get some pay-back. Rob him.”

“Right.”

She knew it would be patronising and would take their conversation down a route she certainly didn’t want to go if she pointed out how well guarded the place would be.

“I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come.”

She blinked. “Do I want to go with you and rob Angelo Bronte?”

He nodded, taking a long inhale from his cigarette.

She was about to politely decline, wanting nothing else to do with the man, when it hit her.

I could get answers.

He could be keeping correspondences. There could be information on Colm’s whereabouts.

She grazed her teeth over her lower lip,

“Do you know what, Arthur Morgan...” He grinned as she smiled. “I think I’d very much like to come and rob Angelo Bronte.”

—

They went that night.

The boat barely made a sound in the water. Thomas, a man Dutch somehow seemed to know who lived in the heart of the swamp land, was good, his staff barely disturbing the surface as he pushed them along.

It had been an interesting place to disembark from, Lagras; a collection of shacks and jettys and mud that might have possibly passed as a very small village. They had ridden out there together, she, Arthur, John, Dutch, Lenny and Bill, and left their horses tied to a post outside Thomas’s shack. Thomas had emerged from within, a wide, warm smile on his face that had her warming to him instantly, despite a sightly bizarre joke he’d made about how pleased he was ‘The Night Folk’ hadn’t got them. They’d just laughed politely. People and their fairy tales.

Ada sat beside Bill in the boat, half-listening to him protest that he had never said he was a sharp-shooter in the Army. She half heard Dutch retort with glee that, ‘ah, yes, he’d been ‘the nation’s most loyal latrine digger’. She blocked them out as Arthur laughed and Bill got high and mighty about his service.

She had no idea of the layout of the mansion, no idea how many rooms there were or where Bronte could possibly hide. That didn’t matter, though, it wasn’t like they were going to sneak in and have the chance to run around finding him. They’d go in guns blazing, use the element of surprise. Did Dutch even know how many men would be guarding the place? No. The element of surprise and gumption trumped that, apparently.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, bringing her back to the boat.

“Hm?”

Turning, she found Dutch smiling at her.

“I was just sayin’, Miss Annie, that Arthur should never leave love aside ‘cause it’s all we got, ain’t that right?”

She glanced from him to Arthur, then back again. “I think so, Dutch.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Dutch exhaled a breath as he nodded. “All we got is the love for each other.”

Glancing at Arthur again, his eyebrows raising slightly, she then returned her gaze to the front, hoping she hadn’t missed something vital.

Soon, the lights in the distance grew brighter, and she could just make out the shore, barely able to discern the muddiness of it from the murky water. They all bar Thomas stepped out, Dutch whispering to him where they would meet. Thomas wished them luck as they made their way up the bank, crouched.

“Come on, quick, stay quiet,” Dutch hissed to them as they neared a high stone wall.

He seemed... almost impatient. Jittery and excited all in one. As if this was some prank they were going to play. She didn’t know what this was going to be; she just needed time and the powers that be on her side.

She didn’t know how they were actually going to get—

Bill, Lenny, Dutch and John leapt up, gripped the top of the wall, and began to hoist themselves up and over, groaning. Her lips parted, she looked from them, to Arthur. A corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other as he arched an eyebrow.

“You need a hand?”

“Yes, I think I bloody do.”

Chuckling under his breath, he laced his fingers together and crouched slightly. Shouldering her Repeater and stepping into his hand, her arms above her head, he then pushed her up and she grabbed the top of the wall. Gritting her teeth, the wall scraping against her forearms slightly, very grateful she decided to wear trousers, Ada heaved herself over. She dropped down on the other side, Arthur following a moment after. She glanced at him, his smile lingering as he passed her, caressing her back gently. They joined the other men at a large crate, kneeling.

“Lenny, Bill, you’re with me,” Dutch murmured, gesturing behind himself at the stairs, “Arthur, John, Annie, you take the left side. If you see a shot, you take it. Okay?” He smiled as they all nodded. “All right, then. Good luck, gentlemen and lady.”

Ada gave him a smile as he met her gaze, inclining his head.

Thank you, my liege.

As they all turned away, she followed close behind Arthur and John, keeping low against the stone wall. They didn’t speak, moving swiftly and quietly along to a small set of stairs. Heading up them, at the top it opened out onto the back garden, beautifully trimmed hedges and clean stone tiles spanning out, with stone statues and fountains here and there. Small hanging lights on them illuminated some of their way, and ahead of them lay the house, grand and huge and imposing.

Suddenly, John, leading the way, gestured they go to their left and they ducked behind whatever was closest, spotting two heavily armed guards up ahead. Licking her lips, Ada adjusted her grip on her Repeater. Just when exactly would the element of surprise—

Gun fire rang out, echoing across the stone garden.

Her head whipping to the side, she saw John and Arthur, having half-risen, shooting over the tops of their chosen covers. She could hear Lenny, Bill and Dutch firing from their near adjacent position, too. She hadn’t heard a guard call out so one of them must have taken the first shot. From John’s expression, she would have put her money on him. Rolling her shoulders, she leaned out and joined them.

The guards were yelling at each other in Italian, fumbling slightly in their effort to respond quickly. Hell, maybe the element of surprise and gumption really was all they needed.

John advanced forward, Arthur behind him and she followed; it seemed the guards would not have much time to try and respond at all.

“We’re comin’ for you, Bronte!” Dutch called out tauntingly as the two groups drew nearer. “Send out every man you’ve got!”

They were rounding the largest fountain at the centre of the garden and nearing the stairs that led towards the great house. Guards fired down at them from the porch and balcony above but their little group were better shots and had better cover.

“Just give up, you bastards! It’s over!” John yelled, and she knew it must have been him to fire first. The hatred that must be coursing through this father’s veins for these men.

“You crossed the wrong man, Bronte!” Dutch added.

You, or John, I wonder.

Both of them and Arthur were barely taking cover, unlike she, Lenny and Bill who were using the statues. Bullets flew over their heads as guards shot blindly, trying to quickly take over from the men before them who had fallen. It was all so loud, how the hell would they get this done before the law invaded the place?

She didn’t have time to think about that.

She shot at the men coming out of the doors, her heart pounding; she didn’t know when this had become easy, when it had suddenly become shoot, kill, on to the next, shoot, kill, on to the next.

Maybe when she’d accepted it was ‘us or them’.

Guards were still calling out from the balcony but now no one was coming to replace them, and the porch was empty.

Dutch realised it in the same moment she did. “This is not over yet! Head to the house!”

The men surged forward but she stayed behind, firing at the last three men on the balcony. Once the last man had fallen to the wooden boards, she pushed herself up and jogged across the small space to the stairs, climbing up them. The men hadn’t gone inside yet and she glanced to Arthur to frown at him when John shot the lock with his shotgun.

Ah.

“Good! Now kick that damn door in!”

Arthur obeyed Dutch, striking at the heavy doors with his boot and they flew open, crashing against the interior walls of the house.

“Look out!” he called as a guard darted into the hallway that lay before them, firing in their direction. They pressed against the exterior walls as Arthur knelt and shot him, his body falling heavily.

Another man appeared from the other side of the hallway and it was Lenny who got him, reaching out and firing. She peered round, wanting to see what the layout was like.

Her stomach dropped. The place was huge. A room to their left and a hallway, a room beyond that, rooms beyond that, and ahead of them, it was so vast. And, with all the noise and for all they knew, Bronte could have escaped by now. Where the hell would they begin searching.

That thought either hadn’t crossed their minds or it had and didn’t deter them, for the men surged in, shooting instantly as Bronte’s men began to run out of the many rooms.

There were archways everywhere so they couldn’t even hide behind doors, it was just a matter of shoot first before you were shot.

“Bunch of God damn jokers!” Bill yelled as they split up without conferring, dodging into rooms and dealing with any men that stood within them. “I’ll kill you all!”

Ada followed behind Arthur and John who had moved ahead into what must have been the central room of the house, a marble-floored foyer with a staircase to her right and a—

Staircase.

Glancing at Arthur and John, both of them distracted by the front doors suddenly bursting open and two guards appearing, she darted across to the stairs and moved up them swiftly.

Foolish to go up on her own? Probably, but logic told her Bronte was a man who hid and sent his men out to protect him. No, he wouldn’t have left yet; he was too arrogant for that. Her heart pounding, once she’d made it to a small landing and turned to take a shorter set of stairs up, she slowed, keeping against the wall. There was no movement up here, none that she could hear anyway.

Silence suddenly came from the floor below as she made it to the next floor.

“All right, let’s spread out, he’s hiding somewhere!” she heard Dutch call out.

Shit, she’d need to move quicker.

She looked left, then right. There were doors every few feet apart. How could a place have so many fucking rooms? The hallways didn’t even have dead-ends, either, that she could see, anyway, they just turned and went on.

Fucking hell, think...

Something moved in her peripheral vision. Turning her head to the left, a man appeared from a room, two revolvers raised. Gritting her teeth, she was a second quicker, firing at him and sending him stumbling back with a loud groan.

“Who’s up there?” Dutch.

“Annie?” Arthur.

She was running out of time.

“Lenny, keep that door covered!” Arthur again.

“Bronte must be up there, let’s go!” Dutch, excited.

Pick a God damn door.

She didn’t need to.

The door before her opened and a man stepped out, snarling, but, over his shoulder, she saw him, darting out of sight. Dodging to the side, she grabbed the man’s arm, shoving it away so his bullet struck the wall behind her. She could hear them coming up the stairs behind her as she shoved the man against the door-jamb, grabbed his revolver from his hands and used his surprise to shove him behind her. He stumbled and fell down the stairs, making Bill call out as he came to an abrupt halt. She got to see his disgruntled expression just before she closed the door and—

Pain spread throughout her right arm as a bullet slid against her bicep, tearing the skin open, and buried into the door. Gasping, she instinctively spun and dropped into a crouch as a tall man aimed his gun at her again. Raising the revolver, she fired at him, her bullet tearing through his stomach. As he hit the ground heavily, she almost didn’t hear Arthur calling out, their footsteps close to the door.

“Annie?!”

Gunshots suddenly sounded from the hallway, though; more men must have been hiding. Gritting her teeth and ignoring both the sounds and the pain of her arm, Ada pushed herself up; she had to use all the time she was given.

The small alcove she was in opened out into a beautifully furnished bedroom, but there was only one way to go. Dropping her repeater and moving the revolver to her right hand, she rounded the large bed, heading to the closed door opposite. She could hear movement within. Taking a breath and adjusting her grip on the gun, she then gripped the doorknob and shoved the door open, the revolver raised.

Angelo Bronte greeted her, stood in a bathtub at the back of a marvellous bathroom, in a beautiful nightcap, robe, trousers and slippers... and a gun raised.

Her breath caught as he snarled and pulled the trigger... but no bullet came out.

Her heart thudding against her ribcage, anger swept over her and all fear left as he pulled the trigger again and nothing happened. He spat out a short word in Italian, most likely a curse, and hurled the gun at her. Ducking easily, her jaw clenched, she rose up and strode towards him.

His demeanour changed instantly, his hands raising as he stepped out of the tub.

“Okay, okay, signorina, let’s just—”

Gripping the lapels of his robe, she tugged him forward and pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

“Where is Colm now?” she asked, a distant part of her marvelling at how cold her own voice sounded.

Bronte exhaled a slightly shaking but still amused laugh. “Oh, Signorina O’Driscoll, you cannot be serious?”

She struck his temple with the butt of the revolver.

He fell out of her grip as she loosened it on him with a cry, gripping his head with one hand. Looking up at her from the floor, he spat what were no doubt insults at her in Italian, his features twisted in rage.

“Where is Colm, Bronte?” she asked again, her calm voice cutting through his tirade.

He laughed. “Like I would tell you, what are you going to do to me if I don’t, huh? I know killers, Signorina O’Driscoll, and you are not one.”

A faceless voice entered her mind.

Would you kill for Thomas?

Yes. Yes, she would, even after all this time. Even with the possibility of it being in vain.

She struck him again. The gun cracked against his cheek this time, and he fell onto his back, hissing and cursing at her again.

“Oh, I’ve killed, Bronte, I’ve just never enjoyed it before,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Where is he?”

He snarled again, staring up at her. “I’m not going to tell you, you fucking whore cunt, you are nothing, you don’t matter, you have nothing—”

She realised a second later that she’d done it.

She aimed the barrel at his head, drew the hammer back and lay her finger on the trigger.

He cut off from his tirade abruptly, freezing.

Rage coursed through her but she stood just as still as he was.

“Tell me where he is,” she said, so quietly.

He was silent for a moment. Then, he smiled.

“No.”

The final test.

For Thomas.

The final thing Angelo Bronte would see before he descended to hell would be her, standing over him, the barrel of the gun pointed between his eyes like he was an animal, a cold—

The bedroom door burst open.

Both she and Bronte jolted as Arthur and John surged in, their guns raised. The four of them stared at each other, then John smiled as he lowered his shotgun and shouldered it.

“Well, I’ll be God damned...”

He strode towards them as Arthur also lowered his gun, calling out, “In here, Dutch.”

Licking her lips, Ada stood back as John passed her and grabbed Bronte, hauling him to his feet.

“My friends, my good friends,” Bronte smiled, releasing a slight laugh. “Okay, okay, name your price, every man has a price, name it! I surrender!”

John snorted as he punched him, knocking the Italian man out cold. “What a God damn idiot...”

“Hey.” Ada turned to Arthur as he gripped her right forearm gently. “What’s this? You okay?”

Her gaze dropped to her bicep and the blood staining her brown and white shirt. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, I think it’s just a graze.”

Arthur exhaled a heavy breath and tugged his bandanna free from his neck. “We’ll get Grimshaw to look at it when we get back,” he murmured, releasing her arm so he could wrap the bandanna around the wound, pulling it tight.

Wincing slightly, she then caught his gaze, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, a corner of her mouth lifting a little.

“Should we kill him?” John interrupted before Arthur could press further, rising from where he’d checked Bronte’s pockets.

“Nah,” Arthur replied as he finished tying the bandanna, dropping his hands. “Let’s take him to Dutch.”

John nodded, stepping over Bronte and passing them. “You can carry him, then. I ain’t carryin’ that piece of shit.”

Arthur nodded, shouldering his gun with a sigh. “All righ’.”

Ada followed them out of the bedroom, John leading the way with Arthur behind him, carrying Bronte over his shoulder. Picking the repeater up that she’d dropped on the way out, she held it in her left hand and kept a grip on the revolver in her right. Her arm ached but she ignored it. She was relieved they hadn’t wanted to hear the story of how she’d apprehended him, John probably too full of rage at the man who had kept his son to care now that they had him, and Arthur too distracted by her wound.

They made it to the stairs when they heard it. Whistles outside and voices shouting; the law were finally here.

About damn time, she thought as the men cursed.

“Let’s go, come on!” she heard Dutch call, having already gone down the stairs.

They moved quickly, descending and meeting with him, Bill and Lenny.

“Come on, we’re gettin’ the hell outta here!” Bill yelled as they ran for the back doors.

They heard the front doors once more burst open behind them, this time, though, it was officers surging in.

“Put your guns down!” one of them yelled, though he was quickly silenced by Lenny.

John, Dutch, Bill and Lenny turned and gave her and Arthur cover as they ran through the back doors and out into the garden.

“Look out!” she suddenly called, shoving Arthur to the side as officers appeared from behind the hedges.

Ducking to the side and using columns for cover, they fired back, John joining them.

Luckily, there was only a small group of them, and their own group could swiftly move down the steps, darting across the stones.

“Push up on ‘em!” Lenny shouted.

“Sorry, boys, nobody’s goin’ to jail today!” she heard Dutch call out from behind her, jubilant.

They ran and fired as they went, speed seeming to work in their favour.

“Come on, let’s get outta here!” John called, the first to make it down the small set of stairs that led to the back of the property.

Bullets came from behind them, though she sensed the officers were being somewhat cautious, probably suspecting they had more members lying in wait.

No, just us six lucky fools.

Instead of heading to the wall, though, Dutch, taking the lead, led them towards a tall set of open gates and out onto a jetty.

Oh, so we could’ve avoided the wall.

Then, she saw Thomas on his boat, gesturing for them to hurry, and she sped up, close behind the men.

“Put him in front, Arthur. Bill, you help him,” Dutch said of Bronte, glancing back at the house.

The officers were definitely being cautious, hanging back even, though they continued to fire.

John, already in the boat, helped Bill to remove Bronte from Arthur’s shoulder, dropping him down into the front of the boat, grunting slightly. Arthur rolled his shoulder as he sucked in a breath, before stepping closer to her and gently pressing a hand on her back. She took the hint, stepping down into the boat, and sitting beside John, Arthur stepping in after her and sitting at the front.

“Come on, Lenny...” Dutch muttered, getting in to the boat.

Her head whipping up, her heart stuttered slightly as she realised the young man wasn’t with them. Licking her lips, she stared at the gate, then, yes, there he was racing through them with a wide grin.

Releasing a breath of relief, she smiled as he caught her eye and winked. “All right, come on, everyone, what you waitin’ for, let’s go!”

Dutch chuckled as he sat down at the front, Lenny jumping into the boat and sitting beside Bill at the back. “Let’s get outta here, Thomas.”

“Gladly.” The older man nodded, using his staff to swiftly push them away from the jetty.

They fell silent as Thomas moved them away from the house, the darkness and fog on the water claiming them. Ada gripped her guns tightly to try and stop the shaking of her hands, hoping that would hide them, but she needn’t have bothered. Everyone in the boat was looking down at Bronte who was slowly coming to after Dutch had shaken him awake.

“Hey, big man,” Dutch said cheerfully as Bronte stammered slightly in his disorientation, his eyes flashing between them all. “We gonna ransom you or what?”

Bronte’s gazed darted to Dutch. Then, he pulled a face and shook his head as he pushed himself up a little. “You’re pathetic.”

“Oh, I am? ‘cause from where I’m sittin’ you’re the one deservin’ of pity, my friend.” Lenny chuckled quietly behind her as Dutch continued, “All your men... All your money...” Glancing at Dutch’s back, she could hear his smile. “... it weren’t no match for a bunch of bumpkins.”

Bronte snarled, seething. “You are nothing. You do nothing. You mean nothing. You stand for nothing. Me? I run a city.” He laughed. “And when the law catch up to you, you will die like nothing.” His voice was rising. “I am this country. You, you,” he looked between them all, “You are what people are running from.”

There was a pause.

Dutch’s voice was so quiet when he spoke. “I possess things that you will never understand.”

“You don’t even posses your own men,” Bronte retorted. He looked at them all again, lifting his chin as he declared, “A thousand dollars to the man who kills him and sets me free.”

None of them moved. Ada didn’t look away from Bronte to see their expressions; she was too busy revelling in his own falling as it dawned on him that he couldn’t buy his way out of this one.

Dutch leaned closer. “What are you gonna say now?”

Bronte was starting to panic now. “They are even bigger fools than you.”

“No doubt!”

“The law will find you!” Bronte was sweating. “Already the dogs are on the way!”

“Oh, yeah! Oh, you’re right!”

She finally looked away from Bronte to look at Dutch, her brow dipping slightly at his... what could only be described as a manic tone. Moving closer to Bronte, on his feet, Dutch reached for him.

“You are so right!” He gripped the back of Bronte’s head, holding him tight. “They are good at smellin’ filth, huh?”

Arthur had stood now, too, staring at Dutch, as had Lenny behind her, she felt. Arthur looked back at John, and Ada and... she saw a slight panic in his eyes. Dutch was still talking. In fact, he was shouting now.

“So filth has got to be disposed of!”

Then, he shoved Bronte’s head over the side and into the water. She froze, staring at him as John cursed beside her and Lenny inhaled sharply. Bronte was trying to scream but water was filling his mouth as he tried to thrash, gargling.

“Your friends, the Pinkertons, gonna come and rescue you now?!” Dutch was shouting. He suddenly lifted his head and Bronte gasped for breath, sheer terror on his face. “You repulsive little maggot!” Dutch yelled. He shoved his head back down under the water, and Bronte writhed and thrashed, trying to kick his legs out.

She felt Lenny’s hand on her shoulder, tight. Dutch was snarling and John stood suddenly and Bill did, too, the boat rocking slightly. Looking to Arthur to see what he was doing, she suddenly realised why they had. They had reached Thomas’s jetty, and Arthur grabbed the wooden post, keeping the boat against it, but he was still staring.

“Call them, now!” Dutch growled. “You call them!” Bronte’s head was still under the water, and his movements were slowing, weakening. They all just stared. Dutch was grunting and growling still, like an animal, until, a few moments later, Bronte stilled.

Hissing out a breath through his teeth, Dutch released him and stood, breathing heavily. Then, he shoved him over the side.

“Jesus...” John breathed, incredulous, looking from the water to Dutch. “What part of your philosophy books cover feedin’ a man to God damn alligators, Dutch?”

Dutch was watching the sinking body of the great Angelo Bronte. “The part that covers weakness.” He glanced at John, still trying to somewhat catch his breath. “That part.”

Bill had exited the boat, so had Thomas, and she felt Lenny pat her shoulder gently.

“Come on,” he murmured, looking slightly withdrawn. Getting to her feet, she stepped out of the boat, finding her hands were still shaking.

“I don’t know—” John started to say, when Dutch snapped, “Well, I do.” He pressed his lips together, then turned and stepped out of the boat, passing Arthur. “It ain’t nice, I know it, but it is us or him!” He lowered his voice slightly. “I figure it might as well be him.”

He turned and strode past her, following after Bill, Thomas and Lenny. She lifted her gaze from where she’d been staring at the wooden boards of the jetty, and looked at the two remaining men.

What the hell just happened.

From their expressions as they stepped out of the boat, they were thinking the same thing. They were silent, though, no one wanting to voice what was rolling around in their minds. After a moment, John shook his head and strode away. She could hear the men mounting their horses.

Biting at her lower lip, she looked up at Arthur. She felt like crying and she didn’t know why. Maybe because of how helpless he looked. She closed the small distance between them, shouldered the Repeater and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. His tired blue eyes met her own. Clearing his throat, he looked away.

“Come on. They’ll be waitin’.”

—

“Come up to my room,” Arthur murmured to her, his hand sliding back into hers after they’d dismounted.

They’d all ridden back in silence, in a slightly broken formation; Dutch at the front, Lenny and Bill a little behind, followed by John some way back, then her and Arthur.

The paths had been quiet, as was Shady Belle. Javier was taking a watch and Lenny had dismounted and said he’d take over from him. Ada looked at the young man, her heart aching slightly; he looked rattled. The others had dismounted and dispersed, heading in different directions.

She let him lead her into the house and up the stairs, following behind John who entered his family’s room. Once inside their own, Arthur shut the door and turned to her, releasing a breath.

“Well. That was somethin’.”

“Yes, it was.” There was still a shake to her hands. He had to have felt it. She went to fold her arms, before wincing at the pain of her wound, and shook her head slightly. “Arthur... Bronte could have been used as a bargaining tool. Dutch could have got the Pinkertons to ease up, maybe, give everyone a chance, some time, perhaps, to get away.”

Arthur nodded as he rubbed his forehead. “I know, I...” He didn’t know what to say. Inhaling a long breath, he began to remove his guns, placing them on the table beside the door as he watched her. “Before John and I came in, what were you talkin’ with Bronte about?”

Ada looked at him, then moved and picked a clean rag up from the table, dipped it in the bowl of water beside it and began to rub the dirt and sweat off her face, silent. He was deflecting. Once again.

“You were gonna kill him, weren’t you?”

Her silence lingered for a few moments.

“Yes.”

“Why.”

She lowered the rag, bracing her hands against the table as she shook her head, finally looking up at him. “I don’t know what came over me, he just... He was just...” Licking her lips, she straightened, her hands playing with the rag. “I asked him where Colm is so I can find Thomas.”

He paused, his gaze searching hers. “You think he might be out there, then?”

She shrugged quickly. “I don’t know. I just need to know, one way or another.” She opened her mouth, then closed it for a moment. “Sadie told me she’s gonna go after them, the O’Driscolls. She invited me to join her.”

Arthur was now silent. He dragged his teeth over his lower lip as he placed a hand on the table, the other on his hip. “Are you going to?” he asked quietly.

She nodded a little a few times, taking in a small breath. “I think I am.”

His gaze travelled her features before he nodded. “All right. You just let me know when you’re both goin’.” He moved then, his hands cupping her cheeks, his thumbs gently brushing over her skin as he held her gaze. “I don’t mind how long it takes. Just come back to me, darlin’.”

Her lips parted as her eyebrows rose. “You’d let me go?”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “You ain’t mine to keep, sweetheart. You’re a choice I made, and one I’d make over and over again.”

Her heart... ached like nothing she had ever felt before. Her voice was so quiet as she finally dared ask, “Why.”

His smile lingered as his thumbs stroked again. “You know why.”

She just gazed at him.

There was a light knock at the door.

“Arthur? Dutch and Hosea want to see you,” Charles murmured, and they heard him walk away.

Arthur’s smile widened a little more and he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes, a hand settling on his arm gently. It fell as he released her, stepping back.

“See you later. Get Susan to look at that arm.”

Then, he turned, opened the door and headed out, closing it behind himself.

She stared at it, her arms by her sides, her eyes filling with tears.

Something inside her started to heal.

—

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darlingsdevil · 4 years

Text

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 8: On a Sunny Day There was A Railroad Car

Peep this song,, from my favorite musical, inspiration for this chapter :’) | here

Masterlist

A/N: Updates will be much slower from here on out, my apologies, probably one chapter once a week, usually on Friday or Saturday nights! I’m going to be very busy this upcoming couple of months!

Feedback is very appreciated! Have any questions about the story so far? My asks are always open!

•••

Lee was distant. Even in your shared bed, it felt like sleeping next to a stranger. His kisses felt like he was imagining something else. And all you could do was watch.

He would brush you off when you would ask if he was okay. Lee’s father was the only one who acted normal, like his diagnosis had never happened. The only thing that ever gave away that Lee’s father was sick was the occasional pain in his side that caused him to nearly double over. You were glad Mr. Rinascita was living in the now, and not like he had received his death sentence.

Mr. Rinascita had once told you, “A person cannot get any sicker by being happy.”

And perhaps that was true, and perhaps that was what made Arthur’s death more bearable. Arthur wasn’t happy in his last few days, and he had kept you at an arm's distance, even though he embraced everyone else. He had lived his life with you and it was time to live his life with those he had pushed out. Arthur loved you more than he had loved anything else, but to lessen the pain of his death was even more painful than his actual passing. But you had found someone who eased that pain further, a man who brought butterflies to your chest every time. You had buried Arthur, and you were hoping Lee would not have to bury his father like you had.

Arthur was your man for so long, he was your beginning, and you had been his ending. But Lee was your ending. You loved two wildly different men, from two wildly different periods of time in your life, and for that you were grateful, to have the opportunity to love two men who loved you so dearly.

One night though, about a week and a half after the diagnosis, Lee was rather loving, like a switch had been flicked and he had returned to his old self. You were closing up the store after a particularly slow day, and he came right to your side.

You eyed him suspiciously, while he snuck quick glances at you, averting his eyes everytime you noticed him looking. You shyly smiled, watching as his handsome face became flustered.

The late March setting sun fell through the windows, creating a warm glow that covered the entire store.

“My dad wants to see us get married, before he, uh, you know..” He trailed off, setting the broom on the counter. You stared at him, stunned, feeling suddenly very strange.

Your eyes followed his every movement, not finding words. He nervously fidgeted with his hands, regretting his bold actions.

“I.. I was just thinking maybe..” Lee sighed, leaning against a shelf that held candy. Lee had a sweet tooth, you stopped putting butterscotch out on the counter because Lee would just eat it all.

“Gosh, this is hard.” He laughed, glancing over to your frozen stance, but only for a moment, it was only for a second that his dark eyes fell upon you, as if he would look too long and you would crumble underneath his gaze.

“My dad sure as hell doesn’t have all day, and there’s no use in waiting,” Lee walked over to you, painstakingly slow. He stopped mere inches from you, and you could almost hear his heart beating wildly against his chest.

He looked nervous, more nervous than when you saw Arthur a year before in this same position.

“I know we haven’t been together for long, but I think you’re the one I want.” Lee’s strong hands cupped your face, and you gingerly closed your eyes.

“Would you, Mrs. Morgan, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Joy filled your heart. Excitement, love, a thousand things.

The ring was beautiful, a gold band with a small diamond in the center.

“You can love me even though I was an outlaw? You can love me even though I’ve already been married?” Tears sprung to your eyes, that reflected the diamond in his hand.

“I would still love you if you broke my heart a thousand times.” He whispered, bringing you in for a passionate kiss. It felt like home, it was intoxicating, but safe and warm. There’s no other place you’d rather be than with him.

When he pulled away, you nodded vigorously, he slipped the hand on your right hand, as Arthur still owned your left, and Lee respected that.

“I love you.” You told him, he wiped away your tears, leaning in for another kiss.

•••

Arthur booked the first train to Richfield, which fortunately left a few days after receiving the letter. Charles had wrote a response to John, but it would take awhile for it to get to Detroit.

Charles knew he would be gone a max month, if he did find you. If he didn’t it would be a week. Arthur promised Charles, and Charles knew Arthur would honor that promise to the best of his ability.

Their goodbyes were hasty, as they would be seeing each other soon.

Soon enough, Arthur was on the train, watching Charles give him a small wave as they sped off to Richfield.

Arthur was nervous and excited, so to ease his fiery nerves he drew in his journal. The early morning sun fell through dusty windows, creating warm rays that washed over his skin.

He wondered how you would react to seeing him, or how you reacted to his ‘death’. Arthur knew he hadn’t been the best to you in the days leading up to the breakup of the gang. He hoped you forgave him, and understood why he acted like that. It wasn’t right, and he knew that, but he didn’t want to hurt you even more.

It would take around a day to get to Richfield, he’d always been the one robbing trains, never thought he’d be actually on one.

•

People came and went, before he even knew it the train had arrived in the Richfield station. He had fallen asleep a few times during the ride, and his legs ached from sitting. The dazzling city less than a mile away. It reminded him of Saint Denis, the city he had learned to despise. His heart lurched, you were somewhere inside this city, waiting for him to find you. It was early in the morning, around four. He was sure you’d be sleeping by now.

•••

Lee kept you up all night.

Which meant when he finally fell asleep, you were still awake lying on the bay window, overlooking the city, listening to your fiancé’s soft snores. He slept just like Arthur, out like a light the second he fell into a bed. It was around four, the sun had not yet risen or even poked out from the horizon. Mr. Rinascita had given you both the day off to celebrate your future union. Your plans were to go to the pier again and walk the boardwalk like you had on your first date. Mr. Rinascita was ecstatic, and he nearly jumped up and down at the news, even though he was the one who told Lee to propose.

He always looked so peaceful asleep. The sound of his calm breaths while asleep were exceptionally soothing. You could fall asleep next to him forever.

But tonight, despite how you adored falling asleep next to him, you felt like watching the streets.

You hadn’t seen the ghost of Arthur since you had first shared your feelings with the man you loved now, it was a wonderful sign though, that you had healed enough to no longer be haunted by him. But you feared you had begun to forget how he looked, you couldn’t quite remember how his eyes looked when the sun caught his eyes, or how his laugh was when he was tipsy. You had begun to forget, and that was terrifying.

The locket that held your two most precious men was illuminated in the morning moon. The pearl’s iridescent color popped in the cool lighting, you remembered when Abigail had given it to you. You hoped they would send you a letter soon, but truth be told, you hadn’t checked in awhile for any letter.

Abigail promised she would write to Charles. Sadie hadn’t written to you either, but she was probably busy with her new job. You would visit Charles soon enough, and bring Lee along. It was time he met a part of your family.

•••

Arthur took a carriage to the nearest hotel. He wasn’t a fan of staying in hotels, but this week was a special occasion. The carriage driver was grumpy, tired and drove wildly. He would have walked but he didn’t know the lay of the land here and would undoubtedly get lost, so he decided not to risk it.

It was next to the doctor’s office, post office, a bar (which he’d no doubt end up in) and a general store, when he quickly passed by, he noticed a woman looking through the window above the general store, which was odd considering the time. The hotel was cheap but clean and looked as old as dirt, as did every other storefront on this street. Apparently, it was the oldest street in Richfield, long before the city had become industrial.

When he hit the rickety old bed, he was out like a light, and soon his soft snores filled the quiet air. The hotel was vacant, but the walls were paper thin, and they listened to the man who was desperate to find his wife. The walls wondered how he would react.

•••

You heard the clicking of horse hooves on the cobblestone pavement, a carriage. It was odd to see a carriage out so late, but it stopped outside the hotel, so you assumed the train had arrived late.

Toying with the locket, you unfortunately accidentally woke Lee up. His snores hitched, and you heard him sit up. You turned to face him as he rubbed his eyes.

“Come back to bed.” He mumbled, his arm outstretched, inviting you back to the bed. You removed yourself from the spot on the window, your nightgown falling onto your bare knees. You crawled in next to him, and he fell back into the bed next to you, and he had fallen asleep faster than he had woken up.

But this time, you welcomed sleep, and it washed over you like the waves of the river Richfield sat next to.

•••

Lee took you to the pier at noon, the sun was high above the clouds, making the air warm and inviting. It was Sunday again, and the pier was nearly deserted. Most people still at lunch or in a late church sermon, so the pier was less crowded than any other day.

Lee held your hand, feeling his ring on your finger. He took you to a small candy store that sold ice cream and bought you some. He bought you your favorite and he had gotten strawberry. The pink color of the ice cream complimented his eyes when he put it up to his lips, you couldn’t help but admire those precious eyes you had learned to love.

The first place Arthur visited was the bar, knowing you would have caused some sort of mischief there at one point or another. But when he gave the bartender your name, he was just as clueless as Arthur was. The bartender had seen you walking the streets a few times, but you had never came into the bar itself.

Next was the post office, since they weren’t legally allowed to tell him if you had any mail, all the postmaster had said was that you had been here a few times, but they hadn’t seen you for about two weeks. Arthur felt relieved knowing you were still likely in the city.

You walked to the end of the pier with Lee, remembering your first date with him. It was so strange, not even a year later and you were already engaged to a wonderful man.

“I love you.” He told you, his hand grasping your own.

“I love you too.” You smiled, looking out towards the dazzling waters.

•••

A week had come and gone, and Arthur’s train would leave within a few hours, it was his last chance. You had definitely been here, recently too, he just needed to find you first. He was desperate to find you, he needed to.

The woman at the front desk had become friends with Arthur, and she had become disappointed every time he walked through that door without you. She had kept a close watch on the street while Arthur was away, keeping an eye out for a woman that fit your description.

He’d have to buy some supplies for his journey back home, as the food in his hotel room had slowly disappeared. Arthur decided to go to the general store, a place he hadn’t yet checked. He assumed you would have lived some place near the water, and not need to go so far to get groceries since there was a new general store right by the pier.

It was cloudy and raining. It was almost as if it were April, where the rain never stopped to help grow the May flowers.

He hastily ran to the general store, as a crack of thunder shattered from behind him. The rain fell off of him, and he wished he still had his hat. You always said that hat was your favorite.

Arthur pushed open the door, a small bell signaling his arrival.

“Welcome in sir, how may I-” You faced him.

“Arthur?” Behind the ghost, the sun peeked through the clouds.

#tbor

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journal-of-an-outlaw · 4 years

Text

Price to be Paid - Chapter 25

AO3 link here

You were absolutely frozen.

Of course, of all the trolleys in Saint Denis and all the people to sit next to, you had chosen the spot next to Mary Linton. She looked perfectly pressed in a gown much more suited to her than the one you picked for yourself of a teal blue that made her eyes shine, and hair pinned with such accuracy you knew you could never replicate it. It burned your insides to see she was just as lovely as you had imagined even if you had secretly hoped she was ugly and cruel.

Mary watched you with her hand out and you realized how utterly rude you had been.

“YN! YN Moore, pleasure to meet you.”

Part of you had expected her to recoil at your name, scream and start to cry at the strange coincidence you had sat next to her. But instead she smiled widely and let her hands settle politely in her lap as the trolley bounced along the street.

So Arthur hadn’t mentioned you after all.

“Do you come often into Saint Denis?” You asked hesitantly.

Mary shook her head, watching the buildings pass on by. “No, just came to chase down my father. It’s embarrassing, really, but I asked someone for their help and I feel like I’ve taken advantage of what we used to have.”

She had the indecency to look beautiful as a blush worked its way up her cheeks.

“I’m sure they were just trying to help, because of the circumstances.”

You hoped the answer would change the subject as you were in no mood to discuss Arthur with a semi stranger. It felt wrong to know who she was and have her remain in the dark. The imbalance of it all made your stomach upset.

“Well, I knew they would come, and that’s the problem.” She shook her head and looked away from you. “If you ask someone for a favor but you know they are honorbound to say yes, is it really a request or does it become a demand? I, it’s not easy to be a single woman, it’s powerless, and I needed someone with power. Most folks I associate with at home are, well, you know, shallow and wouldn't help someone out unless it benefited them in some way.”

Mary looked a bit desperate as she spoke as if she was looking for your approval. You weren’t in the mood to give it willingly but you would listen, and maybe begin to understand.

“Depends on what you have with this person, I would guess.”

“I’m sorry,” she played with her skirt ruffles while she spoke. “I don’t mean to speak so openly, you’re kind to listen. This person and I used to be engaged. Part of me still wishes we could go back and change the past, ignore my father and just follow our hearts. But every time I play it out it never would have worked; I couldn’t live the way he did, my family would have disowned me, and I would have isolated myself from every possible avenue of a life resembling what I had always known. I was young and naive to think that things would just fall into place, but being around him makes me think maybe, just maybe, we could take on the world together. I know that isn’t the case, I don’t love him like I used to, but it’s the intoxication of being swept up in that fantasy.”

“I used to be engaged, when I was young as well. There’s something about a first love that never really leaves you, even when you know it isn’t right anymore It’s...hard to move on and accept that life turned out the way it did, but sometimes the best choices for us aren’t the easiest.”

Mary watched you with a focused look while you talked about Henry. It wasn’t the same situation, of course with Henry dying suddenly, but things were starting to make a little more sense as to why Arthur and Mary were drawn to one another. It wasn’t true love, or any kind of love at all but more the echos from when they were younger. They had a bond, and as much as you didn’t like it, it wasn’t something that would just go away and if you were to take Arthur into your life, you would have to accept it.

“It looks like you made a good choice now! There’s a beautiful ring on your finger.”

“Yes, and he is good and I love him.” You beamed down at your hand, knowing what you had to do. “Miss Linton I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you. I didn’t know you before except by name, and I truly am sorry for barging next to you on the trolley like this. I know you met up with Arthur Morgan earlier, and I have to tell you he’s the one I’m engaged too.”

The trolley bell made a loud clang as the two of you sat in silence. Mary looked out to the street of Saint Denis as you passed a park with families strolling by. You thought she wiped a tear from her eye but couldn’t tell as she refused to look back at you for a moment.

“Miss Linton, I’m sorry to spring this on you -”

“No. Don’t be.” Mary finally faced you, a smile on her face. “I...you know I was talking about Arthur, then. I am sorry to have dragged you both into my affairs, I never meant to, I just didn’t have anywhere else to turn and in truth took advantage of what we used to have.”

“It’s actually alright, Miss Linton. You are not a bad person, just a person stuck in a bad situation. I started out today in a foul mood but after getting to know you I strangely feel better.” You laughed at the absurdity of what just came out of your mouth. Mary Linton had been a hateful, deceitful hag in your mind until you sat down on that trolley and you hadn’t realized just how happy you would have been to keep on living that lie.

“If it makes you feel better, he really does love you.”

You looked over at her surprised. That had never been a doubt in your mind but something in her tone made you think he had proved it to Mary somehow.

“I, oh lord, forgive me, I asked him to run away with me just before I got on the trolley. I don’t know what came over me, I just blurted it out like an imbecile.” Mary was quiet and as you listened you felt your temper rising, but forced it down in an effort to maintain some decorum. “He of course said no, that that part of our lives was over and he had someone who loved him flaws and all, not despite of them. And that must you.”

“He saved me, in more ways than one. And it’s not always easy. There’s a lot of outside factors but at the end of the day he’s a good man, just…”

“Like he’s wrestling with a giant,” she finishes your sentences softly.

The trolley drove by a street corner where someone yelled about a cause they were supporting, asking those walking by to donate anything they could. The sun filtered through the trees and cast odd shaped shadows on the cobblestones that had been worn down by each passing thing whether it was a horse or a street car. What a strange city, you thought, so full of life and color and heartbreak. Things hadn’t turned out like you thought they would but from what you had learned, that was usually okay.

“I think we’re more alike than we could ever guess, Miss Linton. Which probably says more about Arthur than it does the two of us.” Mary gave a startled laugh, hiding behind one hand as the trolley slowed to a halt. The conductor announced this was the end of the line and that after five minutes it would head the other way. Mary stood and asked how to get to the train station as you filtered out with the crowd.

Charles wasn’t at the stop so you waited for Mary to exit and join you on the sidewalk. She smiled and quickly fixed a strand of hair that had loosened from her bun, enjoying the feeling of the afternoon sun. With no escort she seemed nervous, so you offered to walk her over to the train station.

“I will tell you, if you had told me that all of this would happen today I wouldn't have believed you in a million years!” She seemed giddy walking down the street.

“Miss Linton…”

“Mary, please.”

“Mary,” you tried again with a smile. “I still feel awful, like I deceived you somehow. Please know that was never my intention.”

Just as she opened her mouth to respond someone called out your name, a low, gravely voice you instantly recognized. There was a small crowd behind you but Arthur and Charles sat high on their horses, a strange look on both of their faces. Arthur climbed down and threw the reins to Charles before approaching with hesitation.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake Arthur it’s alright, I won’t bite.” Mary said flatly. You were sure he was panicking inside at seeing the two of you together.

“YN, I didn’t know you were in the city.”

“Charles didn’t mention it?” Arthur shook his head. “That’s alright. I came after you, but we ran into someone and I then found Miss Li-, Mary on the trolley. We actually had a lovely conversation and were walking to the train station to see her off.”

Arthur stood frozen, like if he moved the illusion would break. It was funny, really, but you didn’t laugh as you let him process whatever was racing through his mind. You were sure seeing his old and current betrothed together was a strange and terrible sight.

“Arthur, should we…?” You motioned to the station and he snapped back from his momentary lapse. He cleared his throat and walked up next to the two of you, unsure of whether to offer his arm or walk in silence.

The rest of the walk only took a few minutes and it passed by in comfortable conversation between Mary and yourself. She told you about her home and her brother who she was quite proud of, and how he was looking into going for schooling after something Arthur had convinced him of. Your fiance snorted, causing both you and Mary to give him a dirty look, and he mumbled something about how it would be good for Jaime to get out in the world and be stable.

A strange pang shocked your heart at their casual intimacy and chatter about Mary’s brother. It was something you didn’t share with Arthur as any questions about your family had been deflected and you hoped he wouldn't bring it up. You realized now that was foolish, and one day he simply wouldn't take a distraction as an answer. The unfortunate bond to your parents would need to be brought to light soon as your father kept reminding you by popping up at every turn.

The train whistled loudly, steam pouring onto the station platform and signalling it was ready to leave. Mary thanked you both and stepped up to the car, but paused halfway up and turned back.

She took your hands in her and gave a soft squeeze. “I genuinely wish the both of you every happiness in the world. I, it’s nice to know Arthur has someone like you looking out for him.”

“Mary, if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to write. It’s not easy to get by on your own, you do have support if you need it.” Arthur smiled and tipped his hat as the train let out another blast. Mary waved and stood frozen safely on the stop step as the train pulled out from the station.

You and Arthur watched as the train faded into nothing more than a blip on the horizon.

“That was...how did you even…”

Arthur stuttered at your side trying to comprehend what happened. You smiled up at him.

“I came after you to apologize. I was wrong Arthur, very wrong, and never should have tried to stop you from helping Mary. Charles came with me into the city and we tried to find you, but he spotted some Pinkertons and we had to escape. He took the horses and I jumped on the trolley next to a very surprised Mary Linton. We actually got along very well, she told me about how you helped her and it just solidified my thought that you are one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

Arthur blushed at your words and looked around. Spotting no one, he swept you up into a brief hug, resting his head in the crook of your neck and squeezing.

“Truth be told I only did it because I thought it’s what you would have done. Helping people out...that’s your thing. Being kind, y’know.”

You laughed and linked your arm through Arthur’s. All feuds forgotten, you strolled back through the city to find Charles. He told you about chasing Mary’s father all over Saint Denis; the meeting at the stables, chasing down the loan shark, and after all that Mary’s father still escaped their grasps. You laughed and gasped dramatically as Arthur retold everything, feeling like he wanted you in on the secret of him and Mary’s relationship, whatever it may be. It was a good feeling, being accepted and wanted. After he finished you told him about Brother Dorkins and how Charles saved two poor souls who were being held captive.

“Oh, I met him. The Brother, he was with Charles I guess after you got on the trolley. Walked them back to their church and made sure they weren’t followed.”

So Charles had diverted Arthur from running into your father. What a nightmare that would have been, but the thought of Agent Milton moving about somewhere in the same city brought your fears back and you suddenly wanted to be out of Saint Denis more than anything. Your eyes scanned everyone who passed by for the possibility of him running into you and what that would mean. You hadn’t spoken about your parents in nearly a year and the topic still made your stomach turn.

What would Arthur think when he found out?

Charles whistled from across the street. You and Arthur crossed to meet him and leave as soon as possible. Arthur asked if everything was alright as you took off through the streets, trying to put as much distance between you and Agent Milton as possible. Your only response was a smile as words were not able to form for you at the moment.

“You’re back! And just in time, too. We need to prepare for a ball, Cinderella.”

Dutch greeted the three of you at camp with the strange sentence and you cast a confused look at Arthur. Hadn’t you just been to a dance in Rhodes?

Arthur grunted. “Dutch, you know I hate dressing up…”

Dutch laughed and approached the two of you. Swinging his arm around Arthur’s shoulder to steer him over towards Hosea you heard him say, “Just think of it as a practice for your wedding. Now, what we have here is a change to get on the good side of Angelo Bronte at a party the Mayor is throwing.”

You chuckled watching Arthur’s panicked face throw you a glance for help but you just waved him off and started brushing Eclipse. Her hair was dirty from the smog of Saint Denis and she made appreciative sounds as it slowly became clearer and clearer. Kieran hadn’t brushed her in the past few days so she was overdue. The other horses nearby looked dirty too, like Kieran hadn’t been keeping up with his duties.

The next week moved at the same pace set by the heat lingering around Shady Belle; heavy and unrelenting in its molasses slow pace. You helped cut more vegetables, wash more clothes, and sort more herbs than you cared to remember and more than once you and Karen snapped at each other purely for something to do. She may not always get along with you, but as someone who worked hard for the gang she respected you and you felt the same towards her.

Days started to feel repetitive. While it was wonderful to have a routine and sleep under a roof, not everyone agreed that you deserved it after such a short time with the group. Micah certainly made it known that he should be in your and Arthur’s room, not you, but someone usually told him to quiet down if he got too rowdy.

One day, Dutch’s plan finally came into fruition.

“Gentleman! Tonight is the night we set off, hair brushed and oiled, shoes shined, and dressed to the nines so we can charm the pants of this god forsaken shit hole called Saint Denis.” He waited while people laughed at his show, then continued on. “Hosea, myself, Bill, and…” his eyes crossed the gang. “Mary Beth will be off to the mayor's house.”

It was not lost on you how quickly Dutch’s eyes flitted past you.

Mary Beth balked. “Me? You need some pick pocketing done?”

“No, nothing like that. We just need a woman who can move about precisely in high society is all.”

A disgusted noise came from Molly as she threw a rag down and stalked back into the house. Dutch just huffed and turned back to the younger woman.

But Mary Beth was still confused. “I ain’t like the others, you could take YN or Abigail and dress them up. Why me?”

Micah annoyingly stepped forward to answer. At his first step Mary Beth crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Because, Miss Gaskil, you’re beautiful, and young, and good enough to distract people into thinking they have a false sense of security when in reality we’re robbing them blind.”

“But I thought you said -”

“Enough.” Dutch had his spotlight stolen and was incredibly frustrated by how the events had gone. It was his story to tell why was no one listening?

“Mary Beth. We ain’t robbing. It’s just a dinner party and we figured a pretty young girl like you should experience the finer things in life. YN went to that ball back in Rhodes and Abigail we thought wouldn’t want to leave young Jack so soon. Plus, with John not there, things could get out of hand.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up to the top of his hairline. Clearly this was something he hadn’t discussed with Dutch and you know they all watched poor Abigail flail about feeling stuck in her position.

The look on Dutch’s face said the decision was final. You were strangely okay with this as you had no desire to dress up and preen about the high society of the men who kidnapped Abigail’s son. But Arthur clearly wasn’t.

“Dutch, if I’m going so is YN. That’s final.”

Dutch sighed, looking exhausted. “My boy, if that happens then I’ll have to -”

“It’s happening. We can find a second carriage.”

“Fine.” You watched the scene, frozen. Not wanting to push any boundaries you opened your mouth to speak but Dutch silenced you with a look and you waited for him to continue. “We are guests of Angelo Bronte and will clean up before heading out. That means you all bathe, yes, even you Bil, and for god’s sake wear a suit. We will meet after supper and head in together, as Arthur so eloquently said, in two wagons.”

A flush worked its way up your chest and face. “I don’t want to make trouble, Dutch.”

“What’s done is done. We will all head in and be on our best behaviour and make this worth our while! Be ready by seven.”

Arthur balked at the older man and joined you near Pearson’s wagon. “Never seen him like that. Wonder why he put up a fight about bringing you along.”

“Well, he was right. Mary Beth is beautiful and charming and...younger.” You wrap your arms around your middle, suddenly self conscious. Arthur laughed softly at your expression, which earned him a dark glare.

“You ain’t old, darlin’, you’re younger than me and even so there’s nothing wrong with it. Dutch has been strange lately, that performance included.” He looped your arm through his and walked over to the house. “Let’s go into town, take the day to get ready for that party tonight, hmm?”

You nodded and allowed him to drag you away. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Molly dart out of sight as you as Arthur approached and a pang of guilt hit your chest.

As soon as your bag was packed for the day you closed the door to your room and promised Arthur you would be down shortly. Something was drawing you over to the small sitting room next to Dutch and Molly’s room. It was a quiet afternoon and the sun filtered in through the wooden blinds casting beams of light to dance around the room.

“Hosea?” The older man grunted as he looked up. “I think Molly should go tonight instead of Mary Beth. I know she’s not...I think it would clear the air, make things a bit better between her and Dutch, which in turn means better for us. You know she would charm the pants right off of those society men and get a chance to flex her uses.”

Hosea blinked in response. He seemed to ponder your words for a moment, scratching his chin while his eyebrows pulled together. From somewhere downstairs Arthur called for you, so you told Hosea to consider your idea and waved goodbye.

The ride into town was uneventful. Your mind was racing with thoughts of a real bath and nice clothes to be focused on the dusty road below you. Arthur was talking to you about something, but suddenly the thought of being in town reminded you that just a week ago your father had been there and almost caught you. If there was a chance he would find you or Arthur, things would turn bad very quickly.

"...and Hosea told me once about mixing flowers and herbs together to make poultices, like for medical purposes, and how Bessy taught him."

You took the pause in his speech as a chance to reply noncommittally with a nod.

Arthur saw right through that.

"He also said that if you bathe in the waters of Saint Denis that your skin would turn as green as grass."

You looked around the bridge entrance with a sharp eye. "Uh huh, wow, he's so smart."

"And eating yellow daisies under a full moon will let you turn into one of them, but for a day."

"Hmm, wait what did you say?" You turned to find Arthur stifling a laugh by looking away from you but it wasn't working.

"Something on your mind you want to talk about, sweetheart?" His voice was low as he asked.

“I’m just,” you sighed dramatically, “worried is all. Did Charles tell you about the Pinkertons we saw?”

Arthur nodded. “Met that Brother Dorkins character, too. Not sure what to make of him. Seems nice enough, genuine, but all those religious types do, right? That’s how they get you.”

You laughed and chastised Arthur for mocking the man and in turn he told you he was only joking. Brother Dorkins was a good man; he put helping others above all else in his life and truly committed to the selfless way that he had been taught. You felt good about how you and Charles had helped him the other day and were glad Arthur had been able to spend time talking to him.

Once the horses were tied up out front you headed into the tailor shop together. Arthur was quickly ushered over to the men's side and you followed a young woman to look at dresses.

It was all breathtaking. The glamor of what life could be like stared you down in the reflection wearing a low cut deep red dress. It whispered about high heeled boots and soft, elegant gloves that would accompany you on a night out to see a show. It sighed in your ears to the sound of string lacing up your back and the tug of the corset that restricted your movement. The sweet symphony swelled with the swish of the dressing room curtains and you took center stage, ready to present the illusion to Arthur.

He spit out the sip of water he had just accepted from the shopkeeper.

Quickly the man jumped into action to clean up the spill and you simply arched an eyebrow. The woman next to you knew she had done good work from the reaction and you smiled at her like you shared a secret. The burgundy material clung to your chest and hips, billowing out behind you like a cloud. It was large and overdone, but even you could see through the poshness of it and admire the way you looked like a dream. No one could stand in your way with this dress, not even Arthur and his dapper looking tuxedo. In which he looked stunning as well.

“See something you like, Mr. Morgan?” You rested a hand on your hip as you sauntered over, enjoying the way his eyes ran up and down you languidly.

He ran a hand over his eyes to hide the obscenities that flew from his mouth. “Only you could make that dress look like that, I’m not so sure I want to buy it for you.”

“Why not!” You pouted, sticking your lip out.

You could see him restrain himself as he took your hand gently and turned you around. He pretended to fix something on the back of your dress and suddenly you were very aware that both of the workers were watching you.

“If anyone so much as thinks about you looking like that I’d put a bullet between his eyes before you could stop me.”

After you both changed back to your street clothes and paid, you decided to walk to the hotel to bathe as it wasn’t as far as you had thought. Arthur let you hold onto his arm and point out things you liked along the way, like the small birds singing in the air and the way the horses hooves echoed streets away from the trolley car. It was vibrant and new and you loved it, oblivious to the way Arthur never took his eyes off of you.

The clerk at the hotel was bored and barely paid any attention to the two of you as you paid for baths. At the last second Arthur purchased a room for the night for you two to stay in after the dinner, and you almost missed the wicked glint in his eye.

You moaned louder than you should have as you sank down into the beautifully hot water. Any aches you had before were gone in that weightless space and you watched the dirt from days and days simply scrub away. You had been trying to clean yourself every few days at least but living in the swamps made it difficult. Between the bugs and the sweat and the need to bring someone with you in case an alligator had its eyes on you, the actual bathing amount was questionable. Laying in the bubbly bliss was pure heaven.

A soft knock at the door was followed by a voice asking if you wanted extra assistance but you declined. The bar of soap was easy enough to manage and you plunged your head below the water to begin attacking your hair.

You eventually left the small paradise you had found and dried off, impressed with the result of one simple bath. It was something you would need to indulge in more regularly.

Arthur beamed at you as you entered the small room and motioned to the bed where he had laid out your dress. It was approaching time to leave for the mayor’s and you had too many buttons and laces to be able to dress yourself. Arthur kissed your neck as he helped you dress and looked at you again like a wolf stalking its prey. It made your stomach flip and flutter as you thought about what the night held in store.

Dutch greeted the two of you with a harumph as you entered the carriage outside. He chomped down on one end of a cigar and looked sour until Arthur found a glass of champagne. Dutch was dressed to the nines in a beautiful black suit and matching top hat. Someone, you guessed Hosea, had stuck a white flower into his lapel and he leaned back in his element. It didn’t take long for Dutch and Arthur to be howling with laughter at thoughts of the old days and how ridiculous it was to be headed to a mayor’s ball, of all things. You sat squished across from Bill who avoided your gaze and opted to stare out the window, throwing back the glass of champagne Dutch handed him instead of savoring it like you were.

You asked Dutch if he wanted you to lift anything as there was likely to be good value in such a high society.

“Oh, no, no, no, no! No pickpocketing. We are here to make some real contacts. We have to find what we can at this party where the guest of honor is the worst crook in town!” It wasn’t long until he and Arthur and Bill were howling with laughter at this again and you watched on amusedly.

The men cheersed their drinks just as the carriage arrived outside of the manor gates and came to a slow stop. Someone opened the door and you exited first, excited to be around new people. Arthur held his arm for you to walk you down inside but stopped in his tracks and stared as another carriage pulled up behind yours.

“My god, she actually came…” you whispered.

For as wonderful as you looked in the dress from the tailor, you had nothing on Molly O’Shea. She stepped forth a queen in a stunning green jeweled dress dotted with accents of gold and black and red and perfectly matching jewelry. Her hair and makeup were flawless as well and made you wish you had brought at least a lipstick with you.

Her Irish accent was silky and slow as she took in her companions. “Evening, fellas. And Miss Moore, that’s a stunning dress you have there.”

You held Arthur’s arm, frozen as well, and watched as she and Dutch took their place in front of you. Hosea walked next, a smirk and a wink thrown your way as if to say he had finally come around and listened to your suggestion.

Bill huffed. “Well. This night just got a whole lot more interesting.”

The walkway was lined with white canvas tents stretched high above you and twinkling lights across the lawn. The house was a stunning two story building with Roman columns and a balcony that seemed to stretch around the entirety of the second floor. It was beautiful and matched the bold taste of those in the higher class of Saint Denis.

“Luca here will take you to Mr. Bronte.” A man at the front door accepted Dutch’s paper invitation and invited the crowd in, eyeing the number of people that entered in a way that let you know you were pushing the limits.

Luca was a smaller man, an inch or two below even you. He walked with a strut that made up for it as he guided the group into the foyay and spoke about the extensive history the house held as a jewel and a staple of Saint Denis. He lost you somewhere after you passed the chandelier, the sparkling beauty nearly stopping you in your tracks. Luca led you past the double staircase and multiple servants.

‘Hosea, Bill, YN, you three join the party. Signore Bronte does not want a crowd I am sure. We will meet you down here shortly and meet you out back after we pay our respects.” Molly clung to Dutch’s arm a little tighter, learning she was of importance to meet the guest of honor. Arthur simply rolled his eyes at you and you smiled back, not bothered by the slight.

Bill whistled as you stepped back out into the night air. “This sure is a pretty place. Like the...lights and such.”

Hosea told him to go find drinks while the two of you stood at the top of the stone staircase, a good spot for observing the party.

“Hosea, I’m flattered to even be here. I know Dutch seemed against it at first. He’s bee strange lately, have you noticed?”

The older man paused before thinking, mulling over the words running through his mind. “You look lovely tonight YN. Sure picked a dress that could bring a man to his knees.”

“It’s not too much?” You fretted.

“Not at all, my dear. And as far as Dutch goes, I’ve noticed something is off as well. Let’s keep that to ourselves however, not everyone would agree with our observations. Might think we were going against him.” Bill held out two drinks for you and headed back into the crowd to play the part of upper society. You clinked your glass gently against Hosea’s and enjoyed the taste of whatever it was you had sipped.

The garden below you was wide stretching, with trees and fountains and gazebos dotted around the grounds in an elegant arrangement. The same stringed lights from the front of the house were draped all around the backyard as well giving the evening a mood lighting of excitement and dreaminess.

You still couldn't believe it was all real. A few short months ago you were being held hostage by a savage man, and now you stood at the height of society, drinking and enjoying the view you had from the top.

It wasn’t long before Dutch, Arthur, and Molly joined you on the balcony. Dutch and Molly looked quite pleased with themselves, talking about how enchanted Bronte was with Molly and her beauty. Arthur seemed hesitant and motioned for you to come stand by him as soon as Dutch was done retelling the riveting tale of working with the man of the hour.

“I think we should get outta here. These people, they ain’t like us. They’re liars, and awful tricksters who do terrible things for a laugh.” Arthur shook his head, pointing out some people in the crowd who Bronte had mocked.

“Native Americans? What do they need from the mayor?” You mused out loud.

“Alright, go ingratiate ourselves. And remember,” Dutch gave you a pointed look, “steal nothing. Unless it's information. Find the mayor and stay outta trouble.”

Arthur gave your arm a tug and together you headed into the crowd. You knew finding the mayor was the target, but to be honest you were mostly interested in meeting the Native Americans who were somewhere out in the gardens.

You and Arthur waltzed around to see what you could find, but most of the people were simple folk looking for idle conversation. It took an hour to make your way around in a lap and at the end you felt none the wiser. Sure, the caricature of Saint Denis was more vibrant and colorful after speaking to more of its residents but you knew that would be enough information to sustain Dutch.

A conversation behind you grabbed your attention and you turned so Arthur could face them men and join in.

“It ain’t complex, Lemieux. And only an idiot like you would try to make it so.”

The small group of men stood near the fountain seeming to poke fun at the Frenchman. “I will not deny idiocy, sir, but perhaps now is not the time. You are drunk, Ferdinand.”

“I’m not drunk, you fool!” The loud man laughed and rocked backwards, grabbing the man next to him in order to remain standing. “But this man! This man loves darkies.”

You blanched at the slur and Arthur took this queue to grab the man’s shoulders, turning him away from the group. It didn’t take him long to lead him away before anyone could get too upset. You pretended to fan your face with your hand and draw the attention of the men back to you instead of watching the scene behind them.

“Your husband, madam?”

You blushed. “Betrothed. A good man, Arthur. My name is YN.”

Arthur rejoined the group and shook hands with the other men. “Thank you, sir. Henri Lemieux, I hope you are enjoying my party. Do you know Evelyn Miller?”

The name sounded familiar as Arthur’s face lit up. “My lord. The writer?”

“Well,” the man chuckled good heartedly. “We seem to have another deranged drunkard in our midsts.”

Behind Mr. Miller a loud boom echoed through the streets of the city. You winced and looked away from the bright lights exploding in the sky, unsure of what to think. Arthur placed his hand on your back and whispered that they were fireworks and you watched in awe. Flashes of light were met with oohs and ahhs from the crowd so you figured you must be safe, even if the air reeked of gunpowder.

A man in a white servants uniform pushed through the group towards the mayor, pulling him to the side once he had his attention. A sharp whisper brought the words ‘Cornwall’, ‘fool for trusting him’, and ‘sign it’ carried across the air and you locked eyes with Arthur. This was a lead, something he should look into.

Dutch seemed to appear out of thin air. “He say something about Cornwall? Find out what.”

Arthur placed a chaste kiss to your cheek and slunk off into the crowd and off into the dark. You stood alone until Molly joined your side.

“Miss O’Shea, that gown is...breathtaking.” Molly smiled, a rare motion for her.

“I’m glad tonight worked out. Hosea told me it was your idea to bring me along instead of Miss Gaskill, and I wanted you to know I’m grateful. Dutch and I...we used to be so close but I’m hoping he sees my worth after tonight. This dress was supposed to be for another type of party with me and Dutch, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

You smiled sadly at her, unsure of what to say.

“Do you ever miss Ireland?”

“Constantly,” she answered without hesitation. “It’s a beautiful country, and Dublin is a gem that these cities don’t hold a candle too. I hope you visit one day, see the green for yourself.”

“I’d like that.” Arthur returned to your side with a sly grin thrown at Dutch and a pat of his coat pocket. Dutch tipped his hat and watched the rest of the fireworks show with a wide grin.

Hosea and Bill find their way over and express their disinterest at staying any longer. On the walk out Hosea whispered to Dutch about a plan he had devised to rob the city bank, something someone at the party had brought to his attention. Dutch countered with a plan to rob the trolley station that Bronte had mentioned to him and Arthur. The gang seemed to just need one big score before they could be free, whatever Dutch meant by that.

Lenny drove up with the first carriage and you saw his eyes nearly fall out of his head at the sight of you. One look at Arthur snapped his neck forwards without daring another glance, but you laughed at the exchange and felt good about how the night had gone. Dutch, Bill, Molly, and Hosea climbed inside as you and Arthur remained on the sidewalk. He clapped the side of the wagon without a word and Lenny took off, a curt nod cast somewhere in your general direction.

“Well, Mr. Morgan, what should we do now?”

Arthur met your gaze with a low growl and a hungry look on his face. “Girl, you better run back to that hotel room because I know exactly what we are doing tonight.”

You squealed with delight and took off, hiking your skirt up around your knees to let you run. Arthur barked a laugh and chased after you, showing the upper society of Saint Denis that it couldn't tame you no matter how hard it tried.

#price to be paid #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fanfic #I know #two chapters in a week #who is she #well #she is stuck in quarantine and happy to be writing again #arthur morgan #female reader

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hysterialevi · 4 years

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When the Devil Cries - Final Part

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

Author’s note: Welp, this is it guys! The final chapter. Thank you so much to those of you who stuck with me during this whole story. I seriously appreciate the support you’ve given me ever since I started this fanfic, and it means the world to me to see how much you’ve enjoyed it. I’m definitely gonna miss writing about Arthur and Eddie, but I also can’t wait to show you what else I have planned in the future. Stay awesome :)

From Arthur’s POV

ONE WEEK LATER

THE BASTILLE, SAINT DENIS

“Dear, John...” I murmured to myself, readin’ my awfully-written letter out loud, “...it’s Tacitus. I hope this letter finds you on the off-chance that you’re still alive, but truth be told...I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. Last time we saw each other, we was both trying to make our way out of that god-awful shit storm, and I regret that I never got the chance to see if you survived.”

“If you’re still out there somewhere, I wish you luck. You saved my ass when hell finally broke loose, and I won’t forget it. As for me -- my partner and I have managed to stay out of trouble for a while, and we’re planning to start a new life someplace else. For your safety and mine, I cannot say where, but just know that we’re doing okay. Things ain’t easy, but we got each other. And if these following years go according to plan, who knows? Perhaps we might be able to rejoin you someday.”

“If you’re not alive though, then...I will certainly miss you. That’s for sure. We ain’t related by blood, I know, but you was always like a brother to me. We grew up together since the very beginning, and I’ll never forget the times when you used to annoy me so much that I wanted to tear my hair out. Who’d have thought I’d eventually miss those days?”

“But...as much as I’d like to keep this going, I’m afraid there’s a ship I need to catch pretty soon. It’s gonna carry me off to a civilized world where I am to live as a civilized man. I ain’t exactly ready for a life like that, but it’s where I’ve ended up. I suppose we shall see how that goes.”

“Farewell for now, John. You’ll always be in my thoughts.

Your friend and brother,

--Tacitus Kilgore.”

Placin’ the letter down on a table, I leaned back in my chair and reread some of the sentences to myself as a worn-out breath escaped me, probably because of how long I spent thinkin’ about how to word all this.

If I was bein’ honest, I didn’t even know if trying to contact John was a good idea. I mean, we was both still wanted men. Even with Agent Milton gone, the rest of the Pinkertons were still searching for us. If they knew that either of us were alive, I had no doubts that they’d do everything within their power to try and stop us from escaping...and that was a risk I couldn’t take.

I let out a frustrated sigh and balled up the piece of paper in my hands, tossin’ it into the nearby fireplace.

“...Goddammit.” I whispered to myself, solemnly watchin’ as the letter burned.

Was that the right thing to do? I wanted to see John again, of course, but...maybe it was better this way.

We both had people to take care of, after all. He had Abigail and Jack, and I had Eddie.

The less we knew about each other, the safer we’d be. We had to worry about more than just ourselves in this case, and -- with the law constantly up our ass -- perhaps it was best for everyone if John thought I was dead. Then, he’d have nothin’ to give to the Pinkertons. At least, not when it came to me.

Still though, part of me wished I could at least say goodbye to him before hightailing it to England. Out of all the people I grew up with, John was the only one left who was alive and trustworthy.

And on top of that, there was no guarantee I’d ever return to America. Apart from sentimentality, this country had nothin’ else for me. All that remained of the Van der Linde gang was a long trail of blood that civilization was already in the process of forgetting, and I certainly didn’t plan on lingering around with my wanted posters still flappin’ in the wind.

I was finally ready to be the man I aspired to be, and not the man Dutch created.

My life in the United States may have been over...but my life as a free man was just beginning.

Interrupting my thoughts, the door suddenly swung open when Eddie came wanderin’ in with a briefcase in his hand, all ready to go. He was usin’ the same cane that Hamish gave to him back at O’Creagh’s Run, and the more I saw him limpin’ around the room with a sway in his step, the more I worried about the true condition of his leg.

The pianist insisted he was fine whenever I asked him, but -- despite bein’ the dolt that I was -- I was still smart enough to assume that climbing a huge rock formation not too long after getting shot in the leg probably wasn’t the best idea.

I supposed all that commotion with Atticus finally did a number on Eddie’s injuries. He looked alright during all that drama, but with everything else that was goin’ on, I only hoped that we wouldn’t need the doctor’s services before departing for England. Things was stressful enough as is.

“Arthur,” Eddie greeted, settin’ his briefcase down on the bed for a moment. “You ready to go? The ship’s leaving in half an hour.”

“Yep. I got everything I need. What about you?”

Eddie took a seat across from me. “Me too. Just...preparing myself for the long journey now, is all. It’s been ages since I last set foot in England. I wonder what it’s like nowadays.”

“Hopefully, better than here.”

A chuckle escaped him. “Oh, I dunno about that, but at least we won’t have to worry about the Pinkertons there. I’m sick of constantly checking over my shoulder for them.”

I nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling. Milton may be dead and gone, but I doubt that the rest of them clowns will give up so easily. Perhaps, it’ll even motivate ‘em to work harder. I just hope Agent Ross doesn’t find John. That man has a family to look after.”

“Have you heard from him ever since Beaver Hollow?”

“No. I was actually plannin’ to send him a letter, but...I got rid of it just before you walked in here. Figured it’d be better if he didn’t know I was alive.”

Eddie tilted his head in an inquisitive manner. “Why? Don’t you want to see him again?”

“’Course I do. But think about it -- if John believes I’m dead, then the Pinkertons will have no reason to pester him. They might still go after him for the bounty on his own head, but interrogatin’ him for information about me would be pointless.”

The pianist glanced downwards. “Hmm. I guess so. Still, it’d be nice to thank him in person. John was always friendly to me back at camp, and he saved our lives at Beaver Hollow too. Without him, neither of us would’ve gotten away.”

“Now, ain’t that the truth.”

Eddie changed the subject. “And what of Dutch? Have you heard any news about him?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing. There’s no word in the papers, no rumors circulating about him -- it’s as if he’s vanished entirely. That man could be on his way to Tahiti for all I know.”

The other man glowered. “...Or running off with Micah.”

“...That, too.” I sighed in disapproval. “Goddamn it...what the hell happened to that man? Dutch used to be so different. So full of life. So...human. But now, he’s nothin’ short of a madman. Just a tyrant who goes trigger-happy when he doesn’t get his way. I keep wonderin’ to myself where it all went wrong. Where things started to fall apart.”

The pianist frowned out of sympathy. “Well, perhaps he was always a madman. It was you who finally opened your eyes and changed.”

I rubbed my chin in thought. “...Maybe. I don’t know. Hosea used to say the same thing about himself, but to be honest...I’m not sure I care anymore. All I care about is us. You’re what matters to me now, Eddie. Not them.”

Eddie beamed warmly at the comment and gazed lovingly at me for a second, seemingly gettin’ lost in his thoughts before bringing up another topic.

“You know what...” he recalled, “that actually reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to tell you ever since we arrived in Saint Denis.”

I quirked a brow. “Oh yeah? And what would that be?”

The pianist gave me a sincere look, suddenly changing his overall demeanor. “...I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

I flicked my eyes around in confusion. “Sorry? For what?”

“For not taking your advice,” he answered. “Ever since the beginning, you warned me that vengeance was an idiot’s game. And like the idiot I was, I refused to listen to you. I was just...”

Eddie let out a conflicted sigh, shifting in his seat. “I was so consumed with this insatiable desire for revenge. No matter how much I tried to forgive him, I just couldn’t let Atticus go. There was too much anger inside me. Too much grief. I thought that killing Atticus would provide a sense of justice, or a fresh beginning, but in the end...his death only made me feel...”

The man trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“...Empty?” I finished.

The pianist nodded in response.

“Yes. Empty. But not only that. When I saw the life disappear from Atticus’ eyes, part of me even...regretted killing him so soon. I guess I had hoped there would be some sort of closure to the conflict between us, but instead...it felt like reading a story that was one chapter short. There was no resolution. No way down from the peak of the mountain. It was just...a cliff. And you know the worst part of it?”

Eddie’s expression sank with melancholy. “...I still can’t let Atticus go.”

Strugglin’ to set his thoughts in order, Eddie lowered his head in a distraught manner and stared aimlessly at the floor, causin’ me to reach across the table and lay a hand on top of his own in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey...” I whispered softly, tryin’ to catch the disheartened man’s attention. “You made a mistake, but it ain’t the end of the world. You can still learn from this. You’re strong. Much stronger than you realize. And...if I may offer some advice...”

I scooted my chair closer to his, grippin’ his hand more firmly now. “Based on everything you’ve said to me since we first met, it sounds like that Atticus ain’t the one you can’t let go. ...I think it’s Nathaniel that you don’t want to forget.”

Takin’ my words to heart, Eddie paused at my observation and lifted his head slightly, starin’ in a way that told me I just hit the nail on the head.

I could tell from the expression plastered on his face that he ain’t never thought about it that way before, and I almost felt kinda bad for the emotional conflict that I was clearly puttin’ this poor boy through.

He blinked away some of the tears that were startin’ to gather in his eyes and gripped my hand affectionately, trying to hide how much his voice was truly trembling.

“...He is, isn’t he?”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, thinkin’ back to the day Nathaniel died.

“You know, I always blamed myself for not being able to save Nathaniel. I understand that, realistically, there was nothing I could’ve done for him, but still. The thought eats me up all the time. Even now. I just...can’t move on. I can’t sleep at night because I know that if he was alive today, he’d probably never forgive me for abandoning him.

“Nonsense,” I replied, quick to come to his defense. “If Nathaniel knew that you managed to survive that day -- that you actually made it all the way to America, started a new life for yourself, became a pianist, and killed Atticus Rose after months of fightin’ for your life as an outlaw only to become a free man -- why...” I chuckled in awe, “...he’d be so, goddamned proud of you.”

The other man gazed at me with teary eyes, not quite convinced yet. “How do you know?”

I smiled brightly at Eddie. “...Because I know I am.”

Evidently somewhat overwhelmed by my praise, the sorrow disappeared from Eddie’s face as he cracked a small grin and leaned forward, showerin’ me with his own storm of compliments.

“Thank you, Arthur, but it’s not as if I did it all by myself. You did your fair share of work too. In fact, I never would’ve made it this far if you hadn’t found me that day. Your first interaction with me was an act of kindness, and yet you still speak ill of yourself constantly. You truly are a marvel, Arthur...but I don’t think you see it.”

I sighed remorsefully, wishin’ I could say Eddie was entirely right.

“That’s ‘cause I done some real bad things in my life, Eddie. Horrible things. Before I met you, I used to rob people who didn’t deserve it, kill folks who did nothin’ except get in the way of Dutch’s plans, and I did all of it while living under some twisted sense of honor to help me sleep at night. But now...”

I looked the pianist in eye, still holdin’ on to his hand, “I wanna change, Eddie. For real this time. I don’t wanna just be some thief who happens to be kinder than the rest. I wanna be a better man. A better partner. No more crimes, no more violence...just redemption. That’s all I want.”

Eddie gently brought his hands up to my face and pulled me closer, caressing my cheek in a loving manner.

“...Then let’s do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

SAINT DENIS HARBOR

Sittin’ in the stagecoach as it gently rolled over the brick roads, Eddie and I eagerly gazed outta the small windows with a newfound wonder in our hearts as we passed by the whole city, somewhat unable to comprehend that we was actually leavin’ this country.

I had to admit -- it was strange, seeing Saint Denis like this again. Over the course of the last few months, Eddie and I spent every damn day fightin’ for our lives, just trying to survive. We fought against the O’Driscolls, the Pinkertons, Atticus, and even good ol’ Dutch himself.

We had been to Hell and back while still finding the time to plant the seeds of what was now an unbreakable bond between us, and yet...Saint Denis hadn’t changed one bit.

In fact, this city looked exactly the same as when I first met Eddie. People were breezin’ through the streets without a care for the beggars on the sidewalks, activists and politicians rallied people to their campaigns, children played games in the open gardens, and everywhere, people lined up in front of all sorts of establishments, waitin’ to be entertained.

The gears of civilization kept turnin’ with not a single thought for those left behind, and somehow, it still managed to look like it hadn’t gone anywhere at all.

It was one of the many wonders of the new world, but also one of the things that made me fear it. How was it that a city could progress so much without actually changin’ anything? Or maybe it was just my nerves actin’ up? I didn’t know anymore.

Everything was just so confusing now. Instead of runnin’ away from civilized life like I normally did, I was headin’ straight towards it.

I was getting ready to do the one thing that Dutch always insisted was impossible, and to make matters even more astonishing, I had a man who loved me standin’ at my side.

All them years of wondering why I could never be good enough for Mary, or strong enough to protect Eliza...and I finally had someone who accepted me as I was, but also encouraged me to be better. It took a good three decades, but my life had finally picked itself up even though I sure as hell didn’t deserve it.

I was on the opposite side of the spectrum for the first time, but -- contrary to what I expected -- I was happy. I was ready to change. And I welcomed it.

Finally arrivin’ at the harbor, the stagecoach slowed down to a steady halt as it stopped beside the entrance, prompting me and Eddie to leave. There were already a few other stagecoaches lined up in front of us, spittin’ out passengers just the same, and without even looking, I could tell it was gonna be crowded as hell outside just based on the noise.

I picked up my briefcase, takin’ hold of the door’s handle.

“You ready?” I asked Eddie, earning a nod from him.

“Ready as ever.”

Lightly pushing the door open, the two of us were instantly greeted by a cool breeze as the sound of seagulls cryin’ and people chatting reached our ears, followed by the distinct scent of saltwater.

All around me, I could see men, women, and children pacin’ their way across the harbor as they hurried to find their ship, or simply waited for their loved ones to arrive.

There were multiple paperboys stationed throughout the place, merchants displaying their trinkets to newcomers as they came fresh off the boats, fishermen luggin’ heavy nets around, and a number of street performers offerin’ a lively mood to the otherwise mundane atmosphere of the harbor.

It was a surprisingly busy day in this part of town, and...if I was bein’ honest...I felt a tad nervous jumping into the heart of it all. There were just so many people; so many civilized folks who were unlike me that...I felt incredibly outta place here.

But I supposed I’d have to get used to it sooner or later. This was the beginning of my new life, after all...and I was old enough to know that nothin’ worthwhile ever came easy.

“Here,” I said, offering Eddie a hand as he stepped out of the stagecoach. “Lemme help.”

The pianist gave me a humorous grin. “Such a gentleman.”

I chuckled, duckin’ my head as I followed him out. “What can I say? Civilization’s gettin’ to me.”

Swiftly makin’ our way outta the confines of the stagecoach’s limited space, Eddie and I set out for our ship as we slithered through the bustling streets of the harbor, doin’ our absolute best not to crash into other people.

Unlike the serene nature of the countryside, this place was pretty much filled to the brim with commotion. Folks were movin’ around so fast that they practically made the signposts twirl, and sometimes, there’d be nothing but a tornado of leaves whirling in their wake.

It was like people couldn’t even spare two seconds to take a breath. They were just completely focused on the here and now, and didn’t even bother to take in their surroundings. It was...kinda sad to witness, in a way. Though, I guessed that was just the nature of civilization.

There was no time for the present. Only for the future.

Stickin’ to the sides of the pavements, the two of us made haste for a ship at the very end of the harbor called “The Pytheas.” It was a gargantuan thing stacked with so many massive crates and strange-lookin’ machines that it made you wonder how the hell it managed to stay afloat.

There were all sorts of people gatherin’ on the pier as well. Even from here, I could see groups of businessmen discussing deals in many different languages, professors pondering what awaited them on the other side of the sea, artists sketchin’ down the vast landscape to combat their boredom, and immigrants huddling up with their families. It was like seein’ a miniature version of the entire world stuffed onto one strip of land.

And then...there was me and Eddie.

Just a musician and an outlaw.

A pianist and a gunslinger.

Two lost souls who were once crippled by their own fears, but learned to become whole after they found each other.

We was nothin’ but a pair of ordinary men in the eyes of these people. Just two regular guys goin’ about their business on a regular day. But if they were to look a bit more closely -- I guaranteed they’d be able to see the convoluted stories hiding inside.

They were written in the lines on our faces, in the depths of our eyes, in the steps we took. It was a silent journey that spoke for itself, and I doubted that either of us would ever forget it, despite leavin’ that entire ordeal behind.

We had a plethora of memories lingering in the west, after all. Simply by gazin’ at the wilderness hiding behind the city’s skyline, I was practically able to relive every moment of my past.

From the day Dutch and Hosea found me, to our endless adventures riding across the open deserts, to the times I wasted fallin’ in love with Mary, to the many years I spent mourning Isaac and Eliza...

All the friends that I buried along the way, the anger and grief I experienced, the enemies we gunned down, the nights we spent sharin’ stories around the campfire, the days where I wondered if I’d live long enough to see the next sunrise...

It all flooded my head at once. Within the span of a few seconds, I watched my whole life unfold in front of me like a person rapidly flipping through the pages of a book, and for the first time in years, I could sense genuine tears welling up in my eyes from all the emotions that were racin’ through me.

It was just...surreal to think about how far I had come. How much I’d grown. How much things had changed.

Not too many years ago, I was nothin’ but a sad, lost, and lonely man who thought he’d die long before the age of gunslingers withered away -- but now... there was an entirely new world waitin’ for me on the other side of the ocean. As well as a new home.

And so -- with one last glance over my shoulder -- I turned around and savored the reminiscent view standin’ behind me as it slowly disappeared in the distance, waving goodbye like an old friend bidding me farewell.

I had no idea if I’d ever return to this country, or if I’d ever get the closure I desired with John and Dutch...but one thing I did know was that America would always be home to me.

No matter the amount of pain or heartache that lingered in the shadows of our gang’s actions, there was just some sort of connection between me and this place that nothing could sever.

For the sake of buildin’ a peaceful home with Eddie, I would comply and live in a civilized world away from crime, but deep down -- I knew damn well that I’d always be an outlaw for life.

It was just who I was, and it was the thing that turned me into this man today.

I was Arthur Morgan, and this was the end of my story in the Wild West.

“...Goodbye, Dutch.” I whispered softly to myself, turnin’ on my heel to follow Eddie to the ship.

There were only a few minutes left until departure now, and part of me grew weary just thinkin’ about the lengthy journey ahead -- but regardless of how long it took for us to reach England, or how tiring the trip would be, I was at peace knowing that we had finally achieved the dream we fought so long to reach.

Eddie and I were officially free men from this day forward...and we had acquired the one treasure Dutch never found. The only luxury that no amount of money could buy.

The one thing that only ever truly mattered to me.

Redemption.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #arthur morgan x male oc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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selfship-uncharted · 5 years

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The Fugitive part XIII

part I - part II - part III - part IV - part V - part VI - part VII - part VIII - part IX - part X - part XI - part XII - part XIII - part XIV

A/N: Thank you so much as always for your support! A/N2: English is not my first language. A/N3: No color this time, I had the chapter long written and didn’t want to take longer to post it... Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC (Claire Russell) Warnings: they go hunting so dead animals? Words: 3,079 Tags: @asiramhera @missdictatorme @zoilalove213 @avast-you-dirty-dog @lowkeyofsassguard

Special thanks to @asiramhera for being my beta-reader. Tons of love for you!

Days passed and Claire was getting used to her new life in the camp, even if she didn't like getting orders from Miss Grimshaw and working on the chores who demonstrate she was quite unable to do. For the embroidery it was okay, but when it came to washing the clothes, to help Pearson prepare the stew, or clean the whole camp what can she say? She had never done that kind of jobs before, it was all given her already done. She actually had to learn to dress on her own.

She felt so clumsy every time she failed a task that she was getting impatient. This was not what she wanted for her, she didn't leave her house for this.

Claire was carrying a basket of recently cleaned clothes when she tripped and all the white sheets fell on the mud turning brown. Miss Grimshaw, like she had a radar, didn't take long to appear to scold her while she was putting them again in the basket to take them to wash again.

“I'm tired of all this shit!” Claire let her frustration speak for her. “I didn't come here to be your servant!” She kicked the basket and went away.

“You better come back here, girl!” Miss Grimshaw threatened her but she was way gone.

“What is this all about?” Arthur got close at hearing the women's voices so loud.

“Your lady, Mr Morgan, doesn't want to do her work! That's what happens!” Miss Grimshaw was furious and enraged at the sight of all those sheets completely covered in mud. “So, you better speak to her to get her back to work or she can forget to have another meal!”

Arthur raised his hands in defence since he felt himself attacked. “Calm down, Susan. I'm going to talk to her.”

“Oh, yes, you will! Slap her if it’s necessary!”

Arthur sighed resigned and went to look for Claire. He hoped he didn’t have to come to that...

He found the ginger-headed woman standing near the swamp staring at the water with her arms wrapping herself.

“Does that wicked witch send you?” She spat out at hearing his footstep getting closer.

Arthur exhaled deeply, he knew it would be a difficult conversation.

“Listen, Claire, everyone has to put of himself in this gang to make it work.” Arthur explained trying to not sound like he was scolding her.

“Yes, I understand that.” She turned around to face him. “But, do I really have to do that kind of work? It's tedious! I hate every part of it! And I’m not even good at it”

“And what do you want to do?” Arthur raised his hands in desperation.

“I don't know! Anything but away from here! And her! That lady is crazy!” Claire felt frustrated. “it's not like I don't want to help… I just… why… why don't you take me with you?”

“What? No way!” Arthur pitched voice showed her it wouldn't be easy to convince him. “You… you don't know how to defend yourself, to begin with!”

“Well, you showed me how to properly throw a punch I don't see why you can't teach me how to shoot.” She insisted.

“Out of the question!” He raised his hand to stopped her go any further.

Claire sighed not willing to give up, she then saw Charles not too far from them getting his bow ready.

“Or I can go hunting with Charles, I know how to use a bow.”

“I don't mind, I can teach her some things.” Charles at hearing his name turned to them.

Arthur threw a disapproving glance at Charles who felt it was better to continue with his work.

“That's not fair, Arthur!” Claire protested starting to feel really pissed off.

“Arthur!” Dutch called him from afar.

He turned around in less than a second breaking the visual competition with Claire he had been holding.

Dutch motioned him to come to him and didn't take time to obey.

“We’ll continue later.” He said to Claire before leaving her alone.

Claire puffed her cheeks unable to hide her anger. Dutch always was a top priority for Arthur. Not that she cared but, Arthur didn't let her do anything on her own and they spend so little time together because he always was doing Dutch's errands. She actually saw him more when she lived with Theodore.

When Arthur reached Dutch they both went away inside the manor, Claire then feeling no one was looking at her went next to Charles.

“Are you going hunting?” She asked as nothing happened.

“If I take you with me, Arthur will kill me.” Charles excused himself in a warm .

“He will if he knows, but I am not the one to tell him, will you?” she said with a mischievous smirk.

“You are a dangerous woman…” He said with a kind smile.

“Wait for me next to the horses. I'll be right back!” She bit her bottom lip excited and ran away looking for Mrs Adler.

Sadie Adler was sitting under the shadow of a tree cleaning her repeater. Claire crouched in front of her.

“Can I ask you something, Mrs Adler?” Sadie slightly rose her eyes to see Claire, she nodded for her to continue. “Do you happen to have another pair of pants to lend me?”

Mrs Adler looked at her surprised but chuckled. “Of course, darling.” She said getting up. “Follow me.”

And so did Claire. They went to her tent, there Sadie looked in her belongings and fetch a pair of pants and suspenders for Claire.

“Thank you!” She took them enthusiastically. “Can't wait to get rid of that skirt.”

“What is your plan?” Sadie crossed her arms observing how she was changing her clothes making the redheaded woman feeling uneasy.

“What do you mean?” Claire asked fearing she just got caught.

“Don't think you are asking for pants to do the camp chores.” So yes, she caught her.

“I'm going hunting with Charles.” Claire bit her bottom lip a little scared of Mrs Adler's reaction.

“Does Arthur know?”

“Of course not!” She replied without thinking. “I mean… come on… I don't want to spend my days sewing and cleaning… and he doesn't let me do anything!”

“I'm coming with you.” Claire was going to protest but Sadie stopped her. “That's my condition to not tell Arthur.”

Claire sighed defeated but she agreed.

***

Charles was waiting for them by the horses. Thankfully Arthur's horse wasn't there which meant he couldn't see them leaving the camp.

“So, you comin’ too?” Charles was surprised at seeing Sadie with Claire.

“Yeah, someone has to keep an eye on her.” She got her horse ready while she signalled Claire with a subtle movement of her head.

“I can hear you…. I'm not a child, ok?” Claire protested. “By the way, I need a horse and no, Charles, I'm not sharing yours.” She pointed at him seeing his intentions. “Dammit, you all act like Arthur! I just want a little freedom! Is that asking too much?”

“We don't want him to kill us… if something happens to you.” Charles shrugged his shoulders excusing himself.

“We are going hunting rabbits and deers not bears or wolves! For God's sake!”

Sadie chuckled at her and gave her the reins of her horse. “I like you.” She gave her a smile that made Claire blush.

***

“Those are fresh traces.” Charles showed to Claire the tracks he found. The grass was slightly deformed and by the shape, in the wet mud, it was easy to tell it were deer’s footsteps. “They went that way.”

“You guys go. I stay here with the horses.” Sadie stepped down her horse to hitch it near a tree and went for Charles’ and Claire’s.

“You sure?” Claire’s asked while dismounting.

“Yeah, the bow is not my kind of thing.” She took her repeater from her saddle in case she needed it. “And this will make runaway any animal around here.”

Charles gave a bow and some arrows to Claire she gladly took. “Then, let’s go. We don’t want to lose them.”

Claire followed Charles who crouched down following the traces of the animals. She did the same.

They didn’t have to go any further to find them. There were two of them.

“Okay, I’ll take the one on the left, you take the one on the right.” Claire nodded. “Try to shoot them on the head or on the neck, that will kill them quickly and won’t damage the meat.”

Claire nodded again and prepared an arrow on her bow aiming at the deer. Her hands were sweating, she felt nervous. She used to practise archery quite often before arriving in Saint-Denis but, she had never shot a living being. She exhaled trying to calm herself, and at Charles signal, she shot the arrow. At the same time, Charles did it too, hitting on the head to his prey falling dead. Claire’s deer wasn’t that lucky, it got shot and run away until it fell badly injured.

The poor creature cried in pain. Charles and Claire went near it.

“What should I do?” Claire was concerned about inflicting so much pain to the innocent animal.

“Calm down.” Charles took off from his holster a hunter’s knife. “Do you want to do it, or you prefer if I do it?”

Claire stared at the knife unsure. She gulped and nodded. “I will do it if you show me.” She wanted to learn to do it.

Charles gave her his knife and told her how to end with the suffering of the poor deer. She breathed deeply and stab the dying animal with it, right in its heart. The creature stopped immediately its laments and fell dead on the ground.

“Good.” Charles praised her recovering his knife. “Do you think you can carry them to your horse?”

“I will try.” Charles helped her carry the deer on her shoulder. “Jesus… it’s heavy…”

“Yeah, they can go to 45kg to 68kg, you are lucky this is a female and they use to be lighter.” Claire tried to walk to her horse followed by Charles who was carrying his deer.

When Sadie saw them she quickly stood up and help them to stow the animals on the horses.

“We will try to find some rabbits then go home.” Charles announced.

***

They get back to the camp before the sun was setting. They were quite satisfied, they ended up hunting three deers and six rabbits. Claire was happy about it since she got two of the six rabbits apart from the deer.

But her happiness disappeared when she saw Arthur waiting next to the horses with his arms crossed over his chest and a cigar between his fingers. His face showed her he was in total disapproval.

Charles and Sadie stopped their horses a little further for fear of Arthur’s anger but Claire didn’t care and stopped it in front of him.

“Oh, Arthur, just in time to help us to carry all we have hunted to Mr Pearson.” Claire got down the horse, took her rabbits and walked past by Arthur.

Arthur threw his cigar on the floor and grabbed Claire by her arm making her stop. She turned to look at him like nothing happened.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asked with an audible annoyance in his voice.

“Taking the rabbits I hunt to Mr Pearson, I thought I already told you.” Claire wasn’t intimidated one bit.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Arthur was losing his patience. “I told you to stay in the camp, for God’s sake!”

“And I told you I couldn’t do that anymore!” She tried to get rid of his grip but it was too strong. “Now, let me go, you are hurting me!”

“Come on, Arthur.” Charles put his hand on his shoulder. “It went well, nothing happened. Actually, she did great...”

“I’ll talk to you later, Charles!” Arthur pushed him freeing himself from his grip in not a very friendly way. “I thought I told you that in no way she was going to hunt with you!”

“It’s not his fault!” Claire protested. “It’s me who asked him to do so because you are too coward to bring me with you!” She slapped his chest with the rabbits she was holding letting them fall to his feet. Arthur loosened his grip giving her a chance the free herself. She then went away frustrated.

“Arthur,” Sadie stopped him from following her. “Give her a break. You are too protective over her, she can manage to take care of herself perfectly fine.”

***

Javier was telling a story from his time in Mexico while they were sat around the bonfire eating the stew Mr Pearson prepared for all of them.

Mr Pearson was so grateful of Charles and Claire’s work bringing him so many food. And Claire was so satisfied with her achievement. She learned to track animals and shoot them. She fell useful for the first time in her life and Arthur had to destroy the moment. She aggressively took a spoonful of stew to her mouth. That grumpy cowboy...

“Oh hey, Arthur, sit down!” Uncle showed him a wooden box he could use as a chair.

Arthur sat down bringing with him a dish of stew, staring at Claire.

“I’m finished. Good night all.” Claire stung with the spoon on the plate, replying to his stare. She stood up and went away visibly annoyed. She didn’t want to see his face right now.

Everybody’s eyes looked at Arthur.

“What?” He asked with his mouth full of stew, feeling excessively observed.

“I think someone is going to sleep alone tonight.” John mocked him making everyone there burst into a laugh. Of course, they all saw and heard their discussion earlier but Claire didn’t care. She was pissed off with Arthur. He was too protective over her, it’s not like she didn’t like feeling protected but it was too much when he didn’t let her do anything outside the camp.

She walked away from the group lost in her thoughts.

“Claire!” She turned around to see Hosea calling her, he was sitting alone eating his dinner and motioned her to come to sit by his side. “I heard you went hunting with Charles and Sadie. How was it?”

“Pretty nice!” She answered enthusiastically. “Even if a certain someone didn’t approve of it….” She added with bitterness.

“Our dear poor Arthur…” Hosea sighed. “Don’t mind him, he…. He had a difficult time with women in the past.”

“I’m not surprised!” Hosea chuckled at the girl reaction.

“He doesn’t do it on purpose,” he continued. Claire could tell Hosea appreciate the grumpy cowboy by how he talked of him, and how his eyes sparkled. “I’m sure he is sweet on you. It’s just, he is not very good of showing it.” He kept a couple of seconds in silent then turned to her to look straight into her eyes. “Do you love him?”

Claire’s cheek turned completely red at being asked such a thing so earnestly. Hosea laughed at her, it was all written in her face. She bit her lips and looked down.

“I do… very much…” She confessed embarrassed. “It’s just… I’m so afraid to tell him. I have the feeling, that if I do… he will push me away...”

“You might be right…” The old man deeply breathed staring into the starry sky without finishing his sentence. Hosea noticed Arthur approaching doubtful but Claire didn’t see him. “Just, don’t break his heart, would you?” Hosea stood up and patted Claire’s shoulder. “I don’t think his old poor heart would bear it.” That last sentence he said it more to Arthur than Claire, that’s when she saw him standing there rubbing the back of his neck unsure.

“Don’t make her any angrier.” Hosea teased him before going away leaving the both of them some space to talk.

Arthur sighed and went close to Claire.

“May I?” He asked pointing to the free chair beside her. She shrugged her shoulders telling him to do what he pleased.

They spent some seconds in silence. Claire looking in the sky, Arthur trying to find the words playing with his fingers nervously. He hated that kind of situation, he wasn’t good with words.

“You are too dramatic.” She said with her eyes fixed in the stars.

“Too dramatic?? It could have happened anything to you!” His shrieky tone wasn’t a good beginning. Not that she cared at that moment, she was so pissed off and it was him who had to apologize not her.

“You see?” She pointed. “Seriously, Arthur, we went hunting deers and rabbits, not fucking bears!” The cowboy didn’t say anything, he didn’t have a counterattack for that. “Besides, I was with Charles and Sadie, they took good care of me and they showed me how to hunt. For the first time in my life, I felt useful! I brought food for everyone! Didn’t you want me to collaborate with the gang? So did I! And that felt great!”

“Yes, but!” Arthur groaned trying to find the words. “Is there any other thing that can make you happy but not attempts to your life?” Arthur asked in a defeated sigh.

“Do you think that Miss Grimshaw shouting doesn’t attempt to my life?” She replied rolling her eyes.

“Jesus, kid….” He whispered shaking his head trying to hide a smile that was fighting to appear in his lips. “Okay… but next time, you come to me. Nor Charles or Sadie. Straight to me. Do you understand?”

“Why? Are you jealous I had so much fun with them?” She teased him with a wide smirk.

“What? No!�� He nervously fixed his hat. “Jealous, me? No way…” He mumbled. “It’s just… I’m a better gun… in case you need protection...”

“If you say so….” She let her head fall on his shoulder with a wide satisfied smile on her face. “Will you teach me to shoot?”

“Don’t push your luck…”

Back on Arthur’s room, before going to bed Claire noticed that the picture of that mysterious young woman was in its place again, in front of it a folded letter. She felt a feeling she couldn’t describe piercing her heart. She tried not to think too much about it but next morning Arthur was already gone before she woke up and the letter too.

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x OC #RDR2 OC #Claire Russell #The Fugitive #art post #was ready to post it without picture

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angelofberlin2000 · 5 years

Link

@HadleyFreeman

Sat 18 May 2019 09.00 BST

“Hey, I’m Keanu,” he introduces himself – unnecessarily, of course, and yet very Keanu-ishly. Despite being so famous his surname has long been superfluous, Keanu Reeves has always given the impression of being utterly unaffected by his own celebrity. He is regularly described by his co-stars as “kind” (Winona Ryder) and “humble” (Laurence Fishburne) and it is easier to imagine him walking on the moon than knocking back champagne with other celebrities on a yacht in St Barts. After all, the most famous paparazzi photo ever taken of Reeves was of him sitting alone on a bench, eating a sandwich out of a plastic bag. Hard to imagine Leonardo DiCaprio doing that.

“I’ll sit anywhere you want me to. This OK?” he says, taking a chair and offering me the sofa in the London hotel room where we meet. At just over 6ft, he is taller than I expected – also unusual for an actor – and dressed in a very Keanu outfit of dark shirt and trousers with sturdy boots. Despite being recently announced as the new face of the high fashion label Saint Laurent, Reeves has long been the patron saint of normcore, decades before it became a fashion statement. And I know this all too well because, from 1991–99, I had at least five posters of him on my bedroom walls modelling said look.

The 2010 photo of Reeves on a New York bench that sparked the Sad Keanu meme. Photograph: Splash News

Should one ever meet one’s teenage crush? Up until this week, I’d assumed I was long past the point of being starstruck – I’m a 40-year-old woman, for God’s sake! But now here I am, sitting opposite Reeves, now 54, the beard more grizzled than in my posters and the forehead suspiciously smooth, but still, most definitely Keanu. There’s that devastating smile he flashed at Sandra Bullock at the end of Speed, and there he is saying – and this is where I nearly lose all vestiges of professionalism – “Excellent!” while playing air guitar. Listening to the tape of our interview later is not an edifying experience, as I hear myself – Oh, dear God – flirt with Reeves (because, clearly, a heavily pregnant mother of two is the dream woman he’s been waiting for). Happily, my mortifying giggling soon abates, thanks to Reeves’ management of a situation he has presumably had to deal with every day of his life for the past four decades. And as he does, I get an insight into what it takes to be Keanu Reeves.

We are meeting today to discuss his latest film, John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum. It will unquestionably boost the more than $3bn Reeves’ movies have grossed over the years. When he made the first John Wick film in 2014 – directed, as all the Wick films are, by Chad Stahelski, Reeves’ stunt double on the Matrix films – few expected that a movie about a former assassin avenging the killing of his puppy would amount to much. Despite starring in some of the most successful and seminal movies of the past 30 years – from offbeat hits like Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and My Own Private Idaho, to blockbusters like Point Break, Speed and The Matrix – Reeves has been in at least as many damp squibs, including 2013’s 47 Ronin, one of the biggest box office flops of all time. Yet Wick, a stylish, brooding, ultraviolent revenge fantasy, was an unexpected hit with critics and audiences, and is now a mega-million dollar franchise, giving Reeves his first mainstream hits since the Matrix movies.

Part three – sorry, Chapter 3 – is larkier than its two predecessors, including one incredible scene in which Reeves offs some bad guys using an actual horse as a weapon (rest assured: the horse escaped unharmed). As a testament to the success of the franchise, there are more celebrity co-stars, including Halle Berry, and despite the naysayers when it comes to Reeves’ acting, he is terrific as a man still mourning the death of his wife. (She died at the beginning of the first John Wick film, from that terrible terminal disease, Convenient Plot Device.) “We certainly didn’t know when we started on John Wick that it would become like this,” says Reeves. “We’re only getting to tell these stories because of the audience. So thank you.” He salutes me in thanks, as representative of all the Wick audiences. (If you are imagining this is one of the times I giggled at him, you are correct.)

One of the canniest things about the Wick films is how they riff on Reeves’ public image. Once dismissed as an airhead by those who confused the Bill & Ted movies with reality, for the past two decades Reeves has been seen as a melancholic loner. The famous 2010 photo of him on a New York bench sparked what became known as the Sad Keanu meme, but it only struck a chord because the assumption already existed that Reeves – then in a career slump – was, well, a bit sad. Reeves, with polite firmness, denies that this echo is deliberate – “No, no, I don’t think about that” – although it is hard to believe it wasn’t in the film-makers’ minds as they shot endless scenes in John Wick 3 of Sad Keanu wandering alone through rainy New York streets, empty hotel corridors and a desert.

It quickly becomes clear that polite firmness is Reeves’ modus operandi when it comes to nosy questions: he will give the impression of being up for answering anything while, in fact, saying very little, or nothing at all. (Sample exchange. Me: “Was there ever a moment, maybe after Bill & Ted, when people started reacting differently to you and you realised your life had changed?” Him: “Um, no.” Me: “Really?” Him: “No.”) What this distancing tactic might lack in conversational intimacy, it makes up for in shutting down any embarrassing flirtations from women who should know better. You can’t kid yourself you are soulmates with someone who is building such protective walls against you.

So I’m surprised when he volunteers that Wick’s melancholy possibly has a connection to some of the most painful moments in his life. One other big reason the public perception of Reeves shifted from comedy stoner to faintly tragic figure was because, in 1999, his long-term girlfriend, Jennifer Syme, gave birth to their daughter Ava, who was stillborn. The couple broke up soon after, and two years later Syme was killed in a car accident. Reeves has never married, had any other children or even been reliably linked to other romantic partners since. He has also never spoken publicly about their deaths, and who can blame him? But given that the heart of the Wick films is about him mourning a lost love, the resonance is hard to ignore.

“With any character, the way I think about it is, you have the role on the page, you have the vision of the director and you have your life experience,” he says.

Did he bring his experience of bereavement to the role? “Oh yeah, I thought it was one of the foundations of the role for John Wick. I love his grief,” he says, visibly perking up at the subject.

What is it about grief that interests him? “Well, for the character and in life, it’s about the love of the person you’re grieving for, and any time you can keep company with that fire, it is warm. I absolutely relate to that, and I don’t think you ever work through it. Grief and loss, those are things that don’t ever go away. They stay with you.”

Has he been thinking more about the people he has lost as he’s grown older? “I don’t think it’s about getting older. It’s always with you, but like an ebb and flow,” he says.

Anyone in particular? “Lots of people,” he says, bricking those walls right back up.

***

Keanu Reeves was born in Beirut, Lebanon, the son of an English mother and Hawaiian-Chinese father. (His first name, as all Reeves-ologists know, is Hawaiian for “cool breeze over the mountains”.) With his sister Kim, the family moved around the world, from Australia to Manhattan, before finally settling in Toronto when Reeves was six. I reckon you can often spot an adult who moved around a lot as a kid, I tell him. “Oh yeah? How?” he says, intrigued.

They tend to have a sense of detachment, self-sufficiency, maybe loner tendencies and a strong sense of independence, I say. “Yeah, I clinically belong to that. I definitely have a bit of the gypsy in me,” he agrees.

Reeves’ father left the family when Keanu was three, and disappeared entirely from their lives when he was 13. He and his sister had multiple stepfathers.

That’s a pretty hard age for a parent to vanish off the scene, I say. “For sure, I think it’s definitely traumatising. But it’s hard to know how [it affected me] because I don’t know what the other life would have been, you know what I mean?” he says.

Did his father ever contact him again? “Yeah, in the mid-90s, but I didn’t reach back out,” he says.

This was after his father had been convicted for selling heroin? “Yeah, but that wasn’t why I didn’t get in touch!” he laughs.

So why not? “I just didn’t,” he replies, and that’s the end of that. But I can’t help but think of one of my favourite scenes of his, from Ron Howard’s 1989 ensemble comedy Parenthood, in which Reeves’ character muses about paternal figures: “You need a licence to buy a dog, or drive a car. Hell, you need a licence to catch a fish. But they’ll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father.”

Often the class clown at school, Reeves liked sport and loved acting, and got an agent as a teenager after being talent-spotted in a play. He dropped out of high school before graduation. “I feel really fortunate in a way, because I knew what I wanted to do, and a lot of kids that age don’t. But I had a creative ambition and I did it,” he says. After some early television work, Reeves started getting film roles, most notably in the cult 1986 teen drama River’s Edge, followed by Bill & Ted, and from there the work never stopped.

Back in the 1990s, he was the go-to pin-up for all teenagers who wanted a beautiful, gentle and safely asexual boyfriend (hi!). But his acting, if not his looks, has been a more debatable subject. “Is Keanu Reeves a Good Bad Actor or a Bad Good Actor?” a reader wrote in to ask the New York Times’ film critics in 2011 (the answer was, “Neither! A good actor, period”). Writing in the Guardian, self-professed superfan Joe Queenan put him in a small category of actors so beloved they are beyond criticism: “In most of [his best] movies, Keanu plays a character the audience views more with affection than with reverence or idolatry, like a kid brother who has bitten off more than he can chew and may need outside help to survive.”

Today Reeves has a good riposte to the criticism that he doesn’t, or can’t, act. “I certainly never got it from any of the directors I worked with,” he says, checking off some of the most respected in the business, including Bernardo Bertolucci (Little Buddha), Kathryn Bigelow (Point Break), Francis Ford Coppola (Bram Stoker’s Dracula), Stephen Frears (Dangerous Liaisons), Gus Van Sant (My Own Private Idaho) and Richard Linklater (A Scanner Darkly). “It’s not like I went to meet Kenneth Branagh [who directed him in 1993’s Much Ado About Nothing] and he was like, ‘Excellent, dude!’ You know?” He chucks in a little air guitar to boot.

It would have been pretty funny if Branagh had said that, though. “Of course! But the pigeonholing just comes from journalists and, yeah, that happens a lot. I generally don’t read the press but when I do I’m like, ‘Oh, OK, you’re doing that again,’” he says with a shrug.

I’ve never really understood the criticism. OK, he might not have been perfectly cast in Much Ado and acting opposite John Malkovich and Glenn Close in Dangerous Liaisons when he was only 24 was never going to be a fair fight. But he has always been a far more varied actor than the snarkers allow. He proved his superlative comic timing and endearing charisma in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and, when it comes to drama and sci-fi, no one is better at maintaining an inscrutable blankness. That quality is precisely what has driven so many directors to cast him, often as a messiah-like figure in movies such as Little Buddha, 2005’s Constantine (one of Reeves’ favourites), 1995’s Johnny Mnemonic and, of course, The Matrix. And of all the improbable actors who became action stars in the 1990s – Alec Baldwin, Nicolas Cage – Reeves seemed the most at home in the genre, in the still deliciously enjoyable Point Break and Speed, which he made in between smaller indie fare. So did he do the big movies in order to fund the smaller projects?

“Honestly, I try not to do anything I don’t want to do. But I guess those movies were in reaction to each other. It wasn’t as thought out as, OK, I finished Point Break, so now I’d better play a street prostitute. It was more like, OK, I finished this, now I want to do that,” he says.

“That” refers to 1991’s My Own Private Idaho, in which he and River Phoenix play street hustlers. Reeves had already met Phoenix through the latter’s girlfriend Martha Plimpton, with whom he had worked in Parenthood. The two quickly became friends, and it’s not hard to see why: both were young actors on the rise with a love of music and a pronounced lack of interest in the glitzier, red carpet side of their job. They were the anti-Brat Pack, and Phoenix, along with Alex Winter from Bill & Ted, were, Reeves says, “definitely my closest friends from that era. We shared an artistic sensibility. River was just so down-to-earth, spiritual and a unique artist. Yeah, I miss him,” says Reeves quietly. When Phoenix suggested the two of them make My Own Private Idaho, “I was in right away,” he says.

They had something else in common, a shared experience suggested in the now almost unbearably moving scene where the two sit by a campfire and talk haltingly about their childhoods.

Mike (Phoenix): If I had a normal family, and a good upbringing, then I would have been a well-adjusted person.

Scott (Reeves): Depends on what you call normal.

Mike: Didn’t have a dog, or a normal dad. Anyway, that’s all right. I don’t feel sorry for myself, I feel like I’m, you know, well-adjusted.

Scott: What’s a normal dad?

Phoenix’s dysfunctional childhood, growing up in a rackety family who for a time belonged to the Children of God cult, has been well-documented. Reeves’ was different, but no slouch when it came to potential trauma. Was that another thing that drew them together?

He ponders the question a full 10 seconds. “Certainly our histories played a role in that movie and in that scene. So I’ll say yes to that, yeah,” he says.

Two years after My Own Private Idaho’s release, the actor who desperately wanted to avoid every Hollywood cliche died the most cliched death imaginable, of a drugs overdose on Sunset Boulevard in 1993. Plenty of his contemporaries were also caught out, either self-destructing or becoming victims of their own success. Reeves adamantly refused to do either. When I ask how he avoided falling victim to drug addiction as Phoenix did, he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “I just wasn’t into that scene.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s being blithe or defiant when he insists he still lives his life totally normally, unaffected by fans. But if Leonardo DiCaprio went into a supermarket, there would be hysteria, I say.

“Yeah, but Leonardo has fame and fans that I don’t have in that way. Definitely. I don’t know what his experiences are, but I think someone from the outside would think [going shopping] might not be easy for him. Whereas I can, which is good,” he says.

Come on, surely fans bother him all the time? But the worst he can come up with is someone quoting Point Break at him in the airport the other day and someone, once, quoting River’s Edge when he was queueing at an ice-cream van. “And that’s fun!” he says cheerfully.

In the 1980s and 1990s, he was offered every hot young part under the sun, including the lead in Platoon (which went to Charlie Sheen) and Val Kilmer’s role in Heat. But when I ask if he regrets turning any of them down, he smiles and instantly replies, “No.” He also turned down a $12m pay cheque to make Speed 2 because he, rightly, thought the plot was nonsense, which resulted in him being shut out of 20th Century Fox films for the next 11 years (and no, he doesn’t regret that, either). He is about to start shooting Bill & Ted Face The Music, in which the now fiftysomething duo have to write a song so good it will save the universe. “There has to be a reason for making a movie, and the writers have come up with a good ‘why’ for telling the story,” he says. When I ask what gives him an ego boost, given that he’s not driven by money or fame, he is so baffled by the idea of his ego needing a boost that he is silent for a full 28 seconds before finally answering, “The work.”

Maintaining his privacy has been a major factor in helping Reeves retain his sanity, yet away from the press he can be extraordinarily open and laid-back. By a weird fluke, I have two friends who, separately, spent time with him in the 90s and both still talk about his generosity: he took them for rides on his motorbike and stayed in touch (yes, I am furious with them for not including me in any of this). There are legions of stories about Reeves’ kindness: buying his stuntmen motorbikes, renegotiating his Matrix contract so that the crew got a better deal, at a personal cost of millions of dollars. Shortly before we meet, Reeves was on a flight between San Francisco and Los Angeles that was grounded due to a mechanical fault. Instead of pulling rank with some “Do you know who I am?” A-list entitlement, Reeves encouraged his fellow passengers to board a van with him so they could drive to LA, keeping the mood up by sharing fun local facts and playing music from his iPhone. (Needless to say, footage of this quickly went viral.) So his four decades-long reticence with the media might well be Reeves’ most brilliantly sustained performance.

How we made Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure Read more

But he bristles when I mention these stories. “I’m pretty private, so when that stuff doesn’t stay private it is not great,” he says.

Because he worries it will look like he’s just doing it for show? “No. Because it’s private,” he says with emphasis.

Ah well. I have accepted by this point that we probably won’t ride off together into the sunset on his motorcycle. But if the price of Reeves still being so recognisably Keanu-ish is him retaining a firm grip on his privacy and at least a pretence of normality, that feels like a fair trade-off. I assume doing this interview has been a torturous experience for him, so as we get up to leave I ask how he’d have preferred to spend the afternoon, in a dream scenario.

“Oh, I don’t know. This dream ain’t so bad!” he says, and gives me that full end-of-Speed smile again. And reader, I giggled.

• John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum is in cinemas now.

If you would like a comment to be considered for inclusion on Weekend magazine’s letters page in print, please email [email protected], including your name and address (not for publication).

#keanu reeves #the guardian

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reddeadtrash · 5 years

Text

Ghosts

Summary: There is something strange about the woman they find in the winter wilderness. She is cold, unwavering, and strangely menacing. Arthur Morgan finds himself pulled in by that vivacity. Unbeknownst to him, she knows many things that elude this cowboy. Like magnet to metal, no matter how far he throws her away, he always finds himself going back.

GHOSTS MASTERLIST

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC

Rating: M

Word count: 4022

CHAPTER FIVE: A DIFFERENT KIND OF LONELY

I bow down to pray I try to make the worst seem better Lord, show me the way To cut through all his worn out leather

As soon as they had made it back to Horseshoe Overlook, Arya was rushing across camp. Arthur hot on her heels, following her, couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She went straight to Hosea, who was bent over a few pieces of paper.

“Hosea!” Her voice was filled with joy and something that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Eagerness.

The young woman and Hosea had been quite the pair ever since her arrival within the gang. She was curious and asked a lot of questions. He was happy to teach and loved her eager demeanor. Often, she would spend the night curled into herself, perched beside Hosea, listening to whatever story he had in store for her. Sometimes he’d show her photographs. Other times, he’d show her maps.

“Hosea, I think we’ve got something good!”

When the man lifted his head, he was met with her smile; bright and enthusiastic. The sun was setting behind him – orange and bright – and as he got to his feet, the light behind him seemed to shift along with him.

“What is it?” he asked.

Arya beamed. It had been so long since she felt on the cusp of something this big. She didn’t mind that she was smiling so long and so fully. She didn’t mind that Arthur was staring. She cared even less that Hosea seemed astonished to see the pair of them together like this.

“I think we discovered something good in Valentine,” the girl went on. “The clerk at the Hotel – Miles – is harboring some big fancy boys from Saint Denis, who will be trafficking oil.”

Hosea scratched the bottom of his chin, a gesture that resembled Arthur’s way of contemplating. “You want to do a scam?” Hosea asked, blue eyes down to slits in concentration.

“I know we need to work out the details,” Arya answered. “But this sounds good, right?”

Hosea looked over at Arthur. The former seemed to be gaging just how good the entire ordeal was by Arthur’s facial expression. After a second of silent observation, Arthur just shrugged. “She’s onto something,” he grumbled.

“That man, from Saint Denis,” she eagerly pressed, “he said that his men and their wives will be coming by in three weeks. They’ll stay for a week, and once they have the oil, they’ll ride down to the docks on the Saint Denis coast. That’s where the money will be.”

Hosea’s entire face lit up. Wrinkles split at his eyes and creased around his mouth, but despite his old age, he looked stunning against the orange backdrop of the sky. “A good ol’ fashion money scam,” he beamed. “You guys will need me to work out some details before, and to ask around those I know in Valentine. You should also assemble a team. We need people to be those fake oil receivers in Saint Denis. We also need to know to who they are selling the oil to.”

Arya’s heart was hammering. Her cheeks hurt with smiling so hard, and the insides of her palms itched with anticipation. “So this could work?”

Hosea laughed. “This is definitely goin’ to work.”

She nodded so hard she feared her head would spin off her body. “Thank you,” she breathed. Hosea shook his head and waved her off, sitting back down at his table.

Later that night, she found herself sitting at the edge of the cliff. A small fire crackled at her feet, her legs outstretched towards the warmth, her back pressed against the trunk of a tree. Beside her, on each side respectively, was Sadie and Arthur. Above them, stars sprinkled like salt along the darkness of the sky. In front of them, the vastness of the world, the drop of the cliff, and the sweet breath of the wind.

They had shared some stew. They had shared some quiet and quick jokes. Arya was content with them both at her side. She wasn’t one to express fondness, but she would gladly say that their company made her feel safe.

Arthur grumbled as he got to his feet.

“Old man’s goin’ to bed,” Sadie joked. She was stretched out on her side, leaning on her elbow.

“I ain’t even that old,” Arthur answered, his voice deep in his chest. In the darkness, with the soft glow of the flames, he looked young. Arya stole a glance at his face; shadow of a beard, sharp jawline, high cheekbones. He had the rare wrinkle around his eyes, but his sun-reddened skin didn’t have any evidence of old age.

“Says the man who grumbles as hard as Hosea to get to his feet,” Sadie mocked again, throwing her head back to laugh. Arya smiled, picturing Hosea as he always was, grumbling about painful knees.

“I’m just grumblin’ because I’m tired!” Arthur protested. When he saw that both women were having none of his shit tonight, he shook his head. “Ah, leave me alone.”

Arya laughed. Arthur’s eyes snapped to hers quickly, and she caught the look of curiousness that crossed his features. “Just admit you’re an old man, Mr. Morgan,” she chuckled.

“I’ll admit it when I’m dead,” he fussed. Arya watched him wobble on his feet slightly, readjust his hat, and wave. “You ladies have yourselves a good night now.”

Sadie scoffed. “Sleep well, Arthur.”

“Night,” Arya mumbled.

His retreating footsteps were the sounds of scrunched leaves under boots. Arya kept pace with his breathing until it disappeared in the darkness, in his tent.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Arya’s head snapped to the side, black eyes meeting Sadie. The latter was now curled into herself, staring right into the flames. “What?” Arya asked, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“He’s sweet on you,” Sadie added, meeting the other woman’s eyes with a wicked grin.

“Arthur?” Disbelief made Arya’s voice sound high-pitched.

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Who else?” The fire crackled as silence took over for an instant. “He definitely fancies you.”

Arya shook her head, an elfish grin on her lips. “We’re friends,” she tried to justify.

“I don’t think he knows that,” Sadie answered bluntly.

Arya shrugged. Shook her head. Curled her legs in defensively. Sadie was one of the only people that she trusted among Arthur and Hosea. Everyone else… well, she knew.

Sadie and Arya being friends didn’t mean that Arya liked having someone poke around her life, nonetheless, her romantic life.

“I think he’s just lonely,” she whispered, avoiding Sadie’s glare. “If you weren’t a widow, he’d probably fancy you too.”

“He might be lonely,” Sadie answered after waving the other girl off. “But lonely men think with what hangs between their legs. They only come to you when they don’t want to be alone. And usually, that leads to some sort of physical contact. But Arthur’s loneliness is different. He… he longs.”

Arya could feel heat bloom in her chest. Anger. Fear. It mixed like mud, and her breathing became ragged, and the more she thought about it, about him, the more she saw it. The longing. The yearning.

“He’s a sad man,” she said, her voice sounding like a dead end. A conclusion.

Sadie scoffed. “He ain’t sad when he’s with you.”

Day break was like any other. John, Bill, and Arthur had gone hunting for the midday stew. Grimshaw and some ladies were fussing around for chores. Pearson had some leftover meat he was hanging to dry. Dutch and Molly hadn’t left their tent yet. Abigail was sitting on a log by the edge of the cliff, Jack hanging on her knees as she tried to give his hair a good brush. Lice tended to spread fast in these parts.

Everything was normal. Everything was quiet.

Arya was in her tent when she heard the first yells. They weren’t screams of help or alarm. They were screams of astonishment and fear.

The girl rose from her bed, where she’d been reading, enjoying the morning coolness before the heat came in. She rushed out, dressed in black pants and a matching black union shirt. Her eyes, as dark as night, searched the grounds around her.

Pearson had stopped hanging the meats and was wobbling strangely away from his wagon. At the entrance to camp, where Pearson was headed, three horses stood away from their usual spot. Arya saw Abigail, wailing, with Grimshaw holding Jack back from whatever had happened. Beside them, on every side, was everyone else.

“John, you idiot!” Abigail yelled, and Arya saw her hand fly and land, the sound of skin on skin echoing.

Javier burst out laughing.

“It ain’t his fault, Abigail!” Bill came crashing out of the crowd, front of his checkered shit bloodied. Dried crimson cracked on his neck and hands.

Someone was hurt.

For a brief, a very brief instant, Arya’s eyes searched for Arthur. She couldn’t find him, what with everyone crowding around the horses.

The smell of blood had the horses whinnying and stamping their hooves harshly onto the grassland. Arya’s first instinct was to get everyone out of their way.

“Move away!” she ordered, and the ease with which she slid into this role, of leader, felt almost foreign. She pushed people out of the way, out of the horses’ way, and found Arthur. He was holding John up by the waist, the latter looking sickly and deathly pale. One look, a once over, brought Arya to the conclusion of what the hell was going on.

John’s hand was covered in blood. Crimson oozed out and dribbled onto the grass at his feet. Arthur’s own hands, up to his wrist, were smeared in red. The front of his shirt was speckled, as if he’d been in the very near vicinity of what had happened to John.

“What happened?” Arya asked, stepping forward to examine the wound. John’s hand was mangled, as if bitten, but none of his fingers looked badly hurt.

“The idiot decided to have a hand-to-hand combat with a bear,” Arthur grumbled.

“Yeah, an idiot, that’s what you are, John Marston!” Abigail cried from behind.

Arya turned. Stonefaced and calm, she said, “I’m going to need you all to move back. We have to get him somewhere warm and quiet. All this fussing isn’t going to help him.” Abigail seemed to be personally vexed by the young woman’s statement. She fumed, picked up Jack, and scrambled away.

“The boy don’t need to see just how much of a fool his father is!” she screamed.

John, in his state, didn’t seem to care at all. His head of dark and messy hair hung low, his chin grazing his chest. Form all the blood loss, Arya didn’t know just how long he had.

Quickly, she undid the scarf around her neck. She tied it tightly around John’s affected wrist.

“Let’s get him to lie down,” she ordered to Arthur. “Miss Grimshaw, I need a bucket of clean and warm water. I need clean cloth and keep it coming. No one is bothering me, okay?”

Grimshaw, frowning, said, “Who put you in charge?”

“Does anyone know how to fix John’s mangled hand?” Arya challenged back. “Does anyone here know how to make sure he can use his hand and his fingers again? Didn’t think so. I got this.”

Dutch appeared suddenly, while Grimshaw scurried off to pertain to Arya’s many requests. Dutch seemed out of his wits. He tried cajoling John, but the latter was in and out of consciousness, leaning heavily on Arthur.

“Oh, dear boy,” Dutch mumbled. “What can I do to help?”

Arya wrapped one of her arms around John’s waist to help Arthur carry the injured man to her tent. “Have someone bring me small wooden sticks and a sewing kit.”

Dutch grumbled something, but Arya didn’t hear. John was heavier than he looked and carrying him was harder than she thought.

When they got to her tent, she made Arthur lay her newest patient onto her bed. She unrolled the flaps and closed them, so no one could see in and she could have all the peace she needed.

“Arthur,” she commanded, “bring me a stool.”

He left without a word, and for the first time, she was alone with John. She could asses his wound properly.

The center of his hand was bitten through and through. She had no idea if the bones had been touched, moved, or crushed. She hoped not the latter, because that meant John would never recuperate fully. His fingers were mangled, but it looked mostly like claw marks. Thick gashes, the meat red and burning, the bone opened and exposed. His wrist was bruised and bloodied with a few marks, but she suspected it was more a sprain than a broken wrist.

She had a lot of work.

Arthur came back with the stool. She sat beside John and waited. Grimshaw came and went a few times. She brought first the cloth, then the water, and lastly, she brought a needle and a roll of thread. She left without a word.

Arthur was the only one that Arya allowed to stay.

“How are you going to fix it?” he asked, as he watched the girl examine the wound.

“Do you have whiskey on you?” she asked. After a few moments, Arthur handed her a half-filled bottle. She took it graciously, took a swig, and poured a generous amount of it all over John’s mangled hand.

The injured man woke with a howl of pain so great that it resonated painfully in Arya’s ears. “There he is,” Arthur grumbled, taking the bottle from Arya’s hands and having a taste of it as well.

“What the hell!” John screamed. He was trying to curl his hand in defensively, but Arya held it down.

“I’m going to help you,” she was saying, but John was shaking, tears of pain in the corner of his eyes, his entire face contorted in effort.

Arthur came around and held John down by the shoulders.

“John!” Arya demanded her patient’s attention. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I’m going to fix you. You need to stay still.

By then, John’s entire body was trembling. He was white and weak from blood loss, and Arya didn’t doubt that sooner or later, he would lose consciousness again.

“Arthur, put this between his teeth,” she said, handing the man a wad of cloth. Arthur frowned, seemed puzzled, but when he saw Arya begin to toy with John’s hand, he stuffed the wad into John’s mouth.

The girl, bent over in concentration, blood sticky on her fingers, uncurled John’s fingers. He screamed behind his gag, thrashed under Arthur’s hold. She picked up some more cloth, damped it in warm water, and slowly began washing the wound.

Against the sharp screams of John, Arya explained what she was doing to Arthur. “I’m going to wash the wound,” she said. “I used the alcohol to sterilize it and my hands. I’m going to do by best to sew him back up, but I’m not sure if the bones in his hand, here, are crushed or unaffected. I would need… never mind. Then I’m going to use some sticks to make sure the bones, if crushed or broken, heal in their right place. My priority right now is to stop the bleeding. Once he’s all sewn up and I’m all done with the sticks, the key is to keep him fed and hydrated.”

By then, she had washed most of his wound. John was still bleeding badly, but she had gotten the dirt and grass out of his injury. She poured more whiskey onto it, and with that, John was out like a light.

Arthur relaxed and walked back to where he’d been before; behind Arya, watching over her head.

Slowly, painfully, she started to sow John’s hand back. She’d swab at it with a damp cloth sometimes, or alcohol, and then go right back in. She was so concentrated that she didn’t even notice the whispers outside of her tent, or the growing darkness around her, or the heavy hunger in her stomach. Dark, swan eyes were focused solely on the bleeding and horrible gash. Her mind was a haze of medicine. She didn’t even feel anything around or in her.

She carefully placed his fingers and hand upside down to sew his palm up. Then she spread his hand over a small pillow and began working with the sticks. Arya placed them each side of John’s fingers and tied them with rope. She used more cloth as cautionary measure on his sprained wrist, which had turned black and purple – most likely just a big bruise.

She gave the overall wound a good wash before settling back in her seat.

The silence seemed to fill her as she stared at John’s hand. It wasn’t pretty. Dried blood still crusted the sewn-up gashes, and the thread itself was hard from blood, and was a sharp contrast against the pale skin. The hand was slightly swollen and red, but nothing alarming to the young woman.

“I’m done,” she said. Her voice seemed foreign after all this time.

“Is he goin’ to be alright?” Arthur asked. The sound of his voice, for a short moment, was comforting.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Go get Abigail, will you?”

Not long after, Abigail shuffled in. Her eyes were red with tears, swollen, and her face was splotchy. She wore a thick cotton gown and a thicker shawl over her shoulders. Her usually spotless black hair was tousled into a bun at the base of her neck.

“Is he okay?” she hiccupped.

Arya nodded sternly, grabbed the woman’s hand, and said, “If he starts to tremble, to have chills, nausea, or he starts to get really hot, you come find me. If he starts to hallucinate or vomit or to sweat profusely, you come find me. If his wound becomes black or blood red or if puss starts to come out of it, you come find me, understand?”

The dark-haired woman looked confused. She staggered on her feet, sat on the edge of the bed, and wept. “What’s puss?” she asked.

“White, creamy substance,” Arya answered patiently.

“Why would his hand go black?” Abigail continued, still weeping, her face in her hands.

“That would be gangrene.”

“Gangrene?”

“Listen, Abigail,” Arya said, going to her knees. “If anything appears out of the ordinary, you come find me.” She was holding the older woman by the shoulders soothingly, something Arya rarely did.

“O-okay,” Abigail answered, sniffing and wiping her tears.

“The important thing is that you keep him fed and hydrated,” Arya counseled. “He needs to eat and drink water. Not alcohol. Water.”

Abigail nodded. Lowly, she murmured, “Thank you.”

“I’ll come back to check on him tomorrow morning,” Arya assured, still on her knees, still holding the other woman. “I’ll make sure he’s able to use his hand again.”

Again, Abigail nodded. She shifted away from Arya and closer to her husband.

Arya stood, and when she left the tent to breathe in the cold night air, that’s when the exhaustion hit her. Hunger growled in her stomach and she could feel the dried walls of her throat aching for water.

Arthur stepped out to join her. “You can have my tent for the night,” he offered. “You and Sadie.”

Arya smiled tiredly. “That’s kind of you.”

They got stew together and walked around camp assuring everyone that John was going to be fine. Dutch asked about the mobility of his hand. In truth, Arya was scared that John would never fully recover the use of his hand, but she confidently told Dutch that she’d work towards full mobility. Grimshaw and Karen, stoneface and cold, asked about the well being of John, but beneath their demeanor, Arya could see the worry on their faces.

Arya and Arthur spent most of the night reassuring their friends. Bill felt guilty for not killing the bear, but Arthur took the blame right off his shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me exactly what happened,” Arya asked, sitting – finaly! – on a stump in front of a dying fire. Arthur sat on the ground beside her, finished his stew, and let the bowl clink beside him.

“Went chasin’ after a bear,” he started. “I was on my horse, lookin’ for clues. Bill was wandering around on the rocks for some reason. Then I hear this big roar and sound, like somethin’ crashin’ through the trees. I go runnin’. Then John’s screamin’, and when I get to him, he’s squarin’ up like he wants to fight the thing. Obviously, get’s wrecked. Bill shoots at it, and the thing just runs away.”

Arya smiled and huffed, “There’s only John to square up to a bear.”

Arthur laughed through his nose, but then his face went cold as he stared into the fire. Arya saw the shift and wondered why her own chest ached. “I thought he was goin’ to die,” he admitted lowly.

“But he didn’t,” Arya said.

“Yeah, because of Bill.”

“It’s not your fault, Arthur.”

“I know,” he said awkwardly. “It’s just… I just stood there, you know?”

Arya’s eyes glazed in empathy. “Sometimes shock takes away your ability to make decisions.”

“But that never happened to me before,” Arthur objected. “I’ve always had my finger on the trigger. I never hesitated. Never. And then, when it comes to savin’ John’s life, a moment more important than many I’ve had to fire my weapon for, I can’t.”

Arya nodded in understanding. She shifted on her log awkwardly. Sentimental conversations were not her forte. “You… you love John,” she mumbled. “Moments of quick action, crisis moments, change when it involves someone you’re afraid of losing.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment. The young woman stared at the fire but was very aware of Arthur’s presence beside her. After a pause, he said, “You’re right.”

A sigh left the woman’s lips. “You’re a good man, Arthur,” she mumbled.

He grumbled, groaned something, and then sighed. “How do you know all this doctor stuff anyway?”

“You think I’m a witch?” she joked.

Arthur laughed and the sound was music to Arya’s ears after all this silence. “If I had a right mind, I’d think so,” Arthur mused. “But I ain’t gonna burn you at the stake, young lady.”

Smiling, Arya offered, “I learned from my mother. She was a doctor.”

Frowning, Arthur turned his blue gaze onto Arya’s profile. “A woman doctor?”

“Uh- no, I mean, yes, but uh-,” Arya stammered, pushed her hair behind her ears. “She was – uh – a healer. You know. A herbalist. But she knew about surgery.”

Arthur huffed. He didn’t seem convinced by her answer. “You said a lot of words back there that I don’t know,” he grumbled, returning his eyes to the fire. “Your mother must have been a hell of a doctor then.”

“She was.”

The crackling of the fire took precedence. Arya’s mind was whirling. Images swooping in to disturb the peace she was staggeringly trying to keep. The faces of her mother and father oozed in and out of memory, but just like her brother, they were fading.

“You never told me what happened in Delaware,” Arthur said, breaking the silence. “Why you left. Why it was just you and your brother.”

Arya stiffened and suddenly, she was cold. She wanted to leave. The drying blood on her hands was not John’s but another man’s. Her throat was closing up.

“It’s not something I discuss,” she all but choked out.

Under the watchful and curious stare of Arthur, the brunette got to her feet and scurried away. The night cloaked the rising tears in her eyes and the way she curled into herself protectively. When she burst into Arthur’s tent, she flopped onto the bed. The smell of him – pinewood, fire smoke, and river water – made her mind burn with too many thoughts. Tears welled and poured over her cheeks. She curled into a ball.

The last thing she was conscious of before she fell asleep was the deep smell of Arthur Morgan all around her.

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