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The stars were the only things you recognized here.
A warm breeze blew up from the sea as you sat perched on a crumbling parapet, buffeting the dense foliage below you and sending up a scent most unfamiliar. Everything here was unfamiliar, and you had been quick to realize how entirely alien Guarman hostility was compared to what it was at home. At least at home you knew why people wanted you dead. Here you just knew you shouldn’t have even survived, and you were reminded of that fact with every distant round of gunfire, every flash of light from down the coastline.
You pulled your arms closer into your chest, careful not to disturb the rifle balanced across your lap, and let out a long, steadying breath through your nose. Sleep had alluded you ever since you and the others had been taken in by Hercule. Camping on the beach hadn’t been so bad; you had been able to convince yourself that it wasn’t unlike camping out by Clemens’s Point, but coming inland had made your situation all too real all too fast. Now you were lucky to be able to doze in the shade of one of the tarps around Hercule’s camp for an hour or so before being roused by some commotion or another. And sleeping at night was just plain out of the question, what with the restlessness that had settled deep in your gut. So, with only the stars to keep you company, you sat and kept watch through the night, letting the others rest while they could.
Of course, your wakefulness did not go unnoticed. The rustling of leaves and the gentle call of your name had you pulling your gaze from the horizon back in the direction of the camp. From the underbrush came a burly figure whose new silhouette was taking some getting used to. Arthur was looking skinnier now — you all were — and without his signature gambler’s hat or his usual kit, he just looked sad and incomplete.
“Evenin’,” he mumbled as he came up to where you sat, coming to rest his forearms on the weathered stone.
“Hey.” You met his eyes and gave him a half-hearted smile.
“Can’t sleep again?”
You shook your head, looking back out towards the sea. Arthur gave a little nod.
The two of you had known each other long enough for Arthur to know that was all that needed to be said on the matter. In truth, he hadn’t been sleeping well either; not on the boat, not on the beach, and certainly not now.
Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out a faded pack of cigarettes and some matches that he had grabbed from camp. Lighting one, he took a long drag and stole a glance up at you. Even in the bluish light of the moon, he could make out how sunken your cheeks had gotten and how slack your features were as you stared glassy-eyed into the distance. You just looked so damn tired.
Nudging you in the side with his elbow, Arthur offered up the cigarette to you, which you took appreciatively. You both settled in to listen to the far off crashing of waves.
“Do you think this is what Tahiti’s like?”
Caught a bit off guard by the question, Arthur snorted softly beside you, but he didn’t miss the severity of your question. Your expression didn’t change as you kept your eyes on the horizon.
“Ahh, I don’t know, sweetheart,” he sighed, leaning farther into the wall. “I sure hope not.” Arthur recalled the conversation you had had one morning back in Shady Belle, what felt like ages ago now. “Why? You wanna go there now?”
You gave a dry laugh, finally turning back to look at him and raising an eyebrow.
“Only kiddin’.”
You hummed, taking a long drag on the cigarette and letting your breath out slow. The two of you watched as the smoke curled upwards into the night sky. The stars glittered above, the shapes of Orion and Cassiopeia catching your eye and making your chest feel heavy.
“I miss… home.” It sounded so childish out loud. Childish and wrong. What home did you have to go back to? For all you knew, the Pinkertons had found the rest of the gang and strung them up without remorse. The faces and the names of the people you considered family flashed through your mind, and you briefly wondered if they had any clue as to where you were and if they had died believing you had just up and abandoned them. The thought made you feel sick to your stomach.
But just as quick as you thought it, Arthur pulled you out of it, back into the present.
“Me too, darlin’.” He nodded and reached gingerly for the cigarette. “Me too.”
You sighed shakily, averting and rubbing at your eyes. Arthur noticed.
“Hey,” he whispered, dropping the near-spent cigarette to the ground and grinding it out under the heel of his boot. He placed one hand on your back, offering the other for you to take.
“Hey, now. It’s…” Arthur was suddenly very aware of how unprepared he was for this situation. Ever since you had gotten to Guarma, he hadn’t stopped moving. Standing still meant letting all the bad things that had been following him since the bank job catch up and swallow him whole. He couldn’t afford that. Not until now.
He exhaled, letting his forehead fall against your back. He felt your hand carefully envelop his, coaxing him to slide his arms around your waist. You were both still for a moment, collecting yourselves. Arthur closed his eyes when he heard you sniffle.
“It’s gonna be… alright.” He pressed his cheek between your shoulder blades, feeling your breath shudder in your chest. “I don’t know how, but it will.”
You shifted then, and he allowed you the space in his arms to turn around, placing your rifle on the ledge beside you. His hands settled on your hips as you looked down at him through brimming tears.
“You have my word.”
It was all you needed. After days and days of dread and unease, that was all you needed to hear. Your face crumpled and finally you allowed the tears to fall unchecked. You let your hands fall to his sunburnt cheeks, before sliding them back through his hair and pulling him to you. Without hesitation, Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist once more, letting you rest your head atop his and cry quietly into his unkempt hair.
The two of you stayed like that for a while longer, until Arthur felt your soft sobs melt back into sniffles, and he dragged his fingers in languid circles across your back.
“Easy now,” he soothed, “easy.”
Arthur watched as you pulled back then, your eyes still noticeably puffy, even in the dark. He reached up to thumb away the last stray tear from the side of your face, and he smiled when you leaned into his touch.
“You alright?” he asked softly.
You nodded.
“Alright.”
Stepping back and holding up a hand for you to take, Arthur helped you down from your perch, placing an arm around your shoulders once both your feet were on the ground.
“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”