Chapter Text
Albert sighed as he trudged down the street and towards the courtyard that his room overlooked. Between making a few bucks at the gallery and working halftime at the photo studio, he was exhausted. He realized that while it wasn't what he was best at, he longed to be traipsing through the wilderness once again instead of working in the city. The last few weeks had been a somber reminder of how dull and listless his life used to be, and he feared he was slipping back into it. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was Arthur who he deeply missed, not the wilderness. He hadn't seen him in a while, and it worried him. The outlaw had left after escorting him back to Saint Denis and had expressed his uncertainty as to when he would return, which was the reason for Albert’s extended stay in the city. In the meantime, waking or sleeping, Albert’s mind was plagued by plausible scenarios the man might've stumbled upon. Albert tried his best to remain optimistic, but Arthur's silent absence did nothing to subdue his worst fears.
When he entered the courtyard, he paused and stared at his feet. There was a ridiculous yet persistent hope that he would see the outlaw outside his door one day. Yet for a few weeks, it had been nothing but a silly fantasy. Albert drew a deep breath, still daring to hope, and gathered enough resolve to lift his eyes to the balcony outside his room.
His mouth fell open as he registered the sight before him. Arthur was there, smoking a cigarette and watching him as he leaned against the railing. It was like a beautiful daydream come true, and a broad smile instantly spread across Albert's face as his heart leapt for joy.
"Arthur! Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate!" He recited as he removed his hat to place it over his heart, his voice genuinely jovial for the first time in a while.
Arthur rolled his eyes at the display as he breathed out a smoky sigh and tossed his cigarette to the side.
"And your eyes,” he continued, “your eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright, that birds would sing and think it were not night."
The outlaw lowered his hat to hide his reddening face as he motioned for Albert to join him on the balcony. “Would ya just get your ass up here already, Shakespeare?”
There were a few onlookers by now, but Albert only cared that Arthur was finally back.
He laughed before he climbed the stairs two at a time, dragging Arthur inside by his lapel once he reached his door. He instantly pulled him in for a kiss after shutting the door, fueled by both the ecstasy from knowing that he was alive and by how much he missed him. Arthur's stoic demeanor melted away for the moment as he held Albert’s face and responded in kind with his own desperate, open-mouthed kisses. Albert tangled his fingers with his hair and pulled him closer.
When Arthur finally parted, they were both breathless from the affectionate reunion. Albert placed his hands on either side of his face, staring into the blue eyes he had missed whenever he saw the sky.
It had been a while, but there was no mistaking that something had happened while Arthur was away. The deep sorrow in his eyes he recognized from when they had first met had returned, but underneath the pain was something else lurking just beneath. He couldn't place it, but looking into his eyes was like staring into a stormy sea. There was an edge to the outlaw that hadn't been there before, an anger that simmered underneath the sorrow and an aching for something Albert couldn't place.
Albert ran the back of his fingers along his cheek. "What happened?"
"Too much," he sighed as he pulled away and took a seat on a worn settee.
Albert stood in front of him and guided his head to rest against him, his fingers gently combing through his tousled hair and smoothing out any tangled strands. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
Arthur closed his eyes and concentrated on the delicate and tender movements of his hands. His fingers worked at his hair like they would with a camera, tactful yet gentle. What the gentleman didn’t know was that he was still trying to come to terms with all that had transpired in one week. Everything had unraveled so quickly that he hadn’t even had the chance to process Sean’s death. Between the move, their raid on the Braithwaite Manor, and rescuing Jack, there just simply hadn’t been the time for it. He heaved a sigh and lifted his hand to hold one of Albert’s.
With a fierce ache, Albert wished he could help ease his pain. He’d never seen the man so utterly demoralized. Arthur had a resilient, inner strength that inspired him and watching him reach such a low was something he thought he would never see.
He kissed the back of his hand and knelt down to meet his eyes. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we? Some fresh air may help clear that mind of yours.”
Arthur grunted and rose to his feet before following him outside.
They walked in silence for a while, cherishing the presence of the other that they had dearly missed. Albert took his hand as they reached the small pond just outside the city and led him to a bench along the bank.
“Tell me your woes, dearest Arthur. You look like you need someone to lend an ear to them.” Albert said as they took a seat.
Arthur watched the sunlight reflect off the gentle waves of the pond, trying to think of where to start. “We got in the middle of a blood feud thinkin’ we could outsmart the two families and rob their money. A friend of mine paid the price for our mistake. He was like an annoying little brother to me.” He paused, and the anger that had been simmering rose to the surface. “Sean was a good kid, and I can’t quit thinking that it should’ve been Micah to end up with that damn bullet in his head and left to die in the street like the dog he is!”
Albert flinched at the venom that laced his voice. His eyes burned bright with fire for an instant, staring hard at the water that starkly contrasted the surge of resentment and ire. The heat of his anger didn’t stay long, expelling from him with a sigh and a series of coughs as he propped an elbow on his knee and rested his head in his hand.
“I’m sorry, Al, I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
“There’s no need to apologize.” He replied as he gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It sounds like you and this…Micah, have some disagreements.”
Arthur let out a sharp scoff. “Disagreements, that’s rich.”
“I suppose that’s too mild of a word for it?”
“You could say that,”
Albert eyed him for a moment. “The way you talk about him makes me think this man does more harm than good.”
“I wish the others saw that as clearly as you do. I swear nothin’ has gone right since he joined us, but Dutch won’t listen to a single word of it.”
Albert wasn’t sure what to say to that. It didn’t make sense to him to keep a man like that around, but he was clueless as to how politics worked in Arthur’s gang. His musings were interrupted as a raindrop hit his cheek and he looked up to find that the sky had gone dark.
Arthur didn’t seem to be bothered by the sudden heavy rainfall, but he pulled him up as he stood nonetheless. The outlaw gave him a strange look as he was dragged out of the small park and into a nearby covered passageway. The alley, while dry, was narrow with hardly enough space for them to stand side by side. As Albert watched the steady downpour, Arthur noticed that he still hadn’t let go of his hand. He grinned, half certain it was unintentional considering how distracted he was by the rain.
“You know, I’m glad I was able to find you again, Mr. Mason. I was nearly certain you’d have left by now.”
“I’m calling it an extended vacation, I guess, except I’m working two jobs and hating it.” Albert chuckled as his gaze shifted to him. “But there was a part of me that thought you might show again, which makes two weeks of doldrums worth it in my book.”
Arthur looked him over as his expression softened. “I did miss you while I was gone.”
“And I, you,” He thought over his next words carefully and drew a deep breath. Albert had spent the last few days thinking over the question that was now on the tip of his tongue, and he understood with absolute clarity that if he didn’t ask now, he wouldn’t get another chance. “Arthur, I have to go back to New York next week. Perhaps you could take a vacation of your own and come with me for a week?”
Arthur’s eyes searched his, and for the first time in a while, Albert found that he couldn’t read him. His expression had hardened, more out of thought than anything else as he considered Albert’s proposition. It was beyond tempting. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain if he accepted the offer, and it wasn’t like he was asking him to leave the gang for good, at least not yet.
He scratched his beard as he thought over the logistics. “You said you're leaving in a week?”
Albert nodded.
“Hell, I don’t see why I can’t.” In fact, he thought, if John could leave for almost a year and be welcomed back with open arms, then he could take a mere week to spend time with Albert.
The photographer could hardly believe it. He had told himself not to get his hopes up and that Arthur would have to decline due to his loyalty to his gang. He blinked once and then smiled from ear to ear. “Splendid! Shall we plan to meet at the Saint Denis train station a week from now?”
“Sure, and if something comes up, I’ll send a letter.”
Albert felt his heart skip a beat as the light in Arthur’s eyes returned, his smile reaching them for the first time that day. It was a breathtaking sight, and he felt his cheeks flush as Arthur took a step closer. Albert’s back was now fully pressed against the stucco wall, standing chest to chest with the outlaw as his lips hovered over his own. His breath was hot against his lips in the damp, cool air, eliciting a shiver that ran down his spine. Gently taking hold of his jaw, Arthur closed what little distance was left between them with a tender kiss.
The sound of rain pattering against the brick and stucco drowned out the racket of the nearby factory and stables as the world around them seemed to fade away all at once. All that mattered at that moment was that they were together, their hearts fluttering and tongues brushing against each other. Albert held him there, his hands grasping his face, and had he not needed to breathe he would have stayed that way forever.
Arthur pulled away to catch his breath and rested his forehead against Albert’s. “I’ll be at that station, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from being there.”
“You promise?” He panted with a smile.
“Cross my heart,”
“Good,”
The Next Day
Arthur never imagined he’d one day find himself at a party with this caliber of grandeur. Dutch and Hosea were in better moods than he’d seen for the last month or so, and while he joined them in their laughter, part of him wished he was back at camp instead of feeling like a fish out of water in his suit and without his guns.
He adjusted his bowtie as he followed Dutch through the open French doors. The sound of string instruments and chatter of party guests filled the cool, humid night air. Yet despite the cheery atmosphere of the party before them, Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that hung over him like a dark cloud. Signor Bronte hadn’t necessarily threatened them, but there was something about his air that led Arthur to believe he couldn’t be trusted. His arrogance was insufferable, and every word that came out of his mouth was saturated with conceit. The man practically had the entire city in his pocket, made sure people knew it too, and it had Arthur questioning yet again the idea of civilization.
“Gentlemen, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch instructed under his breath as he leaned against the railing. “Go find the mayor if you can, and stay outta trouble. And steal nothing, unless it’s information.”
“Of course,” Arthur replied as he made his way down the stairs to mingle with the guests. Although, this kind of crowd made him uncomfortable. While he looked the part, he found he could never understand the 'refined' side of American society. From his own experience, it was an enigma that proved to be both edifying and self-destructive to those steeped in wealth. He had met both kind and corrupted individuals in the middle and upper class, and he had no doubt that each person at the party was hiding something behind the pompous façade of seeming put together and polished. Arthur shook his head as he took a glass of champagne.
This was going to be a long night.
He decided to stand by the fountain where it was less crowded and studied the different social circles as he tried to follow their conversations. He was listening to a woman prattle on about modern art and how her daughter could do better when someone bumped into him. He nearly stumbled into the fountain, and the man had started to sputter out an apology as Arthur whirled around to snarl out a warning when he recognized him all at once.
“Albert? What the hell are you doing here?” He asked.
“I could ask you the same thing!” He jovially exclaimed as his eyes looked him over. “It’s quite impressive how nicely you clean up, Mr. Morgan. One might even be so bold as to call you devilishly handsome.”
He felt a heat rise in his cheeks. “Oh I assure you, this weren’t my idea.”
“Now that, dearest Arthur, is clear. You’re as stiff as some of the personalities here!”
Arthur chuckled. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me,” he smiled, “but to answer your question, the mayor invited me on account of my recent success at the gallery. It’s more of a political move than anything, but an artist can’t be too picky about how he gains notoriety. And what about you, Arthur? I highly doubt it’s just a social call that brought you here.”
“We were invited by the guest of honor, but really we’re just trying to find information and leads on some big money. The gang’s trying to get enough of it to get out of here. Dutch keeps mentioning Tahiti, but I don’t know.” He sighed.
Albert’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you going with them?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
He nodded to himself. “And what about New York? Are you still planning on going with me?”
Arthur opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find that it was Hosea, and a wave of unease came over him at the twinkle in the gentleman's eyes.
"I'm glad to see you’re enjoying yourself, Arthur! Although, I don't think you've introduced me to your friend here."
"Hosea, this is my friend Albert Mason. He's a wildlife photographer. Albert, this is Hosea Matthews." Arthur said as he scratched the back of his neck. He couldn't explain why he felt nervous all of a sudden, but he knew Hosea had caught wind of it.
"Friend, eh? It's a pleasure," he grinned as he shook Albert's hand, "I don't get to meet many of this fool's friends."
"For good reason," he muttered, and he quickly regretted the snarky reply as a mischievous look glinted in Hosea's eyes. He was never sure of what was going to roll off the older gentleman’s silver tongue, but he had a good idea that Hosea was going to exploit the rare bashfulness that had come over him.
"Well, Mr. Mason, you must be quite special to him. I didn’t even get to meet his former fiancée, so when I say it’s a pleasure, I genuinely mean it."
For a moment Albert wasn't sure if he had heard him right, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur pale. "I'm sorry, did you say fiancée?"
Hosea's face fell as he exchanged an apologetic look with Arthur who was mortified by now. "I’m sorry, Arthur. I thought you had surely told him about Mary."
“Would you just shut up already?” He groaned. Arthur had no intention of keeping his past love life a secret, but he had wanted Albert to hear it from him, context and all. Not from a man he hardly knew. Arthur was certain his reticence regarding the subject combined with the revelation of a previous engagement had altered the photographer’s opinion of him, and the thought filled him with dismay. Surely, he had ruined another good thing in his life.
Hosea nodded before turning back to Albert. “See to it that he doesn’t get himself into any trouble for me. He’s as stubborn as a mule sometimes.”
“I’m well aware, sir, but Arthur has a good head on his shoulders,” Albert replied, attempting to reinforce and validate what little self-esteem Arthur had.
“Takes a village,” Hosea grinned before his attention shifted to Arthur, “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see what business Dutch has been getting himself into.”
The two of them stood in a thick silence for a moment, neither of them exactly sure of what to say.
“He’s nice,” Albert mused.
“Yeah, a nice pain in the ass sometimes.” He grunted before downing the rest of the champagne in the glass he was holding.
Albert sighed. “Arthur, I want you to know that what Mr. Matthews said doesn’t change anything.”
“It doesn’t?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, what’s in the past, stays in the past. I’m not going to hold that against you.”
Arthur shook his head as he was flooded with relief. The man had once again shown him undeserved mercy, and he hoped that one day he might have a heart half the size of Albert’s. “You’re too good for me, Al. You know that, right?”
“Now that’s hardly the truth, Mr. Morgan, and you have a nasty habit of selling yourself short.”
“If the shoe fits,”
“Which I can assure you it doesn’t.” Albert tersely insisted as he lifted his chin to look him in the eyes.
"I swear you have a bad habit of overlooking a person's obvious flaws." He huffed. Albert looked him over as if he was inspecting a photograph.
"The only flaw I see is a crooked bowtie." He mused as he adjusted his bowtie and smoothed his tailcoat.
Arthur sighed. "I'm serious. For a gentleman like you, there's a whole lot more to lose than gain from hangin' around the likes of me. "
"The nonsense that comes out of that mouth of yours sometimes is preposterous. I have everything I need right here with you. Thus, the only thing to lose or gain is you."
He shook his head as his brow furrowed in frustration. "You ain't listenin’ to me! I'm a hardened man, an outlaw, and I'm afraid that’s gonna change you."
"Please, the only hardness I've seen from you, outside of protecting me, is in bed." He chuckled. "You're much kinder than you think you are. If anything, you inspire me to be a better man."
Arthur felt his face redden as he stared at the ground, and he wished he had brought a hat to help hide his flushed cheeks.
Albert smiled at the endearing reaction, and while he wanted to kiss him, he resisted. His eyes flitted to the fountain beside them where he caught sight of the mayor and a few other prominent men he recognized. "Those men over there may have the information you're looking for. The gentleman with the glasses and top hat is Mayor Henri Lemieux."
Arthur looked over his shoulder. "The skeevy lookin' one?"
"That's him."
"Thank you, Al."
"Of course! You should get going, I've distracted you long enough. I'll see you at that train station." He said as he turned Arthur by his shoulders.
He chuckled. "I'll be there with my bags packed."
"I certainly hope so, you gave me your word. Now go before you lose your window of opportunity." Albert replied as he gave him a light shove. He watched Arthur make his way over to the men, and as he forcefully escorted one of them out of the party, he couldn't help but find the sight amusing.
In six more days, he would have the man to himself and Arthur wouldn't have to worry about his gang's affairs nor be at their beck and call. The thought brought a smile to his face. It would be good for Arthur. Albert never expressed his opinions regarding the gang, but he knew the outlaw had been in that life for so long that he'd become blind to how much control it had over him. It was the only life he knew, and Albert hoped he could give him a taste of freedom while in New York.
Of course, the wait would feel endless. Albert would've left that very day with him if he could, but Arthur had several things that he had to take care of first. He never mentioned what those things were, but Albert hoped six days would give him enough time.