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Death was no stranger to Arthur Morgan, and Arthur Morgan no stranger to it. The shadow of eternity followed him like a dog; and he knew one day, whether he prepared for it or not, it was going to catch up to him.
Some were more fortunate than others and at times it seemed as much that god played favourites on his fools. But this was no sign of favouritism nor a jab for the petty and distasteful; Arthur Morgan was dying, and good lord, he knew was not wrongfully sentenced.
He knew it would catch up to him one day and now there on his doorstep death stood; ready as an outlaw's trigger finger and hungry as a wolf's empty stomach.
There was nothing else he could do aside from wait, impatiently, for death to take him. Suppose he might've grown sentimental at the idea of it, for not even a day after his diagnosis he wrote Mary and asked for her company on another date in Saint Denis. Her reply was in the mail almost as soon as she'd gotten the letter: of course she'd accompany him. Of course she would.
Albeit, the years they'd spent together; Arthur still took off his hat and straightened his posture tall so he could look his best for Mary. With the money he'd saved up, he bought himself some new clothes at the tailors and let the barber across the street clean him up nicely. If he didn't know any better, looking at himself through the reflection in the window just outside of Mary's, he'd pass off perfectly as any societal fool. But that was what Mary wanted of him, and today, that was what she was going to get. Arthur had money to spend on her; he wouldn't need it for much longer anyway. His sickness was starting to wear him down and he could feel it seep into his bones. Mary had accompanied him out with a smile on her face and the lines of age on her face creasing gently.
"I didn't much take you for the gentlemanly type, Arthur." Mary starts; her voice is soft as always but Arthur can see her hopefulness clear as a raven flying on a sunny day. She hoped this was it. That this was the changing point of him, and he would leave his life as an outlaw to live with Mary. To start what should have been their life so many years ago.
"That's 'cause I ain't much of a gentleman, Mary. But I can sure as hell parade around like one, though I don't know how well," He cast an amused grin towards the woman as they walked down the Saint Denis sidewalks, but that expression slowly fades. "I got some things I want to tell you about. Bad things, Mary. Figured I wanted you to remember me like this, rather than.. well, you know. Not the man you wanted me to be."
Mary's brows furrow in confusion and in worry; it takes her a few moments to build up the courage to respond. "Arthur.. Arthur, you know I'd always love you either way."
"Sure." She'd love him, but he wouldn't be enough. Arthur didn't have the energy to argue that point anymore. "I was figuring we could grab something to eat. I pulled a few strings, and.. Mister Lemieux was kind enough to oblige me. Sure the money helped ease his thoughts."
"That's.." Mary laughs almost happily, "But, Arthur.. where are you getting all of this money from? Did you-"
"I didn't steal it." Arthur replies, then shakes his head with a small laugh "Least, not too recently. But I got some saved up, and, well.. I ain't gonna need it much longer." He could tell he was beginning to worry her; she frowns and lays her head upon his shoulder as they walked. The closeness comforted him; her soft scent reminded him of their younger days.
They'd talked until evening, ate dinner at some rich folk restaurant and after that, Arthur decided to walk Mary back home. "You know.. daddy was real grateful, that night you kept my company. He's a good man under all that, Arthur. If things were different.." Mary squeezes Arthur's arm gently as they walked, "If you were a different man I think daddy would have liked you."
"If I were a different man a lot of things would have gone better, Mary. But I lived a good life, in my own way."
Arthur looks down and catches Mary pursing her lips; "You talk like you're dying, Arthur.."
There was a long pause.
"We're all gonna die one day, Mary." He turns down another street with Mary in tow and silence encompasses them again. They walk like that for a while, in each other's company and that only. He can tell the air is heavy between them and Arthur wonders momentarily if he should have came at all. It was selfish of him, making Mary a widow again when he could have left her with the thought that he was still out there, somewhere, being the outlaw she wishes he wasn't. Was ignorance better than grief? Or was it the other way around?
"I'm sorry." Arthur finally stopped them, taking both of Mary's hands in his. "Mary.." He squeezes her hands, then brings them up to softly kiss them. "Mary, I have loved you more than anything in this world and if that ain't the truest thing I ever said then all I ever told was lies. You were my first love and I know you will be my last. I think about you more than anyone, Mary: I love you."
Her eyes melt under his words and her shoulders slouch as she listens. Under the Saint Denis streetlights, Arthur can see the faint glistening of a few tears along her lashes. "Arthur.. Arthur, I have thought about you every day of my life. You were a father to Jamie when daddy couldn't be, and.. you were my guiding light. I worry myself sick wondering if you're okay out there, if you're even alive, or if-" She gives a sheepish laugh, shaking her head as she looks away from Arthur "If you've found another woman. And I know it's selfish of me when I have married after you, but I.. Arthur, I have always loved you more. I always will, no matter what happens."
Arthur looks away, biting gently upon his bottom lip. "I saw a doctor and he says I'm dying. I got TB, and my time is running out, Mary. Fast. I ain't even sure I'll last the month at this rate."
The tears trapped in her eyes break free and soon enough, she's sobbing in Arthur's arms. That was enough to make her unravel entirely. His face is blank as he holds her and his heart feels as though it's completely hollow, his insides are cold and good Lord it takes all of him not to cry with her. It takes all of his strength to hold her close with full intent to never let go.
"Arthur-" She manages to get his name out and it's strangled between her attempt to swallow her tears and to keep her composure. "Arthur, oh, I'm so sorry.." Mary wipes at her eyes, smearing her makeup but that's the least of her worries right now.
"I want you to move on after me." Arthur mumbles; he stifles a cough from the scratching at his throat as he tries, and God only knows how he succeeded, at not crying. "Take Jamie and get the Hell out of this place. I got money, Mary. Enough to make you live comfortably. I even got a horse. You can take him when I go."
"Arthur, I don't.. I can't do that."
"I ain't asking you to. I'm telling you."
Silence, again. They both stare at each other for a few fleeting moments before Mary leans up into Arthur and kisses him, desperately; her hands cup his cheeks and pull him closer until their teeth clash and Arthur can feel Mary's tears fall against his cheeks. It hurts, on the inside. How he knows this is the last time he'll ever feel a woman's gentle touch, and furthermore, Mary's. She'll go home today and know in her heart she's been made once more a widow, and Arthur will rest his head at camp tonight and watch the evening turn to night and night turn to morning as even sleep ceased to relent for him.
And some day soon, Arthur will breathe his last breath. Life will go on. The world will keep turning, forever, without him. As if he'd never existed to begin with.