Archive of Our Own

The boy was shivering something awful in front of him but was otherwise unresponsive.
Arthur didn’t trust that Kieran would be able to stay on horse if he sat behind, so he held him steady as he and Charles rode into Shady Belle.

“Who goes there?!” He heard Bill shout somewhere.

“Arthur! We got Kieran!” He answered while searching with his eyes where he heard Bill.

There was a slight pause. “So the lil feller’s still alive then?” Bill was standing behind a rock to the left of them. A good cover, just in case.

“Just about. We got there just in time I’d say.”

Bill grimaces as he sees them past him.
“Shit, he looks like… Well he looks like shit.”

“Smells worse too.”

“Is Strauss around?” Charles' voice comes out behind him for the first time since they started riding back.
Bill shrugs. “Probably. Is-… Is he-…” he huffs “I mean, will he be alright?”
“We’ll see soon enough.”

The two horses are now in view of the people in front of the dilapidated mansion.

“Strauss!” Arthur calls out while people start gathering around them and he quickly finds him a bit away already readying his bag of supplies.

“Arthur. Charles.” Hosea strides up to them “Any troubles?” Quick to the point as he’s gently being passed Kieran’s unconscious body from Arthur.

“Well, only a few but at least no one was following us.” Arthur replied.

“They’ll know for sure we took him back though.” Charles added.

Hosea grunted when he held Kieran fully, despite his concerning lack of weight. “That can wait. For now let’s just make sure Kieran here at least makes it through the night."
Lenny was quick to help Hosea hold him, one hand on Kierans back and they hear him finally make a noise, a small whimper as Lenny quickly retracts his palm, now painted in Kieran's blood.

“Damn.” he whispers and looks up to Arthur, and before Arthur has to give him some description of the horror they found in that basement Strauss is finally there with them.

“So, let’s see what we have here.” Strauss only has to give Kieran a quick look before he continues. “Well, they did quite a number on the boy. He’s going to need a few days to recover and he’ll need more than the ground underneath. I will see if anyone could lend their bedroll t-”

Arthur quickly interrupts him “He can take my room.”

“Arthur” Hosea starts but before Arthur can argue back Strauss claps his hands together.

“Excellent, even better. Take him up there now and we’ll treat him right away.”
Lenny and Hosea both nod and they oh so gently take him into the mansion.

Only then does Arthur notice a soft sob behind him and when he turns around, Mary-Beth is being soothed by Charles who smooths his hand on her back in small circles as she weeps into his other arm.

“He’ll be alright” his soft baritone assures her. “He’s a fighter.”

“How could someone do something so cruel?! They’re monsters!” she hiccups, muffled by his shirt. Arthur feels something ache in his shoulder. The O’Driscolls were cruel. He knew it first hand and could only imagine how cruel they would be to a traitor who they weren’t planning on leaving alive.

He shakes the thoughts away and clears his throat, catching their attention.
“Charles’s right, Mary-Beth. Kid’s made of some strong stuff.”

She sniffles and looks apologetically at the wet spot on Charles’ sleeve even though he gives her a small reassuring pat on her shoulder.
“I just… I wish there was something I could’ve done sooner. If only I was a fighter I could’ve found him sooner and he wouldn’t-..”

Arthur has to look away from her, hiding his shame from her with the brim of his hat.
She had been asking about him for days, trying to get someone to look for him, and everyone had dismissed her. Even Arthur.
She did more for him than anyone else there.
It was only on the third day that Hosea finally had asked him to go look for him, just to quell her worries.
And she was right to be worried.

The hideout where he and Charles had found him in wasn’t very big, didn’t have many people, but the people there were armed to the teeth and on edge, clearly making sure no one were to get into the cabin.
It was a long and tedious battle.
They lost too much ammunition, had to resort to taking the guns of the O’driscolls they’d already slain, and finally when the last man had thrown his gun and ran further into the swamplands did they search the cabin they had fought over.
They found the hatch to the basement underneath the only bed there and when they opened it the stench hit them immediately.
Blood and piss and sweat and stomach acid. Some alcohol too.
And there he was.
Kieran was hanging by his hands from the ceiling but they quickly noticed by the rope burns around his ankles that he had at some point been hanging by his feet as well.
He wore only a white shirt and brown pants, his boots removed so that the O’driscolls could remove his toenails and cut the soles of his feet.
His fingernails were gone too, fingers bending in awkward angles.
He had several cuts on his stomach and back, whether they were from knives or whips was unknown. Maybe both.
His face was an absolute mess, so bloodied and bruised that they barely could recognize him.
A knife was stuck in his shoulder.
Coloured glass was stuck to his scalp.
He mumbled something, delirious and drunk, but his eyelids remained closed as Charles approached him.
Arthur looked around the basement.
Knives, guns, whips, ropes, broken bottles, a rusty saw that was fortunately looking unused.
A funnel laying on a table next to a bottle of moonshine. They had tried to loosen his tongue with it of course.

“Can you hear me?” Charles’ voice broke the heavy silence as he quickly cut off Kieran’s bonds, only getting something gurgled in response.

The second the last piece of rope snapped underneath his knife Kieran almost collapsed on the floor if not for Charles’ quick reflexes.
Arthur was there in an instant to help him hold the man up.
Kieran was a furnace, alcohol and infection coursing through him, and this close the insane stench of him made Arthur’s eyes water and he breathed through his mouth.

“Goddamn..” he breathed. Charles only nodded.

They managed to drag him out of the basement with only some mild difficulty, Kieran’s body slack between them, but at some point he had managed to gather enough consciousness that he was starting to shiver.
Maybe it was the clean air outside that stinking basement that had done it.
In the sunlight Arthur also noticed something else about him.
His face looked odd.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it and he didn’t have enough time to study it either, quickly mounting his horse and taking Kieran from Charles.
The boy needed medical attention right now, he would have to check him later.
They rode as fast as their horses would let them, Kieran’s shiver never letting down.
It was getting worse even, practically shaking when they heard Bill’s voice on the outskirts of Shady Belle.

For a few days camp was almost normal.
They had to be.
Work needed to be done and money had to be made, no use to worry all day long.
Not that it stopped Mary-Beth though.
She spent every free moment she had asking Strauss about Kieran or visiting him herself.
She took good care of him too, everyday walking up the rotting stairs to Arthur's room with a small tub of water, a rag with a soapbar wrapped in it to clean him, and fresh bandages that she had cleaned herself.
At some point Arthur had had enough of his own guilt and joined her in cleaning him up.
It was the first time in days he had entered his own room and Kieran lay there in his bed, still looking horrible but at least clean.
Still unconscious though.
His clothes had been removed and he had so much bandage around his body he looked like a mummy.
He put down the tub close to the bed as Mary-Beth unwrapped his bandages and Arthur sucked in a breath as he saw the extent of his injuries.
Not only had he been cut, he had been stabbed in what most likely were not lethal but still insanely painful places, there were cigarette and cigar burns on his chest and arms, and many many dark bruises on his stomach, thighs, shoulders and neck.
There was a large red cut from one ear, across his throat, and to the other ear.
Not deep enough to be dangerous, it was more than likely just a threat for worse things to come.
Every wound on him told Arthur a story that disgusted him and he wanted nothing more than to leave and take it out on another O’driscoll, paying them back tenfold.

Yet he stayed and helped Mary-Beth clean him up, taking great care to not upset the stitches Strauss had done, and he offered to clean his netherregions, a lady shouldn’t have to do that part, and Mary-Beth smiled for the first time all week as she laughed at him, but gratefully thanked him for doing it for her.
When Kieran was good and clean, they tucked him in again under the blankets, Arthur noticing that they had given him John’s blanket too.
Arthur put his hand on Kierans head, he wasn’t as boiling hot as when they had found him but he was still warmer than normal.
“His fever has been going down bit by bit.” Mary-Beth told him. “You were right. He’s strong.” She paused for a moment, looking at Kieran’s sleeping form with a painful expression before she looks up at Arthur and smiles.
“You’re very kind to let him stay here, Arthur. And I never-…” she blushes a little as she looks down and fiddles with the old bloodied bandage, rolling it up. “Thank you for rescuing him, Arthur.”

The lump in Arthur’s throat burned horribly yet he could only half heartedly try to clear his throat, shame overcoming him in waves. “Don’t thank me, Mary-Beth.”
She looks up to him again, a puzzled look in her eyes.

“I-...” he huffs, emotion clogging his mind. “I wasn’t the one who worried about him. Hell, I wouldn’t even have noticed he was gone if it weren’t for you.”

“You’ve been busy taking care of us, Arthu-”

“That’s no excuse!” He regrets his tone the moment it left his mouth and the way Mary-Beth flinches only cuts deeper into his heart. “I-..” He sighs loudly and takes a step back from her. “I’m sorry Mary-Beth, I didn’t mean to-..”

“It’s alright Arthur.” She quickly stands up and looks at him with understanding eyes, but still hurt. It takes a moment for her to talk again.
“It wasn’t your fault he was gone. And… You still saved him.” She turns to look at Kieran. “He’s right here, ain’t he?”
Arthur looks at him then too.
His dark hair no longer greasy thanks to Mary-Beth’s daily washes, and it’s not as straight then, almost wavy.
His nose and one of his eyes are covered by bandages and the cut on his nose is gonna leave a scar for sure.
So will the one on his throat.
The cut on his lip and the dark bruises will heal though. He was going to make it.
He just needed to wake up.

“Thank you for helping me today Arthur. I really appreciate it.” He looks at her and she’s giving a radiating smile.

He has to look away and cough, hiding his slight blush behind his fist.
“Least I could do..” He managed to mumble as she went to his side and collect the tub.
“Wait, I’ll do that for ya. I’m going out anyway.” He gently pushes her aside to take the tub, snatching the now slightly red rag maybe a little too harshly but she only laughed.

“Well look at you, what a gentleman.”

“Just don’t let the others know. I got a reputation to uphold” He gives her a lopsided smile back and she only laughs louder.

“Anything for you, Arthur” she calls to him as he leaves the room, laughing to himself and his heart the slightest bit lighter.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

The world is swimming in his ears so loudly, his head is cracked in two.
Everything is tilted and he feels so nauseous he might keel over and throw up there and then, but he can’t move.
Is he standing up?
Or is he laying down?
He can’t tell and the world is too loud and he screams at it to shut up but only a whimper comes out.

“Kieran?”

Blinding light enters his world and he has to squint before he can open his eyes.
Every second a new detail is shown to him. First a window, then the walls around it, the ceiling, a bed, then colors-

“Kieran?” Mary-Beth. He looks at her, her green eyes wide.

“Hey..” His voice is so gravely and dry, it scrapes his throat painfully.

“Kieran!” She throws herself on the bed and gives him a hug and it fully wakes him up, blinding pain in… well everywhere.
He groans loudly through gritted teeth and she gasps and quickly removes herself from him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-! I’m-! Oh Kieran!” She holds his hand both of hers and he sees a tear escape her glassy eyes.
He smiles weakly at her and gives her hands the gentlest squeeze.
She sniffles and beams at him. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to-... Well.”

“Thirsty…” He manages to croak out, barely audible.

“Hm? Thi- Oh!” She quickly goes to the nightstand, a pitcher and glass already sitting there for her and Strauss when they tended to him, but Kieran has to move his head to the side to see it, his left eye covered by something. Bandage probably. It really itches there.
She brings the glass to his mouth and he immediately feels desperate, drinking a little too fast, spilling some on his chin and down the pillow, but how sublime the water was.
He already feels better, the tightness in both his throat and head lets up, though his stomach churns a little at it.
He sighs and eases down into the pillow again, Mary-Beth looking pleased as well.
He lets his eyes flutter close, or well, one eye.
The other one was all closed and boy it itched.

He brings a hand to scratch it but is immediately stopped by Mary-Beth, snatching his hand a bit too fast and he looks surprised at her.
She looks at him with an odd look Kieran can’t quite place.

“Huh?” is all he can manage at her behavior and she looks down, biting her bottom lip.

“How… How much do you remember?” She asks him and he’s even more confused.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to relieve bad memories but… I.. Kieran, what did they do to you?” She didn’t let go of his hand, her other hand still holding his other one.

It hurts to think but he tries.
He remembers the night of Jack’s party.
He had gotten drunk, way too drunk.
And when he got drunk he got very stupid.
He vaguely remembers having the greatest idea of all time to catch a great fish for Jack to enjoy the next day.
The boy needed to eat a lot to grow up and be strong like his parents after all.
Maybe the gang would like him better if he went out of his way to do this, doing this of his own volition and not because someone told him to.
They’d think he could be relied upon.
He rode out far, a long way away from Shady Belle, lost track of time and space on top of Branwen, probably fell asleep at some point.
Idiot that he was, he wouldn’t know the way back to camp even if he sobered up, even if he wasn’t found by his old gang members.
Then everything else he remembers is pain.
An impossible amount of pain.
At some point he was upside down, emptying everything in his stomach as O'Driscolls punched it all out of him.
Another time he could hear the cracking of bones in his hands and he could feel the sting of a scream in his voice but he couldn’t hear himself scream.
Something was shoved into his mouth and then he almost drowned on something so strong he sputtered and coughed, and only when he drank so much of the alcohol he thought he might burst did they let up, laughing all the time.
After that things were even more fuzzy, but he somehow remembers it all.
He remembers the face of Colm O’Driscoll.
He visited him there, sneering and lashing him for what felt like hours.
Kieran remembers even the pain of the shame he felt when he cried and begged him to stop, promising him whatever he wanted just so he would stop.
His request wasn’t surprising, of course.
And it would be the one thing Kieran wouldn’t give him.
His thoughts were of the party, of Jack and Abigail and John, of everyone at camp laughing and crying with joy, how much he yearned to be part of their unconventional family of a gang.
His thoughts were interrupted by the noise of glass hitting something, namely the top of his head. He screamed out in shock and pain and Colm grabbed his throat, the one he already had a scratching wound on.
Colm spat something to his face, voice smelling of whiskey and cigar smoke, before he looked at him calmly.

“An eye for an eye, as they say” he heard him say before Kieran saw a knife gleaming in his hand and what happened after made Kierans thoughts snap to reality.

“My eye!” he shot up even though Mary-Beth tried to calm him down into the bed and he violently ripped off the bandage on his face.
He forced his other eyelid open.

Nothing.

Mary-Beth had to look away. “Kieran…”

He didn’t move, didn’t say anything.
What could he say?
Mary-Beth didn’t say anything either.

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity before Kieran finally managed to get one coherent thought in his mind.

“I almost told him.”
Mary-Beth looked up.
“When he… He said that he would come back later and… He said I should think about it before he would take my other one. I almost told him there and then..” He shivered.
He thought about the consequences, about what would happen to the Van Der Linde gang.

“Kieran, we-”

“I almost told him. I almost-.. They would- I would’ve- I-” It hurt, his chest hurt so badly, he couldn’t breathe.
The thought of everyone being hunted by the O’Driscolls, of Mary-Beth being shot, Arthur being shot, little Jack.
His world was swimming again and he could barely hear Mary-Beth's voice, he could only cry and cry.

He must’ve passed out because the next time he opened his eyes - well, eye - it was dark outside.
His headache was still there but he was a little more awake this time.
Mary-Beth was gone, he was alone in the room.
He managed to slowly sit himself up in the bed and looked around.
This was Arthur’s room.
Kieran got the pitcher and poured himself another glass of water, doing wonders for his sore throat.
He was so tired but both his stomach and legs made sleep impossible, his intense hunger gnawed at him and he hated to sit still.
Maybe he could manage to go down and grab something to eat.
He positioned himself so that he sat at the edge of the bed, feet touching the floor, and tried to prepare himself to stand up.
One hand on the bed, one on the nightstand, he counted to three and heaved himself up.
The pain in his feet came right away and shot up his legs, making them buckle and he fell to the floor, shouting as his shoulder met the wood and he heard something snap and hot pain flooded his arm and collarbone.
A few seconds later he thinks he heard heavy footsteps enter the room and Arthur Morgan puts away a bowl of stew on a nearby chair before he rushes to Kieran’s side with a curse.

“Idiot, what are you doing?!” He hissed at him and yanked him up, only then does Kieran realize he’s naked.

“Wh- I was- I needed to walk-”

“Yeah, well that ain’t happening anytime soon, so get back in there” He’s sour but he still eases him gently back into bed and pulls the blankets over him.
He looked at his shoulder and cursed.
“Damn it, you tore your stitches.” He sighed and Kieran looked apologetic as he stared at where he had fallen to the floor.
There was a small puddle of fresh blood there and when he looked at Arthur, his wound had also stained a bit on his shirt.

“‘M sorry..”

Arthur glares at him for a moment before he sighs again.
“Wait here” He says as he stands up.
He goes to the chair, brings up the stew and goes back to Kieran. “Here, thought you might be hungry. I’ll be right back.”
Kieran thanks him bashfully and takes the stew with his good arm, even though his lack of depth perception made it clumsier than usual.
Arthur helps him steady it on his lap before he heads out the door, giving him a final warning glare and Kieran can only nod back, he won’t try to leave again.

The stew is bland, he can tell, but at this very moment he has never eaten anything so good.
He tries to take it easy, chewing slowly, so as to not upset his stomach too much, but he’s so hungry and impatient that he finishes the bowl only after a few minutes, so desperate he almost licks the bowl clean.
He tries instead to get the last drops in a more dignified way, scraping the spoon intensely at the bowl and holding it over his head to drop down into his mouth.
He never thought he would’ve missed Pearson’s stew so badly and he laughs a little.
What a pathetic little man he was.

After a while Arthur comes back, holding a thread and scissors in his hand, and seats himself next to Kieran with a grunt.
He unspools some of the thread and pulls out a needle from it, concentrating on fiddling the thread through the hole before he turns his attention to Kieran’s shoulder.
He makes a small noise as the needle breaches his skin, but he holds his shoulder still.

“I’m sorry about all this.” he manages to whisper, feeling ashamed for his troubles.

“Think nothing ‘bout it.” Arthur says without looking up at him, working on the stitching.

“I didn’t mean to...” Kieran swallows, emotions swirling in him and he tries to focus on the sting of the needle instead. “It was never my intention to trouble you all with…” He makes a vague gesture at himself with his good arm “...All this.”
“Weren’t yer fault.”
Kieran had to hold his tongue.
It was his fault.
He had gotten drunk and he had been so stupid.
If he only had stayed in camp, if he only hadn't let himself go so hard with the bottle.
He should’ve known better than to relax, he wasn’t safe at all.
And the gang had wasted precious resources and time on rescuing his sorry ass.
He felt nauseous.
Focus on the needle.
But Arthur had stopped.
He looked up at him and he was looking back.

“It weren’t your fault, Kieran.”

Kieran has to look away as he snorts unamused.
His eyes burn and he takes a shaky breath.
He can’t bring himself to agree.
Instead he tries to redirect the conversation.

He strains his voice “For what it's worth, I didn’t tell them anything.”

Arthur blinks.

“I- I almost did but I thought about y’all, about Jack being hurt again and it being my fault again and-” He was babbling but he lost control and shit, the tears had started rolling down only one of his cheeks, not quite there on the left side yet as it pooled in the inside of his eye socket and it stung so bad, making him cry more and damn it all, he was a mess.
It all poured out of him, the anxiety, the shame, the fear, the pain, the trauma.
He wishes he wasn’t here, he wishes he was never caught by Arthur that snowy day, he wishes he never encountered Colm O’Driscoll, he wishes he was never kicked out of that stable and joined the army, he wishes his parents hadn’t died.
If he died in that cabin, his entire life would have been a pointless tragedy.
He feels so high.
He feels like he’s dying.

Suddenly something warm envelopes him tight, squeezing out the breath he couldn’t get out on his own and he wheezes.
He managed to get his swimming vision somewhat focused and he sees Arthur's shoulder and realizes he’s being hugged.
It hurts so badly but it’s good, it stabilizes him, makes him focused and Arthur doesn’t ease up until he breathes normally.
He doesn’t let him go completely though, his strong hands keeping Kieran’s shaking body firm.

“You good?” Kieran only manages to nod, not trusting his voice. Arthur hums. “Good.”

Arthur backs off but scanning Kieran’s body, in case he tore any stitches with the hug, hums again when it seems alright.
Kieran felt his nakedness and couldn’t help the blush that crept up his ears.

“Looking good, Mr.Duffy.” Arthur blurts out and the blush on Kieran tenfolds. “Healin’ up nicely, I mean.” Arthur quickly corrects “We’ll be having you up and about in about a week or so, I reckon.”

“Oh” Kieran laughs awkwardly “Well, thank you so much for patching me up.”

“Well ‘course, after all that trouble we went through to get ya, we weren’t gonna let you bleed out on us.” Kieran’s heart swelled a little at that.

“I really can’t thank you enough, Arthur. For saving me. I-..I don’t know what to say.”

Arthur ducks his head and looks away, hiding his face behind his hat for some reason.
Was he being bashful?
“Just returning the favor, ‘s all.” He mumbles back. “‘Sides, you’re one of us now. We take care of our own.”

Kieran doesn't know how much more pain he can handle, his heart too confined in his chest. ‘Our own’. A Van Der Linde.
There’s too much emotion in him but this time he can only laugh.
So he does.
He’s careful not to laugh too hard, he’s already in so much pain and any more and he might pass out again.
But his snickers still leaps out of his mouth and Arthur looks at him confused.

“Sorry, sorry, I just-...” He was truly stupid back then, an absolute buffoon, thinking he could buy his way into their family with fish, and he feels a fit of laughter bubbling up again.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur bites back but without any venom in his voice and it makes Kieran giggle even harder.

“I tried-...” Breathe, idiot. “Oh lord, it’s going to sound so stupid, b-because it is but-..” he quickly makes sure to wipe his left eye first, the sting already creeping up, his voice sore from the strain of holding back the laughter and speaking normally “the night they took me I tried to win y’all affections with fish.”

Arthur looks at him. “Fish.”

“Yeah, I thought that if I caught something magnificent and gave it to Jack to enjoy, people would somehow look at me with respect.”
Arthur’s lips quirked ever so slightly up amused but before he could call Kieran an idiot, he cut him off “Look, I was really really drunk, alright? Wasn’t thinkin’ clearly at all that night, seemed like a perfect plan at the time.”

Arthur shook his head, clearly trying not to laugh, instead commenting “Well you never know. Doesn’t sound much different than some of Dutch’s perfect plans.”

That got Kieran laughing again before he managed to catch himself, still on a bit of edge to laugh at the leader of the gang while his enforcer is sitting right there, but Arthur just laughs with him and Kieran relaxes.

“And who knows? Maybe I’ll come along and get that fish o’ yours. Sounds like it’d be a nice pause in the action.”

Kieran smiles at him. “That’d be nice.”

They look at one another for another beat before Arthur stifles a cough and stands up. “Anyway, I won’t disturb ya.” He grabs the empty bowl next to the bed.

“Thank you Arthur” Kieran follows him with his eye. “Oh! And would you please tell Mary-Beth I’m sorry for my behavior earlier and to thank her for all she’s done for me?”

Arthur lingers at the door and nods to him “‘Course. Now get some rest, will ya?”

“Will do.” Arthur closes the door with a hint of a smile and Kieran is feeling so very tired.

He manages to not flop back to the bed, the wounds on his back itching threateningly and he sighs as his heavy head falls onto the pillow.
He’s asleep within seconds.