Chapter Text
With every push Arthur made it felt as if his sides were being stabbed repeatedly. His muscles ached and his breathing labored as he crawled towards his gun that was a couple feet away from him. He grunted as he forced his arms to lift his upper body and used his legs to push him forward. His body yearned for rest, but Arthur fought against the temptation, wanting to put an end to the man that has brought hell on the only group of people he could call family.
“Goddamn you,” Arthur rasped as he stretched his hand out and grabbed his gun only for a boot to press down on his hand. “ARGH!”
“It is over now…”
Dutch…
Arthur’s bloodshot eyes looked up at his mentor, disappointment washing over him. “Oh Dutch…” He wheezed, raising his head up slightly. “He’s a rat. You know it and I know it.”
“He’s sick!” Micah snarled. “He’s dying, he’s talking crazy.”
Sounds of Pinkertons broke through the tense air, shouting out the location of the three men on the mountain’s ridge. Despite the Pinkertons closing in on them, Arthur no longer felt the pressure of needing to run – he was done. He swallowed thickly, wincing at the pain in his hand that was still pinned under Dutch’s boot.
“I gave you all I had…” Arthur breathed, still looking up at Dutch. “I did.”
For a moment, Dutch’s eyes connected with Arthurs. Disbelief and…shame overcame the older man as he stared down at Arthur, his son. “I…” Despite the many racing thoughts in his mind, for once in his life, Dutch Van Der Lin was speechless. He took a step back, freeing Arthur’s hand from his boot. He watched as Arthur slowly rolled over onto his back, clearly exhausted and beaten.
“Come on…” Micah urged. “Let’s go, buddy. We made it. We won!”
“John made it.” Arthur said, his eyes locked onto the night sky above them. He stifled a cough, wincing as it wrecked pain deep in his chest. “He’s the only one. Rest of us…no.”
Dutch stepped closer to Arthur, looking down at him with sympathy. He bit the corner of his lip every time Arthur wheezed to talk. The sight of Arthur was causing him a great deal of infamy to consume him. His boy, laying on the ground with his face beaten up and close to death – he couldn’t believe that it got to this point.
Arthur’s gasps broke Dutch out of his thoughts. “But…I tried. In the end, I did…”
“Come on…” Micah encouraged to Dutch. “Let’s go. We can make it.”
Dutch looked at Micah for a moment before looking down at Arthur. He fought the urge to pick up Arthur and take him away, hopefully give him another chance at life, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. His boy was already on death’s doorstep and indignity wracked his mind to admit his fault to Arthur and apologize. Dutch glanced back at Micah and began taking steps back, away from the two and down the opposite side of the mountain. He could hear Micah’s cry for him as he walked away but he blocked it out. The only thing weighing in his mind was Arthur’s derelict form on the ground and leaving him behind.
“Come on, Dutch! Come on!” Micah hollered. Seeing as it was no use, he let out a cry of exasperation before turning on his heel and scurrying off in the other direction of the mountain.
With both men gone, Arthur heaved a sigh before rolling onto his stomach and crawling towards the edge of the mountain. He groaned and gasped with each movement he made, his arms aggressively shaking. He pushed through the pain, making it towards a rock formation and throwing himself onto it, letting out a shout of pain once his back hit the formation. Now propped up, he leaned his head back as he tried to catch his breath.
He felt a warm glow shine onto the side of his face, making him turn his head to catch sight of the rising sun of the east. As the sun slowly rose, he couldn’t help but smile at nature’s beauty. Sure, it wasn’t the view of the sun setting in the west, but this was still beautiful. He could feel his eyelids grow heavy with every passing second, his vision going blurry and then coming back.
So, this must be what death feels like…
“You did all that you could, Arthur.” A faint voice said.
Arthur widened his eyes at the voice, that familiar voice. “H-Hosea?” He rasped, looking around his surroundings. He felt like a lost child, desperately trying to find his father. He tried to push himself off the rock formation and cried out Hosea’s name.
“I’m right here.”
Arthur turned his head towards the rising sun once more and saw Hosea standing beside him, looking down at him with a smile. “Hosea…” Arthur whispered, reaching out a hand towards him. He was surprised when he felt Hosea’s grip. He looked at their hands, feeling tears forming in his eyes. “I…I tried.”
“I know you did, my dear boy.” Hosea nodded, kneeling down. “You did your worse, you tried your best.”
“I got…I got John out…” Arthur trembled out, a knot forming in his throat. “Jack, Abigail…” Tears began falling down his cheeks. “…Sadie, Tilly, Mary-Beth – all other folk, they got out. But not everybody. I couldn’t save-.” A sob escaped from him as he spoke. “I couldn’t save Sean, Lenny, Kieran, Susan, o-or even you.”
“Don’t take our deaths as your fault, son.” Hosea spoke, pressing a hand to one of Arthur’s bruised cheeks. “You did everything within your power. You sought redemption and you’ve achieved it.”
Arthur stared at Hosea, tears still falling from his eyes. “I can…finally rest?” He asked.
“Of course, son. It’s time to rest.”
A few more sobs escaped from him as he looked up at his father figure. He couldn’t help but smile at Hosea, his hand still clenching Hosea's and the feeling of Hosea holding his cheek brought him comfort. It was finally over, and he no longer felt afraid to pass with Hosea beside him. He let out a long sigh, turning his head over to see the sun that has now completely rose above the horizon line. Arthur took in one more deep breath and let it flow out through his mouth as he leaned his head back and let his eyes slip close.