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Micah Bell. The man is an enigma. Nothing about him makes sense, and Dutch wants to learn more.
He saved Dutch’s life only a week ago, shooting the men who tried to kill Dutch with impressive skill and ease, cackling taunts as the men dropped to the ground, dead. In return for Micah saving his life, Dutch offered for Micah to join his gang. And Micah jumped at the chance (“Shit, you’re askin’ me to join the Van der Linde Gang?” Micah said, hands fiddling with the grips of his revolvers as he grinned. “Sure, I’ll join ya.”), accompanying Dutch back to camp. But things haven’t gone quite as expected in the week since Micah arrived.
For one thing, Dutch must admit to finding Micah quite… odd. When he saved Dutch’s life, he was rude and aggressive and took down three men in the blink of an eye… but when the threat was over and Dutch approached Micah, his behaviour changed sharply. Gone was the cocky loudmouth who looked at home in a gunfight, the man before him tilting his head to hide his eyes behind the brim of his hat, his smile now stiff and awkward. Micah twirled his revolvers by his sides again and again, and he spoke with a slight stutter when they exchanged names. And yet, when they rode back to camp, and Dutch asked Micah about his guns (because he noticed that Micah wore his guns reversed in his holsters, just like Hosea), Micah’s speech became fluent and relaxed as he told Dutch fact after fact about his double-action revolvers, his reverse holster draw, and his skill at spinning his guns—and even though most of what Micah said went over Dutch’s head, it was oddly charming to hear a complete stranger ramble on like that.
And the more time Dutch spends around Micah, the more curious he finds his newest gang member. For one thing, Micah’s hands are always moving, constantly twitching by his holsters, or cleaning his guns, or sharpening his knife, or whittling… Dutch has literally never seen Micah’s hands still. Another thing, which Dutch initially thought was just nerves when they met, is how Micah rarely looks people in the eye, the brim of his hat angled to obscure his eyes, and Dutch wonders if Micah doesn’t like eye contact and uses his hat to hide this.
Also, despite how loud he was during combat, Micah seems almost… shy when not in a gunfight. Well, maybe not shy, but Micah definitely appears to not be a sociable man, spending most of his time lurking on the outskirts of camp. Several times, Dutch has seen people approach Micah (obviously wanting to introduce themselves to the new recruit who saved Dutch’s life), and Micah always tenses when someone comes near him, seemingly unable to find his words—before he sneers and tells them to go away.
Unsurprisingly, the rest of the gang don’t seem to be warming up to Micah. But only part of it is caused by Micah’s rude behaviour—at least, that’s what Dutch discovers when he overhears a conversation about Micah one day.
“So, what d’you think about Bell?” Sean says, passing a whiskey bottle to Karen.
She takes the bottle, sipping it before saying, “What, the new feller? He’s an asshole, ain’t he.”
“Yeah, I dunno what Dutch sees in the arsehole. He bit my goddamn head off for tryin’ to say hello.”
“But, y’know…” Karen trails off, handing the bottle back. “D’you think he’s… uh… kinda creepy?”
“How d’you mean?” Sean asks.
“He’s so fidgety, like he never sits still. He just freaks me out, y’know.”
“Now you mention it… he didn’t look me in the eye. And my da always said people who don’t make eye contact are hidin’ somethin’.”
As he eavesdrops, Dutch recalls that he noticed these traits of Micah’s the day they met. But whilst he found these habits of Micah’s a little odd, Dutch would never describe those traits as ‘creepy’. They’re right that Micah can be a rude, grumpy asshole, often snapping at people entirely unprovoked, but his harmless little quirks don’t deserve so much ridicule.
Remembering that he needs to talk to Arthur, Dutch continues his walk across camp. And when he passes a tree near where Sean and Karen sit, he finds Micah leaning against the tree—and from Micah’s gritted jaw and unnaturally still hands, he realises that Micah heard every word.
Another time, Dutch discovers one of Micah’s quirks when Micah gets into an argument with Pearson.
As Micah avoids the stew pot and instead grabs a can of peaches, Pearson says, “Mister Bell, why do you never eat my stew?” And now Pearson points it out, Dutch realises that he has never seen Micah touch a bowl of stew.
“I have,” Micah says. “Had some on my first day here.”
“And why haven’t you had any since?” Pearson asks, eyeing Micah warily.
“It’s disgustin’, that’s why. Can I go now, oooooor…?”
“Disgustin’? Nobody else thinks my stew tastes bad, Mister Bell.”
(As far as Dutch is concerned, Pearson’s stew is far too bland to be disgusting, but Susan sometimes adds herbs to make it tastier.)
“It ain’t the taste, you idiot. It feels disgustin’ in my mouth,” Micah snaps.
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Pearson says, puzzled.
As Pearson speaks, Micah’s mouth moves wordlessly, his cheeks flushing red (a sight that Dutch finds rather adorable), and he steps backwards. “Uh…” Micah mumbles, and Dutch wonders if Micah didn’t mean to tell Pearson that. “Oh, just get lost,” he says, shoving Pearson as he storms off.
Only a few hours later, Arthur accidentally bumps shoulders with Micah as they pass each other by the hitching posts. It’s a mild collision, but Micah hisses, flinching like Arthur stabbed him.
“Get off!” he snarls.
“Jesus, I only brushed past you, Bell,” Arthur says, eyebrows raised.
“Forgive me for not likin’ people so close to me,” Micah mutters.
And as Micah walks off, touching his arm as though Arthur bruised him, Arthur stares after Micah like he’s crazy. And whilst Micah isn’t crazy, Dutch can tell that there is something… different about Micah Bell.
There must be. Otherwise, why doesn’t Micah like eye contact or being touched, or eating foods with ‘disgusting’ textures? Why does he never stop fidgeting, and struggle to make small talk, but also ramble for hours if you get him onto a topic he likes? None of these things are bad, of course—to be truthful, Dutch finds these traits rather endearing, Micah’s quirkiness adding to Dutch’s growing infatuation towards his new recruit—but Micah clearly functions differently to anyone else Dutch has met.
A few days later, Dutch discovers the full extent of Micah’s ‘differences’, when Jack has a tantrum in the middle of camp. As the boy infuriates his mother, screaming and crying about goodness knows what, most people in camp tune out Jack’s behaviour, knowing that Abigail can handle this (his mother is the only person Jack will stop having a tantrum for—even Hosea can’t handle him that well), and he’ll stop eventually. Micah, however, is exposed to Jack’s first tantrum since he joined the gang… and he clearly hates it.
Sat by the campfire, Micah pauses whittling as Jack screams nearby. His shoulders tense, and the longer Jack screams and cries, Micah hunches further and further in on himself, his hand shaking around his knife. Dutch almost considers walking over and trying to calm Micah down, but he doesn’t get the chance, because—
“For fuck’s sake!” Micah yells, standing up. Pointing a shaky finger at Abigail, he shouts, “Make your brat shut his face right now, you goddamn whore!”
And he storms off, head down and hands twitching violently by his sides. As Jack clings to his mother, scared enough by Micah’s outburst to stop having a tantrum, Hosea rushes over to Abigail and the boy. But Dutch can’t forget how tense Micah looked, so he follows Micah to the outskirts of camp, wanting to know what the hell that was about.
He finds Micah pacing back and forth a short distance from camp, and Dutch opens his mouth to reprimand Micah (because he knows that Micah is grumpy and difficult to get along with, but there’s a difference between being rude and using such language towards Abigail—and scaring poor Jack), but then he sees Micah properly.
Micah has his eyes screwed up, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, whilst his fists smash against his thighs hard enough to hurt. He does it again and again, frowning as blood dribbles down his scarred chin, causing himself intense pain for a reason Dutch can’t understand.
Stepping closer, Dutch says, “Micah, what’re you—”
Micah’s eyes snap open, humiliation written across his face. His hands fly to his holsters, about to draw when he notices the person watching him. Instead, his hands clutch his gunbelt (just as well, because Dutch doesn’t want to have a standoff with his intriguing and attractive newest recruit), clutching the leather so hard his knuckles turn white, and he ducks his head, his hat once again hiding his eyes.
“Fuck…” Micah mumbles, his voice a little flat. “Boss, I…”
“Are you doin’ okay, Micah?” Dutch asks, too distracted by how sick and distressed Micah looks to remember how angry he was.
“Do, do I fuckin’ look it?!” Micah snaps, stammering slightly, rubbing his hands against his gunbelt. “Shit, I… it’s t-too much, Dutch!”
“What is?”
Micah sighs, slowly pulling a revolver from his holster (he would never draw to shoot so slowly, so Dutch knows Micah doesn’t plan to shoot him). He spins the gun, fast and rather clumsily (compared to his usual skill at twirling his revolvers), his tense shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly as his hand moves. Turning his head, refusing to look in Dutch’s direction, Micah says, “This, this gang. I ain’t never been in, in such a big gang before. There’s so many people, and that, that goddamn kid is so loud, and everyone wants to talk but I dunno what, what, what to say and… fuck, I’m so pathetic!”
Listening to Micah break down, Dutch realises how much simply being around other people hurts Micah; for whatever reason, Micah finds being in such a large gang utterly exhausting—and Micah clearly hates himself for this.
“You ain’t pathetic, Micah—”
“I am, though. Woulda already left if, if you weren’t here,” Micah mutters, a slight flush patterning his cheeks. He draws his other revolver, twirling both guns at once.
Despite the awful state of the man before him, Dutch can’t help his stomach fluttering at Micah’s words. Did Micah really just admit to only hanging around because Dutch is here? There may be nothing flirtatious about Micah’s words, but still… the thought of Micah persevering with the gang because he likes Dutch is rather sweet.
“Thank you, Micah,” Dutch says, smiling.
Micah clears his throat, biting his sore lip. He tries to smirk, but the expression seems hollow. “No problem, Boss…” he says, raising an eyebrow as though he isn’t having some sort of breakdown.
Okay, perhaps Micah was trying to sound flirtatious. His smile broadening, Dutch steps closer—
But Micah steps backwards, keeping distance between them.
“Sorry, Dutch, but, I, I don’t…”
“You don’t like people so close to you,” Dutch says, remembering what Micah told Arthur.
Micah nods. “Yeah…”
“That’s okay. Would you like me to go?” he asks, wondering if Micah might not want Dutch watching him have this strange breakdown.
Giving Dutch an awkward smile, Micah mumbles, “Nah… s’okay. You can stay.” He clears his throat, continuing to twirl his revolvers. “If you wanna… see me being a god-goddamn freak.”
“You ain’t a freak, Micah. And I’m fine to stay,” Dutch says. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s rather worried about Micah, and Dutch doesn’t want Micah to start hurting himself again the moment Dutch leaves.
“Thanks, Boss,” Micah says. “That, that means a lot.”
“No problem,” Dutch says, glad to help his newest recruit feel better in any way possible.