Chapter Text
Stood between the medicine wagon and George’s tent, Micah leans against the wagon, trying to focus on the repetitive scraping sound of his knife sliding against the whetstone. But his hands tremble as he sharpens his knife, getting dangerously close to slicing his thumb open, unable to focus on his task. Not with that dog in camp.
The mutt appeared four days ago, found by Jack when the dog wandered into camp. And Dutch… Dutch not only let Jack keep the goddamn dog, but he even named the freaking creature. Even George loves the dog, so with both boys liking the mutt so much, there is no way the dog is going anywhere.
But, fuck, Micah wishes it would disappear. He hasn’t slept in four days, too tense with the dog in camp to get a wink of sleep (and too concerned about running into the dog if he leaves the tent, so he stays in the tent all night despite not sleeping). Every time Cain barks, Micah’s stomach cramps, his chest getting tight. Micah never lets the dog too close to him, always coincidentally finding himself on the opposite side of camp to the dog. And Micah has also found every possible excuse to leave camp, wanting to spend as little time near the dog as possible.
But he can’t be too suspicious. He never wants anyone to know how much the dog’s presence affects him. He can’t cope with the humiliation of anyone knowing that Micah Bell III is scared of a goddamn dog.
And Micah hates to admit it even to himself, but it’s true. For thirty fucking years, the mere sight of a dog has filled Micah with pathetic terror, his muscles trembling, his hands sweaty, his throat dry and his chest all tight, heart fluttering against his ribs. The symptoms make him feel terrible, explaining his lack of sleep, and Micah just wants to chase the dog out of camp. Honestly, by this point, he has thought about leading the dog out of camp and killing it, but… if George found out, Micah wouldn’t be able to deal with the guilt (he never felt guilty before he met his son, but upsetting the boy makes his chest hurt). So… he’s stuck.
If Arthur and George have noticed a change in his behaviour, they haven’t said anything. And that’s fine by him. Out of everyone in this gang, Micah especially doesn’t want those two to find out about his pathetic fear.
Goddamn it, why did that dog have to walk into camp?
And why must Micah be so fucking pathetic?
---
Something is wrong with Micah. Arthur’s first clue that his lover isn’t right is Micah’s lack of sleep, because despite Micah’s usual insomnia, he usually isn’t this bad (at least, not since he started sharing a bed with Arthur). The past four days, Micah has stayed in the tent all night, rather than getting up and wandering around when he’s restless, and whenever Arthur stirred in the night, he found Micah either lying next to him, eyes open and staring at the roof of the tent, or sat at the foot of the bed, cleaning his weapons. If he didn’t know better, he would think that Micah was… refusing to leave the tent.
It's clear that Micah hasn’t slept at all for those four nights, the bags under his eyes severe and his expression often vacant like he’s craving sleep. He isn’t approaching people to be an asshole like he used to, but the last few days, Micah has started snapping at people who go near him again, hissing insults and glaring at them. He hasn’t snapped at Arthur or George yet, and Arthur can tell that Micah is trying to be on his best behaviour around him and the boy. But he still shouldn’t be snapping at the others. And why has this change occurred?
Partway through the fourth day of Micah’s odd behaviour, Arthur discovers a possible cause when Micah sees George playing with Cain. The boy waves at his papa, asking Micah to watch him try to teach Cain a trick, but Micah’s body goes ridged and a strange expression crosses his face.
Micah looks from George to Cain and back to George, and then he blurts, “Sorry, Georgie-boy, I’ve gotta go, uh, relieve myself,” and he hurries off to the woods outside of camp, leaving the boy looking very confused.
And not only was this an obvious lie from Micah’s awkward tone, but when Arthur follows his lover into the woods surrounding Clemens Point, he finds Micah pacing back and forth, playing with his guns, rather than emptying his bladder against a tree.
“Weren’t you supposed to be pissin’?” Arthur says, and Micah jumps violently, spinning on his heels.
“Jesus, Morgan, you tryin’ to kill me?” he splutters, clutching his chest.
And now Arthur studies his lover, he notices the rapid but shallow breaths, and the sheen of sweat on his pale face. Arthur has seen this behaviour before, but only usually in the dead of night, when Micah wakes him by flinching into consciousness, trembling as he struggles to work out if he’s still trapped in a nightmare. And, of course, he acted like this all the time several months ago, when he met George and suffered a severe breakdown, his past trauma triggered by seeing George’s mother again. So, when Micah looks this dreadful, Arthur knows that his lover is always terrified.
Which mean… he must be scared right now. But he seemed fine before George spoke to him, trying to encourage Micah to sit with him and Cain…
Oh, Arthur thinks, is he scared of the dog?
Now he thinks about it, Micah hasn’t slept in four days, and seemed snappier that entire time. And four days ago… Cain arrived. Yeah, he must have a fear of dogs. But why didn’t he say anything?
Bet he thinks it makes him weak, is Arthur’s first thought, and it’s probably true; Micah Bell has a serious issue with associating his emotions with weakness.
And he knows Micah will probably lie, but he still asks, “Micah, are you… scared of Cain?”
Micah stares at him for a second, before snorting with laughter. Stepping closer, he slaps his hand against Arthur’s shoulder, his laughs hollow as he says, “Good joke, Arthur, you’re a funny bastard sometimes…” His tone is playful yet false, the fear in his eyes even more noticeable up close. “Of course, I ain’t scared of a goddamn dog. What kinda pathetic loser d’you take me to be, sweetheart?”
“Being scared ain’t pathetic, and it’s okay if you are—”
“But I ain’t!” Micah snaps. “I ain’t scared of some stupid mutt, and you better not start spreadin’ lies about me, Morgan.”
The tension and paranoia in Micah’s voice is so strange, like a relic of the man he used to be before George came into his life, and Arthur almost takes a step backwards. But he stands his ground, grabbing Micah’s free hand with his own, resisting the urge to grimace as cold sweat smears his hand.
“I’m not gonna spread lies about you, dumbass,” Arthur says, sighing. He knows that he won’t make Micah admit the obvious truth, so he settles with adding, “Look, y’know you can tell me anythin’, right? Just remember that, okay.”
Micah puffs out a long, shaky breath. “Wh-Whatever you say,” he says, and, ripping his hand free of Arthur’s grip, he storms off further into the woods.
Confused and frustrated, Arthur doesn’t bother to follow him, letting his idiot of a lover go off and sulk rather than let Arthur help him.
---
Sat by the campfire, Micah whittles a stick into a sharp point, trying not to look at the goddamn dog sat by Bill’s feet (other than the kids, Cain likes Bill the most, constantly hanging around Williamson). Only a few feet away, on the other side of the flames, Williamson pets the creature, talking to Cain in an irritating, soppy tone that sounds so goddamn wrong coming out of an outlaw’s mouth.
“Oh… you’re a good boy,” Bill says, petting the dog on his stupid head. “Yes you are, good boy…”
Micah grits his jaw, hating this. He was at the campfire first, and when Bill came to sit down, that dog followed him like a bad smell, sitting closer to Micah than it has dared these past four days. He needs a drink, but that would require standing up and walking past the dog, and all Micah can think about is a memory of that dog growling and snarling and teeth sinking into his leg. Eventually, though, his thirst overwhelms his fear, so Micah drops the stick and gets to his feet.
But as he walks away from the campfire, the dog turns its head, staring at Micah. And Cain only studies him curiously (after all, Micah is the only person who hasn’t petted the dog yet, so it’s not surprising that the dog is confused as to why he’s being ignored by Micah), but Micah can’t think logically, unable to separate the gentle, if excitable dog that his son loves, from the terrifying monster that haunts his nightmares and makes him tremble when a dog barks. The dog won’t stop looking at him, and when Cain opens his mouth to pant, Micah sees his teeth and his terror overwhelms him, remembering bright white teeth and shocking red blood and unbearable pain…
And before he can calm down and stop himself acting like an idiot in public, a humiliating shriek escapes Micah and he jumps about a foot backwards and yells, “Away with you, you flea-ridden mongrel!” To his relief, Cain bolts away, but that doesn’t stop everyone looking at Micah like he’s a lunatic. His heart pounding in his chest, terrified and hating himself for it, Micah steps closer to Bill. Sneering at Bill, his tone nasty, Micah says, “I don’t mean you, Bill, by the way.”
Bill glares at Micah, obviously hating Micah for yelling at the dog. “Oh, he smells somethin’ on you.”
“He smells somethin’ on you… that you’re the fool who’ll feed him.”
And before he even realises that he does it, Micah barks at Bill, and stalks off. He ducks his head, hands on his gunbelt, his guts churning and everything shaking just from being looked at by a goddamn dog.
Very grateful that Arthur isn’t in camp right now (Morgan would never let him hear the end of that pathetic behaviour), Micah wanders down to the shore, where he finds George and Jack drawing in the sandy earth with sticks. When he realises that both boys try to draw Cain (George’s actually looks like a dog, whereas Jack’s is more like a blob with legs), Micah grits his teeth; why is he unable to escape that fucking dog no matter where he goes?
Sighing, he plonks down on a log near the kids, and begins to clean one of his guns, wishing his hands would stop shaking. When George waves at him, Micah forces a smile and waves back, not wanting the boy to sense his fear. Thankfully, George just goes back to his drawing, and some of Micah’s anxiety lessens to know that his son hasn’t noticed how awful he feels.
---
A few hours later, after Arthur has returned to camp and asked Micah what he was playing at earlier (goddamn Williamson must have told on him, leaving Micah desperately lying to Arthur about how he totally didn’t freak out and bark like a dog in the middle of camp, but Arthur obviously didn’t believe him), Micah wanders along the edge of camp on his way back from grooming Baylock. He swigs from a bottle of Guarma rum that he found in his saddlebags, wondering if getting drunk might let him sleep for the first time in over four days.
Walking past the scout fire, he passes the hitching posts when he spots the mutt sleeping beside the medicine wagon. Micah takes another long swig of rum, thinking about how his problems will stop if the dog just leaves. He already ruled out killing Cain, but as he watches the dog sleep, Micah wonders if he can scare the dog away. A stray dog just wandering away is fully believable (just like how Cain wandered into camp to begin with), and whilst being upset, George would eventually understand that stray animals don’t always stay in one place. And then everyone would be back to normal.
Dropping the bottle on the grass (it still had booze in it, but Micah has never been a fan of rum), Micah takes a deep breath and approaches the dog. Cain doesn’t stir, but Micah’s heart still hammers as he gets closer, hating himself and this fear so fucking much. He glances around, checking if anyone is watching, and then shifts his weight onto one leg. Wobbling slightly, Micah pulls his foot back, about to kick Cain when—
“Papa!”
Micah jumps, losing his balance and crashing sideways into the wagon. The noise startles Cain, the dog running away, and Micah turns his head, finding George stood behind the medicine wagon.
Should’ve checked better, dumbass, Micah thinks, realising that he forgot to look behind him, and therefore failed to notice George walking behind the medicine wagon and looking straight at his father about to kick the camp’s new dog.
“What’re you doing?” George cries as Micah spins to face him. The boy stares at him with big, horrified eyes, his bottom lip starting to wobble. “Papa, were you trying to… to kick Cain?”
“What? No, course I wasn’t, Georgie-boy,” Micah says, holding out a hand to ruffle the boy’s hair, but George backs away from him.
“You liar!” George shouts, his voice quivering. “I, I saw you doing this—” He copies Micah’s posture, lifting one leg off the ground and swinging his foot backwards. “—so don’t pretend, Papa! You were gonna hurt him!”
Micah swallows hard, raising both hands, palms outwards. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots several gang members staring at him, and Micah tries desperately to deescalate this situation before anyone else finds out. “Hey, now, why don’t we just calm ourselves down, kiddo—”
“Stop it! Stop being nice after I saw you…” George’s voice breaks and he trails off, tears brimming in his eyes. “He’s my friend, Papa. Why would you…?”
“Whoa, what the hell’s goin’ on over here?” Arthur says, hurrying towards them from the middle of camp, having abandoned the game of dominoes he was playing with Tilly. Taking in Micah’s defensive posture and the boy’s teary eyes, Arthur stares at his lover. “Micah, did you upset him?”
“Nah, it ain’t like that, Morgan, I just—”
“He was gonna kick Cain!” George shrieks, his voice so loud that the entire camp hears him, the tears spilling down his cheeks. He races past Micah and clings to Arthur, sobbing into Arthur’s stomach.
“What?” Arthur says, putting his hand on George’s head, stroking the boy’s hair. “Micah, is this true?”
“Uh…” For once, Micah finds himself lost for words, unable to conjure a lie with his heart racing so fast, so breathless he feels like he’s about to faint. But before Micah even gets a chance to think of something to say, a fist collides with his jaw and he collapses to the ground, groaning in pain. “What the…?”
“Bill!” Arthur says.
“He fuckin’ deserved it, Morgan,” Bill says, rubbing his knuckles.
His head spinning, Micah pieces together what happened, realising that Bill just stormed over and cracked him across the jaw.
“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” Bill hisses, kicking Micah’s leg before walking away, hands clenched into shaking fists.
“Ain’t you gonna… help me up?” Micah asks Arthur, who just stares down at him, holding George as the boy keeps sobbing.
“Not until you tell me the goddamn truth, Bell,” Arthur says. “Did you try to kick that dog?”
Micah pants for breath, backed into a corner, knowing that either answer will get him in trouble. Grabbing onto the side of the medicine wagon, Micah hauls himself to his feet, pain throbbing through his jaw. “Now, I wouldn’t say that—”
“Stop lying!” George yells, tearing himself away from Arthur and turning to face Micah. His cheeks blotchy from crying, tears shimmer in his eyes as George screams, “You were gonna hurt my friend. I hate you!”
And he runs away, hurtling across camp as he howls with sobs.
Watching George leave, Arthur steps closer to Micah, his guts twisting. Despite Micah’s continued attempts to bullshit his way out of this, he believes the boy. To his disgust, Micah genuinely attempted to kick Cain, the adorable camp dog beloved by George and Jack, and he won’t even admit it.
“You bastard…” Arthur says, his voice a low growl. “Listen to me, Bell. If you ever hurt that dog, we’re through. I won’t kill you, but I ain’t gonna stop Bill if he wants to shoot you in the fuckin’ face for hurtin’ the dog. Understand?”
Micah gulps, rubbing his bruising jaw. “I, uh…”
When Dutch approaches, Micah groans, ducking his head as though that will hide the red mark on his face. Before Micah gets a chance to speak, Arthur tells Dutch what happened, glaring at his partner to stop Micah from butting in. By the time Dutch is caught up on the incident that left George running across camp in hysterical tears, their leader’s expression becomes one of subdued fury, and Micah flinches when Dutch walks closer.
“Mister Bell, I think it’d be for the best if you leave camp for today. Don’t come back until tomorrow, when you’ve cooled the hell off,” he says. “Do I make myself clear?”
In any other circumstances, Arthur would laugh at how meekly Micah nods his head before scurrying over to the horses, but right now, he can’t summon any emotions other than anger. He watches Micah saddle up Baylock and ride out of camp without another word.
“Thanks for that, Dutch,” Arthur says, sighing.
“It’s nothin’, son,” Dutch says, patting his shoulder. “I just… can’t believe him.”
“Neither can I.” As Arthur tries to hold back his anger, he remembers George running off in tears, and he says, “Shit, the boy! I should go.”
And he races off to find George. He locates the boy sat behind the chicken coop, sobbing into his hands.
“George?” he whispers, crouching beside the kid. “Are you—”
Before Arthur finishes his sentence, George jumps on him, knocking Arthur onto his ass. The boy sits on his lap, burying his face in Arthur’s chest, small hands shaking as they clutch Arthur’s shirt. “Why did… he do that?” George sobs, sniffling (and probably getting snot all over Arthur’s shirt).
“I ain’t sure, boy,” Arthur says, although he wonders if this all has something to do with Micah’s obvious fear of dogs.
“Arthur… I’m mad at Papa, but… but I don’t really hate him. I was just so… so sad,” George says. “I wish I hadn’t said that.” Pulling his face away from Arthur’s chest, George tilts his head up to look at him, tears and snot streaming down his face. “What if it’s the last thing I ever said to him?! What if he, he dies and…” And he breaks down all over again, wailing as he clings to Arthur tighter.
“Oh, George…” Arthur sighs, stroking George’s heaving back. “He ain’t gonna die.”
“But what, what if he does? I don’t want him to be m-mean to Cain, but, but I don’t hate him, and…”
Wracked with guilt, George cries harder, and Arthur can’t find the words to comfort him. So, he just holds the boy close, rubbing his back until the tears finally stop.
---
Racing away from Clemens Point, leading Baylock faster and faster, Micah has no idea how to channel the swirling ball of anger and fear and guilt crushing his chest. He doesn’t know where he’s going, only that he needs to get away from camp.
Even now he’s out of camp and away from the dog, Micah’s anxiety won’t fade, the guilt over making George cry making him want to throw up, and for the first time in months, Micah feels the urge to hurt himself. His mind fills with thoughts of lighting a cigarette and pressing it against his thigh, burning himself until his emotions calm down, just like he used to do so often nine years ago.
Thankfully, before he has time to stop and climb off Baylock to pull his pants down and burn his thigh, Micah hears voices in the trees off the trail a second before a group of goddamn Lemoyne Raiders ambush him. But that doesn’t scare him, and instead of hurting himself, Micah takes out his anger on the fools who tried to attack him, murdering people who deserve it rather than rampaging and hurting innocents like he would have done in the past.
Once he’s blown their stupid heads open, the urge to burn himself has passed. Pathetically proud of himself for not relapsing into his worst coping mechanism, Micah keeps riding aimlessly, feeding Baylock a wild carrot as he wobbles in the saddle.
But even though he isn’t about to burn himself, Micah doesn’t feel much better. Fuck, he can’t remember the last time he felt so pathetic. Why did Dutch let Jack keep that dog? If that dog wasn’t in camp, Micah wouldn’t have almost destroyed the stable life he has managed to build these last few months.
No, he nearly destroyed everything. Because Micah Bell III can’t do anything right.