Chapter Text
This story begins on a night that was both cold and stormy. A night where no one in their right mind would think of venturing outside and yet, it is here we find our two protagonists.
They were on their way to find shelter, which was quite hard to do under the circumstances they found themselves in. They were high up on the mountain with no supplies and having just come out of a gunfight, suffice to say they were quite desperate. On top of that already disastrous combination the pair and their horses also hadn’t eaten in a while and were beginning to tire out.
In these harsh conditions I introduce you to Arthur Morgan and John Marston.
The two rode not side by side but behind each other. In front rode Arthur, trying his best to ignore his brother behind him and look out for any sign of light. Being both the oldest and biggest (mentally and physically) of the two, he was ceaselessly berating himself for getting them into this situation-- where death was highly likely. He should have known better than letting himself get swayed by John into doing his stupid ideas.
Speaking of John, the man tried his best to also look around for light but found it difficult due to specks of snow constantly getting in his eyes. His brother had told him to wear a hat but the just-barely-18-year-old considered it unnecessary. He was just as tall as his elder brother but despite that he still had the lankiness of a teenager. And stubbornness too, which is why he was sitting on a horse in a snowstorm wearing only two ratty gloves and a thin jacket.
Luckily for him though in a stroke of luck (which could be considered a gift of god) Arthur spotted lights in the distance. A tavern! It radiated the warmth both men desperately needed and with a last push they rode their horses on their last remaining strength quickly forward.
The tavern consisted of three parts: a big wooden cabin in the middle with a shit house on the left and a small barn on the right. After deciding to first put their horses away, John and Arthur approached the barn behind the shack. Inside there were already some horses tied, though enough space was left for their two horses. Now with the safety of the tavern so close and survival almost guaranteed, John decided to reopen the argument they had been having before the storm kicked in. Defending his plan for what felt like the hundredth time.
“You should’ve researched it better!” Arthur cut in with a stern tone. Even though the coat he had tucked his face in muffled half the words John, who walked half a step behind Arthur, heard him perfectly. “I did you horseass, can’t blame me everytime when somethin’ unexpected turns up.” John said with a slight crack in his voice.
The younger man became increasingly more irritated, finding it unjustified that Arthur wouldn’t let the disastrous stage robbery go. They've had worse robberies then this before, it wasn't the first time the police ever showed up John thought angrily. With a grimace he tried to convince his brother one more time as they approached the main wooden cabin. “I asked around town, I did all the work that was needed! Hell, I even went to scout for the best location on the goddamn trail. Ain’t nobody said anything suspicious I swear-”
With a rough push on the door handle Arthur silenced John. He threw John a single glance before slamming the door open with a bang and stepping into the shack with a stone cold expression.
The message was clear; no more talk.
John fell behind in reluctant silence. A metaphorical tail between his legs as the two of them approached the tavern owner.
The owner, an elderly lady, looked up from her book with a surprised expression as the two approached. Arthur merely glared back “Two rooms… Please.” The please came out fast, like it had been added in as an afterthought.
John who stood beside him kept his head low. He stared into the fire in the fireplace next to the counter, shoulders high and trying his best to disappear.
The tavern keepers gaze flipped between the two with a troubled expression but then schooled it into a meaningless smile. “I'm sorry,” she said, “but we only have one room available at this time I'm afraid. Fortunately for you, it does have two separate beds.”
Arthurs frown deepened for a moment, looking like he was about to reach over the counter to choke the lady, but then closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue off his features without much succes.“That will do then,” he said, “how much per night?”
After the lady gave her price, Arthur paid the money with another big sigh. These rooms better be worth it. The lady handed him the key, but before he was able to do anything however John swooped in and grabbed the room keys out of Arthur’s hands.
Without sparing Arthur so much as even a glance, he swiftly stomped up the stairs. And even though Arthur knew the boy was hungry John didn’t hesitate even once while going up. All Arthur could do was watch as his brother disappeared out of sight.
The lady, who also watched John go, turned back to Arthur with a knowing smile. “Your room is on the back right.” she said.
Arthur nodded, “Is there anythin' warm I can eat?” he asked.
The lady nodded once and went back into a backroom behind the counter.
It was then Arthur felt the eyes on his back. Slowly he turned his head around, looking at the other people in the cabin people from under the brim of his hat.
He hadn't noticed it before but the inn was already inhabited with people, four in fact. On his right, a Mexican man sat next to the fireplace, knife in hand as he was in the middle of sharpening it. He looked at Arthur with an expression that Arthur couldn’t quite place, it was like he recognized him.
Quickly glancing away he noticed others behind him. Sitting at a round table was a white couple, a woman with brown hair and a blonde haired man. The woman's head leaned on her hand as she stared at him with intrigue. The man beside her had his spoon held up in the air as if he was about to take a bite but stopped to look at him. His expression was one of surprise and like the woman beside him, filled with interest.
Lastly, there was a lonely figure on his left, book in hand. The dark skinned man was the only one who didn’t look at Arthur but instead was reading from his book. Arthur decided he liked that man best out of the three others.
When the tavern lady came back with Arthur’s warm stew, he quickly took it and sat down in the chair diagonally across from the reading man. Before eating, Arthur first took off his heavy blue coat and gloves, having no use for them in the warm cabin. He hesitated-- but decided to leave his fathers hat on his head. It felt like it gave him some protection. From what he didn't know just yet.
He scarfed down his food quickly--hungry as he was-- before suddenly feeling an arm on his shoulder.
He jumped off his chair in an instant. Revolver ready in hand looking at the one who had touched him.
The blonde man he recognized from earlier threw his hands up in the air. “Hey there cowboy,” the stranger said with a half smile and hands lowering, “no need for guns here. I was just trying to talk.”
A frown appeared on Arthurs face again as he slowly put the revolver back to its holster. “What’chu want.”
“I just wanted to introduce myself. Didn't think you'd get so startled, partner. Anyhow, my name is Samuel. Everyone calls me Sam though.” He chuckled, though the rest of the room remained awkwardly silent. Samuel quickly carried on. “The woman I’m with, my wife, is called Ellie.” The man gestured towards his wife with a bright smile. The woman held up one hand with an ice cold expression. “We thought we might get to know you a bit. You know since we'll be stuck with each other for some time while the storm is rolling over.”
As the man was talking Arthur straightened up, feeling a bit uneasy under the attention he was getting. When Arthur didn’t respond Samuel frowned a bit, “You do got a name don’t ya?” He asked. Arthur remained silent for a moment longer before responding, “It’s Arthur.” The man's frown evaporated and he smiled widely. “Great! Nice to meet you Arthur. The one you were with, that tall lanky feller with black hair. Is that your stable boy?” There was another silence and eventually Arthur responded. “No… He’s my little brother, John.”
The man's smile widened eerily and Arthur read something from his eyes he couldn't quite place.
Delight?
No it was something stronger, like he had won the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was the face Dutch always wore when he and Hosea found a lucrative scam.
Samuel meanwhile continued with his jolly tone, “You and your brother? Are you traveling? Y'all seem a bit out of place here. You know, with you two armed to the teeth and the cowboy attitude. You looked like you were about to rob a stage!” He let out a laugh at his own joke.
With every question asked Arthur’s hackles raised a bit more. “Sure…” He said instead of answering any of the questions.
Samuel sighed and looked at him apologetically, “I’m a bit hasty huh, sorry that’s something I do sometimes”
“Right…” Arthur responded slowly, stretching out the sound.
Samuel opened his mouth to say some other crap but before he could, Arthur turned away.
“Look, Pam was it? I’m sure you’re a lovely man but I have things to do. Thanks for the introduction… I guess,” Arthur said while gathering his stuff. He could feel the man’s stare on his back as he finished picking up his things and walked up to the tavern lady with his empty stew bowl. “Can I get another bowl?” he asked.
The woman took the bowl wordlessly and came back shortly after. “That’ll be 2 dollars.” She said and sat back down in her chair.
Arthur left the money and took the bowl upstairs to John.
He knocked on the room door twice and waited.
There were a few moments of silence before the door swung open violently. John stood on the other side with a scowl, which only deepened when he saw Arthur. You see, John is a person who can hold grudges easily. He can stay angry for days, months or even years. Some would say that the boy was born mad at the world. Arthur knew this fact of John. So instead of trying to calm John down, he’d brought a peace offering.
Arthur stepped past the younger man without saying a word. Silently, he placed the hot stew on a table that stood against the backwall. John watched him with hawk eyes, frown ever present. “When you're done moping you should come and eat. I brought some stew for ya--I know you’re hungry,” Arthur said, glancing over his shoulder. After John stayed quiet Arthur shrugged and threw his coat on a nearby dresser. "Your loss."
The two beds of the room were placed against walls on either side of the room. One bed was already messy where John had presumably lain under the covers. So Arthur instead picked the other. With a sigh, he sat down.
John hadn't moved an inch from his spot by the door. His eyes were fixated on the cooling stew. He leaned against the door, and Arthur knew he was unsure what to do. John didn’t want to set his anger aside yet, didn’t really want to accept Arthur’s peace offering, but-- he was also really, really hungry
The tug of war within John was won however when his stomach growled.
Loudly.
The sound made Arthur chuckle and John's face became warm. Reluctantly, he stepped forward to pick up the food. He started eating slowly, like he had been taught by Dutch. But as soon as he had his first bite all the lessons were forgotten and he unceremoniously scarfed it all down.
After John finished his plate and set it aside, he let himself fall back on his bed. A tired sigh escaped him as he curled up underneath the covers again the way he had undoubtedly lain before Arthur showed up. He shuffled around for a moment, trying to find a comfortable position around the knife he had stuck under his thin pillow. In a strange place like this it's better safe than sorry John always reckoned. Doesn't make it any more comfortable to sleep on though.
In the middle of his internal monologue Arthur's voice suddenly cut through "Before you sleep ya gotta lock the door John.” Arthur said. John internally groaned and curled up tighter. His brother always made him do the stupid chores. Arthur needed to clean the dishes? John's task now. Carrying heavy haybills for the horses? Leave it to John. Stupid little John, always ready to have tasks shoved onto. Not this time. This time Arthur would have to do it himself. After a moment of no movement from John Arthur sighed and lowered his voice into a no-argue tone that he knew always worked, “
John
.” The underlying threat of "if you don't do this you will face hell." was clear.
Like an explosion John shot up from his bed. He stormed to the door, violently locked it with the key and ran back to his bed. Though not before snarling “Get shot and die,” in Arthur's face. He quickly buried himself under the covers again and pomptly decided to never get up ever again.
Arthur watched the whole ordeal with mild amusement and lay down on the bed as well. He blew out the gas lantern on his bedside table and the room became cloaked in black shadows.
Apologizing would come tomorrow.
What the brothers did not know is that their miserable adventure would become infinitely worse. Blissfully, they slept on the thin mattresses of their rented beds. The room was dark-- and silent. Until--at the stroke of midnight–a soft click disturbed the peace.
The lock had been picked.
Arthur was not one for dreaming. Yes, he had his occasional nightmare. But normal dreams? Not a chance.
Strangely, however, this evening he did dream.
Arthur's dream was a nice one, he was back to his younger self. Back to a day full of fishing with Dutch and Hosea and singing alongside their tunes. Arthur was rowing further away from shore as Hosea set in another song, Dutch quick to join in. It was nice. He wished he could stay in this dream forever. But like everything in Arthur's life, the worst thing happened.
Arthur was suddenly flipped overboard and into the murky waters. He watched the distorted faces of his father figures looking down at him as he slowly sank deeper and deeper. Desperately, he tried to hold in his breath but the air fled from his lungs and his body screamed for oxygen.
He had to breathe!
Arthur opened his mouth and expected to choke in water but there was nothing. No water but no air either.
He couldn’t breathe! He-
With a start, Arthur woke up. There was something pressing down on his face. He tried to gasp for air, but only choked on the scratchy fabric of a pillow. Half conscious, he tried to tear the pillow away from his face-- but it wouldn’t move. In fact, the pressure got even worse. It took his muddled brain a second to realize what was happening.
Someone was pressing a pillow on his face.
Wildly, Arthur began grabbing at the person, clawing, grabbing anything in reach. Unfortunately his usual strength failed him as the pillow didn't move an inch. The arms holding it down seemed like iron bars. Slowly getting deprived of oxygen, Arthur’s arms desperately flailed around. Instead of critically hurting the attacker though, he hit something else. His hand smacked into metal and the lantern on his bedside table hit the floor with a crash.
The glass shattered loudly but Arthur barely heard it. His limbs started to weigh more and more. His attacks became sluggish and after a while he could barely lift his arms anymore. In a terrifying moment Arthur thought that these moments would be his last. He’d never see the faces of Dutch and Hosea again. He'd leave camp and Copper behind- Just when Arthur was about to give up however, the pillow lifted up. Suddenly he could breathe again.
A loud crash woke John up from his deep slumber. One moment he was asleep and another he was not. Half awake, he slowly sat up from his bed, confused as to all the ruckus. Normally he was ready in seconds after being awoken, light sleeper as he was, but the long journey had exhausted him to the bone.
“Arthur?” John's voice came out drowsily. He sluggishly looked from the broken lantern to his brother's bed and finally saw what was happening. That woke John fully up, suddenly he understood the situation.
In a flash, he stepped out of bed, grabbing the knife he had stowed underneath his pillow.
Though the room was very dark, John could identify a cloaked person pressing something over Arthur’s face. Swiftly John approached the intruder from behind and flung himself against their back to force them sideways and away from the bed. The sudden weight of John’s scrawny body put the figure out of balance. They loosened the grip on the pillow and took a couple of steps backwards, which John took to his advantage. With a jerk and a yell, he pulled the person backwards and onto the floor.
His knife tightly in hand, John tried stabbing the important stomach organs while the figure was dazed but missed due to the dark. Instead he hit the side of the stomach, resulting in a deep side wound. The pain snapped the figure out of the daze they were in.
They shot up from under John and ran to the door. Hand on the wound to stop the blood flow.
Quickly, John scrambled up to follow but he was too late. A door slammed and the hallway became eerily quiet. As if nothing had happened in the first place.
Inside the room, Arthur had weakly pushed the pillow away from his face and began drawing in the precious air in quick gasps. He was almost choking on it.
John swore quietly and retreated back inside.
Still on the high of adrenaline John paced through the room. He fired questions rapidly without breathing, “What happened?" Who was that? Why was he attacking you? Was it an O´driscoll?”
Arthur sat up and bent over his knees. “I don’t know.” He said breathlessly. The answer didn’t satisfy any of John’s questions but he’d have to make due. Frustrated, John stopped pacing and raked a hand through his hair. Calming down a bit he finally actually looked at his brother sitting on the side of the bed. “You okay?” He questioned and Arthur just nodded expressionlessly.
“Think so… Did they get away?” Arthur questioned back. His breathing slowly calmed down and Arthur slumped back to lean against the wall. John stayed quiet for a moment and then sighed, admitting his defeat. “Yeah… They got away.” John turned away in anticipation. He expected to get chewed out for not being able to catch the almost murderer of his brother but the only answer he got was a tired, “Alright.”
Arthur sighed heavily and stood up from the bed. “We’re going to take turns sleeping from now on. We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.” Arthur said as he picked up his revolver, checking the bullets inside. “I’ll take the first watch” He added, not feeling safe enough to go back to bed and sleep.
John wanted to protest first but felt the tiredness creeping up. He wouldn’t be much of a use if he slept the second his eyes closed, so instead he just nodded. A silence came over the two brothers as John made his way back to bed, putting the bloodstained knife back under his ratty pillow. With the last adrenaline fading John started drifting off when Arthur spoke up again.
“Thanks… For helping me.” He said softly. And even through John’s half conscious brain he could pick up the unsaid And I'm sorry for today . “ ‘course…” John replied and that was that.