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The wind whipped past her ears as her horse’s hooves clambered against the dirt path. The horse huffed aggressively as it tried to keep up with the pace the woman set for it. Y/N was also breathing heavily, despite the fact she wasn’t the one running. But she had enough adrenaline to outrun ten horses at the moment, she was certain. She held onto the reins with an iron grip, knuckles paling under the strain she put on them. Her hair a mess, her face full of worry. It had been a rather normal day so far. A good morning, even. She’d woken up without much ache from the lack of mattress, her clothes didn’t fight her too bad, the coffee was still hot when she finally got her cup.
And Arthur. Dear Arthur Morgan.
He greeted her with a good morning in his gruff tone, carrying a hay bale by the straps as he sauntered past her. It was a warm greeting despite the roughness around his edges. A grit like sandpaper she’d come to enjoy, despite her softened hands and demeanor. Since their agreement, the secret language they’d developed for sharing a bit of reprieve from the coarseness of the world & the lives they lived. She’d come to enjoy it just as much, if not more sometimes. Y/N found herself looking forward to when he’d pass her. Hoping he’d slip in the word sugar or sweet somewhere into his casual remarks. Just for an excuse to comfort him, remind him of the fact that a gentle place was still left for him in the cruel world that demanded so much of him. Even if she had to be that place.
She’d grown fond of Arthur fast, faster than she’d ever anticipated. He was a handsome man, strong one too. Maybe it was naivety to blame. After all, the only men she’d interacted with prior were the scummy kind her father would scam. Sure, many would consider the men in the gang of the same type, and she could point out a few choice individuals where she’d hesitate to defend. But, not with Arthur. She wasn’t foolish enough to ignore everything. He was still a bloodied man, a brutish one. But not to her. Not to many. And that meant something, even if the man himself would disagree. Metaphorical notches in his holster belt for each of the lives he’d taken did not detract from the gentleness he’d shown.
Soft spoken words to the horses, the errands he’d run for the ease of the camp, the smile when indulging Jack, the calloused fingertips tying a bow in her hair. All these things made him endearing, enough to where her sweetened view of the world could find a reason to want to harbor him safely in her arms. Even if he wasn’t hers…not yet, anyway.
That was why she was riding like a bat out of hell. Over the past two weeks, a terrible nightmare plagued her sleep. She wasn’t one to read into dreams and the like. She liked her stories, sure, but her mind rarely had time to wander now that she had to earn her keep. Not to mention all the unanswered prayers she’d left in her wake as she’d grown. But she’d yet to have a nightmare quite like this one.
It wasn’t the standard one where she fell off a high building. It wasn’t one where she was too slow when running from some monster, animal, or angry man. It wasn’t a twisted memory even. Something true but long past and changed to bring her a worsening sense of dread. No, it was nothing like that. Hell, she wasn’t even in it. That was part of the problem. She could only watch as something very probable happened, something preventable, and do nothing as it worsened. It always left a nauseous feeling in her stomach when she woke.
She’d kept it to herself, however. Even if she found it strange how it repeated. There was never any change to the dream when it would happen again. It was exactly the same. Vivid and awful in a heart wrenching way. But it was a dream, and she didn’t want to be a bother. It was hard enough convincing everyone but Karen & Arthur that she wasn’t some priss running from a cushy life from boredom. She didn’t necessarily care about their personal opinions, but, she didn’t like being ostracized either. She most certainly didn’t enjoy being denounced, that was for sure. So, she’d kept her mouth shut, and kept her mysteriously awful worries to herself. If for no other reason than to avoid a scoff and some mockery about letting a dream get to her so bad she needed to whine about it.
That was, until, she’d overheard a conversation at camp. Arthur had gone off for the day. That wasn’t abnormal, the gang always had something for him to do. She had her feelings about how often he was run around, how much of a burden was placed on his aching shoulders. However, she saw the silver lining when she had to. At the end of it all, if he needed it, he’d come to her. Maybe ask for something to satisfy his sweet tooth, and she could console him like it was her given right, feel a connection to the man made of mountain siding & whiskey burn. Let the butterflies in her stomach have another reason to flutter.
She’d been scrubbing at a stain when she heard it. The general white noise of the camp seemed to fall away at the perfect time, maybe in some divine way. She heard it clear as day. Tilly’s voice innocently asking where Arthur had gone, and her query was answered by an Austrian accent. Y/N hadn’t really formed much of an opinion on Strauss. She didn’t talk to him much. He seemed…fine. But she didn’t exactly like his loans. It got them money, sure, but sometimes he’d give to people he knew good and well couldn’t make it up. Then he’d send Arthur to strongarm the poor bastards, like sicking a dog. She never liked that. But it was the words he said that made a chill rush over her skin and her heart sink into her stomach.
“He went to get a loan payment from a client. Mr.Downes is the name.”
It wasn’t a name that was too unfamiliar. She’d seen the “do-gooder” as Arthur called him, a few times in Valentine. She noted he was sickly, almost pitiful in a way. But she didn’t know much else aside from that. At least, not really, not in the world she lived & breathed in. He was a stranger on all accounts. Except in the way she’d been ignoring, avoiding, writing off as some mindless anxiety in the dead of night. However, the day had been going too well, and the world had felt just ever so slightly distant. She was breathing, awake for sure. Yet there were tiny things that felt like she was there again. However this time, even if she was crazy, she knew that was a better outcome than being a bystander. So she’d ignored the confused calls from Karen & Mary-Beth when she suddenly took off running toward her rusty brown Morgan horse, and took off like the wind.
Honey, the horse, skidded a bit to a stop when Y/N reached the Downe’s residence. Just in time it seemed. She quickly hopped off her saddle, tripping a bit as her boots hit the ground. Her lungs were struggling for air as panic swarmed her blood like a disease. Arthur was making quick steps toward the fenced in farming area where Downes stood, looking fearful with a tool in his hand. Y/N took off in a sprint toward the hulking brunet, managing to slip in front of him before he got too close to the gate, cutting off his threats. Surprising him as well.
“Wh-What in the hell are you doin’?!” Arthur skidding back a half step so he didn’t ram into her by accident, having to stop so suddenly. Y/N panted and held up her hands to stop him. “Wait! Wait wait wait, don’t, don’t do this. Just- Just give me a moment,” She stuttered as she tried to get in a breath. Arthur glanced between her and the sickly man, his face having quickly gone from aggressive, to confusion, to now exasperation. “Listen, I know it ain’t nice, but sometimes we gotta do things that ain’t friendly. He has a debt, I have to collect. You know good and well I ain’t a good man. Just- Don’t make this more difficult.” He went to touch her shoulder, push her to the side, a hint of shame in his eye.
Y/N shook her head and swatted his hand. “No! No you don’t get it, you don’t-” She stammered a few sounds, doing a double take at Downes before she swallowed and held up her hand to him. “O-One moment sir! Just, just let me talk to him for a moment. Don’t go no where!” She pointed. Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion as she grabbed his bicep and pulled him away.
“Now what in the hell do you think you’re doin’?” The man whispered past his teeth. Y/N quickly pivoted and got in his face. “Will you hush and give me a minute?! I just- I- ugh, just listen, okay?” She was talking a lot with her hands. Arthur had seen her frantic before. A sign that she was frazzled was more movement in her hands and less composure in her words. But he had a job to do, and the longer he had to deal with the reality of being a monster, the worse he felt. Still, he tossed up his hands and let them fall back to his sides, letting them hit against his legs. He shook his head and sighed.
“Well? Go on and explain.” Arthur insisted. The woman swallowed again and wracked her brain for an explanation.
It wasn’t as simple as it seemed. She knew as good as anyone else that being truthful would make it sound like she’d lost it. A classic case of hysteria, even. Maybe she was mad, maybe she’d lost it overnight and she’d been put on the path of insanity, doomed to only get worse. But there was a chance she wasn’t wrong. That somehow, someway, something gave her a warning to try and change the course of fate in Arthur Morgan’s favor. Even if it was a one & a million chance, it was a chance. She could remember how she felt in that hotel room weeks ago. When she’d gotten him vulnerable, promised him that she’d keep the evil & heartless version he saw in himself at bay. Arthur was a bad man. He’d been in many situations where he looked death in the eye socket and spit at the Reaper’s feet.
One day, he’d be out of luck. One day, the Reaper would swing its blade and sever the line that kept Arthur in front of her. Warm, breathing, alive. And before that, he’d come close to Death’s lair again. Hop the damn Devil’s fence and narrowly escape the claws of the demon’s clamoring for his sinful soul. When that day arrived, she wouldn’t be ready. Assuming it wasn’t her that went first.
But at the very least, should he die, she could bring herself to live with his memory so long as she knew she did everything she could. It could’ve been any man who’d gained her adoration this way. Surely, there was a man out there less dangerous, more deserving of her kindness. But she wanted Arthur, and she wanted him alive. When his time came, she needed as much of his legacy as she could gather to keep her company til her own dying breath. So, with a deep breath, she came out with it.
“I had a nightmare. Nightmares. It’s the same one over and over.” Y/N’s opening sentence made Arthur’s brows furrow. Sweet as he was on her, he wasn’t really good at understanding nonsense. So, of course, he scoffed and looked around in disbelief. “A nightmare? That’s your reasonin’?” He asked gruffly. Y/N shifted her weight nervously and nodded. “Yes…no? Kind of- Look, no matter how I put it, it’ll sound foolish but I can’t let it go. I just can’t.” She continued. She pushed her fingers through her hair, a motion that was an attempt to self soothe, but she regretted it when her fingers immediately got caught in tangles. She could only imagine she looked a mess.
“We ain’t much for divine intervention, I know. And I know God ain’t done much for you. Or I, really. But I’ve never had this happen before. This- This nightmare has been plaguing me the past two weeks and it’s exactly the same each time I have it. And…oh, Arthur it’s awful. And it’s possible, and it feels so, so real.”
As she rambled, her ragged breaths became less panic and more heartbreak. While Arthur was still confused and his visage still held annoyance, a spark of concern filled his eyes as she shook out her hands. “It goes exactly like this.” She motioned around to their surroundings. “But- But I ain’t there, I ain’t got no voice, no body, nothin’. But I see it all. You get told by Strauss to come here, and you- You strongarm Mr.Downes for his debt. But it goes wrong, it goes awful, Arthur.”
Arthur tilted his head in confusion as she wiped her face. Trying to gather herself enough to actually give a convincing argument, give a little credibility to her fantastical story. Just so he might listen. “He’s sick with consumption. Tuberculosis. And, because you beat him, ya get a taste of his blood. And then…oh lord,” She paused and blinked down water welling in her eyes as she recalled the flashes of an awful rest of Arthur’s life. There was so much her mind gave her in such a short span of time.
Arthur’s hand came up to her shoulder and got her to look up at him again. She sniffled, and his hand gave a light squeeze. He held more compassion in his face than before. “Alright, look. That’s an awful soundin’ nightmare.” He nodded. But hope in her chest immediately got slashed when he shook his head. “But,” he started again. “That’s all it was. Nightmare. You can’t let that get in the way of what we gotta do for the gang, and we need this money.” As he continued she began shaking her head, getting more frantic with it as he went on. She clutched at his arms. “No no no, you can’t, you- you don’t get it-” “Now calm down. I thought you weren’t into all that spiritual stuff.” “I ain’t!”
Y/N took in a sharp inhale and dropped her hands. “Arthur, I ain’t into mystics or- or psychic shit. You know that, but, if I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have hightailed it down here. I know I can be foolish and, maybe even cowardly, but this ain’t the same!” She insisted. He held up his hands and shushed her softly. Something that would’ve normally calmed her. She let out a frustrated noise as he continued to refuse. It was hard to blame him. It sounded ludicrous to anyone who wasn’t already a believer in such things.
If it was something less terrifying, Y/N would’ve given up. But the intense mental picture the nightmare left her with brought her such a deep sense of grief. It was agonizing, just the mere possibility that it was his fate she got insight into. She watched it all and felt all the mourning, but couldn’t do anything to stop it, to help. She watched as he got worse. Coughs racking his lungs til they bled, his skin growing pale. Losing all that weight and growing frailer, more shaky, more weak. It was slow and it was agony. Anytime Death’s fingers grazed the nape of Arthur’s neck, it was quick.
A bullet past his ear, a narrowly missed knife slash to the neck, a train dodged, a fall that went on a little too wrong, the open maw of a mountain lion. All awful and maybe even brutal, but quick. Had any of those things killed him, he wouldn’t know it unless there really was somewhere for his soul to roam. Only then would he notice. And, though it was a selfish thought, if he had to die brutally even she hoped it’d be quick. Maybe it’d be some sick kind of karma. Bring balance back to the world if he died in a visceral way, but if that was the case, she could at least find comfort in knowing he wouldn’t feel it. And, again selfishly, she could maybe lie to herself and believe there was nothing she could’ve done to stop it. Leaving her without much to regret. Not in that way, at least.
But slow? Something so devastating and consuming as the very disease they called consumption. It wasn’t just the outlaw that’d be coughing up blood, it wouldn’t be just the brutish guard dog of the Vanderlinde gang that’d get pale and weak. It wouldn’t be the gunslinger that’d have to crawl toward the release of life, the relief from any pain. It’d be Arthur who felt it all. The helpful man, the working man, the sweetened man. Jack’s uncle, Hosea & Dutch’s adoptive son, John’s brother. Her Arthur. He’d have to die slow, and that Arthur didn’t deserve that.
“I’ll ask him.” Y/N said. Arthur lowered his hands and glanced behind him as she motioned toward the white fence. Mr.Downes had listened and stayed put. No doubt still frightened, maybe confused. Arthur looked back at her with a raised brow. “He’s sick, we can all tell that. But do you know with what?” She asked. Arthur shook his head. “It could be any number of things, couldn’t it? Hell, maybe he’s got somethin’ chronic. There’s a whole host of illnesses out there that could take a poor man’s state to that. And I ain’t know him well, so, what if I’m right?” She questioned.
Arthur sighed and shook his head, not wanting to answer. Not because he didn’t have something to say, but because he didn’t want her to get worse. Crazy talk or not, her worry was clearly very real, and it was all around him. He could see that clear as day. It was the fact she worried and fussed over him that made him so endeared to her, the fact she encouraged him to care about himself a little, because no one else seemed to do that. Her sweetness given to him so willingly. Of course, he didn’t want to return that kindness by brushing her off, make her think he didn’t care for how she felt. But he had a job to do.
“What are the odds then, huh? So, let’s see.” She pointed, stepping around him to walk a bit closer to the fence. Arthur turned to follow her, stop her maybe, with a heavy sigh and a call of her name. “Mr.Downes, sir, I’ve got somethin’ to ask. Just a moment of your time.” She said to the man. She frowned as he coughed into his fist and used the tool in his hands to steady his weak legs. The man nodded though, allowing her to go ahead. “I’m sorry if this is a hard subject, and I don’t mean to be rude. But, your illness. What is it?” She asked. “I got tuberculosis.” said the poor man. Arthur tensed up at that, and Y/N exhaled.
“That’s why I took that loan.” Downes continued, coughing again, this one sounding rather wheezy. “I’m tryin’ to pay off debt I got to others. We spent every cent we had on all that medicine and treatment, but…I ain’t got much longer left. I-I can’t just leave my family with nothin’. Hell, we got less than nothin’! I…I promise I’ll get you the money, I just need some more time.”
It was a sad story. A sorrowful one. Y/N held up her hands to signify that he could stop talking, and then turned to Arthur again with a fire in her eyes. Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth and looked at the floor. “Look-” He started and she stomped her foot, eyes wide with discontent and disbelief. “Arthur, you cannot be serious!” She complained, her voice threatening to crack. The blue eyed man tossed up his hands a little. “I already feel bad enough, but some scary dream can’t keep me from doin’ what I been asked. And the debt ain’t gonna go away even if I give him more time. I’ll have to come back eventually anyway.”
Y/N shook her head and ran her hands down her face. “No! No no no, it’s not just a dream! It’s not, you gotta believe me!” She pleaded. Arthur’s chest tightened as he watched tears well in her eyes again. It hurt, it hurt in a way no bullet could compare to. “I know how this goes, Arthur. I’ve seen it!” He wanted to denounce her again but she didn’t let that stop her from talking. “You go in there, you bloody him and- and it starts to rain. He coughs blood and it stains your teeth. His poor missus and boy walk out to see you ride away on your horse, head hung in shame and anger, and we don’t get the money regardless!” She insisted. “By the next time you hear his name, he is gone and dead, and you are gettin’ sicker by the day. I watched it! I saw it in some- strange, spiritual way. Like a ghost forced into a hell, havin’ to watch you walk into your own death.” Y/N jabbed a finger against his chest. As a tear broke from her waterline and down her cheek, thunder rumbled overhead. Dark storm clouds slowly appeared. Arthur glanced at the sky and his brows furrowed. The tuberculosis guess was strange, but the weather? That…well, it was odd. He looked back down to her as she sniffed. “I can’t let it be, Arthur, I can’t do it.” She said with a wobbly voice.
“Maybe I’ve gone off. Maybe I’m talkin’ crazy, and my head ain’t right, and in a month’s time you’ll need to drop me off on the side of a road cause I rambled myself into a spiral beyond reason.” She tossed up her hands, letting them fall at her sides as the rain began to come down in a light, slow way. “But if there is a chance, even the smallest, most improbable chance, that the nightmare I been havin’ has some meaning? That- Maybe, just maybe, all my prayers since I was young to now mounted into God givin’ me one, one damn bit of guidance and it’s this? A dream of what could be if I let this happen?” She hiccuped and shook her head again. “I won’t have it. I won’t! I won’t do it. Either I’m crazy but I know I at least tried to let you have some more years, or, I’m right. Either way, you live if I do somethin’ bout it.” The rain was heavier now. Y/N squared her shoulders and tried her best not to look so pitiful despite the tears. “I’ll pay off his debt. I’ll work it off.” She said firmly.
Arthur blinked and stammered a bit, looking for words. “Now come on, that’s not-” “No! No, no. I will! I will work off the money. Every cent I earn will go toward his debt, and- And the camp’ll still get its share. I’ll survive just fine until it’s paid off. But damnit, Morgan, you are gonna get on your horse, and come with me and I’m gonna watch you like a damn hawk until I’m sure you’ve listened, and-” A leather riding glove came up and covered her mouth. Firm, but not rough. Arthur looked at her with so much emotion in his eyes, it was hard to read them all. With is other hand he made a soft shushing motion, along with the noise. This time, it did calm her down, allowing her to take in a deep breath through her nose. Once he was sure she’d stop, he lowered his hand and stood straight.
“Okay.”
Y/N blinked and sniffled again. She swallowed, trying to keep her voice from cracking as she went to reply. “Okay?” The singular word came out all warbled and sad, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth, a light tremble in her lower lip. Arthur nodded with a heavy sigh. “I still think you’re talkin’ nonsense. But,” He shrugged. “Okay.” He sidestepped her and looked at Downes. The man was no doubt the most confused he’d ever been. An unwitting bystander to what must’ve seemed like a lover’s quarrel from his perspective. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you. I remember faces, I remember names, and I most certainly remember when I’m owed. Just count yourself lucky there’s an angel on earth willin’ to vouch for you.” His voice was stern, rough. Downes nodded vigorously.
Arthur sighed and turned to her again. He made a vague motion toward their horses, which prompted her to walk. She wiped her face even though it didn’t matter, given the rain. He helped her up onto her horse even though he didn’t need to, patting her back once she was on the saddle. She waited patiently for him to get on Dusty, guiding the Clydesdale to face the path that left the farm. She clicked her tongue and prompted Honey to ride beside him. They rode in silence for a few minutes. The cold rain soaking into their clothes, but they didn’t speed back. Up until her voice broke the silence. Soft, sweet, and melodic.
“Thank you, Arthur.” She said. The brunet hummed in acknowledgement and rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t liked seeing her like that. Even now, the memory of her frustration and worry so heavy it caused her to tremble. She seemed more afraid then than she had in any of the gunfire or robberies she’d assisted in so far. All from a nightmare? All for his sake? He shook his head and a faint smile graced his face. “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” He asked. Y/N looked at him with confusion and tilted her head. He chuckled softly.
“If your mystical nightmares are right, then, you just talked me off’a Death’s door. Should be thanking you, sweetheart.” He said. She looked at him owlishly for a moment before she snorted, letting out some weak giggles that sent warmth burning under his skin. “I take repayment in coin or candy.” She teased. Arthur raised a brow and looked at her fondly. He felt breathless and light, and for a moment, he didn’t feel like a monster.
“You take sugar as payment?”
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Hm. I think I can come up with some.”