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“You got tuberculosis.”
Those words echoed in Arthur’s mind on loop. The look of pity on the doctor’s face for the dying man sitting in his chair seared into Arthur’s mind. The weight of the news more heavy than anything he’s ever carried in his life.
Facing death was almost a daily thing for Arthur, but he’s always dodged death’s claws. He’s never faced the grim reaper like this. The reaper looming over his shoulder with a timer, just waiting for the final grain of sand to fall and he could finally grasp the soul of this outlaw. What was waiting for Arthur on the other side, he didn’t know. But he had an idea and it wasn’t pleasant. Maybe he deserved it though, for all the pain and suffering he has caused in his life.
Words Emmaline has spoken to him before echoed in his memories as those thoughts began to creep their way in: “Don’t be ridiculous, Morgan. You’re probably the best man I have ever gotten to know. What seems to be good men can actually be the monster underneath.”
How a woman like that could think about him in that way was beyond him. He truly didn’t deserve her. But the thought of telling her of the limited time he has, haunted him. She’s lost so much already, the list of people she’s cared for deeply is so long, how can he add himself to that list?
Arthur couldn’t tell her.
Trying to keep this a secret from Emmaline would end up being impossible. Arriving back to camp, she was - as usual - the first to greet him back. Usually it was a little “hello” and maybe some conversation. But since what happened with Guarma, she would kiss him “hello” instead. Arthur wasn’t one who enjoyed showing his affection for this woman publicly, sometimes when there was a party or they were out he was more open, but he enjoyed just having her to himself in the privacy of his tent. But after being gone for weeks in Guarma, he didn’t complain about being greeted with a kiss from Emmaline.
When she leaned up to him to try and press her lips against his own, he quickly dodged her lips, moving back and pushing her hips back a little to take a little step back. The fear of spreading this deadly disease to the woman he loves ran through him like a lightning strike.
The confusion spread across her face squeezed at his chest. But her safety was more important to him than anything else. “Sorry, darling. I can’t stay long. I have to talk to Dutch.” Arthur tells her, his throat feeling scratchy from the coughing fit he had on the way to the doctors.
“Oh, okay.” Emmaline didn’t seem too convinced, but didn’t pry further. She raised her hand to cup his cheek gently, her thumb brushing against his rough skin so gently, he knew he didn’t deserve this touch from her. “You look clammy, are you feeling okay?”
“Feeling fine, hon. Don’t worry about me.” Squeezing her hips, he side-stepped from her grasp. Making way to go to the broken down swamp house he knows Dutch will be at. “I’ll come see ya later, okay?”
“Okay,” Emmaline muttered, watching him stalk off before going off on her own to do some chore Miss Grimshaw probably put her on.
Arthur felt like shit.
Emmaline knew about the cough, it was just little anytime she would witness it and had given him medicine for it. Just to ease his lungs. But she didn’t know the extremes of it. Finding specks of blood on his shirts or gloves was easy to lie about, she didn’t seem too concerned about it as it was a common occurrence with many of their clothes. But the exhaustion, pale and sunken face, and clammy skin? She saw right through him.
“Arthur, you look exhausted.” Emmaline says to him one afternoon, watching him prepare to go out and find their new campsite. “You should go rest. Have one of the other men go find us somewhere else to go.”
“I’m okay, darling.” Arthur held her face gently, pressing a kiss onto her hair where she had a bandana in. Not touching her skin with his lips as much as he could. “There’s no one else who can do the job. Besides, Charles will be with me.”
She frowned and seemed to get ready to argue her point, but he turned before he could hear another word.
Beaver Hollows was their new camp. How long they would stay here to keep the Pinkerton's off their trail, he didn't know. But the dynamic between everyone in the camp changed to heavily, nothing was the same anymore. Argument would break out constantly, especially with Karen and her drinking getting worse by the hour. It didn’t help the situation when two men joined their group - Cleet and Joe - some friends of Micah’s. A new tension growing between everyone in camp.
Arthur had given up hiding that something was wrong with him at this point, it becoming increasingly more difficult to hide how much the coughs affected him. The pain in his chest and lungs getting worse day by day. When he thought he had experienced the worst of it, he would wake up and be proven wrong.
If Emmaline didn’t know at that point, she had to know with Micah’s new nickname for him; "Black Lung."
Why she wasn’t demanding to tie him to his bed to keep him on bed rest was very odd of her, but he could see the sad look in her eyes anytime he caught them. Just adding to the guilt riddling through his core that neither have talked about the obvious inevitable.
When she did snap, he wasn’t surprised and didn’t put up any fight to keep it anymore. The woman marched her way to his tent, a look in her eye he knew meant she was upset. Arthur Morgan may be an idiot, but he knew when to not pick a fight with Emmaline Nielson. He watched from where he sat on his cot as she closed the canvas sheet around his tent, turning to him with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. “I know something is going on.” She started, a firm edge to her voice. “You’re sick. So cut the crap and come with me, we have to take you to a doctor. And if you resist I will force you, Morgan.”
“I don’t need to see a doctor, hon.”
“Like hell you don’t-”
“I have already seen one.” He interrupted her fury, knowing a rant was coming his way if he didn’t.
“You have?” She falters. Lowering herself to sit next to him. “When?”
“A couple weeks after the Guarma stuff. He uh… Well, it’s not good.”
“Well, what is it?” Emmaline’s patience with him was running thin by now. He didn’t blame her for being done with him.
“I’ve got TB. I don’t have long, according to the doctor.”
“What..?” Her voice goes so quiet, almost a whisper, it painted him to his very core. Worse than the pain he was feeling in his chest currently.
“I’m dying. There isn’t anything to do about it.” He looks into her eyes finally, the glassy look in her eyes as the tears begin to well up hurt more than any wound Arthur has ever felt. He didn’t want to be the cause of those tears ever in his life. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you.”
“Why didn’t you?” Emmaline’s frustration was starting to rise again. He deserved to be at the mercy of her anger, so he didn't stop her. “I deserved to know, Arthur. Hell, I could’ve helped you!”
“I know, but I… I- I couldn’t bear to tell you.”
Emmaline looked away, wiping at her tears furiously, her breath was ragged as the whirlwind of emotions ran through her. He kept quiet as he let her work through them herself. He already angered her enough by not telling her, no need to make her worse by saying words he knew would be bullshit instead.
Her hand was gripping at her skirts so harshly, her hand shaking from the anger, and instinctively he reached out for it. She didn’t put up any protest, letting him ease her grip on her skirt and instead lace his fingers with hers. He squeezed it, a brief smile on her face as she squeezed him back. There wasn't anything he could to ease out upset she was, but the least he could do was do this.
Unfortunately, his lungs squeezed painfully in his chest, a coughing fit breaking out before he could suppress it. He dropped her hand like it was scalding him and tried to turn away from her as the coughs ran through his body against his will. He could feel Emmaline’s gentle hands as she rubbed his back, grounding him as his body convulsed painfully. He didn’t deserve this kind of touch from her, he knew that deep down. But he couldn't fight against it as his lungs squeezed.
Eventually, it passed. Arthur gasping for some breath to fill his chest. Emmaline was pressed up against his back now as she held him up, her arms wrapped around him so tightly, like she could prevent him from slipping away with her grasp alone. God, he wished that was true.
“You should’ve told me.” Emmaline whispers into his shoulder.
“I know,” he rasps. “I… wanted to.”
“I can’t waste time on anger with you.” She held him closer, Arthur raised his hand to squeeze her hand again, she gripped onto the hand tightly this time. “You should’ve told me the minute you found out, but anger right now is useless. We’re here now.”
Arthur wasn’t sure how long here was. But being in the arms of this woman he’s loved for years was the best any of them could do in the shitty situation they were in now.