I'll See You Again
As soon as Uncle declared that they had company he knew he wasn't long for this world. Dutch's words rang true inside his mind, and now he was the monster they were tracking down to kill.
'When I'm gone, they'll just find another monster.'
His priority was to protect Jack and Abigail, to fight off as many of Ross' men as he possibly could. There were so many of them, and before he knew it Uncle had been shot dead right before their eyes. The lazy bastard had irritated him in the best of times, made him want to strangle him at the worst. But in his own way he helped, even if most of the time he was spitting bullshit.
Uncle didn't deserve to die this way, but he guessed the law too had caught up to him. Even if he wasn't the one they were now hunting.
John pushed aside the grief and sadness, focusing on getting his family over to the barn where they kept their horses. If Jack and Abigail could ride away from here, they'd have a chance at a new life. He knew he wouldn't be leaving this place alive.
"Go! Get out of here!" John commanded, his voice rough with emotion as Abigail squeezed his hand one final time. It was a familiar action, something she did when she was struck with grief. Silently they rode away from Breecher's Hope, and off into the unknown.
John approached the barn door, her palm pressed against the large wooden barn door that he'd built himself, with a little help from Charles and Uncle. He knew Abigail and Jack would return to bury them, guess even after death he couldn't get rid of him. Like a parasite.
John took a deep steadying breath, knowing these were his final moments. And after a moment of pause he pushed the door open and was met with more than ten guns aimed directly at his chest.
He felt a sense of calmness wash over him as he eyed them all carefully, his stare landing on Agent Ross who stood in the middle of them all. Bastard. That stillness was coupled by relief, knowing that his family was safe, and he'd done everything he possibly could for them.
John's hand settled on his cattleman's revolver in its holster, knowing what he had to do. By god he was going to take out as many of these bastards as he possibly could before they open fired. He withdrew the weapon and with the help of dead eye managed to take down six of the officials before several bullets burrowed their way into his chest and torso.
John coughed immediately, blood filling his mouth as he slowly but surely fell to the ground. He didn't have long, and he knew it, black beginning to cloud his sight.
He'd done everything they'd asked him to, even kill the remaining outlaws from his old gang. They had been family once…long ago. A time that seemed like decades ago but was only twelve years prior. He'd come so far, done as Arthur had asked. Tried to provide for his family as best he could and now he knew they would be safe.
Arthur.
No one had known what they'd meant to each other, not when whatever was between them had started. At first it was only a kiss, something that could easily have been brushed off and buried in a locked chest, never to be opened again. But with every glance, every word and every touch their feelings for one another had intensified.
They both knew it was completely wrong, but if that were true then why did it feel so right to give into that passion? John remembered that night as if it were yesterday, he remembered how he'd felt, how amazing Arthur had made him feel. How he'd taken him up against a tree. How it was their secret to keep, right up until Hosea had caught them while returning home after a night in town.
They'd expected to be shunned or screamed at or beaten. But quite the opposite occurred as all Hosea could do was smile reassuringly and clasp a hand on both of their shoulders, promising to take their secret to the grave. That was, until Dutch had found out and had made them stop at once.
John truly did love Abigail, even if not in the way she wanted. Most certainly not in the way he'd loved Arthur. And now as he lay dying, blood still seeping from his mouth all he wanted to do was see him again.
Even after twelve years, he still thought of him every day. The journal Arthur had been working on tucked safely in the bottom of his trunk. He read a page every night, and once he was done he went back to the beginning and started over.
Arthur had been a literate man, able to use both his words and his fists. Unlike someone as dim-witted as Bill Williamson who'd rather use his fists and guns. Arthur had always been a complex man, one to brood for hours on end and remain in his head. But he always provided for the gang, going out to hunt and bringing back rabbits or deer for their camp stews.
John only had seconds left as his mind filled with thoughts and memories of Arthur, the man that had saved his life and given him another chance. He felt like it wasn't all a complete waste, he'd done what he could do to distance himself from the gang he once ran with.
John felt himself fading, the blackness closing in all around him as his body began to feel numb. He no longer felt the fire from the bullet holes, no longer felt any pain at all. His eyes slipped closed one final time and as they opened once more, a familiar face came into view. The person he'd hoped to see the most.
All John could do was smile.
AN: This is a little far fetched for me, considering I don't really have a faith or religion. So, do I think this would actually happen? No. But I hope you enjoyed it all the same.
Thank you for reading!
~xoUselessLesbianxo~