Micah Bell and Arthur Morgan burst out from the Strawberry Sherriff's office, the former having just been freed from imprisonment. Seeing no other choice, Arthur had shot the sheriff and his deputies to get Micah out. He hadn't even wanted to be here, and he had made no secret of it. Arthur disliked Micah, and never understood what Dutch saw in him. To Arthur, Micah was nothing more than the same kind of scum that the O'Driscoll gang was made of. Only Arthur's loyalty to Dutch brought him there that night, and he doubted Micah would ever change. Little did Arthur know, his act of loyalty had made a substantial impact on Micah. Despite his threats and shouts, if Micah was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure if anyone was coming for him. He knew he had made few friends, and most only tolerated him, if that. The fact that they had come for him, and that it was Arthur of all people, gave him cause to think, but not right now. There would be time for that later.

"Come on, let's get the hell outta here!" Arthur exclaimed, heading towards the horses.

"No," Micah said, standing firm. "I'm not done here yet. I've got to get back what's mine!"

"What in the hell are you talking about, you fool?" Arthur snapped at him harshly.

"My guns!" Micah yelled, deciding to be honest with the man that had saved him. "A bastard who I thought was my friend, he stole my fucking guns! He's the whole reason I was in there!"

"You were in there because you're a reckless, bloodthirsty fool, and I'm not dying because of your precious guns!" Arthur shot back, having none of his nonsense. "Those guns aren't worth your damn life, Micah, not that it's worth very much."

Micah's wild eyes flared, although he brushed the comment aside. "Those guns are my life, Morgan! They mean more to me than anything else!"

"Then you live a sad, pathetic life," Arthur said, breaking away towards the horses again. "If you wanna go after your guns, fine, but I'm not helping you. I'll just tell Dutch you died in the escape. No skin off my bones."

Micah seethed in frustration, watching Arthur walk away. He looked in the direction of Skinny's house, realizing that alone he would never make it through the entire town. For a second, he thought it over, wondering if he should risk it. It was more for pride than anything else, not that he realized that.

"Go on, please, make my day," Morgan went on, mounting his horse. "You'll be remembered as the loathsome little shit you were," he said, before taking off towards the edge of town.

Micah's window was closing. If he waited much longer, he knew he'd be shot without even getting to make a decision.

"Dammit! Damn it to hell!" Micah cursed, running to a horse that was hitched near Arthur's.

He had no idea what had happened to his original horse, and he didn't have time to look. He'd have to steal this one. He knew he wouldn't be able to come back here anytime soon to reclaim his guns, not without risking getting shot or hanged again. Ultimately, he decided not to march into a suicide mission after only just escaping certain death. He mounted the horse, racing after Arthur as the angered, armed citizens and lawmen of Strawberry began to flood the streets. Fortunately for him, he was gone before they were able to figure out what had happened. Soon enough, he caught up to Arthur on the road out of Strawberry, who looked a bit surprised to see the blond outlaw riding next to him.

"Well shit, here I was thinking I'd never see you again. Looks like you've got some sense after all. How disappointing," Arthur antagonized.

"Shut up," Micah said back, not in close to being in the mood. "I'll have to go back for them later. I'm not dying today, not after that."

"You're smarter than you look, Micah, although that ain't saying much."

"Enough already, let's just get as far away from this shithole as possible."

"On that, we can agree," Arthur admitted, offering no argument to that suggestion.

The two rode relentlessly for quite some time, not stopping until they had crossed the border into New Hanover, when they were sure they were in the clear. Finally, they were forced to give their horses a break. Micah planned on returning to West Elizabeth soon, for he had a score in mind from the information he had gotten from the O'Driscoll he had shared a cell with, that is before he put a bullet in his head. For now, he'd have to wait for things to cool down first. He wasn't going back there now, that was for sure. Micah let out a heavy sigh, for now he had to swallow his pride once more.

"Alright, Morgan, let's talk serious for a second," he said, leaning forward on his horse. "I know that you and I don't always see eye to eye, and you see me as a threat, and I like to irritate you," Micah said, to which Arthur only responded with a curious stare. "But that shit you just pulled? I owe you for that, and I will make it up to you. Dutch too. I swear to you on that."

Arthur didn't respond at first, but looked at him rather skeptically.

"Yeah, well, I'll believe it when I see it," Arthur said back, a bit surprised by his seemingly grateful demeanor. He didn't trust Micah, and he surely didn't put him above lying to his face.

"No, I'm serious. To start, I'm giving you a holster. My way of saying thank you," Micah said, handing him an off-hand holster. "Now you can have twice the fun."

"Well, thank you for not being quite as crazy as I thought you was," Arthur replied, taking it from his grasp. "Still don't trust you for shit, though."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up, got into trouble. Like that's never happened to you before. Like it or not, Arthur, but we're family now. Sons of Dutch, makes us brothers, and sometimes brothers make mistakes," Micah said, turning his horse around. "Come by around my camp round back of Strawberry in a few days, and maybe I'll make it up to you. I got something coming together, and I could use your help when it does."

Morgan eyed him, "So, you're not going back to Dutch?"

"No no no, I've been a bad boy, Arthur. I ain't going back to face Dutch without some sort of peace offering, that's the score I'm talking about."

"Just don't go getting yourself into more trouble, cause I'm not coming to bail you out a second time," Arthur warned.

"I get the message, I'll lie low. You got my word," Micah said as his horse started to trot off in another direction.

"Your word doesn't mean shit to me, Micah, not until you prove you can be trusted, which I'm not sure you'll ever do. Not at this rate. Not to me."

"Like I said, I'm gonna make it up to you. Bye for now," Micah called out, now galloping out of earshot, away from the direction of the camp.

Arthur was grateful that Micah had ended up seeing sense, and decided not to shoot up half a town just to get his guns back, but he still didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. He wasn't sure what Dutch saw in Micah, but he sure as hell didn't see it. All he saw was a fool with a chip on his shoulder and far too much to prove. Still, he trusted Dutch's judgement, so maybe, just maybe, there was more to Micah. He had a long way to go before he fully earned Arthur's trust, a very, very long way. Dutch had said he could see the strength of Micah's character through his bluster, or something like that.

He hoped Dutch was right. He hoped he was wrong about Micah, but for now, "brother" or not, he was still a threat. Micah had managed to keep his head, for once, but Arthur would be keeping his eye on him. He'd have to check back with Micah in a few days, and see if this job he mentioned was worth anything or not. Micah always earned his keep as far as money went, of that even Arthur could not deny.

This story will bounce around the main story line to portray Micah in a more sympathetic manner. I know Micah's a douche, but I always thought there really could have been more to him before he started his final descent into evil. I'm not going to attempt to tell a full story here, just skip around to show what things could have been like if Micah was more honorable of a person, and his relationships with other gangmembers, primarily Arthur.