Was she imagining it? It was like a bad dream. She'd had enough of those to recognise his voice anywhere. Yes, that was definitely him. She followed the sound to be sure it wasn't just in her head. As he grew louder, so did the memories of the days she'd spent with him. She wasn't sure how long exactly. A few hazy nights in a whisky bottle- though she recalled when he gave her an exotic rum simply when she asked- and what felt like endless hours under the sun, rope burning into her wrists, saddle sore from the relentless pace; endless hours ensconced within his arms, sitting up front after she complained of being slung across the horse's rear. She could still smell him, feel his hard body against her back when he leant for something in the saddle, the flutter in her stomach as he gripped her by the waist to lift her off the mare's back.

Of course, she had no way to compare, but she imagined an outlaw would treat his hostages a little less sympathetically. After she'd escaped she'd pondered this a long while. Perhaps she was mad, she'd thought. But after several months of normality her malice had waned.

She'd worked hard at Church to forgive what happened to her, and yet she still wondered about him.

That today he had reappeared on her doorstep was as if the Lord had sent him to her. She wasn't mad. It was a sign.

"Okay, room four-bee, at the end of the hall there. Enjoy your stay."

As footsteps disappeared and a door clicked shut, she slipped out from the back room and padded out front to check the hotel guest book. Just to be sure.

"4b - Arthur Morgan."

Knock knock. "Housekeeping."

"Sure, come on in," Arthur called lazily from the comfortable chair he was enjoying, being used to crates, logs and the ground as the norm. He heard the door swing open behind closed eyes as he let sleep begin to wash over him.

"Hello, Arthur."

He didn't start at first due to the softness of the voice, but somewhere in his foggy mind an alarm bell chimed. He opened his eyes with a jump, only to see a maid standing by the door. "Oh, excuse me, miss. Didn't see you there. Uh, can I help you?" He sat up and stretched out his neck, trying to reawaken his senses.

The woman smiled, but not from the eyes. "I, um… I don't know about that." Does he even remember?

A few awkward second passed as Arthur studied the woman, suspicious. She had an odd look about her.

"Shit. Lilly?" Arthur's eyes widened as he recognised the girl he'd taken from the road earlier in the year during a bad job. He'd ended up dragging her across half the state as insurance. Adrenaline shot through his body as he realised she must have been working with the law all this time to track him down. "How many are out there?" he demanded, frantically flitting from window to window, peering around the frame expecting to see the place surrounded.

"I'm alone," Lilly responded flatly.

"Bullshit," Arthur grunted, flattening himself behind a window frame and readying his revolver.

"Really, there's no one there. It's just me."

Arthur shot her a glance, "then how'd you find me?"

"I work here. I saw your name in the guest book," she raised her eyebrows, brandishing the towels and brandy she had brought for the room.

Arthur faltered, looking at her, out the window, at the towels. "Oh," he holstered his weapon, sounding unsure and a little embarrassed. "You work here?" He looked her over once more, noting her hotel apron and that she indeed held a carafe in her other hand. "So you do. Well that's… unexpected."

"You're telling me," Lilly snorted sardonically, beginning to eye the brandy herself.

Sounding almost more worried now, Arthur ventured, "...So why didn't you just have me arrested?"

Lilly realised the thought had not even crossed her mind. "I… I don't know." The air was suddenly very heavy; she could hardly breathe. He looked so desperate and dangerous in this moment, just like back on the day he took her. Had she made a huge mistake in coming here?

Very aware she was blocking the only doorway, she hurried to the desk and poured two glasses of brandy, hoping to soften the atmosphere. Taking two huge gulps, she perched on the foot of the bed, glass clasped between both hands on her lap, a foot tapping nervously. "I don't know," she repeated more firmly, "something just told me to come."

Arthur considered her. She seemed nervous- she could be buying time for whoever she was with to jump him. But then she did seem to really work here and was completely lost about why she had come to his room. She was sat with knees and toes neatly touching, like a proper lady- like she had done even while being held captive and on the run with only one set of clothes. How does she manage to look so damn elegant all the time?

Deciding there was no immediate danger, Arthur lowered himself back into the comfortable chair and took a sip of the brandy Lilly had poured. "Uh… thank you. Well… it's, uh, good to see you- uh- to see that you're well, I mean." Sip.

Lilly's treacherous heart skipped a beat. At the same time her skin burned with resentment. She had been well enough before she ever met him, too. "Well, yes, I'm well now. I've had a lot of things to deal with since I got home though, you know. It hasn't been easy."

Arthur sighed and dropped his head, diffidently rubbing the back of his neck. "Lilly, I'm sorry. Really, I am. If I could make it up to you, I would. I never meant for any of that to happen." He cut himself off with a gulp of brandy and sighed again, heavily.

His voice was raw, miles apart from the startled desperado she had walked in on. She could almost see him physically sinking into his thoughts. Deep and dark as she knew they were, she realised she had to put her emotions behind her once and for all and be strong. Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offences. "Arthur… I didn't come here to make you apologise, although I appreciate it, for what it's worth."

"Well it ain't worth enough, is it?" Arthur bitterly interrupted, a crack in his voice and a creeping anger filling him. He'd never mused very long on the effects of his actions. He knew he was a bad person, but anyone he'd ever hurt had never come to stare him in the face afterward. He was a despicable piece of shit.

"Hey," Lilly tried to gain his eye contact, "I came here to help you, I think."

He didn't look up but waved a hand dismissively, "you don't owe me anythin', kid. Do yourself a favour and get out of here."

"No," the chambermaid retorted hotly. "I don't owe you anything, but you do owe me, so the least you could do is hear me out. And look at me when I'm talking to you."

The outlaw chuckled bitterly under his breath, crossing his legs out in front of him. "Alright, go on. Just how the hell are you gonna help me?" He was not in the mood for much more of this nonsense.

His gaze hit her like a wall of cold water. Arms and legs outstretched, afraid of nothing she could say or do, he struck an intimidating sight. Lilly took a deep breath, another swig, and called upon the Lord to guide her through this. "I'm sure you've done a lot of bad things, and you think you're this terrible person-"

"Can we get to the part where you stop makin' me feel like a piece o' shit, miss? What the hell did you come here for?" Goddamn choir girl. She was still just sitting there, all neat and innocent and pretty. The goddamn sanctimony of it all.

Lilly smothered the fear gripping her stomach and persevered. "I- I'm sorry. I came here because I think you have a heart. A good one…" Just say it. 'Let all you do be done in love.' "And… I worry for your soul. I wanted to help you see that instead of hurtin' all the time."

Sip. "I'm a lost cause, kid. Save your energy."

Lilly's heart sank. Her cheeks burned. Maybe she had simply misremembered the whole episode. She sighed, "I'd love to. But I had to put a lot of effort into forgiving what happened and movin' on. I see I was a fool to come here though. I'm sorry to have dragged it all up." She swallowed hard and busied herself with her skirts, moving roundly to the door. "If I may, just for my own peace of mind," she paused and drew a breath, settling herself into a moment of calm. "I forgive you, Arthur Morgan." Exhale. She let her eyes rest on him a moment more before turning and opening the door.

"W-wait," Arthur stuttered. He watched all this as in slow motion. It was just three words, but he could almost see a weight lift from her and now she seemed so… at peace. Is she a goddamn angel? Pulling himself up, he was hesitant to move, but his outstretched hand pleaded with her to stay. "I wasn't angry at you… I just…" Angels don't exist.

Lilly wanted to take his hand in hers so much. "Am I crazy?" she pondered out loud. "I just thought… we kind of got to know each other, you know?" Her hand continued resting threateningly on the doorknob as she stared into space.

I am the stupidest and luckiest guy in the world. What a mess, you idiot. "Yeah, we did," Arthur spoke quietly as he inched toward the door. This being was so pure, so full of love and heart the likes of which he'd never seen in anybody. And she was here for him. He'd never have thought it divine intervention, but he wasn't going to let himself push her away now just because he was acting the same angry old fool he'd been forever. "I'm sorry. Stay a while, if you want...?"

Lilly let her hand drift from the knob. A soft gasp as the click of the closing door snapped her from her muddled thoughts. She turned back into the room to find herself inches from Arthur, cornered by his arm as he leant on the door.

The seconds felt an age as they resisted a magnetism between them. His eyes searched her, a glimmer of hope buried beneath layers of sadness. Is she crazy? She must be.

Lilly's mind was whirring. She'd come here out of goodwill… hadn't she? Her heart was beating through her chest, surely he could hear it. She dared not move. Fearful and excited about what she might find in his, she kept her eyes low.

Arthur rested his other hand on the door too and sank into it as though exhausted.

Already a statue, Lilly held her breath, the space between them ever shrinking.

"Are you crazy? I don't know, miss. You're either crazy or an angel. You tell me which." His voice was low, confiding, vulnerable.

Dragging her gaze to meet his, instantly the heady atmosphere between them lifted. She could see his eyes were not lust filled but open, asking, moved. She swam in their blue depths a moment. "Well I can't claim to be an angel, sir," she gently placed a soft palm on Arthur's rugged, handsome cheek, "so I guess I must be crazy."

Arthur clasped large fingers around her wrist, and they both lingered a while. He'd never faced anyone he'd wronged like this, but he'd never experienced true forgiveness either. Damned if she was no angel, she was close enough.