"Wait a minute. This isn't Avatar." Yes, well spotted, hypothetical observant reader. Had to take a bit of a break from writing because of extenuating personal circumstances, but I should be getting a little bit of free time coming up in just a bit to work on this and Harmonic Convergence. This is just... well... the result of RDR2 consuming what little free time I have had.

I absolutely love Arthur as a character. I love his personality, his arc, and his whole dynamic within the gang. The original title for this was going to be "Guardian Angel", or something to the effect, just because of that. But I felt like letting people know what they were in for right up front.

So like it says on the tin, this is an AU where Arthur survives. There'll be a few chapters scattered throughout the timeline of the events of the second game, featuring some familiar dialogue mixed with some of my own, followed by the AU portion taking place after the game. For those of you reading my stuff for the first time, welcome! Hope you enjoy. For those of you who have me on your Author alert list and are coming from my other story, take heart! HC has not been abandoned. I'm reorganizing, editing, and working on new content right now. Well not right, right now. But you know what I mean.

Enjoy the story!

Chapter 1

It's been a few weeks since we arrived here at Hosea's 'safe haven', Horseshoe Overlook. There's a bit of a chill in the mornings, but it's a damn sight more tolerable than what we had to deal with up in them mountains. The Grizzlies got a way of freezing a man right down to the bone… Can't say I'm gonna miss 'em.

'Course, we're gonna have to cross them again if Dutch's plans go through, and we really do wind up heading west after our next big score. Much as I ain't looking forward to having to use that damn winter coat again, the sooner we get that crossing over and done with, the better.

Lawmen. Pinkertons. Hell, even them O'Driscolls are making a reappearance. We're making enemies faster than we can stock up the ammo to put 'em all down. Not that Dutch seems very worried about that. He claims to have put that whole business with Colm behind him, but I've seen the look he gets in his eye when he thinks about that man. No, that feud will die with one of those two, and not a day sooner. I just gotta do everything in my power to make sure it's Colm doing the dying.

That seems a long ways off right now, though. Right now we just gotta focus on staying alive, and staying together.

We've been doing an alright job of keeping our noses clean so far, Reverend Swanson and Micah excluded, of course. I had to pull both of them out of some damn foolish situations they managed to get themselves into. Nearly got hit by a train and shot to death by an angry town for my troubles, but they're both back. No lasting damage.

Dutch seems glad to have them both back, but- truth be told- I still think we would've been better off leaving Micah to dangle off a noose. I suppose Dutch has his reasons for keeping that mad dog around, but I cannot for the life of me imagine what they might be.

Today I'm setting out to gather yet another wayward soul from our dysfunctional little family. Trelawny stopped in late last night to inform us that young Sean is not only still alive, but passing through our neck of the woods in the custody of some bounty hunters. I have no doubt that the whole thing will wind up turning into some variety of shit show or another, but I trust Javier and Charles to have my back when it does.

Arthur tucked the journal back into his satchel, standing and stretching with a yawn.

His muscles felt sore from all the activity of the past few days, but there was little to be done for it now. Maybe after he helped return Sean, he could enjoy a well deserved break.

No insane rescues, no train robberies, and no loan sharking. Hell, maybe he'd go fishing.

"Ahh, Herr Morgan."

Arthur withheld a grimace at the sound of the aristocratic European accent he knew all too well. No rest for the wicked, apparently.

"Herr Strauss." Arthur replied, voice cracked and raspy from sleep. "And here I was, in danger of having a pleasant morning."

"Very funny, Mister Morgan." Strauss deadpanned. The older Austrian man pushed his wiry glasses further up his large nose. The frown tugging at his wide, low-set mouth coupled with his beady little eyes reminded Arthur of the largemouth bass that lived in the lakes and rivers around this area.

The mental image left a grin on Arthur's face. "I usually think so, anyway. What can I do for you, Leopold? I'm assuming you didn't just stop by for a social visit."

"I was wondering if I could trouble you to make a quick stop for me, before going to get Herr McGuire." Strauss replied, straight to business as usual.

"What do you need, groceries? Parcel from the mail station? A new dress to go with those dandy shoes you bought the other day?"

"No." Strauss said, looking unamused. "Another debtor. A Mister…" Leopold glanced down at his ledger. "Downs. He lives on a farmstead-"

"Let me stop you right there, Strauss. Much as I enjoy helping you drain the blood from your victims, the rescue takes priority. It's a full day's ride already. Without any side trips."

"I assure you, Herr Morgan, this won't take more than a few minutes at most."

"It can wait till we get back. Or, if it's really that important, why don't you just enlist one of these other degenerates to help you on your 'noble crusade'?" Arthur asked, gesturing out toward the rest of the camp. "Lord knows some of them need help with finding- what was it you called it? 'Legal Work'?"

Strauss sighed heavily. "Fine. Who would you suggest take your place then, Herr Morgan?"

"Well shit- I'd suggest Uncle, if I thought he could manage intimidating a rabbit." He placed a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match as he raked his eyes across the camp. "Lenny's too soft." He commented.

He held the flame to the end of the cigarette, drawing a few puffs of tobacco from it before releasing the smoke in a slow, thoughtful stream. "Bill would probably find some way to screw it up. Micah could probably do it, but then he'd probably just kill the bastard."

As he smoked, the answer to his dilemma walked right past him, carrying firewood into the camp.

"Marston!" Arthur called. "Come over here for a second."

John stopped in his tracks, looking over warily. "What do you need?" He asked.

"We'll explain just as soon as you join us over here." Arthur assured him. He took a few more lazy draws from his cigarette while Marston went about setting the firewood down. The man was still a little slow sometimes, but certainly quicker on the uptake than the likes of Williamson. He'd suit Strauss' needs just fine.

John walked over, clapping the sawdust off of his fingers. "Alright. How can I help you two fine gentlemen?"

"'Gentlemen' is already enough of a stretch, Marston. Don't go adding words like 'fine' on there too." Arthur said, his words laced with his usual humor. "And as for how you can help, I'll let our good associate Herr Strauss fill you in."

"Ever so kind." Strauss replied. The older man's dry, severe tone was accompanied by the slightest of eye-rolls. "Quite frankly, I need a blunt instrument to collect a debt. A Mister Downs borrowed money from me, and the sum has come up past due."

John turned to Arthur. "Ain't that usually your purview?"

"Herr Morgan will be tied up continuing his… unenviable task of keeping this gang from falling apart. He will be accompanied by the two other candidates I normally approach for this sort of work, so his nomination falls to you." Strauss explained.

"Thanks, I guess." John replied. He didn't sound overly enthusiastic.

"Aw, don't worry, Marston." Arthur said in a patronizing tone. "I'm sure you'll do just fine. After all, look at you. Got that new scar makin' you look all intimidating." He gestured at John's face, which still carried the signs of his run-in with the wolves on the mountain.

John still didn't look convinced.

Arthur frowned, turning to Strauss. "Hey, why don't you go skulk somewhere else?"

"Why? This is my work-" Strauss cut himself off at the threatening look Arthur sent his way. "I mean- of course, Herr Morgan." He looked at John, tipping his hat in a hurried farewell. "Good day, Mister Marston."

Arthur watched him slink off, distaste curling the edge of his lip downward. Had it been Leopold in Sean's current predicament, Arthur doubted he would've been in nearly as much of a hurry to pull the Austrian man from the fire.

Then again, Dutch had somehow managed to convince him to save Micah, so perhaps anything was possible.

Arthur shook his head, returning his focus to John. The younger man had pensive expression on his gruff face, his lip curled distastefully as Arthur's had been only moments earlier.

Arthur had noticed John doing that fairly often recently. Not just the scowl, but rather various little things that Arthur knew he himself did fairly often. The only thing he wasn't sure of was whether it was unintentional, or if Marston was deliberately trying to act more like the 'golden boy' of the group so he'd be accepted more easily.

Arthur wasn't a very subtle person, so it was a well known fact that he didn't much care for Marston's abandonment of the gang. Especially not with Abigail and the boy here.

"What are you thinkin', Marston?" Arthur asked when John kept his silence. "I can practically see the smoke coming from your ears."

"I'm thinkin'," John began. "That I don't want nothin' to do with that man or his usury business." He turned to Arthur, his expression resolute. "And I'm thinkin' that you should find someone else to collect his blood money."

Arthur was momentarily nonplussed at the reaction. On one hand, he was impressed by the audacity Marston was displaying. On the other, he was pretty pissed by the reply.

"So… what?" Arthur asked, anger starting to creep into his voice. "Suddenly robbin' folks is beneath you? You seemed just fine with it before you got them scratches up in the Grizzlies. But all you've done since then is lick your damn wounds and stand a watch or two."

"I've never been 'fine with it', Arthur." John shot back, meeting the older man's anger with his own. "I've always had to tell myself that the folks we've been robbin' have had it coming. They're all either thieves, folks who have more than they need, complete bastards, or some combination of the three. These people though- the ones he sends you for… They're just trying to get by."

"So are we!" Arthur shouted. He shot a quick glance around the camp, dropping his voice to nearly a whisper when he remembered that it was still early in the morning. "So are we. The only way we know how. Now sometimes it don't look too pretty and it definitely don't feel too rewarding. But we ain't doin' it so we can feel warm and fuzzy inside, Marston.

"We're doin' it so we can keep them," Arthur continued, vaguely nodding toward the other tents. "Fed and healthy. Miss Tilly. Miss O'Shea." John's gaze began falling towards the ground as he sank into his own thoughts. Arthur gave him no reprieve, dipping his own head to maintain eye contact with the other man.

"Abigail. Jack."

"Alright, enough." John said. "You've made your point."

"So can I count on you, Marston?"

"Yeah, I'll do the damn job." John said, fishing a cigarette out of a shirt pocket. He placed it in his mouth as he began patting himself down, searching for a match. "But I won't like it."

Arthur almost chuckled, pulling a match out of his own pocket. He struck it against his boot heel, then reached out to light John's cigarette for him. "Nobody's asking you to like it, Marston. Just get it done, make the German happy, and get him off of my ass. Do that, and we're square."

"Square? I was unaware that I owed you a damn thing, Morgan."

"I saved your sorry life on that mountain."

"Sure. Thanks to Abigail and Javier. Otherwise, you would've left me up there. You said it yourself."

"Yeah. But the point is I didn't, and here you are." Arthur pointed out.

"Here I am." John agreed. "About to do some… Cold blooded reptile's bidding."

"Would that be me, or Strauss?" Arthur asked, arching an eyebrow.

"The fact that you have to ask speaks volumes."

This time, Arthur did chuckle. "I guess it does."

They stood there for a moment, letting the seconds roll by. They both ought to have been getting ready, but for whatever reason they stayed. They occasionally blew out puffs of smoke from their cigarettes, but otherwise remained silent. Arthur allowed the sounds of early morning birdsong and rustling leaves to soak in.

"That's the reason I picked you, you know." Arthur surprised them both by speaking.

"Pardon?" John asked.

Arthur waved it off. "Ehh, it's nothin', never mind." He said, trying to dismiss the topic altogether.

"Well now you got me curious." John said.

"I guess-" Arthur began, not sure how to explain. Dutch and Hosea were the ones who were good with words. "I knew you wouldn't enjoy it. Micah is the only other one I felt might be able to manage it, but I knew he would probably get a kick out of it all. Somehow that didn't feel right."

"Nothing about that man feels right." John pointed out.

"You ain't wrong about that." Arthur agreed. "Just… Get out there, and do your best to scare the money out of the feller. Rough him up a little if you have to. Only if you have to. Got it?"

"Got it. Sounds easy enough."

"I'm sure it will be." Arthur said. "Thanks."

Before John could reply, another voice called out, breaking the silence of the camp.

"Arthur!" Charles called. "Are you ready to go? Trelawny and Javier rode out ahead of us already."

"Don't get impatient with me, Mister Smith, I'm on my way." Arthur replied, picking up his hat and shrugging on his tan leather jacket. "Got caught up in some business matters, but we're all good now. Ain't we, Marston?"

"Yeah. We're good." John agreed.

Arthur checked his reflection in the small mirror he kept near his tent. His short-cropped hair looked messy, and he wouldn't have time to shave that morning. His stubble was threatening to grow into a beard, but he'd worry about that another time. He placed his hat on his head, pulling the brim down to his brow.

"Let's get going, Charles." He said, clapping the man on his shoulder as he passed.

Charles turned to leave, giving John a wave before he did. "Good to see you back on your feet, John."

"Good to be back on my feet, I think. You two take care now."

He watched them ride out for a minute, finishing off the last of his cigarette. He took one last draw of smoke, holding it in while he tossed the remainder of the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with heel of his boot.

He let the tobacco scented smoke out in a heavy sigh, turning to get his horse ready to ride.

He felt like it was going to be a long morning.

-RDR-

In reality, it had only been two days since Arthur had set out to help rescue Sean McGuire. However, the ride back had felt like it had taken the better part of a week.

They'd split up to ride back to camp, trying to minimize the odds of being recognized as part of the gang. Javier and Charles had each gone their own way, and somehow Arthur had been saddled with the responsibility of escorting Sean back.

Strangely enough, he'd actually preferred it when he was being shot at by bounty hunters. Yes, his life had been in danger, but he'd at least known that a bullet would've offered a quick death. Now that he'd avoided that, he was being subjected to a slow, agonizing form of torture.

"They thought they had me broken then, but I'm bred from rebel stock, I am. My father and my father's father fought against tyrants, and I know a thing or two about that meself. It's all about not giving up, even when things seem their darkest. Keep kickin' even when they think they've finally got you down."

"That is some very sagely advice, McGuire." Arthur droned. "I'll be sure to treasure it just as much as the first two times you gave it."

"Yer a funny man, Arthur Morgan. Keep joking like that and I might actually start to think that you don't enjoy talkin' to me."

"What ever would give you that notion, I wonder?" Arthur asked, voice laden with sarcasm. "Who wouldn't enjoy listenin' to you talk about your fascinating family history?"

"Exactly what I'm sayin'." Sean agreed. Arthur doubted that the man had missed the sarcasm, but rather chose to ignore it entirely. "You know, Arthur, I feel like you're one of the few who really appreciates me as much as I deserve."

"More than you deserve, more like. Though that ain't sayin' much. I'd appreciate you a lot more if you could let me ride in peace for longer than five minutes."

"There you go with your jokes again, Mister Morgan."

"Uh huh." Arthur replied. "You know what really gets me, though?"

"What's that, friend?" Sean asked.

"How is it that Javier, Charles, and I ride out, risk life and limb, and cut you down out of a tree- but you still manage to make this sound like your heroic triumph in the retelling?"

"Because it is, Arthur! What with my roguish charm, sharp wit, and unflappable courage, my escape was already a bygone conclusion. You three riding in was merely a formality."

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time you find yourself in some terrible situation of your own making."

"Don't mistake me, Arthur. I appreciate all of you. I do! I mean, I already know how much I mean to the lot of yous, but to see you all mount such a courageous rescue- it's moving, is what it is."

"I'm still eagerly awaiting the day that something 'moves' you to speechlessness."

Sean laughed out loud at that. "It'll probably be the same day that something moves you to tears, you angry old bastard."

Arthur smirked at that. As annoying as he openly admitted to finding Sean, even he had to admit that the younger man had his moments.

At long last, they came to the thin trail through the woods that led to their camp at horseshoe overlook.

"Who goes there?" A familiar raspy voice called out.

"It's Arthur!" He shouted in reply.

John stepped out from between some trees flanking the tail, lowering the repeater he'd been brandishing.

"Well, well. The triumphant return."

"Something like that." Arthur responded. "Did Charles and Javier already make it back in?" He asked, climbing down from the horse he'd been sharing with Sean.

"Yeah, around an hour ago. You take the scenic route?"

"Nah." Arthur answered, gesturing toward the horse. "It's a borrowed horse, with two passengers. Didn't wanna overwork it."

"He probably just wanted an excuse to enjoy my company a while longer, more likely." Sean jibed from the saddle.

"Yeah, that's probably it. Now why don't you ride the rest of the way into camp, and let some of them enjoy your company for a bit?"

"And let you miss my return party?" Sean asked dramatically. "My Knight in shining armor himself?"

"I'm sure I'll manage. Now get!" Arthur ordered, giving the horse's flank a firm slap. The animal whinnied and set off at a trot.

"I'll save you some whisky then, Morgan!" Sean promised as he rode off toward camp.

The two men watched him ride off before John broke the silence. "I see your trip was a success."

"I guess you could call it that. No one died, and Mister McGuire is back to regale us with tales of his spectacular escape."

"Well when you put it like that…" John said.

"Yeah." Arthur pulled out a carton of cigarettes, offering one to John. The other man accepted, and soon they were both smoking idly.

"Still no word on Mac?" John asked.

"No. Might have to assume the worst." Arthur answered.

John only nodded absently.

"So, how did your errand go? Has Herr Strauss successfully wrung another man for all he's worth?"

John scoffed. "Lets just say I was a bit less successful."

"How do you mean? Downs give you trouble?"

"Couldn't even give me that much." John said distastefully. "Poor bastard could barely throw an insult, never mind a punch. About all he did manage to do was cough on me."

"Sounds delightful."

"Sure." John commented. "The whole thing was a waste of time. He said he owed more on the house than it was worth, and he didn't have much more than the clothes on his back."

"Sounds like Strauss was a fool for lending him money."

"I already told him as much."

"Well… Sorry for wasting your time, then."

"That's fine. We'll just say you owe me now." John said.

Arthur huffed out a quick chuckle. "Sure."

They stood in what could be almost be considered a companionable silence for a bit, feeling the air cool as the sun began to set. Birdsong gradually gave way to the sounds of insects and other nocturnal creatures. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, the sound drifting down from the trees above them.

Distantly, Arthur could hear the sound of music and voices rising over the din of nature. Sean was likely being welcomed back.

"Sounds like they've gotten the celebration started already." John observed aloud.

"Seems like it." Arthur agreed.

"You ain't heading over there? You could probably do with some rest after that whole business with the bounty hunters."

"With Mister McGuire running his mouth over there, I ain't very likely to get much in the way of rest just yet. Besides, celebrations ain't much my sort of thing anyhow."

"Yeah." Was all John said.

"Matter of fact," Arthur began, reaching out for John's repeater. "Why don't you hand me that gun, and head on in yourself. I'll take this watch."

"You sure?" John asked.

"Yeah. I'd rather enjoy the peace and quiet out here, anyway."

"Alright then," John said, handing Arthur the carbine. "You have yourself a good evening, Mister Morgan."

"I will certainly do my best." Arthur assured, throwing John a lazy mock salute as he started back toward the camp.

Arthur settled heavily on a fallen trunk, letting out a woosh of air as he relaxed his tired muscles. Another hoot drew his attention, and he found his gaze lifting upwards, toward the branches above him. He found the owl, with its wide, intelligent eyes staring down at him. The creature made no further noise, instead opting to simply watch.

"Don't suppose you're here to keep me company?" Arthur asked.

The owl flew off.

"Thought not." Arthur huffed, settling back. The image of the bird lingered though, and after a minute Arthur had his journal open, scribbling out yet another drawing.

For those of you who have completed the game, I think you see where I'm going with this. Well not all of it, hopefully. But the general gist.

What are your thoughts? Like it? Hate it? Let me know.

Have a fantastic week everyone.

Cheers,

Specter.