A/N: I don't own anything in this story. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
He's not sure what he wants more these days: to be saved or to be damned.
When he looks into Ava's eyes, when he sees the light and beauty, but also darkness there, he wants to be saved. He wants to be saved so desperately that his stomach rises so far into his chest it's difficult to talk, to breathe. She is his hope, because once upon a time Ava Crowder saved herself just fine, and maybe if he shows her just how much he's always loved her, she can save him, too.
But when Boyd looks into Arlo's eyes, he wants the furthest thing from salvation. There are scars there, clouded by the medication and the dementia they hold back, but scars nonetheless. He knows, if given the chance, Arlo would remember every scar, every injustice. Boyd knows he does the same thing. The rage makes it so easy to talk, to manipulate, to see a United States Marshall and not a failed friendship. It makes him more than human; he is fear incarnate, and Harlan sways under his curse.
Sometimes, he dreams of dead men, hanging from trees. Sometimes, he dreams that he put them there. In both dreams he loses a piece of himself, and he can see that the absence of those pieces defines him more than anything else on this earth. He has positioned himself directly in between being saved and being damned, and everyone fears a man who is unpredictable, who could go either way. Boyd himself doesn't know what way he'll go, but he's going to have to choose quickly because a showman is only on stage for so long before the curtains fall and they are alone with the aftermath.