Old Problems, New Love
Chapter 1
Summary- Widower John Marston has one mission in life; to eliminate his old friends in an attempt to get back to his young son. After much heartache, can he find love in the bowels of terror, or will he be destined to be alone?
Disclaimer- I DO NOT own any of the characters used in this story, I just like to play around with them.
"Mr Marston, I'm sorry. I'm afraid Abigail didn't make it." The doc muttered, running his pale hand through his grey hair, streaking it red with blood.
"A-and the baby?" The crest-fallen man asked, his young but scarred face turning into one of pure heartache. He wanted to push past the old man, but restrained himself because of the five year old boy with his mother's deep brown eyes and messy hair that was hiding behind him.
The doc sighed, patting The elder of the Marston's on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry, son." He muttered, picking up his case from the doorway and heading over to the five-year-old. "Go in and say goodbye. I'll look after your boy."
He nodded in response, his hands shaking and tears threatening to fall. He reached for the doorknob, turned it and stepped in the room. Blood soaked the sheets that were covering his wife's pale form. At the foot of the bed, a small bundle laid, completely still.
His eyes bolted open, rousing him from his slumber. A sudden pain in his side stopped him from moving and he brought his hand up to cover his eyes. His wedding band glinted in the light, making him smile. After the death of his wife two years prior, he had never taken it off. Then, he took in his surroundings.
He was on a rickety bed in a wooden cabin, by the looks of it, that held all of the simple amenities. A cooker sat along one wall, a table and chair next to it and a coal burner sat at the bottom of the bed.
"Where the hell am I?" He asked himself, wincing when the door opened, the light blinding him momentarily.
"Well you're alive." A soft, feminine voice observed. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision of the small galaxy that had settled there. He stared right up at the ceiling, moving his hands in front of his face and trying to get them into focus.
"So it would seem." He laughed, wincing again at the sudden pain in his ribs. He looked over to his saviour and was greeted with a young woman, probably only a few years younger than him with dirty blond hair that was pulled back into a messy bun and the bluest eyes he had ever laid eyes on. Her face was lightly sunburnt and her clothes were dirty, indicating that she had been working out in the sun for a long time.
"So, how do you feel?" She asked, walking further in and closing the door behind her. The man lowered his hands and rested them on his chest, looking over at her with curious eyes.
"I don't know the polite word for it." He answered, chuckling lightly.
"I do." She said shortly, resting her hands on her hips and giving him a scolding look, her eyebrow slightly raised. He was reminded very much of Abigail, when he would take Jack out on a hunting trip without telling her, or when he would make a joke about her cooking. "'Stupid' is the word we use around here. What were you doing?"
"I was…" He groaned, sitting up tentatively, sucking in a breath at the pain in his side. He faced her, setting his feet on the creaky, wooden floor. "I was doing something stupid." He admitted, letting out a low chuckle.
"Well, you'll be okay." She soothed, rolling her eyes. "Once you didn't die the doctor said you'd be fine. He got the bullets out a couple of days ago."
"Good." He commented, nodding to her in thanks.
"It cost us $15." She continued, looking at him as though he was a naughty child. Guilt flooded through him like a waterfall.
"I'm sorry, madam." He apologised, mentally cursing himself. "Ya should've left me there to die."
"Did you want to die? I mean, was that it?" She asked, quick as a flash. "Was that why you went straight out to Fort Mercer and picked a fight with the worst bandit in the county? To die? Mr. err…?"
He stood, running his hands through his thin, brown hair and stretching.
"Mr. Marston. John Marston." He finished for her, lowering himself back down to sit on the bed.
"Bonnie Macfarlane." She introduced, smiling at him. "Miss Bonnie Macfarlane."
"Well, you may be right, Miss Macfarlane." He assured, wiping his hands on his pants. "I don't know."
"So, what were you doing?"
"Was trying to give Mr. Williamson a chance. For old times' sake."
Her eyebrows retreated into her hair and her face turned into one of shock.
"You know Bill Williamson?" She almost gasped, Cocking her head to the side.
"Knew him, long time ago."
"Well, what was he like?"
"Dumb." He said simply, standing once again.
"Just like you." She joked, folding her arms across her chest.
"Thank you miss." John said sarcastically, reaching up to tip his hat and feeling his fingers enclose around thin air. She chuckled, practically seeing the cogs turning in his brain. "Seen my hat?"
"I have." She said, raising her hand to point at the cooker. He made his way over and shoved the garment on as well as his holster. "And ah,what will you do now?"
"Now I'm going to take my time and go after him the less kind way." He answered, joining Bonnie by the door.
"Well, that sounds very fun, Mr. Marston." She commented, smiling up at him. "Quite heroic, just like in those penny dreadfuls my brother used to read. Meanwhile, if you'll excuse me, I've got a ranch to run." She said, opening the door and making her way out.
"Of course," She said, turning back to John, who was now leaning on the door frame, looking at her with a small smile on his face. "If you're feeling better, why not take a ride with me later and help me patrol the perimeter. You can earn back some of that money we wasted on doctor's bills."
"Of course." He nodded, stretching his side once again. "And thank you, for saving my life, I mean."
"Next time, Mr. Marston, I strongly recommend you don't try to lose it so earnestly." She smirked as she walked away. Somehow, John was unable to tear his eyes away from her retreating form.
"I'll bear that in mind." He muttered, watching her disappear behind the general store.
A/N- Okay guys, my first RDR fic! How did I do? Did I do okay? It is meant to be an AU, as to the fact of Abigail being dead, and Jack being seven instead of sixteen. Please R&R? HPTwin OUT!