American Trains
Chapter 10: On A Razor's Edge
Beta'd by Kay (ykwyh26)
A/N: So... sorry for no update on schedule. I blame FF; it just wouldn't let me upload. I kept getting time-out errors. =/
So before I start an angry rant, I'll jump to reviews:
Distant Lands: Yeah, I think that might have been the episode. I'd have to go dig around the Internet though.
Ykwyh26: I think I'm getting better at remembering the order of the letters of your username. XD I still sometimes scratch my head when trying to type your name out. Lol
Yes, I suppose my warped inspiration must come from somewhere and I managed to finally fix that little opps in ch. 9
Crownedclown3293: I wouldn't have my cowboy leave his spunky Brit! :D Or would I? :3
BeastieoftheShadows12: I'm to introduce you to your first case of DID prone gentlemen. ;) And yes, aren't I an awful person with my cliffhangers?
Rae1112: It's much more delicious than friendship! :3
Fai'swingedchronicles: Yes, when I kill characters, I ensure they stay dead. I'm glad you clicked it too, and that you're enjoying it. ;) *grins* Another Ivan lover, huh?
Okay, I got one real important question for ya'll:
Pirates or secret agents?
Pretty please leave your answer in a review or PM! Be honest. :)
Enjoy the big double digit!
As Arthur and Cisco struggled up the rugged hill overlooking the river, hooves slipping dangerously, Alfred and Hero seemed indifferent to the increasingly worsening terrain. The sure-footed chestnut stepped easily with an instinct to find the best footing.
Arthur clung to Cisco as the mare slipped and whinnied after catching her footing again.
"Alfred, is this safe?" The Brit questioned skeptically as his mount sidestepped, blindly seeking steady ground. The mentioned man glanced over his shoulder and chuckled.
"Ah, poor gal ain't got her climbin' legs, huh?" The cowboy offered a shrug. "Ya can walk 'er if ya don't wanna take a tumble."
"Yes, I think that's wisest." He mumbled and dismounted Cisco, soothing the nervous mare with a few strokes down her neck. He carefully led Cisco after Hero and Alfred as they flitted about the rocks, stones tumbling down the ridge.
The cowboy and his horse made it to the top of the ridge and waited for their companions. Again, in silence, Alfred felt his thoughts creep up on him uncomfortably. Alfred tried to smile and patted Hero's neck while watching Arthur and Cisco comically struggle up the rather steep hill.
"C'mon Artie! I ain't got all night!" The cowboy teased, trying to lighten his own mood when Arthur and Cisco were just about to the ridge peak.
"Do shut up, dear brute." The Brit grumbled as they came to level with the cowboy. He was panting from climbing the rough ground and dangerously guiding the mare; it certainly wasn't easy work. He leaned against Hero, fingers knotted in Alfred's denims for added support as he caught his breath.
"Don't worry. Horses are real good learners. She'll get the hang a' climbin' in no time."
Arthur nodded and finally took a moment to look down the ridge they stood upon. Following the rough path down, it ended in a quiet river; barely a whispering gurgle rose from the waters. Even in the dark, Arthur could see that the river was fairly wide, but the current soothingly slow as it shimmered under the moonlight.
"If we plan on catchin' any sleep tonight, we ought to get goin.'" He said. Arthur slipped his hand from the American's leg.
"I suppose you're right." The Englishman muttered.
"Ya should be alright goin' down. Ain't nowhere near as bad as the trip up."
Arthur brightened a bit at that and swung himself up onto Cisco's saddle.
"Just follow where Hero walks, alright?" Alfred kicked the horse's flanks and the gelding started down. Arthur nudged the mare to follow after the cowboy.
The trip down only involved a few slips where deceivingly steady rocks proved loose and Hero skidded some but stayed steady under Alfred. Arthur was more than grateful for the cowboy's experience where his lacked. If he'd been leading, the Brit was positive Cisco and he would be lying dead at the bottom of the hill, each with broken necks.
Once Hero stepped down to level ground with an airy bounce, the cowboy sighed in relief. He turned in the saddle to make sure Arthur made it down safely. He watched the mare step down beside Hero, giving a snort.
The Brit leered back at the hill behind them, silently cursing the blasted terrain.
The blue-eyed cowboy dismounted and led the chestnut to the river before he removed the bit from the animal's mouth. Giving it a brief wash in the river, he walked back to his horse. Grabbing a spare cloth from the saddle pack, Alfred wrapped the bit and set it back into the pack, stuffing the leather in as well.
Arthur watched, then mirrored the cowboy, though without a cloth or much of a saddle pack, he merely set the spare bit with Hero's and the two let the horses drink from the river.
Alfred flopped down to the softer dirt at the river's edge and inhaled the cool air of the night. Arthur sat down, albeit more gracefully, and watched the river. He'd noticed that the normally curious cowboy had been oddly silent through most of their trip. He wasn't sure how long they'd traveled but the moon was high above them now, the three-quarters shinning down on them with silvery beams.
"Ya gonna wash, or ya just gonna stare at it?" The cowboy teased and Arthur snorted.
"You just want to watch me strip, don't you?" The Brit retorted with a devilish smirk.
Alfred blushed furiously and quickly looked down at the ground in front of him. Arthur laughed raucously and got to his feet to stand in front of the embarrassed American. A mischievous idea was forming in the Brit's mind. He offered his hand to help Alfred stand. The cowboy gave him a questioning look.
Arthur felt his own cheeks begin to heat, suddenly reconsidering the spontaneous idea.
"Care to join me?" He mumbled with a quirky smile. Alfred's eyes grew wide and his blush intensified, straight to his neck and ears.
"Uh, that's ok. I-" Arthur interjected a sigh, summoned up his courage and grabbed the American's wrists, bodily dragging him to his feet. The cowboy kept his eyes averted, lips pursed in a thin line. The Brit narrowed his eyes; clearly this wasn't going as smoothly as he'd hoped.
Arthur tugged the taller towards the river and the cowboy nervously dug his heels in, halting them both.
"A-A-Arthur, I'm not so sure 'bout this." The cowboy stuttered and pulled his wrists free of the shorter's grasp. He nervously wrung his gloved hands. The Brit seemingly ignored him and kicked off his shoes and stepped into the river's shallow banks, beckoning the cowboy with an easy smile and gesture.
Alfred shook his head and the emerald-eyed man cocked his head.
"Why?" How'd that one little word become so damned complicated so fast? Thought Alfred in dread at the Brit's question.
"How many times I got to tell ya? I ain't good at this."
"With bathing, or with people?" The Brit retorted, a bored expression hiding his inner curiosity. The cowboy growled.
"With ya." He glared down at the ground between his boots.
"Pardon?" The Brit stepped out of ankle-deep water beside the shore and up to the American.
"People ain't my problem. You are." Arthur gathered his patience and nudged his foot against Alfred's boot. The cowboy huffed as the Brit continued his silent prodding. "I just don't know what ya want me to do."
"Relax, for starters." Arthur retorted and flicked the American's chest. "I'm surprised you haven't snapped you're so bloody tense."
Alfred exhaled sharply and tried the instructions.
"I don't understand you, Alfred. How can one go from chipper while navigating break-neck terrain to taut as a bowstring at the mention of a relaxing chance to bathe?" The Englishman continued.
"I think ya got bigger issues, Mr. Kirkland."
"Is that really what this is about?" Arthur mumbled with a sigh, sadness immersed in his voice. "You think I'll turn on you, don't you?"
"Nah, Arthur I-"
"You're just waiting for me to slit your throat, aren't you?" The Brit continued, fishing for the penknife in his pocket. His normally curious green eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Arthur, I never s-" Alfred tried to explain but was cut off by the flash of metal under the moonlight. The Brit approached him with a low growl.
"You're a liar, Alfred Jones. You doubt me." He snarled out, twirling the knife as he slipped it just beneath Alfred's chin. The cowboy reserved himself, unflinching but Ivan's words came back to haunt his mind, not only about his inability to lie, but the Russian's warning. He wouldn't give Arthur the satisfaction of proving him right, though.
"The night you found me, I cut those ropes with this blade. I could have easily slit you open just like them. I didn't though, did I?" Arthur whispered harshly, and jabbed the blade tip to lightly puncture the skin on the underside of Alfred's chin when the cowboy didn't respond.
"Answer me!" The Brit roared, digging the blade in a bit harder, drawing scarlet life from the thin cut.
"No." Alfred muttered, giving in to the madman's question.
"I could have let Cole go. I could have let his plan succeed and watched him murder you, but I didn't. Isn't that right?" Arthur licked his lips in satisfaction, trailing the blade to lay the razor side against Alfred's unblemished cheek.
"You murdered him, Arthur. There-" The blade began to cut a faint line.
"That wasn't what I asked you." Arthur gave his vocal reminder. He looped his arm around the cowboy's waist and leaned against Alfred's chest. The Brit flashed an insane grin and pushed the blade harder against Alfred's lightly bronzed skin, marring it with a small trail of blood. "Now answer me."
"Yes." Alfred returned in defeat, looking down into Arthur's wild eyes. The cuts barely stung, but the violent change in the shorter felt like a terrible wound to his heart. It had hurt to know Arthur was a willing killer, but knowing he'd committed it for him was a crippling hit. The realization had suddenly caught up with him, and shattering the denial was the final straw.
"I'm protecting y-" The cowboy grit his teeth and lunged, throwing Arthur to the ground. The Brit struck the earthen soil and grunted in pain. His still wild eyes leered up at Alfred.
"I think ya ought to keep the Hell away from me, Mr. Kirkland." The blue-eyed cowboy said and stepped back. "Abilene ain't that far. I'll take ya straight to the lawman. I'm still feelin' sick from seeing Cole like that."
Still on the ground, Arthur laughed manically.
"You know exactly what they'd do to a man like me. They'll hang me with a vice."
"I don't see what's so damned funny about it."
"Of course you don't. It's irony, really." Arthur giggled and propped himself up on his elbows. "You claim you're sick from seeing a dead foe? What of a friend, th-"
"Cole wasn't an enemy!" Alfred shouted.
"He became one the moment he thought of taking you from me!" Arthur snarled back. "How can you still try to pity and guilt yourself over him? He wanted you to die!"
"The same way I forgive ya. I don't know what made ya this way, but I still pity ya."
"I don't want your bloody fucking pity!" The Brit howled out his frustration and fell flat back to the ground. Alfred watched him as Arthur shuddered and threw the penknife somewhere along the shore in a sideward motion. It clattered in the darkness.
He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "I don't want your pity." He mumbled again. A sane sense of regret filling out those simple words of detest.
"Shame, 'cause ya got it." The American spurred in spite.
"Shut the hell up!" Arthur growled back weakly. "Go away, you damned brute! Leave me alone! Isn't that what you wanted anyway? 'I think ya ought to keep the Hell away from me, Mr. Kirkland.'" The emerald-eyed blond mocked bitterly. The cowboy sighed. He couldn't deny he'd said it, but walking away and leaving the miserable blond on the ground alone? The thought made his heart hurt.
"Yeah, I said it, don't mean I want to though." Alfred mumbled. How could he never stay angry with Arthur? After the awful things he'd done and said, how did he find forgiveness for the strange Brit?
The American removed his hat and bandana, leaving them on the ground as he kicked off his boots as well. He moved to stand beside Arthur, who still covered his eyes, as a strange plot of his own formed haphazardly in his mind.
"Arthur."
"Didn't I just tell you to go away?" Arthur's breath hitched and he moved his hands away to find Alfred kneeling close beside him, the cowboy's heavy hand on his chest.
"I'll take my leave if ya really want me to, Arthur." He curled his fingers in the blood-soaked shirt and tugged, motioning for Arthur to stand. "But I'd rather fix this than walk away. Jobs left unfinished bother me."
Arthur silently stood, glaring half-heartedly at the blue-eyed blond. The glare changed to curiosity as Alfred removed his gloves with the aid of his teeth as he tugged them off and cast them with his other accessories. Mustering courage, Alfred slipped his fingers beneath the emerald-eyed man's suit jacket and pushed it down the man's shoulders.
Arthur stood stock-still, his face feeling hot as he was paralyzed by Alfred's move to discard the dark green jacket, but he allowed it to fall to the ground. When Alfred's hands began to unbutton the stained white shirt he snapped from his stupor and grasped the cowboy's hands. He drew in a steadying breath and tried to push the other's hands away, but this time the stronger of the two won out. Alfred continued and Arthur didn't bother with resistance again. The Englishman just couldn't muster up the familiar dangerous anger he normally could, and without it, found himself at the mercy of the American.
When the final button came undone, the anger-suppressing American stood back and offered a nervous smile. This would just have to do. Even if Alfred would prefer to keep his denims and Arthur's trousers dry, he just wasn't sure enough to peel anymore clothing away.
Arthur shrugged the shirt off to his elbows and avoided eye contact, preferring to look at the ground instead. The cowboy wasn't about to let this ill formed plan fall through and he set his hands on Arthur's arms to tempt the shirt down, but Arthur flexed at the elbow to keep the shirt in place. The cowboy carefully forced the shirt off the Brit's arms though, and bit his lip at the sight.
The Brit sighed as Alfred stared at his arms. They were lined with ferocious scars and a few burned splotches, which trailed from his wrists all the way to his elbows. The cowboy suddenly began to note the various other scars littering the shorter's torso as well.
While the pale complexion and dampening moonlight had made them hard to spot, now knowing what to search for, the blue gaze traced the various lines marring the Brit's body. Alfred resigned himself to remaining silent and he moved to discard his gray shirt, dropping it over his boots and gently nudging Arthur towards the river.
The shorter thought of digging his heels in, of stopping Alfred and hiding his body beneath the suit jacket again. He knew telling the cowboy to do much of anything would result in obedience, but he found himself unwilling to strike up his voice.
He stepped back into the river, Alfred following, or rather leading until the river came to his waist, and just above Arthur's naval. It tugged at their limbs in a little current that proved more soothing than distressing.
The Brit finally looked up to meet Alfred's eyes in melancholy curiosity.
The cowboy slipped his hands into the water and took hold of Arthur's wrists bringing them above the surface, running his thumbs over the scarred skin there.
"I think we need to talk, Artie."
The Brit said nothing, but felt the American circle his arms around his shoulders in a hug when he didn't respond. Arthur leaned his forehead against Alfred's chest and allowed the American to undrape one arm from his shoulder to return to running his hand down the Brit's arm, thumbing the trace lines of his scars.
"And I think we 'ought to be startin' with these here. Would ya tell me, please?"
Arthur mentally prepared himself. He should have seen this coming. The cowboy would have found out sooner or later.
"I'd rather not, but I suppose my options are limited, aren't they."
"I won't force ya."
"I know," the Brit swallowed hard and felt the annoying sting behind his eyes. He refused to cry, no matter how painful the repressed thoughts were as they surged up. "But you deserve to know." And he wondered just which scar to begin with.
Angsty, huh? =/ That's what happens when you've got to these two screwed up people and you mash their problems together.
Next chapter: Arthur's past revealed!
I might cry next chapter, 'cause thinkin' about it already has me all sniffly, but then again I'm sort of a loser like that! Lol xD
Reviews! They really do make me smile!