American Trains

Chapter 14: A Deal With the Devil

Beta'd by Kay (ykwyh26)

A/N: Go figure after I say I won't be able to get this stuff done in a day anymore I mange to. Whatever~

Reviews:

With-All-Hearts: Bwuahaha, poor Lichtenstein :3

Kitkatt: Mercy is only for the good, kind writers. I enjoy tormenting my fictional victims. ;)

Kay: How the Hell do you always manage to guess what I'm about to write before I actually write it? Is this perhaps the case of great minds think alike? ;) Lol, aren't I humble?

Tensai55: I'm actually rather surprised that hasn't come up sooner. Technically by boundaries you're are correct. I just looked it up to verify ( I apologize, my geography is limited to my ecology studies which really doesn't give a crap where the states or the government draw their boundaries). The Midwest as defined by the US census bureau doesn't include the area I'm referring to in the beginning. The area I'm referring to as defined by the US census Bureau is technically referred to as the South West. The borders are sort of overlapping/disputed once you hit Kansas(which is where Alfie and Artie currently stand). I think when most people say the mid west they mean the plains states(Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado and the Dakotas) however technically the Mid West includes places like Michigan and Ohio. It's a general term that has really been sort of stretched and misshapen in a funny way (as quite a lot of things are). Al is... technically North Eastern (being from Pennsylvania) however he does speak with a 'southern' accent mixed with a Western accent. I'm Southern(Florida) and we certainly don't talk like that. What we get from our more Western and Southern neighbors extends to 'ya'll' and the occasional dropping of the 'g' at end of words, but that's about all. I did play these stereotypes up quite a bit, I'll admit that. Lol. The south also hits that damned overlap at Kansas, so it could go either way, but really it is more 'South Western'... I mean he certainly doesn't talk as if he's from Minnesota(Mid West)! Lol

While on the topic of boundaries and regions, I want clarify that the term 'desert' is the same way. When I say desert, I sort of assume (poor on me) that you all understand I'm not talking about the deserts of Africa and Asia. Not bright orange sand where sidewinders crawl and the camels are useful. The technical term for the climate is called a 'steppe' (wow, I'm actually using something from my ecology class)! A steppe in basics is like the transition from plains to desert. You've got real sandy soil, rocky in some places with sparse grass and bush and no trees. It's typically very hot and very dry. Like I said, next step down is the desert.

The best example I can think of where these boundary perception beats out definition is my home of Florida. We are almost entirely sub-tropical by definition, which is prime home to large broad leaf trees and pines, ample crops and great for animal grazing with uniquely fertile soil. However if you ask a non-Floridian what they think about Florida's ecoregion, they'll tell you beaches and mangroves. That is just a very, very small region along Florida's outer coast and most ecology won't even register that small of a region on their tropical coastal scale.

See what I mean? Kansas is technically Mid West but you probably won't find that many pines like in Ohio and such. I doubt you meant for me to turn this into an eco-rant, but that's just me. I like to clarify random, stupid, useless info. Lol

Again, not saying you're wrong (because you aren't) but also clarifying that I'm still within the 'close enough for government work' area, and just ought to have clarified before all this and probably could have found more accurate terms instead of general ones. :P My bad!

Anyway, I'll end my mini-rant and let you all read now.

As the fire blazed around them, Arthur became only aware of the bleeding American in his arms. He trembled as he looked down at Alfred's paling complexion and agonized expression.

"Alfred…" he murmured and touched the back of his hand to the cowboy's cheek, but it was impossible to accurately gauge the cowboy's temperature state with the fire blazing intensely around them.

A cloud of dirt flew up as Hero thrashed to try to get back to his feet. The terrified gelding threw his legs wildly and barely missed the Brit as he tucked over Alfred to avoid the animal's thrashing.

Once Hero had gotten back to his feet and stamped about in pain, the horse seemed to settle more and only flitted about the two men nervously. As the fire started to burn closer, he reared, stamped his forelegs and whinnied.

Arthur could only watch the terrified horse pace so long before he felt it start to affect his own mind, and he forcefully wrenched his gaze from Hero and back to Alfred.

The cowboy had buried his head against Arthur's chest and was shaking badly: his breath came in hard pants that rattled his whole chest. Occasionally his eyes flickered open, but more often than not, he slipped back unconscious.

The Englishman looked back to the fire, inching closer and closer with each second. Biting his lip, Arthur cradled Alfred's shoulders under one arm, the crook of his knees in the other, and stumbled to lift the heavy, limp American.

He stepped to Hero, who was still snorting and avoiding putting weight on his right back leg.

"C'mon, old chap. I've got to help your master, and you're going to help me do it." He whispered to the horse and brushed the animal's side with his shoulder to try and settle Hero. The horsesnorted, but ceased for a moment. It was enough for Arthur to manage to boost Alfred up into the saddle and climbed up himself.

Hero whinnied in pain at the extra weight on his legs, but steadied. Arthur struggled for the reins around Alfred's barely conscious form, but eventually snagged them and kicked Hero hard.

The horse bayed, but lunged forward, starting an uneven gallop under the extra weight and cut leg. They reached the fire's edge and Hero stalled, turning sidelong and fighting Arthur.

With a snarl, the Brit kicked the wounded horse harder and Hero bolted through the wall of flames with a cry of terror that echoed in the sound of the roaring flames. Once past the flames, Hero fought Arthur again, and the Brit gave in, letting the horse stumble his own way and dropped the reins.

The shorter blond directed his attentions back to Alfred, who was conscious at this point and reaching for his wounded shoulder. Arthur sighed and brushed his hand over Alfred's, squeezing the other's bloody fingers.

"Don't."

"Bullet…gotta…. get it…. out." Alfred barely panted out and groaned. Arthur felt the cowboy lean farther against him and shifted to the added weight pressing against his front.

"Blindly fishing for it isn't going to do you any good, Alfred." The emerald-eyed man murmured and pressed gently on Alfred's hand. "It'll be alright, just don't go and make it worse, you git."

Alfred smiled painfully back at Arthur and let his eyes slip shut again, the blood loss making him feel beyond exhausted.

The Brit leaned forward and tugged at the reins; Hero seemed more than grateful to stop.

Arthur carefully climbed down, trying to avoid jolting the slumped cowboy. He set his hand on Alfred's thigh and gently shook him. Alfred flicked his eyes open and looked down to the Brit. He swallowed hard and leaned down. He putt his hand on Arthur's shoulders to steady himself as the shorter's hand skimmed up his sides to support his weight. He managed to slide down without paining his shoulder too much.

The cowboy's legs wobbled as he touched the ground. He felt them go out from under him and slid down the Brit's chest. He'd lost more blood than he'd thought.

The shorter blond went down to his knees to level with the American and eased the other man down to his back. Alfred looked up at him through bleary, glazed blue eyes.

The Brit ran his fingers through Alfred's hair and brushed back his bangs.

"I'm going to apologize now." He said and trailed his fingers over the entrance wound on the taller's shoulder. "I'd imagine this is going to hurt."

Alfred watched him and swallowed again, he was just too tired to choke out any more words and closed his eyes, bracing himself. Arthur hesitated a moment before digging his fingers into the seeping wound, flinching as Alfred cried out in pain.

Biting his lip, the Brit dug for the deeply lodged bullet with blood-slicked fingers. He felt his stomach unsettle as the cowboy swore and gripped hard at the dark green sleeve of his suit jacket. The Brit turned his green gaze to the blood-smeared, white-knuckle grip on his arm and steeled himself. As his fingers brushed the metal, he snagged at it and tried to ease the bullet free.

Alfred gasped and his eyes rolled back, as Arthur pulled the bullet free and flung the offending metal away into the grass. The cowboy was panting hard, still gripping the Englishman's arm with a bruising vice. He sighed and pressed his other hand to Alfred's shoulder, applying pressure to stem the still bleeding wound.

The wounded man trailed his grip to Arthur's hand and squeezed to get the Brit's attention, since he didn't trust his hoarse voice. When the Brit locked eyes with him, the cowboy smiled weakly and forced his breathing even.

Arthur smirked.

"You're more trouble than you're worth, my dear brute." He muttered, shaking his head. He leaned forward and brushed his lips to Alfred's slightly trembling ones.

"Best get some sleep if you can. I don't think we're going anywhere for a bit."

The cowboy sighed, but twitched when it ended up moving his very sore and tender shoulder. He doubted he'd get much sleep, but closing his eyes and just focusing on the feeling of Arthur hovering inches above him was some ease.

It still annoyed him though: how weak he felt. It had only taken two shots to reduce him to this? Barely conscious, having someone else dig the bullet free and too weak to even thank the man trying to keep him from bleeding out. It was incredibly frustrating. The cowboy wanted to growl out his annoyance, but found it was just easier to let the dark and Arthur's hands soothe him.

He felt Arthur's lips on his own once again, before slipping unconscious.

Arthur drew back as the American went limp again and sighed. With the hand not set over Alfred's shoulder, he swept his fingers through his messy blond hair, effectively smearing the tresses with the cowboy's blood, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

The green gaze swept down to the other wound on Alfred's leg. Thankfully, that one seemed to have clotted on it's own and with a fixed look, Arthur could see it had been a shallow cut to begin with, but had bled enough to make thing worse for the American.

It pained Arthur to know that he could very well and decently stitch the shoulder wound shut if he'd had a needle and some wire, thread, anything really. That, however, was not something the Brit kept with him. He resigned himself to keep pressure on the wound; it had already started to stem but the Brit wasn't taking any chances with the American's wound.

Arthur wasn't sure just how long he hovered over Alfred, keeping constant pressure until the bleeding had stilled a bit more. The emerald-eyed man produced the penknife from his pocket and pulled the end of his dress shirt out. Uncapping the blade, he cut strips of the material free and set them aside. Satisfied with that, he recapped the knife, placing it beside the freshly shorn fabric. Carefully he wrapped and tied the strips of cloth into makeshift bandages: not too tight, but enough to keep a snug pressure against the wound.

The Brit heard the rustle of the grass and the sound of hooves behind him. He knew it couldn't be Hero, as the tired chestnut had gone down to his side and tucked his legs under to relieve the pain on his back foot.

The Englishman instantly went for the penknife by his side as he turned to see an approaching rider on a dark bay horse.

As the rider approached closer and halted the horse, Arthur could see the girlish figure dismount and slowly approach. As she came nearer, the Englishman felt his blood turn fiery with rage and he uncapped the blade. It was the same girl from the ranch house and as Arthur's thoughts turned murderous, he rationalized she looked far too much like the man who had hurt his cowboy.

"Take one more step, and you'll regret it." The Brit snarled out, flashing the penknife's blade under the moonlight. The girl halted and kept her chin down. Her eyes went to the pale, bloodied cowboy lying pressed against the armed man.

"He doesn't look well." She said softly.

"Neither will you when I'm finished, lass." Arthur growled back as he rose to his feet, twirling the blade. He stepped over Alfred and grinned manically.

"Wait! Please, I just want to help!"

"Oh, you'll help to abate my anger before I get my hands on that man you were with." He responded and kept advancing, to which the girl stepped back.

"Please, I'm sorry for my brother! I can help." She screamed, but wasn't quick enough to escape as Arthur lunged forward and grabbed her arm. He yanked her to him and laid the blade against her throat as she tried to squirm from his grasp. With a little pressure, the blade started a thin cut.

"Give me one good reason why I should listen to you plead for your doomed brother, hmm?" the murderous Brit whispered slyly into the girl's ear.

"Because I can help him." She shook, but pointed to Alfred, still lying unconscious.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and pressed the blade more firmly to her throat.

"Explain. Now, or I'll kill you where you stand." He growled his warning.

The girl swallowed the lump in her throat and shakily started.

"There's a doctor that lives in the town nearby. I can tell you where she is, but only if you promise not to hurt my brother."

Arthur grinned wider and rumbled a dark laughter.

"You're a brave lass, but I'm not here to negotiate. You'll take me to this doctor, or I assure you, I will make this verypainful." He threatened and twisted the blade, the razor edge scraping roughly on the underside of the girl's chin. "And that is a promise."

"Please, I want to help, but don't hurt my brother."

"You'll be lucky if I let you keep your own life. I wouldn't worry about anyone else."

"Why, I-I-I just want to help?"

Arthur chuckled again and ran his fingers on the girl's cheek, smearing Al's blood on the girl's pale, perfect skin.

"Feel that?" He asked.

"T-t-the blood?"

"Mmhhmm."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, that's a problem, little lass. You see, that blood and the one to whom it belongs are very dear to me. You want to protect your brother don't you?"

The girl nodded, trembling even more as Arthur flashed a wicked grin.

"Well, I just wanted to protect him." Arthur flicked his insane gaze back to Alfred then to the girl. "And your brother stole that from me. Now, I want to make him suffer, as my cowboy has. You understand, don't you?"

"No! That's not right! You can't-"

"I can do anything I damned well please!" Arthur roared and jabbed the blade under the girl's chin, forcing her to look up at him as she whimpered.

"And, wouldn't that man just be so devastated to find his sweet little sister dead on his porch in the morning?" The Brit licked his lips in anticipation and watched in satisfaction as the blood began to dribble down the length of the blade.

"Please, don't…" The girl whimpered.

"Why not? You look so much like him too…" Arthur murmured, eyes wide and lip twitching in a grin.

"B-b-because, then he'll die too." She motioned back to Alfred again and the Brit grit his teeth. The usually bright cowboy was pale and looked destroyed, lying in the grass, bloodied and trembling faintly. Arthur felt his chest tighten in a painful reminder.

"He needs help!" The girl continued, seeing she'd found some miracle of mercy in the insane Brit's conscience. "I can bring you both to the doctor and she can help him!" The girl pleaded.

The emerald-eyed man stepped back, wrenching the blade away.

"You do that, and I'll consider sparing your life." He growled out. He motioned to the girl's horse. "Get up, and if you even consider leaving my side without my say-so until Alfred is safe, I will hunt you and your brother down and slaughter you both. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes sir, please just let me tell my brother I'll be away."

"No. You'll not tell him. You're to come with me now." Arthur said and walked back to Alfred.

"But, sir-!"

"If you wish to be one sibling short in the morning, then do so. Or if you'd prefer, I could just kill you now and spare you the trouble of burying his body later."

She shook her head and mounted up on her dark bay.

"Good lass." Arthur murmured with a bit of laughter. He knelt beside Hero who pinned his ears back and stood.

"One more time, chap. your master needs you." He said and patted the horse's flank. He looked to the girl and to the ranch house off in the distance.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. My gray mare is still back by your home somewhere. Bring her to me on a lead rope. If you aren't back by the time I'm ready to leave, I'll come find you myself, and that won't be pretty."

The girl moved to obey, turning her horse and heading back.

The emerald-eyed blond swiped the few drops of the girl's blood off onto his fingers and dabbed them on his tongue with a giggle. A part of him wished the girl wouldn't return and he'd have the thrill of getting more of that blood and the blood of her brother. Oh yes, he'd have loved to watch the man convulse and bleed to his death, but another part of him constantly watched the grass for the girl. He had to get Alfred to that doctor, or anywhere, for medical treatment.

Internally, he snarled. Everything his mother had thought to teach him, it was useless out here except for what he'd already done to stop the blood flow. It frustrated him knowing what he could do, just wasn't possible without the right tools.

He moved to kneel beside the cowboy, who had begun to stir and moaned. He brushed his fingers against Alfred's cheek as the American opened his eyes.

"Artie…" He managed to croak out. It was a relief to find enough strength to speak.

"Hush, brute. I'm going to get you help." He said and slipped his arms beneath the cowboy's shoulders and legs to lift him. Alfred leaned his head against Arthur's chest.

"Thanks…" The cowboy mumbled: voice muffled against the dress shirt.

"Shut up, Alfred." Arthur answered and kissed the taller's hair. He hoisted the cowboy up into the saddle and climbed up behind him.

Arthur set his gaze to the ranch house and in the forefront, he saw the movement of the girl on her dark bay and another horse, he assumed Cisco, beside them. He waited for the girl to approach him and sent her a pointed look.

"Lead on." The Englishman ordered and the girl gave a shaky nod, turning her horse and kicking it into a smooth walk. Arthur kicked hero gently to follow after the girl. The horse had suffered enough trauma tonight and Arthur felt the same way.

:3 Meh, crappy chapter is crappy. I'd really rather be writing my planned Ivan scenes. Oh well~ Soon enough! :P