Some Trees Flourish

by NiraKaulitz

Times are changing, people come and go without hellos or goodbyes, and the things that used to be valuable no longer seem to matter at all. Jack and Effie have never concerned themselves with the greater good, but now it's clear that heroism has chosen them in spite of this. With the world spinning out of control around them, will they manage to hold onto each other?

25. Trail of Destruction

A/N- Whaat? Another update? This is getting a little bit scary, in my humble opinion. Also I'm not sure if anyone reads this author's notes anymore, but I have to admit that this is one of my weaker chapters as I simply do not feel very closely connected to this part of the story. Thankfully, starting from the next chapter, I will be getting back to the parts I'm excited about so please do look forward to that. Anyway, if you enjoy this chapter, please tell me, if you hate it, tell me that too I just love hearing from you guys! Also, special shout out to Scribblez, McLean, and Lacey, and StoryofHonor for being so kind and supportive for so long :) Have fun reading, everyone!

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own Red Dead Redemption or any of its characters. The only parts of this story I own are the plot lines that come after the ending of the game as well as my OC characters. The content of this story was not meant to insult anyone in any way, shape or form. Rated T for violence and coarse language.

Chapter Track: Back to You -Twin Forks

Chapter 25: Trail of Destruction

Back when Jack and I had been bounty hunters we'd been given unfortunately few chances to get a good look at Blackwater's local prison, a building entirely separate from the BOI Headquarters where bounties were meant to be dropped off. I never thought I'd lament that, seeing as how people who see the inside of prisons have usually been given a guilty sentence, but now that the information has become valuable to our cause I find that I wish I'd paid more attention to the whole judicial process. The outside of this looming edifice that is situated just north of town hall (well away from most of the town for safety reasons) is entirely bland and gray with steel bars covering every window and that is the extent of my knowledge about it. Luckily for all of us rebels at Fort Mercer, Nigel West Dickens was much better acquainted than I with the building's interior. With the information he's given us we have a real shot at freeing Seth from imprisonment without sacrificing any of our own people.

"I wasn't in there for very long, mind you, those buffoons could never make their fake charges stick," he tells me as the two of us approach the coast of Flat Iron Lake on horseback, "But I can assure you that the map I've drawn for you is completely accurate."

Our prison infiltration team has split into several groups in order to cross the sprawling plains and rolling hills of central West Elizabeth undetected and I had the misfortune of being stuck with the most gregarious member of our unit. West Dickens is, of course, not actually coming inside the prison with us, being as cowardly as he is. The Governor too has elected to return to Hennigan's Stead for the duration of our rescue mission; his wife, Nora, has gone into labor a few weeks earlier than expected. Personally I prefer this arrangement to the one where he was heading our efforts simply due to the fact that this way, even if we get caught, the rebellion won't be defeated in earnest.

"If it's not I'll be back to kick your ass." I inform him with a glower and he, predictably, glares right back.

"I quite preferred you before you began imitating the late Mr. Marston."

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one." I assure him, effectively ending the conversation. We dismount our horses and tether them to a nearby tree, a place they'll be safe, albeit slightly uncomfortable, until we get back. As long as everything goes according to plan, they won't have to stay here for very long. The others in our posse begin to arrive within minutes, Wade and Jonah in the first group and Marianne and Mr. Johnson in the next. By the end of the hour we're all reunited once more, a lucky thing as the loss of even one man would have greatly hurt our efforts. Jack is with us again after having found the Briars last week (Rufus and them were holed up at Beecher's Hope, ironically enough, but the time to consider all that would come later) and James has come with him. Unsurprisingly James Weber has been different since losing his wife- glum, absentminded- but he's not like me. He's not angry.

"All nine infiltrators are ready and accounted for," states Juarez, who had arrived last with Jonah and another deputy who is unfamiliar to me, "And, um, one guide too."

West Dickens puffs out his chest in response to being acknowledged and Juarez exchanges a glance with Mr. Johnson upon noticing. Wade comes around to each of us in turn, making sure our guns are in working condition and providing us with extra ammo if we're short.

"Does everyone remember the plan? If you're hazy on anythin', it's best to speak up now." Mr. Johnson addresses the group at large and all nine of us nod along or mumble an affirmative to keep him from going over it again. We leave West Dickens behind with the horses, trusting him to keep them hidden and ready for our escape, and trek through the treeline until the barbed-wire fence that wraps around the prison comes into view. Hidden behind a thicket nearby is one of those carriages lawmen use to transport criminals.

"Holy shit, she actually did it." Jack remarks, impressed, as we circle the carriage. He's referring to the fact that Maddie Ross had somehow managed to steal this cart for us, horses and all, without catching the attention of anyone who might report it missing. Just as she'd promised she would. I find that I too am amazed by her abilities, despite my attempts to stay impartial.

"Never doubt Miss Ross, son. You might find it lands you on the wrong end of her gun one day." Mr. Johnson tells him with a slight grin before changing tack and speaking to the rest of us, "Juarez, Wickers, get changed. Keep in mind that we're on a time limit here, boys."

I resist the urge to remind him that two of us are, in fact, girls as the marshal and the deputy get dressed in Blackwater police uniforms that Maddie has also magically provided for us. It seems a waste to me that she declined to join our infiltration team, but both she and the Governor have told me at one point or another that she prefers to work alone.

"How do I look?" Wickers asks facetiously once he's properly dressed, beaming toothily at us all. I've never really spoken to him before, but I can immediately pick up on the fact that he is exactly the sort of soft, inexperienced person that shouldn't be involved in bloodshed. Mr. Johnson was wrong to let Juarez bring him along on this mission. Marianne laughs at his joke and his expression brightens considerably upon being gifted with her attention.

"It's believable, but that's all I've got to say on the matter." she jests. Mr. Johnson steps between them at this, effectively ending their ill-timed flirtation.

"Just try not get close to the guards on your way in and you should be fine. Don't give 'em the chance to see that you don't belong." he instructs, and then turns towards the carriage to call out to the marshal, "Juarez, you done yet?"

The Latino man steps around the side of the carriage, now garbed in the same dark uniform as his companion, and nods.

"Great." Mr. Johnson pauses to remove his rifle from his person and stuff it under a tarp in the back of the carriage, "Jack, Wade, hide your guns and get in."

"We're comin'." Wade grumbles. Jack gives me a gentle smile in parting and stashes his own bolt-action rifle in the back before clambering onto the carriage and shoving himself unceremoniously into one of the cells there. Wade and his father follow suit, each getting into their own cages and shutting the doors behind them. If we weren't headed towards imminent danger I suppose I'd find this situation pretty hilarious. It's not every day you have a chance to see three grown men crammed into tiny metal prisons.

"You four watch out for each other, alright?" Wade reminds us as Juarez and Wickers climb into the front of the carriage, "We might be the doing all the shootin', but that doesn't make your jobs any less dangerous than ours. Jonah, I'm countin' on you."

"I won't let you down, marshal!" Jonah promises, brimming with pride. Juarez takes the reins and whips them gently, alerting the horses and urging them to turn in place so the carriage can move towards the front entrance. With any luck they'll make it inside without being noticed. The remaining four of us are left to get over the fence in our own way, seeing as how we lack the disguises of the rest of the team.

"Who's got that old rug we need?" I question, looking around at the others. James raises his hand and pulls a thick, heavy looking matt out of the huge bag he's been lugging around. Jonah helps me throw it over the top of the fence and he takes the liberty of being the first to scale over it.

"He's been holdin' on to that carpet all day." Marianne remarks under her breath as we wait for Jonah to make it over, "You really didn't notice?"

I roll my eyes. "I've been told I don't notice much these days."

After a few seconds of wiggling, Jonah manages to drop down onto the other side of the fence unscathed. James follows after him but his attempt is much more graceful, no wiggling involved.

"You're gonna keep it together in there, right?" Marianne asks me as I move to stand closer to the fence. I ignore her in favor of making it over the fence myself, jumping in place so I can get my arms around the curved upper lip of the fence. Once I've grabbed hold it's a simple matter of swinging my legs over and hopping down to join the two men on the inside. Marianne copies my motions a bit later and only when we're all safely within the confines of the fence do I answer her.

"You don't need to worry about me."

I'm going to save Seth. I've known that since we arrived in this relatively small compound; he's not going to die in this place or at the hands of any Blackwater elitist. We'll find him.

The grounds on the eastern side of the prison are devoid of both guards and inmates, just as we'd been informed they would be. West Dickens had told us all about how underfunded and mismanaged this place had been when he'd been thrown in and it seems like nothing has changed since then. It's a lucky thing for Blackwater that the prison usually holds no more than one or two dozen prisoners at a time or they might be able to riot and escape, if they put their minds to it.

"There go the boys." Marianne gestures towards the front entrance where a few prison guards are talking to Juarez as he sits atop the carriage. We watch apprehensively, worried that at any moment the real guards may notice something is amiss with our infiltrators, but then the carriage is being waved through and our people are safely inside the compound. If all goes well they'll be in the central courtyard and shooting at the guards there within a few minutes. I turn to the others to see that Marianne is smiling, relieved. I regret that I'll have to cut her joy short by moving on to the next stage of our plan.

"We should split up here." I tell them, motioning towards the locked double doors on a nearby wall as I speak, "Jonah, you and Marianne are waiting here. James and I are supposed to go through the front."

"I still think that's a stupid idea." he answers in his usual disagreeable manner, "We ain't got no real way of knowin' if those sons of bitches will go in."

"It's gonna be fine." I bark. I don't have the time to be reassuring, "If they don't move, James and I'll just shoot them. Now go get in place!"

"Watch out for yourselves." Marianne says as Jonah stalks away from us. To my surprise I find that her kindness is getting through to me. Her attitude towards me has really changed since we'd first met.

"I'll see you inside." I vow. We part and go our separate ways, each of us hurrying towards our destinations as stealthily as we can so as not to catch the attention of any guards. I glance at James out of the corner of my eye as we move, wondering at how he can be this composed after losing the love of his life. Thinking about Collette still makes me want to break down sobbing and I'm sure I didn't love her nearly as much as her husband did.

"I can feel you staring at me." he says quietly once we've reached a side wall that gives us a good view of the front entrance without leaving us out in the open. I jump, startled. How did he catch me with his back turned to me?

"Sorry, I just-" I break off abruptly, unsure of how to put this, and then decide to barrel ahead before my wits can catch up with me, "I don't get how you can be so calm after losing Col-after losing her."

He snorts, although the situation is not at all amusing. "I haven't lost her."

"What?" I question, confused. He answers my furrowed brows with an amiable smile.

"I haven't lost her." he repeats his words slowly, as if they might be hard for me to understand, "She's still here."

A shiver runs up my spine as I consider the possibility that James is unhinged, as devastated as he is by the death of his wife. Either that or ghosts are real and Mrs. Marston is standing behind me right now, giving me a disapproving look as she processes what I've become.

"You think I'm insane." James says this as if it's no consequence, "Don't feel bad, that's the usual reaction I get. Crazy or not, I won't shoot you. I swear."

I search his emerald green eyes for the slightest hint of madness but come up short. It's easy to write James Weber off as a nutcase, seeing as how I don't know him very well myself, but something in me tells me that his delusions aren't a danger to anyone. If they make him feel better about the situation, who am I to argue with him?

A gunshot rings out from the interior of the prison complex and is quickly followed by many more, breaking me out of my reverie with a start. The attack team has made it in. The two guards who've been watching the front entrance seem frightened by the sounds of fighting and reach for their own guns out of instinct. It takes a few minutes longer than I'd like for them to decide to go inside, but I prefer this to murdering them in cold blood seeing as how our aim here is to get Seth out with as few casualties as possible. The Governor had drilled this into our heads, reminding us that it wouldn't do for the Federal Government to have more reasons to view us in a negative light and Fordham would certainly pounce on any opportunity to paint us as the bad guys. I pull out my pistol and round the corner of the wall we've been hiding behind, but James grabs the back of my shirt and stops me before I can get too far.

"She doesn't blame you, you know. For any of it."

This statement is one of many shocks I've endured today and perhaps the most pronounced. It would be so easy to play along with this, to allow myself to believe that my dead friend is really speaking to her husband and allowing him to pass on messages from the beyond for her, but I won't do it. I can't forgive what I did to her that easily. I bite my lower lip, an act of restraint, frustrated but unwilling to tell him so.

"Let's just get going."

We ignore the noise reverberating out from the center of the prison and sprint through the front entrance, no longer concerned that we'll be caught lurking around. It's the job of Jack and the others to distract the guards for as long as they can, buying time for Marianne and me to search the prison's interior for Seth's cell. James stays in the lobby to insure that no one escapes as I take a right turn into the hall that West Dickens had sworn would lead me straight to the side door that Jonah and Marianne are waiting for me to open for them. I breathe a sigh of relief upon spotting it at the very end of the corridor, situated between what should be a closet and an archway that would take me to the courtyard, if I wished to go through it. Part of me wants to do exactly that because I know that Jack is there, fighting, and although he shouldn't be in any real danger I'm still worried for him.

The door unlocks easily from the inside and Marianne greets me with her handgun raised and pointed at my chest. When she sees that it's only me, as planned, she smirks and lowers her weapon.

"You better watch your back, little Miss MacFarlane. Looks like I'm trigger happy." she says slyly, patting Jonah on the shoulder before stepping inside. He nods at us and returns to his own duty: watching over the eastern door in case any guards try to get through and raise the alarm in town.

"They sure are causin' a ruckus in there, aren't they?" Marianne comments as we move past the courtyard-facing arch. She's trying to hide it but I can detect a slight trace of anxiety in her tone. I stay close to the wall as we head back towards the lobby, keeping an eye out for any threats, and do my best to keep her focused on the task at hand.

"Try not to think about them. The best way to help them is for us to get our jobs done so we can all get the hell out of here."

"Sure." she agrees, moving around me and brushing the fingers of her free hand against my bare arm as she goes, "If Nigel was right, the warden's office is gonna be somewhere down the north hall and to the left. Let's hurry."

And we do. The interior of the building is empty as every guard stationed here seems to have gone to the courtyard where screams and gunshots sound out constantly. The prisoners should be in the southern end of this place and that's all well and good, but Marianne and I won't be able to free Seth if we can't find the keys to his cell.

As we round the corner directly beside the warden's office, I spot movement in my peripheral vision and throw my arm out to stop Marianne in her tracks.

"There's someone there!" I hiss at her and her eyes grow wide with alarm. She places her hands on my shoulders and leans around me just slightly to get a good look at whoever is out there. Her expression tightens then, her fingers shaking for a moment as she pulls back and tells me what she saw.

"I think it's the warden." she whispers in a rush, "He's got a telephone, Effie, he's tryin' to make a call to the outside."

I don't hesitate. It takes me less than a second to whip around the corner, my gun outstretched so I can shoot this bastard before he gets the Blackwater police in here as back up. My finger is on the trigger and ready to pull, but Marianne ruins it all by slapping my hand and throwing off my aim. A bullet whizzes out of the gun and imbeds itself in the kneecap of the warden, not quite what I had intended but accomplishing its mission nonetheless. The man in charge drops the telephone receiver and falls to the ground, his hands immediately scrambling for the revolver at his hip, but luckily my companion is there and kicking it away from him before he can make use of it.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" the warden cries out, the fear in his voice so palpable that it grates on me, but Marianne shuts him up by stomping on his new wound and pressing down with all of her weight. He passes out from the pain and blood loss within seconds, freeing us to search his person for a set of keys without having to deal with him fighting back.

"What the fuck were you thinking, knocking into my gun like that? I could have shot you!" I chastise her as I sift quickly through his jacket pockets. Marianne, who is rifling through the things on his desk, answers me in just as harsh a tone.

"We're not supposed to kill anyone if we can help it, remember? Pretty sure the worst possible thing we could do here is murder the man in charge of the entire fuckin' place!"

She's right-I hate to admit it, but she is. Of course I don't tell her that, but somehow, as I drag the keys from the pocket of the warden's trousers, her eyes meet mine and the self-assured glint in them tells me that she knows.

With the ring of keys in hand the two of us return to ignoring the sounds of violence emanating from outside and continue down the hallway until we reach the first row of cell blocks in the back. Seth is not here, I can tell from a single glance, but the prisoners that are being held in this area rattle the bars of their cages and jeer as we pass by. Some of them, clearly more civilized than the others, inquire in raised voices about the shooting going on outside, but we don't respond to that either. There's no time.

When Seth sees the two of us running towards him as if we're being chased by an entire cavalry, his first reaction is alarm expressed in the form of him backing into the furthest corner of his cell. A split-second later, though, a smile cracks the still surface of his face as he recognizes me.

"Effie? How did you...nevermind. Shoulda known you'd be caught up in all this." he tells me and then laughs as I grab the bars of the cell with one hand and use my other to shove what looks like the master key into the lock that's keeping him trapped here. The door bursts open quick and easy and Seth is out of there in one giant leap, acting for all the world as if he's just escaped from a rushing river. I ignore his dramatics, ascribing them to the fact that he's been locked up unjustly for over two weeks, and grab his wrist to drag him into the main corridor. Marianne leads the way to the courtyard where the seven guards that had been charged with protecting this prison are attempting to hold off a force of our rebellion's most powerful fighters. It's impossible. They're exceedingly lucky that none of us mean them any real harm, I think to myself, but that is when I notice that Wickers, the deputy I'd never spoken to before today, is sprawled on the ground with blood spurting from a hole in his chest. He is dead. I know this instinctively, as acquainted with the notion of death as I've become in the past few months. Juarez is crouched over him, attempting to awaken him to no avail.

"JACK!" I scream, fighting to make myself heard over the cacophony of battle. It takes a moment but he soon finds a chance to look over to where we're standing, shielded from barrage of bullets by a high wall. When he spots Seth at my side he seems happy for the slightest fraction of a second, and then a bullet blows past his shoulder and he thrusts himself behind the carriage they'd all arrived in. They won't be able to make it to us without being blown to pieces. I turn to Marianne, my mind racing. There's no way they'll get out of here without my help.

"Cover fire," I manage to choke out after another few seconds of panicky contemplation, "They need cover fire. Marianne, do you have an extra gun?"

She shakes her head no, only slightly more composed than I am. My fear spikes again and I consider running to Jonah for assistance, but then Seth pipes up.

"I've got one." he says brightly, holding out the revolver I'd seen the warden reaching for earlier, "Stole it off that fella down the hall when we ran by him. He didn't look like he'd be needin' it."

"Why didn't you say somethin' earlier?!" I snarl, and Seth shrugs idly.

"You didn't ask, did you?"

I let out a frustrated groan before deciding to let this go for the time being and instructing both him and Marianne on how to best distract the guards on the other side of the courtyard so our people can reach us without further casualties. Leigh Johnson is already aware of this improvised plan from what I can tell and is doing what he can to convince Juarez to leave Wickers behind. That can't be easy. I shake my head, clearing it of adverse thoughts as well as I'm able, and spend the next few minutes leaning out from behind the high wall and shooting at the guards in a way that draws their attention from our allies. Marianne and Seth copy me easily and we begin to take turns as Jack and Wade kneel down and make their way over, carefully hiding behind solid objects whenever possible. It doesn't take them long to reach us and when they do I allow Jack to take my place so I can see what's holding up the others. This courtyard was once a pretty thing, that much is obvious, but now the flowers are trampled, the dirt is clod with blood. For a moment it bothers me, leaving this trail of destruction in our wake, but then I remember that we haven't killed a single person today. They did. Juarez is still clutching Wickers' corpse, shaking it intermittently and waiting to see if it wakes. I see some of myself in him, the smallest bit. It wasn't very long ago that I too was wishing for the dead body in my arms to live again.

"He's gone, Juarez!" Mr. Johnson is shouting, bent halfway over so he and the marshal are almost face-to-face, "Leave him, or we'll be joinin' him soon!"

"God damn it!" I can hear Juarez swearing, though the sound is faint. He hesitates for a few seconds longer before gritting his teeth and letting the body of the deputy slip from his arms. Wickers was his in the same way that Jonah is Wade's and I can't imagine that this decision hurts any less than a bullet wound might. Today Juarez has given up a great deal to save a man he's never met before. I hope he forgives us for it.

The marshal and Mr. Johnson are with us shortly, though both are worse for wear than the others, and we race down the corridor that leads to the eastern door in a hurry. James joins us without a second thought as we sprint past the lobby, looking much more composed than a person running for their lives should. I can hear the prison guards are chasing after us now, but they're far enough away that they can't get any clear shots. There's a bitter taste at the back of my throat as I realize that I've let yet another person die to achieve my own ends. This has to stop. I can't carry the weight of all this death and destruction for much longer; there has to be some point at which I can lay it down and move on.

Suddenly I feel fingers scrabbling at my hand before someone takes hold and tugs me back into the present. Seth is there, in front of me, pulling me along as I'd somehow fallen behind the rest of the group while lost in thought. The eight of us fall through the eastern door and practically run over Jonah who was still standing where we'd left him.

"What in tarnation-" he begins, looking around wildly as Marianne and James dart around him. Wade grabs him by the scruff of his neck and drags him along with the rest of the group.

"RUN!" he commands, and Jonah obeys almost as if by instinct. Jack and Mr. Johnson stay behind and barricade the doors to the best of their ability by wrapping a belt-Jack's, I assume- around the handles to keep them shut. This gives us all just enough time to clamber back over the carpet we'd thrown over the fence earlier and make our way through the sparse forest, coming upon the clearing where our horses had been tied up a little over an hour ago. West Dickens appears glad to see us, though a bit flustered by our obvious hysteria, and helps us in our efforts to separate and mount our steeds.

"Where's the young deputy who was with you earlier?" he asks me as I hurry past him towards War.

"Dead." I say harshly, brushing my hair out of my face before gesturing towards the horse he'd ridden here, "Mount up, West Dickens. We've got a long ride ahead of us."

The nine of us scatter across the vast landscape of West Elizabeth as soon as we are able-just like we'd planned-though I insist that Seth join me on the back of my horse rather than ride with one of the others. We have the particular pleasure of passing through Beecher's Hope on our way west and I slow down a bit to tell Seth who Jack had found here just a week back.

"Your family was hiding out here, you know. After you told your wife to run? Her and the kids slept in the barn since the house was all boarded up. They're at Fort Mercer now, though, safe and sound."

He's silent as we gallop past the cow pen and it worries me-Seth is rarely ever untalkative. I twist around to see him looking torn, which is strange to me. I'd expected he'd be happier to hear that his family is doing okay.

"You alright?" I question, turning back to face the front and spurring War so he picks up speed. Seth declines to speak for a while, clearly sorting through his thoughts, and then answers me in the simplest of terms.

"No."

"Why?"

"My children had to sleep in a barn like animals 'cause I couldn't protect them." he says thickly, and I wonder if he's near tears. I've never known Seth to cry.

"Don't be stupid." I berate him, scooting around on the saddle to give him more space, "They got away from Fordham because you had the sense to tell them to run away."

He moves a little closer to me and holds on tighter to the saddle behind him, but says nothing. We ride in silence for a bit longer, reaching the edge of Jack's property and passing it by.

"Maybe y'all shouldn't have come after me like you did." he begins uncertainly, and I'm not surprised to hear this from him, "That man you left back there...I don't know who he was, but his family's gonna miss him when they find out what happened."

An image of Wickers lying in the dirt, covered in his own blood, flashes through my mind as I digest his words. He's right, in a way. Not about us coming after him because that was definitely something that had to be done, but the marshal must have a family. I don't look forward to seeing them when we get back.

"Yeah, well, that's just how life is, right? They're probably used to it by now."" I mutter. It's getting harder for me to build a protective barrier between me and the problems that plague us, but I'm still trying. I have to, or they'll eat me up. Seth leans to the side and I can feel that he's trying to see my face, but I'm not sure why. I turn my head and throw him a look of bewilderment, a gesture that forces him to speak.

"You've been kinda mean since you found me, Effie. Are you mad?" he inquires, sounding very much like a child despite being at least twice my age. Even so, his question, posed in such an innocent way, startles me. If he was anyone else I would endeavor to lie to him right now, but lying to Seth seems wrong, somehow. In a way it reminds me of how I'd felt on the few occasions I'd tried to omit the truth when talking with Mr. Marston.

"Yes," I admit, and my voice shakes, "I'm mad. I...I'm so mad that it's getting hard to feel anything else."

He seems unfazed by this revelation. "Who are you mad at?"

I'm not sure how to respond because I don't really know the answer. Who am I mad at? Perhaps at the Governor for getting Jack and I caught up in this fight that was never supposed to be ours. And then Jack himself, maybe, for promising to keep Collette safe and failing to do so. Collette for dying to protect me, because I know now that that is exactly what she was trying to do.

"Everyone." I say softly, and then louder as I begin to understand, "Myself."

"Yeah." Seth nods along as if he'd expected this response, "I'm mad at myself too."

We fall quiet then, each of us preoccupied by how greatly we've failed, how many people we've let down. Inexplicably my thoughts turn to Mr. Marston and the way he'd ruffle my hair whenever I'd hit my target during shooting practice, or the way he'd laugh openly at my sarcastic jokes. He was proud of me, once. I wonder how he'd feel if he saw me now.

Pretty soon we're nearing Dixon Crossing, a border of sorts between the dangers of West Elizabeth and the relative safety of New Austin. I've done a lot of wrong in the past few months, but saving Seth was the right choice to make. I know I'll feel more sure of that when I we reach the Fort and he is able to hold his wife and his children once again. War is just about to take his first steps onto this bridge that he still despises for its ramshackle nature when I hear someone calling my name from behind us. I know who it is before yanking on the reins and turning to face them. I'd know this voice anywhere, no matter how much I try to distance myself from it.

"Jack Marston," Seth greets the newcomer with a flimsy smile, "What are you doin' here? I thought we were all supposed to split up."

Jack's expression is sheepish as he pulls his horse up next to mine. "We were, I just followed you because I...I wanted-"

"To make sure I was safe." I finish for him. He jerks his head to the side in a noncommittal way.

"Somethin' like that."

On March 21st of this year, a death that I could not prevent had ripped away great big chunks of me until I became an empty shell- unfeeling, unsympathetic to the emotions of others. Today I think I'm starting to find those pieces again. This boy, with his sparse freckles that look like stars in a constellation and his grin that feels like coming home, is helping me find them without even trying, merely by existing like he does. Maybe soon I'll be whole again. The corners of my lips lift up just slightly- almost a smile- as I respond.

"I'm really glad you came."