No one every seems to beat up Dutch, so I decided to change that! I really wanted to write about the group dynamic when Dutch isn't in charge, and how things would be different because of it. Of course, in this house, Arthur Morgan is perfectly healthy (or if you are a stickler for canon, not going to Guarma helps his health greatly).

Chapter 1: The Trolley Problem

"The thing's broke," Arthur said. Compared to some of their previous robberies, attempting escape on a runaway trolley was a pretty new low. Though it also seemed to be a fitting end to an already botched job. The trolley station itself, which supposedly had stacks of cash had been a tip courtesy of Angelo Bronte, the horrible little snake. Why Dutch thought that Bronte, the man that agreed to hold little Jack as ransom for the Braithwaites, who claimed (and clearly did) own the entire city, ever want to help a bunch of outlaws from the country get money? Arthur knew better than to trust him, so why didn't Dutch?

"Hold on!" he shouted to Lenny and Dutch, bracing himself for their inevitable impact as the trolley slammed into a wagon and jumped the tracks, sliding across the cobbled road until it's sudden stop at a brick wall. The three men were flung around the trolley car, tumbling around until it finally settled on its side.

Well, Arthur thought, at least he hadn't broken his neck. He righted himself and shook his head as the ringing in his ears slowly dissipated. Lenny and Dutch seemed OK, too. Or alive, at least, if the pained groans were anything to go by. They all would certainly have bruises tomorrow, and Arthur counted himself fortunate to not feel any broken bones as he pulled himself to the back of the trolley. Of course, they still had to fight their way out of this one. Police officers nearby blew their whistles and raced to the scene. Lenny checked on Dutch, leaving Arthur to find what meager cover he could to face the surrounding lawmen alone.

"You alright?" Lenny called out, Arthur keeping the lawmen down as they exited the trolley. Dutch moved more stiffly than usual, but soon he had his pistol out and ready. The kid moved to hide behind some wagon wreckage in front of Arthur.

"They're on the balcony, to my right!" Lenny said, and Arthur immediate shifted his focus to shoot the new threat. They were causing quite the pile of bodies, he realized. The Pinkertons would no doubt connect them to this.

If they even made it out alive.

A moment of quiet, with no gunfire returning from up the street, and Dutch said, "This is our chance to move! Let's go!" Lenny led them to an alley, Dutch following right behind. Arthur turn to fire at a blockade that had formed along the trolley line, preventing them from leaving the city, before running to join them, reloading while he could.

But the alley contained more lawmen, and though Lenny and Dutch quickly took care of them, Arthur could see their escape routes running out. It happened again when they reached the another street. The lawmen pulled up in a wagon, horses dancing in fear but not running away. "Shit, that almost got me," Lenny said, and Arthur took out the offender.

"First the O'Driscolls attack us at camp, now this! We need to wake up!" Arthur said, needing to vent some of his frustration as they quickly ran out of options.

"We'll wake up after we-" Dutch started, but was cut off by a sudden choked gasp. Arthur turned just in time to see Dutch fall to the side, before tracking back to the man on the balcony. The man who shot him!

Time seemed to slow as Arthur raised his revolver and unloaded his remaining shots into the officer. He kept watch just long enough to see the man stagger and fall before he was running to Dutch's side.

"Dutch!" he called out, grabbing his shoulder and turning him onto his back.

"Boss? You alright?" Lenny asked.

"Keep firing, kid!"

Arthur focused on where Dutch had his hands clasped over his stomach. A pit was forming in Arthur's chest as he peeled the hand back just enough to see the blood forming under them.

"Shit, Dutch."

Dutch's face was scrunched up against the pain. "We need to move," he gasped, just as Lenny shouted back to them, "Let's move!"

Arthur dragged Dutch up with him, wrapping one arm around his waist to guide him up the street, keeping his right hand free to shoot at any more police that showed up. There couldn't be that many left, right?

Rounding another corner revealed yet another group in their way, and Arthur was forced to drop Dutch behind a crate. As soon as the men were taken care of, Arthur pulled Dutch back to his feet. But he swayed immediately, seemed to have paled considerably in just a few moments. They couldn't stop to wait for him to recover. Arthur crouched down and heaved Dutch over his shoulder without a second thought, taking off down the street after Lenny.

It wasn't ideal. The added weight was throwing off his balance, and there was the unsettling feeling of blood beginning to absorb into his shirt and vest. But with Lenny in the lead keeping an eye out, they were doing alright. He really was a good kid.

The terrifying part was just how quiet Dutch was. Strauss, after being shot in the leg, had shifted and complained the entire way across Valentine. Even John, half-frozen and starved with scratches across his face, had groaned out some semblance of a conversation as they trekked through the snow. But Dutch didn't move, didn't speak, didn't seem to realize that Arthur was carrying him through a bloodbath.

"He alive?" Lenny asked.

"He'll be fine," Arthur said, hoping he was right, terrified that he wasn't. "We just need to get him back to camp!"

"There! The wagon!" Lenny pointed up the street to the a small wagon with two frightened horses bucking and rearing but remarkably not running away. Arthur ran to the back, gently placing Dutch so he was leaned against the side. Dutch's eyes were only half open and slowly blinking. He wasn't even moving to keep pressure on the wound anymore, so Arthur pulled off his vest, pressing it into his stomach and guiding Dutch's hand to keep it in place. They weren't out of danger yet, and with Lenny driving, it was up to Arthur to keep the law off their tail.

"Stay awake, Dutch, alright?"

He didn't wait for a response. He crouched over Dutch, keeping his head on a swivel and shooting at any approaching blue coat. "Head for the bridge!" They seemed to be in the clear, but he saw horses at the other end.

"Damn, they blocked the road!"

"Shit," Arthur muttered, wondering how they could possibly get away when they were being blocked from both sides. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dutch sluggishly reach into his jacket, and when the object was only halfway out, he recognized it. "Good thinking," he said, snatching the stick of dynamite out of Dutch's hand.

"Lenny, toss it!"

He stood up, tracking the dynamite as it fell closer and closer to the wagon before squeezing the trigger, the explosion knocking the men and the wagon aside.

"We're through!" he said to Dutch, and the other man sighed, eyes falling shut. "Hey, don't do that, keep your eyes open for me!" Dutch groaned, but did as Arthur said.

"You two OK back there?"

"Just keep going kid. Keep a lookout for anyone following us, and get us back to camp!"

He turned back to Dutch, concern growing at the beads of sweat forming on the injured man's face, at how pale he was, at just how much blood was currently soaking into his vest. Arthur leaned more pressure against the wound, causing Dutch to gasp. "I'm sorry, but I gotta do it," he said. "We'll get you back to camp and stitch you up and Hosea can yell at you for worrying him. You'll be just fine."

He kept an eye out for horses following them, worried about anyone finding their camp. But it seemed that they were finally in the clear. Lenny kept up a fast pace, and soon they were close to camp.

"Who goes there!" Bill shouted from the tree line, probably not expecting their wagon. "It's Lenny!"

"We made it back, Dutch," Arthur said, but the older man's eyes had drifted shut. Arthur slammed his fingers against Dutch's neck, frantically checking to make sure his pulse was still there. It was, rapid and weak. He began lightly tapping Dutch's cheek. "Hey, wake up. I need you to wake up now, we're home!" But Dutch wouldn't open his eyes, wouldn't speak, even when Lenny started yelling for Hosea, even when Arthur began to pull him out of the wagon and into his arms, even when the crowd began to gather around them.

He just wouldn't wake up.