Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dead Redemption
Ever since Guarma, things had been different. Hell, when he thought about it, Arthur wondered if things hadn't started going south back in Blackwater.
Leaning over, he coughed in his sleeve. Maybe he was coming down with something. So much for the tropical dream, he thought bitterly.
He tried not to let himself worry too much, 'cause worrying did no one any good, but the thoughts were always there. Hosea. Lenny. Marston stuck in the hands of the law. At this point, he wasn't sure if he gave a shit about the money.
Just a little more, that's what Dutch kept saying. Over and over. Just a little more. Have a little faith.
He thought the buck was a sign. Now, he realised, it couldn't be nothing but some delirious hallucination because he was sick.
Served him right, he supposed. Everything he had done was finally catching up with him. Both as lawmen in suits and bloody handkerchiefs.
Of course he didn't want to believe it, but what could he do? The doctor said it was just a matter of time. He was going.
He hadn't been back to camp much since he found out. Wasn't sure how he'd tell them. Not even sure if he should. They'd make a fuss. Tell him to take it easy. Now, more so than ever, was not the time to take it easy.
Abigail had all but begged him and Sadie to rescue John from the death sentence waiting for him. And, since no one else seemed to do anything about it... The two of them was all there was. Sadie was a rock. Without her, he doubted they'd all still be together.
''So...'' Arthur began, when they were riding next to each other along the cobbled streets of Saint Denis. ''What's your plan here?''
Sadie had asked him to meet him at a tavern in the city, leaving a lot unsaid. But, clearly she had something cooked up.
''Well, I figure before we do anything, we need to make sure John's even still at this prison.''
Arthur kept his head down when they passed a lawman. ''And how do we do that?
''We need to get up high enough to get a proper look at the place,'' Sadie said.
Arthur scoffed. ''What? It's on an island, ain't it? Unless you're planning on learning how to fly-''
She sounded more confident than usual when she answered. ''That's exactly what we're going to do. I've found us a hot air balloon.''
The woman was crazy. But this kind of crazy was exactly the kind they needed, if they were going to stand a chance. That place had to be heavily fortified.
It was like nothing else.
Sure, when Arthur saw the ground move further and further away from him he got a little dizzy and he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears; but he got over that soon enough.
From up there, he could see everything. The wind blew on his face, crisp and colder than on the ground. When they went above the clouds and the sun peeked through the mist, he was in awe.
The man in charge of the monstrous thing was a nice enough fella. Seemed sure enough of himself and his abilities to fly the balloon. He even let Arthur try it out, and though it made his heart beat faster and forehead sweat, it was incredible.
He felt a sting of guilt when the man got all flustered as he guided the balloon in over the island prison. But he got what they needed, and no one got hurt.
The man had offered him a boiled egg and Arthur let him die.
And he was mad as hell at Sadie. Running off causing trouble, messing up the mission? Come to think of it, it might as well have been her fault the poor bastard got shot. And now she wanted to run off and kill Colm O'Driscoll? All this impulse acting wasn't getting them anywhere good.
As if that weren't enough, he felt himself running out of energy. He didn't cough all of the time, but when he did – it weren't good. And it reminded him so much more of how little time there was. For anything.
''Dutch'll wanna see him swing,'' she said. Dutch would've had Marston hang. Arthur didn't want to believe it, but it became more and more clear. First O'Driscoll would go – then Marston. And it seemed no one gave a rat's ass about it.
Arthur took a detour back to camp, not wanting to face the people there just yet. He shouldn't put it on all of them. Charles was a good man. Mary-Beth was nice, too. And he had to admit, Marston weren't that bad all of the time. Sometimes he could be downright useful.
He got off his horse by a stream; letting her drink for a while, and rest from the weight of him on her back.
Sinking down against a tree trunk, he tried to take a deep breath but ended up in a coughing fit. The darkness in him was an actual thing, now, he thought bitterly to himself. No way out of it.
With no one around, he let himself finally relax. It had taken more out of him than he thought. He was tired most of the day now, and there was more blood in his coughs than before. He didn't know what it meant when it came to how long he had left. A week? A couple of days? All he knew was that it wasn't a good sign.
His hand itched for a cigarette out of habit, but they only made him cough these days.
Instead of taking one, he closed his eyes and listened to the wind rustling the leaves above. Thought, some things never change, at the sound – but changed his mind right after the image of the black and greasy city of Saint Denis passed through his mind.
His horse whinnied softly, and he opened his eyes. She had her ears perked up, staring towards something on the other side of the water.
Arthur followed her gaze and felt his body freeze at the sight of the large buck. He had never seen one that size before. Would make a lot of stew for a lot of people. But he didn't reach for his gun, instead he just watched it.
Slowly, it made its way to the stream, lean legs treading carefully. The muzzle was in the air, smelling; but the wind was blowing against them. After a while, it lowered its head and drank.
Arthur breathed steadily. Part of him waited for him to start coughing and scaring the animal off, but he never did. He sat there, eyeing the creature, for he didn't know how long. It left quietly, in no hurry, and Arthur was overcome with a strange sense of peace he didn't know was possible.