Sanity now and beyond me
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
There's no choice.

Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I'm home again.

- A Perfect Circle

Arthur saddled Eli for Rane, not out of gallantry but because she seemed far too distracted to do it herself. She was staring toward Dutch and Micah at the far end of camp, her arms wrapped around her lean torso, brows knitted and mouth pursed, paying little attention. Eli was none too pleased with this development and bore it with grim patience, his ears pinned back, nostrils flaring. Whatever else this horse was, he had no love for Arthur Morgan. As Arthur pulled the belt tight against Eli's belly, he reached back at last and snapped at Arthur's thigh.

"Christ!" Arthur stumbled back, both hands palms-out in the air. "Alright, alright, fine, I'm just dressin' ya, you damned asshole."

Eli snorted. Arthur turned, moving off, scowling.

"Rane, you're gonna have to fix him the rest of the way," he said, turning and making for his own horse, shaking his head and palming his hat back. "That horse don't want me nowhere near him."

"Eli, please don't be a dick to Arthur," said Rane, making for him, and Eli's ears relaxed at once at her advance. She took his face in her hands for a moment, stroking his forehead. "Gi'melin. Ava queta, ava queta, melda taru. I know he's scary-looking but he's not so bad."

Eli whickered gently, nuzzling her. Rane placed a final kiss on his nose, tugging at his mane, then slung her leg up and mounted him in a swift motion, reeling him around. Arthur, who was mounting his own horse, watched this wryly.

"Why don't he like me none?"

"I dunno. Jealous, probably. Maybe it's rubbing off." Rane kicked Eli into a trot. "Come on, let's get the fuck out of here before I throw up again."

"Where are you two goin'?"

Both Rane and Arthur turned in their respective saddles. Dutch was striding forward, brows knit, closely tailed by Micah. Rane found that she could hardly even look at him without feeling a surging rage within her chest. She was very aware of her heart, abruptly thudding beneath her shirt.

"Out," said Arthur. He cast about, then added, "hunting."

Dutch slowed to a halt, eyeing them both. "Well, get back here soon," he said, his voice low and a little gloating. "It's gettin' dark earlier now and there's Broods about. And mind your little lassie," he added, tipping Rane a wink. "Don't want her getting into no more trouble today."

Rane met his eyes, unsmiling, then pulled Eli around without a word and started away. Arthur cleared his throat.

"See ya in a little bit, Dutch." He kept his voice light, not betraying the bone-deep dismay he was still feeling toward the man. "We'll bring us back somethin' for Pearson to cook down."

He had to spur his horse a little hard to catch up to Eli, who was cantering down the woodlands, Rane's face pointed away from camp. Dutch watched their exit with a suspicious eye, frowning, both hands crammed into his jeans pockets.

"I can't even look at him," said Rane when Arthur had finally paced her. The wind was teasing her long hair back, and her brows were low and drawn. "I can't even look at him, Arthur, after what he did back there. Getting into my face like a crazy person. And then Molly -"

"Well, in all fairness, you were gettin' into his face too," said Arthur, shrugging. "And Dutch didn't shoot Molly, that was Susan."

Rane scoffed, laughing. Her voice was light, but Arthur was too perceptive to miss the grim set of her mouth and the pallor of her skin. She was disturbed to the core of her. He didn't need to see her puking her guts out into the bushes to know it.

"You think this is funny? She couldn't have been more than thirty, Arthur."

Arthur sighed. "No, I don't think it's funny, but hell, Molly wasn't ever even nice to you, Rane. Shit, she spent the last few minutes there screamin' at you like a banshee -"

"Yeah, well that doesn't mean I wanted to see her blown away like Bugsy fucking Siegal, does it?" said Rane sharply, glaring over at him. "Christ, she was young and stupid and in love with Dutch! She was in love with him and she acted like a dumbass! Who hasn't done that?" She palmed her chest, glaring at him. "I'm in love! With you! Would you have watched somebody put a pair of shotgun shells in my chest over it, Arthur, without batting a fucking eye?"

"You know the answer without me havin' to say," said Arthur, low, feeling a touch of nausea at the idea of it. "Don't even say somethin' like that, I don't like to think about it."

"But he just watched!" Rane's voice had taken on a slightly wild tone now. Her eyes were wide, her long hair wavering before her face. "Christ, he just stood there and watched! I mean, did you see it? There were little pieces of her . . . of her sternum in the dirt -!"

She gagged low in her throat, hoarse, slinging an arm over her mouth, paling a little. Arthur looked over at her, hips rocking with his horse's cadence, frowning.

"Rane, I know that was tough to watch but hell, you've stabbed folks through the chest in front of me and walked away cool as a cucumber, why is this thing with Molly botherin' you so much? I don't know I understand why you're so bent outta shape."

"You don't know that you understand why I'm bent out of shape after watching a woman getting her guts blown out the back of her is disturbing to me? Someone I knew? Who was drunk and unarmed and didn't deserve it?"

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck with one gloved hand. "That ain't quite how I meant."

"Because -" Rane sighed roughly, shaking her head, gripping her stomach. She pointed toward the river beyond them. "Can we stop? Can we sit over there on the bank for a little bit? I'm sick again."

"Yeah, sure, of course, are you gonna -?"

Rane answered by leaping off Eli mid-canter, her hair flying, and rushing off into the brush threw her head into the bushes and heaved her guts again. Arthur pulled his horse to a halt, watching her worriedly. Eli had come to a prancing stop as well, ears pricked toward her.

"Ugh." Rane leaned up, one hand on her trim waist, rubbing at her mouth restively. "Christ. I'm thirsty."

"You alright?"

"No." Rane ran both hands through her hair. "Not really."

"Alright, well let's go sit down. Grab Eli and walk him the rest of the way, horseback ain't no good when you don't feel well." Arthur slipped off his mount and took the bridle. "Try to keep the rest of it down if ya can."

THEY hitched the horses on a tree near the wake, and Arthur slipped the blanket from beneath Eli's saddle (Eli pinned his ears and glared imperiously for this event, tail twitching), laying it on the sand. Rane had to excuse herself once more, this time leaning over the rock wall nearby, clearly trying to keep her hawking noise to a minimum.

"Sorry," she said as she drew near, a little pink-faced, looking rueful and wiping at her mouth. "That was gross."

Arthur said nothing, only handed her a flask, his eyes on the water, smoking idly. She took it gratefully, throwing back a mouthful, swishing it around a moment and spitting it onto the sand.

"Thanks," she said, handing it back. "I don't like throwing up in front of cute boys."

"You got a funny sense of chastity about ya, honey," Arthur remarked, taking the flask and stowing it in his pocket. "Sit down and take a minute."

Rane did, leaning back and curling her legs beneath her. She leaned against Arthur, putting her head on his shoulder, and he strung the arm holding his smoke around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. It was a small gesture, almost involuntary, but Rane recognized the subconsciousness in it, as if they'd known one another for years. The familiarity of him, the closeness, was abruptly very evident to her, and she relaxed against him, feeling a touch strange. She had felt this intimately comfortable with Sirius eventually, but it had taken months to arrive there; Arthur, however, had taken to her like a duck to water, despite the boorish, slightly clumsy way he seemed to approach women in general. It was as if the place where Rane ended and Arthur began had started to blur, and it made her feel safe to recognize it, even after the events of the morning.

"I just . . . man, I know she was a bitch," said Rane, low, fingering the material of his jeans with one hand. "But that was so horrible. Shooting her like that."

"Yeah. It was horrible, all right." Arthur put his cigarette to his lips, reaching the hand across her shoulders to his mouth and drawing her nearer to his chest in order to do so. Rane felt his heart beating quickly against his vest for a brief moment as he did, the rough, lovely scent of him intensifying, and then he'd relaxed, blowing a plume of smoke out into the air. "She was pissy sometimes but she wasn't all bad, she was just a fool about Dutch. Did her in at the end."

"His face." Rane shook her head against Arthur's shoulder. "Did you see his face?"

"Yeah." Arthur was chewing his lip, staring off broodingly.

"Like looking through the window of an empty house. Like she didn't mean shit to him."

"Rane, I hate to say it, but she probably didn't." He sighed. "That's just Dutch, he's got his priorities. He don't let himself get too near to women unless it's to fuck, and that's what Molly was, she was runnin' with us to warm up his bed. Whatever she thought he might feel for her at the end there, she was likely just kiddin' herself. He ain't let himself get that close to a lady since Annabelle."

"But he loved Annabelle." Rane felt a powerful need to verify this, for some reason. "He loved her. He loved somebody. I've heard him talk about her, it sounds like he did."

Arthur made an uncertain gesture, waving a hand toward the gentle tide, the cigarette dangling from his full lower lip. "Y'know, between you and me, I used to think so, but now . . . now I ain't sure anymore. Sometimes I think he looks back on her with a sorta lens in front of him, like . . . I dunno, like he likes to think he loved her, and that's why he was so beat up after Colm killed her, but honestly . . . I just can't tell anymore if it's the real Dutch or just his fool idealism."

"Would he have let someone gun her down?"

"If he thought she'd betrayed him? Yeah, he might've. Maybe. Hell, I dunno, that's been years ago now." Arthur exhaled twin streams of smoke through his nostrils, the tendrils wavering past the brim of his hat. "He's funny about a lot of stuff, but he don't get worked up about nothin' quite like loyalty. Him and his damn rules."

Rane sighed. She was caressing the palm of his hand with her fingers, her legs stretched out before her, watching the sun glancing off the water.

"What a clusterfuck," she murmured, low.

"Dutch is a tough guy to understand, Rane." Arthur glanced down his chin at her. "He ain't simple and stupid like me."

Rane scoffed. "You're not simple and stupid."

"Well." Arthur sighed, rubbing his face with his palm, and drew deep on his smoke again. "I ain't got the same -"

He broke out into rough coughing abruptly. Rane reached up, plucked the smoke from his mouth and flicked it away.

"Maybe the time for stogies has sort of passed, dollface."

"Old habits," Arthur conceded, clutching his chest. He glanced down at her, his eyes bloodshot and watering but still amused, smirking. "I like that."

"You like what?"

"When ya call me names."

"Call you names? What, are you into some kinky shit or something? You want me to tie you up next time too? Berate you a little bit?" Rane mimed the sound of a whip, slapping his thigh. "'You've been a very naughty boy, Arthur Morgan, and now you must be punished' - that kinda thing?"

Arthur flushed crimson, tilting his hat down a little. He leaned back, unwinding his arm from her shoulders, smirking. "Goddamned idiot. That ain't what I meant."

Rane reached up and tipped the brim of his hat back, kissing the corner of his mouth. "It was a joke, not a dick, don't take it so hard."

"You oughta be a preacher, mouth like that."

"If you say so."

Rane was stroking the long muscle of his thigh beneath his jeans, looking up at him. He turned his face down toward her, eyes flitting over her features. A moment of silence passed between them, each looking at the other unabashedly, both indulging in their closeness. Arthur reached down and pushed a strand of hair from her forehead gently.

"It's been a fucked up little afternoon so far but I'm still glad you're back. I don't much care for bein' away from ya."

"Did you miss me, Mister Hot-Shot Morgan?"

"Yeah, I missed ya. Kind of a stupid question is that, anyway?"

Rane leaned up and kissed him, letting her mouth linger on his, and looked into his eyes as she drew away. They were so strange. Had she ever seen eyes that color before? She didn't think so. And she had grown up among Elves.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know it?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Arthur countered, smirking. He was trying to pull away, as he always did when Rane complimented him. "Here she comes, the fast talker -"

"Can I look at them?" Rane turned his face back to hers gently with the palm of her hand, stroking his unshaven cheek with one thumb, and he met her gaze reluctantly, his eyes meeting hers. They were the color of the ocean, turquoise and green and shot through with gold, prismatic and vivid beneath his lashes even a trifle bloodshot.

"Okay, you looked."

She felt him trying to pull away, his gaze faltering, uncomfortable with this sudden display of physical veneration, and Rane released him, settling back down. He was a lot of things, this guy, but graceful about accepting flattery was definitely not one of them.

"Where were your parents from? Never seen eyes like yours before."

Arthur shrugged, his ears reddening a little. "Shit, I dunno. My daddy was Welsh. Dunno 'bout my mama."

"Welsh, huh." Rane leaned back on her elbows. "Wouldn't have taken you for a taffy. 'Course, I wouldn't have taken John for a Scot, either."

"The hell's wrong with Scots? Mary-Beth is a Scot, she's alright."

"Ach, haud yer wheesht, ye dinnae ken, ye daft skunner!" Rane replied, putting on a fairly passable Scottish accent. "We're all Jock Tamson's bairns, innit, pure dead brilliant tha hooool lot of us!"

Arthur burst out into a ream of genuine, hearty laughter at this, leaning back and slapping his knee. It did Rane's heart good to hear, especially after the grim events of the morning. She was suddenly very grateful for his presence, and for his insistence that they get away from camp for a while. This little diversion had done wonders for her sanctity of mind.

"What would your poor Welsh father think if he knew you were marrying a half-breed heathen, pray tell? Don't you think he'd be happier if you settled down with a nice Methodist girl?"

Arthur shook his head, still laughing a little, wiping at his eyes. "I couldn't give a shit what my old man would think of ya, Rane, he was a lousy bastard. The day he went underground was a pretty damn cheerful one for me." He sighed, still smirking. "You think your daddy'd be surprised that his little girl ended up with an outlaw?"

"Well, I have a bit of a track record with outlaws, so, surprised?" Rane waggled a hand dubiously. "He'd get behind it, though, once he was done glowering and muttering and drilling you with questions. He's a good guy. Big and scary and blonde like you," she added, grinning at him. "You'd get along, I bet."

They lapsed into companionable silence, looking out across the water. Eli loosed a long, echoing whinny behind them, and Arthur moved over toward Rane, settling himself behind her, stretching his legs about her lean form and wrapping his big arms around her chest, pulling her back toward him. Rane leaned her head back against his shoulder, relaxing, her eyes falling shut. Arthur, too, felt his body falling lax. Something about the way he was holding her right now was just . . . utterly halcyon. He rested his chin on the top of her head, shutting his eyes for a second, basking in the warm presence of her. The sun sparkled off the water beyond them, glistening as it fell through the heavy cloud cover overhead, and the air was alive with gentle birdsong. If he had to stay in this moment forever, he wouldn't have protested.

"You smell like horses," Rane remarked, low.

"That's just yer breath blowin' back into yer face."

"Rude."

Rane tilted her head back and yanked his mouth to hers by a scruff of sweaty hair, kissing him. He leaned into it, exhaling against her mouth. A low, raspy growl of pleasure escaped on his breath as his tongue touched hers, close to Rane's ear, and Gooseflesh sprung up at once all down her arms. She could feel Arthur's heartbeat picking up beneath his vest, beginning to pound against her shoulder; one of his palms pressed against the firm flesh of her belly, and the other caressed her exposed throat, his hands rough and warm on her skin. After a moment he drew away from her mouth, looking down at her, a trifle out of breath.

"You better quit kissin' me like that or I'm gonna have to drag you into them woods over there, and that ain't right so soon after Molly," he said, low.

Rane eyeballed him a moment longer, her eyes flicking from his eyes to his mouth and back up again, her lips slightly parted. He returned her gaze, his fingers still trailing over her throat, his heart thumping excitedly against her shoulder.

"Yeah. You're right." She straightened, leaning over her knees and scrabbling at her scalp, her long hair rippling around her face. "Sorry."

"Yeah, makes two of us, trust me." Arthur was yanking at his jeans, still panting a little. "I'm still gettin' used to this whole thing, with havin' a purty woman around who wants to hop into bed with me back. Usually it's just me doin' the chasin' and them doin' the runnin' -"

"Hey, Arthur -"

"- I mean, you got the ones that hang around saloons, 'course, but it's hard to tell if they really like ya or they're just gettin' friendly for the cash -"

"Arthur."

"- and you know what I mean by 'hard,' ha, if you take my -"

"Let's go."

Arthur ceased jerking at his fly and looked at her, surprised by the ire in her voice. She was staring back at him over her shoulder, the wind catching her hair, her eyes hard and both hands flat in the sand.

"What? Go?"

"Yeah. Let's just go. Just take Eli and go." She was still watching him, and Arthur was startled to see that her eyes were a little overbright in the low overcast light. "We don't have to go back there. We can just go. Just us."

"Are you cryin'?" Arthur reshuffled his weight, moving to her side, feeling discombobulated, doubly so because of the nearly full erection bulging beneath his fly. "Hey, I was just jokin' around about that saloon girl thing -"

"No." Rane pursed her lips, willing the tears standing in her eyes not to fall. Here she was again, a woman who'd always prided herself on her thick skin, getting all sloppy about the man sitting before her. "And I'm not crying."

"Rane, I'm lookin' right at ya." Arthur gestured at her helplessly, feeling impotent. "Just tell me what's goin' on. Please. I ain't no good at this."

Rane got to her feet abruptly, pacing a few steps off, hands on her hips. Arthur rose as well, watching her uncertainly.

"Just that, just what I said. I just, I think we should leave." Rane turned to him, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Just . . . just go."

"You tryin' to ask me to run off with you, that it?"

Rane nodded at once beneath his palms, biting her lip. Arthur laughed a little, low.

"And thinkin' of runnin' off with me, that makes you cry?" He patted his chest. "Ouch."

Rane scoffed, gesturing at him, looking a little broken. "That's - no. It's just . . ."

Arthur stepped toward her and smoothed the hair away from her temple, looking into her eyes, trying to discern what was happening behind them. He was a man raised around hard fellers who wore irons on their hips and seldom exposed the contents of their hearts, and after decades of this Arthur was clumsy with love as well as with his own emotions; his only real practice had been with Mary. There were many things he wasn't sure how to cope with gracefully with regards to welcoming romance back into his world. Here was another new one; consoling a woman without making things worse. Yet another of his life's greatest historical failings.

"Just say it, darlin', I just wanna understand. I don't like to see you like this, tell me how to fix it -"

"I'm upset because you're dying," Rane said in a rush, and lifted her hands, letting them drop to her sides, defeated. "And everything back at that camp is going straight to hell. Something worse than Molly getting shot is gonna happen, I feel it in my gut, Arthur."

"Rane, come on, you can't know that."

"No, Arthur. I can." Rane fixed him with an irascible look. "I can know that. I don't want any part of it. I don't know how long we're gonna have together, and I don't want to spend what we've got under his shadow while that soul-patch-wearing ass hat back there is going batshit crazy. So come away with me. Let's go, let's just go."

Arthur looked at her a long moment, mulling over his next words. He linked his thumbs into his belt loops, shifting his weight. He'd had this same conversation with Mary more than once, and rarely had it ended well for him. And Mary wasn't anywhere close to as hot-blooded as Rane was. The woman herself was pacing back and forth before him now, wringing her hands, her sword clanking against her hip, staring down at the sand.

"Rane, I can't just leave."

Rane stilled, watching him, her mouth turned down. He met her gaze steadily, forcing himself not to let his eyes slide away from hers. This was a little like the afternoon they'd ridden side by side on the road to the fence, when she'd fixed him with a gimlet glare and allowed him a glimpse of how dangerous she could be if the fancy took her. Much like that day, he needed to talk her down from this ledge, not push her off.

"You can't, or you don't want to?" Her voice was light and chilly.

"Rane, I'd follow you anyplace, you know that. It ain't the wanting that's the problem. There are people back there who need me. Especially now. I can't just walk out on 'em"

"Why you? Why do they need you?" Rane gestured angrily. "Why does it always have to be you? Nobody else back there takes any responsibility for jack shit, it's either you're supposed to take care of it on Dutch's fucking orders, or I have to take care of it on Dutch's fucking orders, how is that in any way -?"

"I'm Dutch's lieutenant, Rane, that's my job, to keep 'em safe. It's just my job, always has been. And you're doing jobs for him because you're good at what seems like every damn thing you do, sure," he added unhappily. "I'm sorry he's doin' it, I am, I know you must feel like an attack dog or somethin', but that's just how the gang is, Rane, that's just how it works. I gotta do my job, I gotta keep 'em safe."

"Who?" Rane bent a little at the waist, looking exasperated, her brows knit over her bright eyes. "Who needs you? Besides me, I mean."

Arthur looked at her, his heart sinking in his chest. She was watching him with a desperate expression, her dark brows descended over her eyes, her eyelashes flashing as she blinked against the tears she was busily denying. There were twenty years of history back at the camp behind them, and Rane, who was not quite thirty yet, could not possibly understand how difficult to break that sort of bond was.

"John and Abigail and Jack, for starters. And the rest of 'em. Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen, Sadie - I gotta help 'em get away, if it starts gettin' worse with Dutch. I can't just run out on 'em."

"But you'd run out on me. Not them, but me."

"No, I wouldn't run out on you!" Arthur fixed her with an astonished look. "Of course I wouldn't -!"

"Why not? Who am I, anyways?" Rane gesticulated, her sparkling eyes now not just tear-filled but furious. "I'm not a part of your little fucking band of merry men, I'm just some random ass chick that turned up on the back of your horse! If I left, what would you do? You wouldn't follow me, would you? Would you?"

Arthur struggled, gesturing. "Alright, now you're pettifogging and I need ya to stop -"

"I'm not pettifogging, it's an honest question -"

"Yes you are, so quit it, if we're gonna talk about this I want you to rein it in and be calm."

Rane flushed pink. "Be calm?"

"Yes!" Arthur kept his gaze with hers, summoning the same courage he had on the road to the horse fence. "Yes, be calm. I don't think it's too much to ask, you're over here cryin' and carryin' on and it's making me feel all flustered about it -!"

"I'm not crying!" Rane cried.

Arthur lifted both hands palm out. "Okay. Fine. Fine. So to answer your question, Rane, no, I wouldn't let ya leave, and if you tried to I'd likely follow after ya."

"Okay, well, then I'm leaving." Rane put her hands on her waist, nodding quickly, her eyes steely and apprehensive on his. "I'm gonna go hop onto Eli and ride away, I'm gonna get far enough away from Dutch and the rest of that shitshow that I don't ever need to hear about any of it again, I'm gonna put all of this well behind me. How's that sound to you?"

Arthur watched her unhappily. "It sounds like the scariest damned thing I ever heard and you know it. Don't say that to me." He hesitated, then added, "that's cruel, Rane."

Rane wilted a little at the sincerity in his voice, her shoulders sinking. Arthur shook his head, chewing his lip.

"I see what you're tryin' to say, but this ain't a simple yes or no. It just ain't. Them people back there, I've known some of 'em since I was thirteen or fourteen years old. You understand how it is, when I say that? How I can't just up and split with a girl I met hardly two weeks ago? Please don't be pissed off that I'm sayin' it that way," he added quickly, watching her. "I'm tryin' to make you see how it is, that's all. Okay?"

"That camp, the whole situation, that's a Spandau ballet, Arthur. It's dying and trapped. it's a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. It's gonna go up. The signs are all there. They're all - there." Rane shook her head. "Spandau ballet. It's gonna go bad, and it's gonna go bad soon, no matter what you -"

"Rane," said Arthur, shaking his head and steeling his heart. "No. No. And that's the last word I have on it. I gotta help 'em. They're my family. I ain't that kinda man."

Rane stood on the sand watching him, breathing harshly, her eyes still overbright. After a moment she placed both hands over her face for a moment, then snatched them away, turning toward the water, her hair blowing back from her brow.

"You won't leave," she said softly, and sighed, brushing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. She laughed, low and humorless. "I bet Mary what's-her-fuck asked you to do this a couple times, too, and we see how that ended up."

Arthur moved toward her and grasped his hand in hers. "Yeah, she did, a time or two. I'm glad I said no, or I'd never had met you."

Rane sighed roughly, shaking her head. "It wasn't right for me to say that, I'm sorry. Fuck, it wasn't right for me to say any of that to you at all."

Arthur watched her a moment, then bent, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her temple.

"You don't have to apologize. I know why you're askin' it of me. I wish I could give ya a different answer." He laughed, low. "I just don't wanna make you cry, that's all. I'm tryin' to make you happy, not sad."

Rane turned and hugged him to her, burying her face in his shirt, her grip tight against his shoulders. He tightened his grip around her, rubbing a palm over her back gently, letting his cheek rest on the crown of her head. She was trying not to let on that she was crying openly now, but her breath was fragmentary, and he could feel her heartbeat, rapid as gunfire, racing against his chest.

"Hey, quit that." He kissed the top of her head gently, pulling her nearer. "Quit."

"I'm fine," said Rane, muffled against his shirt.

"Your heart always beats faster when you're blubberin'," said Arthur, pulling her back by the shoulders and smiling down at her wryly. "So now, baby, I gotta wonder if you're really enjoyin' yourself when we're in bed together or you're just miserable and holdin' back tears, sometimes."

Rane stared at him a moment, bewildered by this jest, then laughed roughly, shaking her head and wiping at her cheeks with the heels of her hand.

"I'm sorry. Stupid." She cleared her throat, straightening with a brave decorum that made Arthur smile a little. "I just don't know what to do."

"I gotta ask, what the fuck is a Spandau ballet?"

"Nothing. Never mind." Rane was watching him, chewing her thumbnail anxiously, her eyes still bright and damp. "I don't wanna cry over you anymore for a little while, so can we try to keep this shit a little bit more cheerful? Please?"

"I'll try." Arthur watched her, frowning. "You still with me?"

"Yeah. Not like I have much of a choice." Rane sighed. "What do we have to do?"

"We gotta help keep 'em safe 'til we know what's goin' on," said Arthur. "And after that we're gonna get the fuck outta here, just like you want. Just you and me. We're gonna have our time. You hear me?"

Rane nodded, looking into his eyes. Her gaze wasn't wholly convinced, and Arthur observed this with dismay. "Yeah. Okay."

"I promise ya." He took her hand and grasped it in both his own against his chest. "I promise."

"Lawyers make promises, too. So do politicians." Rane eyed him grimly. "Sirius promised me one time that he wouldn't get hurt, and that same night he died. You'll forgive me if 'I promise' doesn't quite inspire the same conviction for me anymore."

"Well, I ain't a lawyer or a politician. And I sure as hell ain't Sirius." Arthur leaned down and kissed her, his chin rough and scratchy against hers. "It's gonna be okay, Rane. I'll take care of you. You're the only damn thing I want anymore. We just gotta get these fellers squared away. We gotta. I can't let 'em die. I need you to help me."

Rane looked into his eyes a long moment, then nodded, her hands squeezing his. "Okay."

"I love you." Arthur shook his head a little, the corners of his mouth tilting into a little smile. "I love you with all my heart, Rane Roth, I surely do. I don't care how many big words you use, you're still alright in my books."

Rane's lips curved into an involuntary smile, one that genuinely reached her eyes, the first since Molly. It bared all her even teeth, made her younger and even more lovely, despite the dampness of her eyelashes.

"Rane Roth. I guess Rane Morgan doesn't have quite the same ring, does it?"

Arthur's smile dropped away, his brows knitting, and Rane saw the emotion flashing in his eyes for just a sheer moment before he turned away, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, no, you ain't wrong. You keep your father's namesake if you wanna, I ain't fussed."

"Hey, no." Rane grasped his hand. "I was joking. Asshole thing to say, I'm sorry. When can we do it?"

"I'll talk to Swanson tomorrow. If you don't change your mind by then." Arthur had met her eyes again, and his brief moment of weakness had evaporated when he did. "If you still wanna, we'll make it official. Alright?"

"So I'm getting married tomorrow."

"Yeah, unless you decide to, y'know -" Arthur gestured backwards. "Hop on Eli and ride away, of course."

Rane nodded, biting her lip, and leaning up kissed him.

"I love you too," Rane said softly against his mouth, and relished his lips against hers as Eli whinnied behind them. "I do. I love you. Even if you won't leave this shitty situation with me."

"I know ya do. I know it." Arthur closed his arms around her tightly. "We're gonna get through all this shit. We are. I swear to Christ, one way or another, we're gonna."

Rane said nothing, but her eyes were open as she rested her head against his chest, roving over the water beyond, the thudding of his heart audible in her ear, and she wondered.