Really too late to call, so we wait for
Morning to wake you, that's all we got.
To know me as hardly golden
Is to know me all wrong, they were
To the outside the dead leaves, they're on the lawn
Before they died, had trees to hang their hope
At every occasion, I'll be ready for the funeral
Every occasion, once more, it's called the funeral
Every occasion, know I'm ready for the funeral
Every occasion, oh, one-billion-day funeral.
Band of HorsesThe cave beyond Beaver Hollow was cold, dry, dank and utterly unpleasant. It was fragrant with mold, long solitude and stillness, and Rane cared for it not at all. The Sindarin in her wanted for moving airs, fresher places where life and impetus sold wholesale, but Arthur bore it far worse than she. He had begun to cough steadily almost as soon as they'd entered, as he always did in close, dense places. It was gentle, low and regular, coming in cadence with his quick breath - inhale, pause, cough, inhale, pause, cough - and it only took a few minutes before Rane looked back at him, unwilling to put him on the spot and unable to help herself.
"Arthur -"
"Don't say it."
"Dude, you sound like a ten year old in the coal mines -"
"I said don't -" Arthur burst into a little rapidfire, cutting himself off, the sound dry and barking. "I'm fine. Just -"
"I'm worried about you, we can stop -"
"No, we can't," said Arthur roughly, casting her a sharp look. "We can't stop, we got Pinkertons on our asses, the whole damn fleet from the sound of it. You only had a few run-ins with 'em, so trust me on this one, we can't stop."
"What, so you think collapsing and making us carry you the rest of the way is a better -?"
"Rane -" Arthur sighed, rubbing his face roughly. "We don't have time for this." He gestured impatiently. "John, back me up here."
"He's right, Rane, we gotta go," John agreed, shaking his head. "They catch up to us, they're gonna shoot us all dead, we can't stand against 'em."
Rane gestured at him with her wand, causing the light to stagger against the walls a little. "Hi, I'm Rane."
"You said yourself there were too many of 'em for you to handle, now quit smartin' off and do like I say," said Arthur sharply, casting a grim look at her.
Rane sighed, frustrated. "It's bullshit."
"Just quit worryin' for me and follow John," said Arthur. His voice was stern, uncompromising, and he was already striding ahead, still coughing. "Both of ya, move, I said."
They did, Rane reluctantly. The cave wound down further still, the air growing colder and denser as they went. The cave was very dark, and once they had passed the furthest reaches of the torches that glimmered on the rock wall Rane lit her wand, giving them a pale spotlight for a few yards ahead of their footsteps. The sounds of bootheels pursuing them was faint, but it was growing, and it sounded like a score of them. John was casting frequent, worried looks over his shoulder.
"Mister Marston! Mister Morgan! Miss Roth! Surrender and we will take you alive! " The voices echoed gently from behind them. "Lay down your arms! You will not be harmed!"
"Like hell we won't," John said roughly, gesturing. "Just keep goin'."
"John," Rane panted, still lingering at Arthur's elbow. "What happened? After the train?"
"What happened? I'll tell ya what happened, those bastards left me for dead! Old Boy run off to camp, I had to walk the whole goddamn way back bleedin' like a stuck pig -"
"I mean, did anyone come upon you? Did you see them?"
"Fuck no, I didn't! Not a goddamn fuckin' soul!" John glanced over his shoulder at her derisively, his face shining with sweat. "Nobody even came lookin' for me!"
"Seems that's what they do now," said Arthur roughly, shaking his head. "Don't care about nothin', don't try to help nobody - it's like they ain't even with us anymore. All them goddamned years and it don't mean jack shit -!"
"Yeah, well wearing a Starfleet uniform doesn't mean you're staffing the Enterprise," said Rane, and immediately shook her head as both Arthur and John looked at her in bewilderment. "Never mind. Micah is a narc, that's all there is to it, the rest doesn't matter. He fooled everybody, not just us. Dutch, too. Difference is that Dutch is too fucked in the head to realize."
"I don't know about y'all but Micah never fooled me," said Arthur, low.
"Me neither," John agreed. "He was a rat fuck from the very start. Dutch was a fool to bring him on. Stay with us, Arthur."
They had arrived at a long, flat rock wall with an ancient, rickety-looking wooden ladder running up the far right side. Rane's heart sank a little at the sight of it, aiming her wand upwards. The top was so far up that her wandlight didn't even penetrate it, and Arthur was already panting like a man who had just run an obstacle race, his chest heaving and his face shining with sweat. She grasped his shirt, pulling him closer, the smell of his sweat and adrenaline powerful in the still darkness.
"Are you okay?" she asked him again, looking into his eyes, her hands pressed against his lapels.
He shook his head, panting. She could feel his heart hammering, rapid and frenzied, and his breath was frantic and rough.
"I'm fine," he gasped. "Mostly wanting you to get your skinny ass up that ladder."
"Gentlemen first."
"Honey." Arthur took her face in his hands abruptly, his grasp powerful and rough, meeting her clear gaze with his bloodshot one. "You're well and young, now, and I'm old and sick and -"
Rane scoffed loudly, laughing."Oh, Christ, somebody put me out of my misery, this guy over here -"
"Get your ass up there before I pull out my guns and make ya."
"I'll curse you to kingdom come. You know I can."
"Whatever you wanna tell yourself. Just go." Arthur jerked his head, breathing hard. "Go, Rane. Don't fight me on this, I'm too goddamn tired. If I fall off and take you with me and kill both of us, I'll show up in hell a pretty fuckin' pissed off son of a bitch. Humor me, now."
Rane watched him a moment longer, weighing another few seconds of argument, then turned cantankerously and began to ascend the ladder, her mouth thin. Arthur followed behind her, breathing harshly, the grasp of his fists trembling.
THE three of them climbed the ladder out of the cave. Rane was relieved beyond reason as they ascended and the air became clearer, like a woman taking her first breath after minutes of being underwater, sucking at the atmosphere thirstily. They staggered out one after the other, Arthur last. He was still panting, the sound of his breath hoarse and uneven, wheezing lustily, the sound whistling and damp. His face was pale, sweat glimmering at his hairline despite the cool air, and he staggered as he reached solid ground, boots stuttering, head lolling on his shoulders. He shouldn't be here, he should be in a fucking hospital bed, Rane thought, the gentle threat of true panic caressing the edges of her heart. Whatever was wrong, be it tuberculosis or COPD or the goddamned Black Plague, it was picking up its pace now, not sauntering but sprinting, like a wildfire through dry grass.
"You need help?" said John from up ahead, leaning over his knees and breathing hard, looking back at Arthur.
"No, no." Arthur waved a hand. "Fine."
Ignoring this, Rane grasped his shoulder and slung an arm around him, feeling the sudden and unwelcome sensation of tears at the back of her throat as she did. He grasped at her shirt, as sharp and desperate as a drowning man, pulling himself closer to her body, and Rane noted the tremulous touch of his hand against her waist, the gentle shudder of his fingers. He spoke gently at her ear as he leaned heavily against her, panting.
"Quit cryin'."
"I'm not crying. You've seen Doctor Zhivago too many times, I think."
"You sure do get all gushy for somebody talks as much shit as you do, you know it?"
Rane snorted, the sound devolving into a soft sob. Luckily, John didn't hear it; he was striding forward up ahead, eyes fixed on the forest around them. Arthur reached out and took Rane's face in his free palm, turning it towards his. Her eyes were bright, her mouth turned down, her dark brows leveled, beautiful and young and all too aware of what was happening, despite her bluster.
"I can't change what this is, but you and John gettin' away - now, that I can."
Rane coughed, the sound devolving into a retch. She was nauseous again. Arthur touched her back.
"I'm gonna be sick."
"No you ain't. Buck up for me, now." He hesitated, his mouth working, then added, "Please. It ain't easy for me either, Rane, God knows it ain't. None of it."
Rane met his gaze, frowning, seeing this truth for what it was. He was having as hard a time with this large, unspoken cataclysm between them as she was. Neither of them knew how to cope with it, and each was doing their best to help the other to do so. It would have been almost slapstick if the situation hadn't been so dire. On top of everything, his best friend had just pointed a gun at his face and the large part of the only family he'd ever known had either dispersed, died or turned against him. She couldn't begin to imagine what he was feeling, or how hellishly strong he must be at the core of him to go on facing it without bending.
"Hey! You two, come on!" John cried from up ahead, looking back at them.
"I want us to get out of this," Rane whispered, looking up at Arthur, ignoring John. "There's - there can be more, for you and me, for us outside of this."
"I know. I want that, too. If I told ya once, I told ya a hundred times." Arthur shook his head. His mouth was thin, his dirty blond hair falling into his eyes. "But we got things to attend to first. We got hurdles gotta be jumped over, matters to get behind us."
"What if we can't?"
Arthur's face fell for the first time at these words, his stern, gentle expression crumpling, and he turned from her a little, passing a hand over his face. He remained that way a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose, and when he turned back to her, Rane realized for the first time that he had surrendered himself to his fate a long time ago. Weeks? Months? It made no difference, here on the cusp of it. His eyes were bright, full of tears, and he took one of her hands in both of his own, lifting it to his mouth and planting a gentle kiss on her knuckles, his hands trembling a little.
"We ain't gonna even give that kinda thinkin' the time of day, Rane, so put it up."
"Come ON!" John cried from up ahead, gesturing.
Rane looked at Arthur another moment, her own eyes bright, then turned from him, setting her shoulders.
"Come on," she said coldly. "We're getting out of this. All of us."
