Every time. Every goddamn time.

Usually, it was his own goddamn fault, but for once Arthur had been keeping his nose clean. Turned out, none of his recent decisions mattered and he should have known better than to lower his guard. After all, Dorsch had been out for him since day one.

One more goddamn day was all that was left before they returned to peace and Dorsch had to jump in and ruin it. Only minutes ago, Arthur had committed fully to delving into the life he'd started to carve for himself with Charlotte. And, as usual, another chance at his happiness was challenged by the mistakes of his past. Trouble followed him like a dog on a scent and the law never strayed from the lead.

Beside him, fear had widened Charlotte's eyes as she stared at Dorsch in disbelief. Even this devilry too extreme for her to believe of her own father.

If Arthur were to think reasonably, Dorsch wasn't doing nothing wrong. It ain't the first displeased family Arthur had had to deal with. Their daughter was in a relationship with a dirty outlaw and Dorsch ain't the first daddy to be against that.

"I don't know what the hell you're going on about," Arthur finally told Dorsch in response to his threat of handing him over to the law.

"Don't you?" came Dorsch's mocking reply.

Arthur clenched his teeth together with the barest hold on his temper. Just when he'd decided it was more worthwhile to play nice for a few days, this bastard chose to not leave well enough alone. Dorsch stood in his way, threatening him and describing with pleasure how Arthur would be escorted downtown to answer for his crimes.

Arthur got to thinking of how this was gonna play out. Him thrown in jail and locked up for good. Charlotte wasting her time desperately trying to get him out, all the while pregnant and miserably imprisoned herself in a life she'd long rejected. There was no in-between. Anger, a raw fury the likes of which he hadn't embraced in a long while, rose from its slumber.

Arthur could contain himself no longer as he locked on Dorsch and growled out, "You goddamn lowlife son of a bitch!"

One moment Dorsch's mouth was upturned in a derisive smirk, the next Arthur was swinging a fist, making heavy contact and breaking that condescending smile.

After Arthur stunned the other man with a decking, he clamped both hands on Dorsch's jacket, hauled him around and pinned him against the in-wall bookshelves. Arthur's rough-handling rattled the glass bottles on a wheeled cart and set askew a painting at Dorsch's back.

"Arthur!" Charlotte's shocked voice called from a distance under his roaring rage, but he was done with this asshole thinking he could be controlled.

Arthur pulled his right arm back, ready to knock some more teeth loose. As he made to pitch a second punch, another arm caught his elbow and Ben pulled on him. Before Arthur could wretch himself away, Clark was on his other side and the brothers yanked him back from their father together.

"Beastly," Dorsch remarked as he whipped a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped blood from his lip.

Arthur snarled, "Fight like a goddamn man and I'll show you beastly."

Charlotte stepped in front of him, capturing her father's attention, while simultaneously giving Arthur pause. His temper simmered as he'd have to knock her out of the way if he wanted to earnestly get to Dorsch again.

Charlotte asked in a brisk tone, "What is it you want, Father?"

His eyes drifted to her. "I want my daughter to desist consorting with degenerate scum."

Arthur clenched his fists again and Ben's hand tightened on his arm in warning.

"As you've made abundantly clear," Charlotte said, "but I object to that designation."

"Infatuation has blinded you, but there are truths about this man you need to consider."

"Then explain them," Charlotte ordered as she crossed her arms. "After all, you didn't set this little trap if you didn't mean to bargain in some way."

Arthur glanced between father and daughter, wondering where this could go as he recalled a fraction of the villainy he hadn't dared reveal to Charlotte.

"Quite right. Although," Dorsch's glare cut to him. "That dastardly blow has me wanting to deny you even an offer of your freedom. Fortunately for you, I am not an unreasonable man."

In that moment, Arthur was reminded of the cutthroat ways of Angelo Bronte. That son of a bitch had plotted and lied to the gang from the start and had acted as if he were the benevolent one. But, like Bronte, Dorsch should have been more afraid of a 'country bumpkin'.

"You were involved in a robbery in Saint Denis," Dorsch stated bluntly and pulled a small notebook from inside his jacket. As he watched his movements, Arthur was satisfied to see that the sneer was now accompanied by a split lip. "Do you deny you were there?"

Bastard was trying to catch him in a lie. Arthur felt the heavy gaze of all of them, but the weight of Charlotte's impacted him the most.

He kept his gaze steady on her, swallowed and admitted, "No."

"'Theodore Dixon, Perry Eastep, Owen Gillis'," Dorsch read aloud from his notes. "Do you recognize the names of your victims?"

He really didn't. Arthur furrowed his brow as he tried to recollect any of them. Were they witnesses? Bankers or civilians? Officers?

"No?" Dorsch shook his head as if disappointed. "How about Desmond Blythe? He knows you as an oil man, which can surely not be true."

Blythe. That one rang a bell, but it confused the hell out of him. "The Hosiery King?"

"All of them are victims to your robbery of the Grand Korrigan, on the night of July 15th."

The riverboat? That high stakes poker job Strauss and Trelawny had put together?

Dorsch paused dramatically, relishing in the disbelief and gasps of his family. "An armed guard on the scene was knocked out and his uniform stolen. When he came to, he found a Mexican impersonating him."

Something about the description landed oddly on Arthur's ear, but since Javier had worked all that himself, he continued to answer truthfully, "I had nothin' to do with that."

"What about the murder of the casino's pit manager?"

Arthur might have had something to do with that.

"You were the only guest on the list unaccounted for after the robbery."

"Let's just say it weren't in my best interests to stick around. Desmond Blythe was a poor card player. He lost a valuable watch to me in a hasty wager and he was none too happy about it." It weren't exactly a lie.

"Hence the following gunfight? No. You sought to steal what wasn't yours from the start," Dorsch insisted. "Engaging in a shootout and causing mayhem to innocents was a bonus for you."

Dorsch ranted on more of his terrible misdeeds of that night, but something was off about all of this. Arthur took a moment to block out the verbal bashing and push down the returning rush of anger so he could think. Why the hell was Dorsch so hung up on the details of the riverboat? That robbery was far from the worst of Arthur's crimes. Hell, the trolley station and banks had been—

That's when Arthur put it together. Dorsch didn't have shit on him. He wouldn't be putting on this little show if he knew the truth without a doubt. If Dorsch had gone to the Pinkertons, he'd know worse than the robbing of rich business men. Then it'd be Arthur getting handcuffed and thrown into a cell, no questions asked.

Perhaps Dorsch didn't have any more to go on than what his detective friend had found. Could it be possible the name Callahan protected Arthur more than he ever considered? Could Dorsch's detective not find anything conclusive that connected him to the name of Morgan? And was there only a connection to one heinous crime rather than several?

There was no other way for it except to try a test. There was another place he used the alias Callahan during that time frame.

"That riverboat robbery ain't the only notes that detective gave you, is it?"

Dorsch stiffened and Charlotte eyed him curiously.

His heart pounded, but Arthur was ready to call this bluff. If he was wrong, nothing would change this predicament. "Did, uh, Riggs was it? Did he say anything about Rhodes?"

Charlotte's expression turned to worry as her mind was surely stuck on the situation a few months ago when they'd gotten banished. But as far as Arthur knew, Callahan wasn't a wanted man to Sheriff Thomas.

Dorsch's scowl froze. "I don't know what you mean."

"Go on," Arthur goaded. "Let your family know what my name meant to Sheriff Gray."

"Howard?" Martha prompted when Dorsch didn't immediately answer.

Because Dorsch hesitated, Arthur knew he had the advantage so he kept his mouth shut and waited.

Finally, Dorsch spat out, "You were deputized, but it means nothing. Those southerners will do that with any straggler passing through town."

"A-ha!" Ben exclaimed. "You are a secret lawman!"

"A disgraced one," Dorsch put in with disgust. "Besides, your attempt to reason with me is a waste of time. Being deputized doesn't null the crimes following. In the end, you can give your flimsy excuses to the officers awaiting you outside."

Shit. Arthur's hopes plummeted, his brief victory gone. Nothing he said would matter to the city cops. He knew it'd be Rhodes and Officer Pitts all over again, with getting recognized by another well-circulated poster.

Charlotte broke in desperately, "You can't do this, Father."

Dorsch lifted an overconfident eyebrow and challenged, "Can't I, daughter?"

Tears rose to Charlotte's eyes as she begged in a whisper, "Please, Papa."

"In time, Charlotte, you shall see I've made the best decision for you," Dorsch said dismissively, unmoved by her desperate plea. "Now, Callahan, will you come willingly or resort to another ill-mannered brawl?"

Before he could decide, frustration and rash determination flashed in Charlotte's watered eyes and Arthur knew what she was about to reveal. "Charlotte, wait—"

"If you continue with this, I will refuse you access to your grandchild."

"My grand—?" Dorsch's eyes widened before dropping to her stomach.

Stillness fell over the room as every eye riveted on Arthur shifted to Charlotte. Martha gaped, Ben choked out a 'What!' and Clark's apathetic attention sparked to life.

"I knew it!" Felicity clapped happily, absurdly, against the tension.

Dorsch scowled, but the blood drained from his face as if he were ill. "Impossible."

"I assure you, it's quite true." Charlotte swept open her jacket and the protrusion of her growing stomach became undeniably obvious.

"Charlotte!" Martha stood, her sherry glass nearly slipping from her grasp.

"You can see, Father, why this performance of yours has disturbed me so."

"How far along?" Dorsch asked before he continued crisply, "Twenty-four weeks?"

"Give or take," Charlotte agreed.

He continued his bluster, "With this criminal?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "And soon to be the father of your first grandchild. Whether you care for him or not, Arthur is a part of this family now."

The punch to the gut of that statement had Arthur reaching over and resting a protective arm around Charlotte's shoulders. Dorsch's nostrils flared as he watched them.

The room fell absolutely quiet, all of them tense as they waited with bated breath. Would Dorsch damn him? Forsake his daughter and grandchild over a stranger?

"I see." Dorsch strode to the window Clark had occupied upon their entrance and held silent, his eyes narrowed and calculating. Finally, he said in a manner devoid of emotion, "If I am to allow this madness...certain conditions must be met."

"What sort of conditions?"

"Regarding the child's well-being, of course."

Charlotte sounded confident now, as if she were on firmer ground with her father. "I shall hear you out."

She was giving him more allowance than Arthur thought he deserved.

A crafty look started eclipsing her father's features. "Excellent—"

"However, any stipulations you propose, Arthur must also agree."

"Preposterous," Dorsch objected without hesitation.

"After how underhanded you've been in all of this, you're in no position to bargain with us any longer," Charlotte stated frostily. "Arthur and I together shall decide your involvement of our future."

Dorsch's face pinched as he wasn't used to giving up power. "The first condition: you shall stay on here until the babe's birth."

Arthur's stomach sunk so suddenly, he thought he might be sick again. He couldn't. He'd offered Charlotte the option, but if dealing with Dorsch like this became a daily occurrence, he'd kill him for sure.

"Arthur and I have already discussed our living arrangements," Charlotte said calmly. "Willard's Rest is where we're settled and where we'll remain."

"Is he the one who's supposed to be deliver my grandchild?" Dorsch snapped. "He's hardly a medical professional."

"Arthur will be there, but we also have Miss Jones staying with us."

"Who's that? What are her credentials?"

Martha leaned forward and reminded him, "The woman Charlotte wrote of in her letters."

Dorsch narrowed his eyes. "I will meet with her to determine her expertise. If she's as responsible as you claim, a detailed weekly report will be a simple procedure for her."

"That seems excessive, but not completely unreasonable, I suppose."

"Next." Dorsch's mouth disappeared with how tight he was pressing his lips together. "We shall host our grandchild here every summer."

Charlotte deliberately turned her head and consulted Arthur. "June through September?"

Four goddamn months to poison his child's mind? He shook his head. "No."

"Two months."

"No."

"One."

Arthur shrugged. It wouldn't be ideal, but if Charlotte wanted it, he wouldn't disagree.

"One," Charlotte agreed and added herself, "But you shall be hosting the three of us as a family."

Dorsch glanced at Arthur and sneered. As he must have realized a family of three they wouldn't be forever, he said, "Agreed."

"Is that all?" Charlotte prompted evenly.

"Before you return...home, you shall come down to the office for a proper examination. I won't accept the sloppy conclusions of a country doctor or that of an amateur midwife."

"As long as you allow Arthur in the room at the same time."

"Fine."

"Anything else?"

Dorsch turned to Arthur. "If something should happen to my daughter, Callahan, I shall hold you entirely responsible and I'll see to it you won't be slipping through the law's clutches again."

Charlotte protested, "Father, that's not fair."

But, to Arthur, it was finally something they could agree on since keeping Charlotte safe was an expectation he held of himself. Arthur kept Dorsch's gaze. "I understand."

"What about the officers outside?" Ben brought up. "Are you able to call them off?"

That was a damn good question and the family turned to Dorsch.

"There will be no difficulty in convincing them of my..." His nose crinkled. "...mistake."

"You sure you can get rid of 'em so easily?" Arthur knew few lawmen would let go of a potential big fish.

"Fortunately for you, I'm not as hasty in my decisions. The police are here, waiting, yes, but I haven't divulged any details as to why I desired their assistance." Dorsch straightened his jacket and messed with his cuffs. "I will go now to settle this matter with them."

Arthur shook his head. Rich man didn't even provide a reason to keep lawmen waiting and they'd done so willingly. Money talks alright.

"Father?"

Dorsch paused his stride to the door and turned, his expression unreadable.

Deadlier than Arthur had ever heard her, Charlotte threatened, "If I ever catch wind of you trying to pull something like this against Arthur again, rest assured your grandchild will be quick to forget your existence."

Dorsch turned away and left without another word. While he was gone, the room stayed still, nervous. Dorsch said he'd send the cops off, but his actions would determine the truth. Charlotte took his hand as Arthur forced himself not to follow his deep instinct to run.

The family waited in silence, only a clock ticking on the wall. Martha swirled her sherry and Felicity sat on the edge of her seat, biting her lip with anticipation. Ben tapped his fingers along his arm and Clark pulled out another cigarette.

Several minutes later, Dorsch returned, informing them curtly that the police were gone and that he expected Charlotte's presence at his doctor's office after their visit to Rose.

Once he left the second time, the rest of the family erupted with their true feelings. Charlotte was immediately surrounded by a bouncing, excited Felicity and Martha enveloping her and weeping happily.

The women practically pushed Arthur out of the way, but Ben came up to him and clapped him on the back and Clark offered a cigar.

It took them another twenty minutes to extract themselves, Charlotte insisting they needed to go to Rose. It took her several minutes to reassure her mother that they'd return for the night and wouldn't leave Chicago without proper farewells.

When he and Charlotte were finally riding in the coach, alone at last, silence hung between them. It was a relief after being bombarded first with accusations and then celebrations. Arthur kept his eye outside of the carriage as they moved, watching out for any following policemen, in case Dorsch went back on his word.

"I know I haven't pushed you to tell all of your past, Arthur," Charlotte broke the silence eventually. "But, in light of my father's persistence, I'd prefer next time to not be so blindsided."

This was the second time Arthur's past had threatened his present in so many months. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him nervous. He asked warily, "What do you suggest?"

Charlotte rested a hand on his and met his eyes with earnest. "When we get home, we need to have an honest and open conversation about anything and everything you can tell me that my father might try to use against us in the future."

Even she didn't trust that Dorsch was done with his schemes. Arthur exhaled. "Somehow, darlin', I knew you were gonna say that."

Charlotte had tried prying information from Karen on occasion the last few months, but he'd always managed to steer the conversation away. Karen tended to pepper in unnecessary details when she got the chance to speak of their life on the run. If he confessed, he only hoped Charlotte wouldn't reconsider her involvement with them. That Dorsch wouldn't be proven correct and pure infatuation had blinded her thus far.

Because either way, Charlotte was right. It was time Arthur came clean to her about everything with the gang.