"I should have seen this comin'

a million miles ago.

I've been blindly runnin'

down disaster road."

– Needtobreathe, "Disaster Road"

.

Arthur was walking down the boardwalk of a town called Oak Hills scoping out heist opportunities when he caught a glimpse of Mary from a ways off. It had been over two months since he'd last seen her, and he'd been sure at that time that he'd probably never see her again.

But there she stood. As beautiful as ever. And his heart was yanked right back into the tangled mess he'd begun trying to work himself out of over two months ago. It was as if a load of bricks had been dropped on him.

She hadn't noticed him, and he was thankful. He watched her smile as she walked down the boardwalk in his direction with a squat older woman, and his thoughts drifted to all they'd brought each other through—all she'd put him through. He thought again about the irony that even though he and his lot were considered indecent society, his whole family had accepted her with open arms—while her one family member that mattered had rejected him.

Just then that buffoon Linton strode up to the two women, and Arthur darted into the alleyway between the two buildings. He pressed himself up against the wall and peered around the corner to watch the exchange, though Mary had her back to him.

"Ah, Mr. Linton!" the other woman began. "Fancy seeing you so far from Moffett Landing! I'm so pleased to hear the happy news! Mary was just telling me about your upcoming nuptials. How splendid for the two of you!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Franklin. I couldn't be happier," he said as he took Mary's hand in both of his.

"We're in Oak Hills just now to have our measurements taken," Mary said quietly.

"Yes!" Linton said. "I heard this town has the best tailor for miles! I'll have the best suit—to go with my own best hat, of course." He smiled absurdly and touched the brim of his top hat.

"Well, I'm sure you'll look dapper no matter what, Mr. Linton." Turning to Mary, she said, "You're a very lucky young lady."

"Thank you, Mrs. Franklin," Mary said quietly, dipping her head.

"Well, I'll leave you two to run your errands. Best wishes to you both on this new journey together!" the woman said as she began crossing the street. "Enjoy every minute!"

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Franklin!" Linton waved. "Lovely woman," he said to himself. "She's always been a lovely woman." Turning to Mary, he said, "I wanted to run to the post office, send my cousin a post card. He collects them, and I don't think he has one from Oak Hills yet. I'll meet you at the tailor's, darling?"

"Yes," she said, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek before heading across the street.

Mary turned and began walking in Arthur's direction, but not before he ducked his head back behind the wall.

He shut his eyes tight as the air seemed to grow heavy and crush in on him. He would truly never be able to call himself her husband, never be welcome to share in the warmth of her bed, never hold their child in his arms.

Overcome with rage, jealousy, and frustration, he grabbed Mary by the forearm as she passed and pulled her into the alley.

Her eyes went wide when she saw him. "Arthur!" she whispered, pressing her back up against the wall. "What are you doin' here?"

"You're marryin' him?" he yelled. "You're just tryin' to spite me!"

"Arthur Morgan!"

"You are!" he shouted fiercely. "It's the only thing that makes any goddamn sense!"

A quick, icy blow came across his cheek. He turned back to see her steely gaze.

"Don't you dare," she said, her bottom lip trembling. "Don't you dare lay all this at my feet. You wouldn't even consider giving up a life of crime, your heinous acts, even murder! Oh, Arthur. Can you see no part of this that was your own doing? You always shirk the blame onto someone else; it's a habit you can't break. It's so bad, you can't even see that you do it."

He stepped back and started pacing as if he couldn't stand to hear.

"You and you alone are responsible for your actions, Arthur!" she said. "Same as anybody. And nothing can change that. Truth is, you have a choice, and you always have. You choose the wrong one every time. This isn't any different. You're choosing a life of crime, murder, and destruction over me—"

He stopped and glared at her, shooting back swiftly and sharply: "Maybe the only wrong choice I ever made was loving you."

When he saw the way his caustic words hit her, he softened. He sighed and looked down, shaking his head. He looked back up at her, coming so close he could see the individual lashes on each eye. He rested a hand on the wall behind her. As he looked at her, he saw his own turmoil reflected in the golden flecks of her brown eyes.

He began slowly and calmly: "There ain't a lot I know for sure in this world. But this I know, without a doubt: we loved once, and true." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "There weren't nothing in this world that could've separated us. Until you chose to do so." He watched as the expression in her eyes flickered from frustration and anger to anguish and sorrow. He raised a pointed finger at her face. "You stay the hell away from me, Mrs. Linton," he said. "You've doomed us both to carry this for the rest of our lives."

.

"You loved me—then what right had you to leave me? What right—answer me—for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."

– Heathcliff to his soulmate Cathy on her deathbed, years after she had married Edgar Linton. Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights