Edit: This chapter has been slightly edited from it's previous version to account for a few upcoming details in the story.

Whiskey In The Jar

Being drunk and weary, I went to Molly's chamber
Takin' my Molly with me and I never knew the danger
For about six or maybe seven in walked Captain Farrell
I jumped up, fired off my pistols, and I shot him with both barrels

A streetlight shone in through the open window, red curtains dancing in the midnight breeze as Arthur reached for the door. "I can't do this, Mary."

The woman looked at Arthur with a mixture of sorrow and seduction. Everything about her drove him crazy; her soft, beautiful hair, the way she held herself, her eyes, her lips, the way she spoke, even the way she berated him at every turn.

She held his hands, soft warm palms grasping callous hot ones, and repeated herself, "Please, Arthur."

He shook his head, trying to rip himself away from the situation, "I can't."

"Please, one more night."

He wanted to, so badly. She had one more night in town before heading home, and here before him, in her hotel room, she laid a temptation, to spend one more night with her before they never saw each other again.

She was sure of it this time, but she just needed one more night. One more night to know that he was the one who got away, and not simply the longest lasting infatuation of her life.

"I can't do it, Mary. It'll kill me." He looked at her with pain in his eyes, he wanted to. He wanted to so badly. But they had so many of these one-more-night's and they never ended well. Soon as it was over she'd give him some rant about how it was "just sex," and he'd try to convince himself of the same. But he always wanted to hold her after, and she always got antsy and said it was a mistake, and she'd rush out and he wouldn't hear from her again for a few weeks, a few months, maybe even a year at times. Until she needed him again.

But when they were together, when they were young and in love and wanting to start their lives together, they made love at every turn. Every clashing of bodies was romantic and passionate and meaningful. And every time after their onset of issues, Arthur had hoped to grab just an inch of what they had before.

He couldn't trick himself into that mindset again.

She moved her hands from holding his to caressing his elbows, her lips rising to meet his. Like a magnet, Arthur couldn't control himself. His lips crashed into hers, every emotion poured into his abdomen as he grabbed her and held her tightly, their lips engaged in the most passionate of battles, their tongues intertwined as they hit the wall, Mary's arms lifting up in surrender to her pleasure-starved partner.

Arthur moved to her neck and took in every moan and gasp there was, he reached for her chest, her face, her hips, everywhere he could touch, he ravished it without fail.

Their bodies collided on the bed, wearing each other like sheets as legs became interwoven, years of unsung love songs became unbridled in shared whines of passion. Arthur looked down into her eyes, and she up at him, starlight in her features as he felt himself become overwhelmed with her beauty.

There was so much he wanted to tell her, horrible things, lovely things, ugly things and beautiful things. He reached for her hair, pulling it gently yet firmly, holding her close as he collapsed in on her, biting her ear, confused by his own emotions. He loved her, but he couldn't have her. She was as good as a ghost in his arms, a figment of his imagination who was sure to leave once she had enough of him.

He was only there because she wanted him there, and he'd be gone once she decided she didn't want him anymore, until the next time. Because there was always a next time.

He kissed her as his body contracted in fury and delight, he wouldn't let go, not ever, not in this moment at least.

His heart raced as sweat beaded down his face, his fine lines coming to calmness, his features glazed in moonlight.

She looked in his eyes and brought a hand to his cheek. He awaited the moment she'd begin to cry, throw him off herself and insist this was a mistake.

"Why won't you run away with me?"

He pulled back, crouching over her as he prepared himself for what was to come. "I will, Mary, but I need to fix some things first."

Mary rose to meet his eyes. "Well maybe those things aren't yours to fix."

"This is my goddamn family, Mary. The closest thing I've got to one at least."

"Make a family with me, Arthur!"

"I would if you-" He cut himself off, his anger rising in his throat like a cough. He sighed, turned away from her, and grabbed his shirt from the side of the bed.

Mary covered herself with some sheets to avoid the chill of the room, she came to sit by Arthur, placing a hand on his bare shoulder.

He looked at her, confused over why they couldn't make this work out, knowing that they never will, concerned that he will never love another woman again.

"I love you, Mary. I love you more than life itself."

"I love you too."

"But I can't in good conscience just leave my friends until I know they will be okay."

"Good conscience? You're a murderer, Arthur Morgan, and suddenly you want your conscience cleared before you make a life with me?" She stood in front of him, sheets still wrapped tightly around her body. "You will never have clean hands. And you'll never change."

"Why do you fight me like this? I wanna do one good thing before starting our lives together and you just won't let up! If I'm gonna do this I gotta do it right, and if you want to be my wife then I need you behind me on this!"

"And if you're going to be my husband then I need to know you're not going to run back into this life the moment you get the chance!"

"Do you think I want this life?! Do you think before I was born I told God I wanted to be an outlaw? Living on stolen money, taking lives every day, hurting people, never knowing when my last breath will be?" He shook his head and held his face in his hands. "I didn't want a life like this, I wanted a life with you. From the moment I met you I loved you."

Mary looked down, her lose hair falling in front of her face. "There is no future for us, Arthur."

Arthur looked up at her, red eyes fighting back tears. "Then why do we keep doing this dance? Is this our future? Once a year you have me save your brother from a cult or your father from a brothel then we have sex and break up all over again?"

She crossed her arms and looked away. "I shouldn't have pushed you into this."

Arthur reached out to her figure, holding her tenderly by the waist and pulling her close. She grasped her hands around the back of his neck and came to sit on his lap, embracing him as she gave way to tears.

"I just can't wait any longer, Arthur. I have waited most of my life for you, I can't do it anymore."

He held her tight, leaning his forehead on hers as he kissed her tears away. "I won't make you wait anymore, Mary."

She kissed his cheek, and held his face in her direction, missing the sight of those baby blues. "I will love you until my last breath."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, lips embracing each other like old friends, he held her hand in his as it caressed his face.

The laid back in the bed, bare bodies holding one another for dear life, the chill from outside providing incentive aside from the desire each held for the other.

Arthur let himself dream, a home near the mountains, a farm life, with two children and another on the way, beautiful horses belonged to them, and each sunrise brought a new, wonderful day.

They grew old together, he died in his sleep in his late 70s, and she not long after. They never had to deal with a single Pinkerton or O'Driscoll or steal for a meal or kill for a dollar ever again.

When he awoke, she was gone.

She left him a letter in her place, one of many she had left him. It was full of unhidden insecurities, uncertainties, and worries about her possible future with him.

She made it clear that even if he did leave his gang for her, she wouldn't feel safe about the price on his head, the possibility of her husband being taken from her at any moment, and if they were to avoid it they were surely have to flee the country, and she didn't want that either.

She left him her engagement ring, insisting that he give it to a young couple who could make better use of it than she could.

Arthur looked around the room, he expected her to be gone, but he knew in his heart that this was goodbye.

With no eyes to see, he gave way to tears, crumbling up the letter and throwing it away from him, holding onto the ring like it was his last moments with her.

His heart broke one last time.

Arthur laid in bed, tapping his fingers on his journal as the morning sun welcomed him to a brand-new day.

His memories of his final meeting with Mary months ago had started to crop up in his brain after a rather sensual yet depressing dream he woke up from just minutes prior. His first thought was to try and draw her, the way she looked that night, but he could barely get past a stick figure with breasts.

A wave of depression rolled over him like a warm blanket, and he stewed in old heartache, wondering if he would be cursed to walk the world forever with his memories of Mary constantly popping up, being able to do nothing about it.

He heard a knock at the door, and could barely bring himself to respond with his classic, "Come on in, the whore just left." He was surprised Charlotte wasn't offended by his crass humor, she had actually come to enjoy it very much.

Mary though, she'd tap him on the shoulder and shake her head in disappointment, before turning away from him and smirking or giggling. She never dared tell him that he did anything but embarrass her with his ability to creatively offend anyone and everyone.

But his dry humor that kept him alive was severely lacking today, his first words to Charlotte that morning were more along the lines of a pained grunt or a groan.

Charlotte walked in, holding a plate of breakfast for him. "You're usually up by now, is everything okay Arthur?"

He was laying on his side, and he raised his stump up to show little more than that he was still alive.

"Just, a bad night."

Charlotte placed the plate down on the nightstand and came to sit on the bed, resting a hand on his blanketed leg.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He felt like going off on a sarcastic tangent about "women and always having to talk about their feelings," but, again, he could muster out little more than a deep voiced whine and a desperate grasp for the pillow.

Charlotte knew something was wrong now. Arthur was closer to a toddler in his sleep schedule than a 36-year-old man, last to bed and first to rise on most days, and at least he'd be in the kitchen by the time he smelled coffee on other days.

He sighed, and Charlotte rubbed his leg a little more, encouraging him to talk to her.

Suddenly, surprising himself even as he began to speak, Arthur turned to meet her gaze. "Charlotte?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever think you'll marry again? And not just marry but fall in love again?"

She felt taken aback by the question and took her hand back to rest it on her lap. "If the right person comes, then, yes, I'd hope so." She mustered up a somewhat pained smile and asked, "Why do you ask?"

Arthur readjusted himself on the bed, raising his chest up to lay against the headboard, "For most of my life, I've been in love with a woman. We met as teenagers. But all through our relationship, we faced every goddamn roadblock you could think of. Her father hated me, she wanted me to leave my gang, which, I don't blame her for now."

Charlotte twiddled her thumbs, a tad anxious at the confession, though she couldn't understand how. "You still love her?"

"I…" he paused. "I love her, but… She ain't ever gonna want me."

"I'm sorry." Charlotte said, turning to glance at the drawing in his journal, "Unrequited love is-"

"It's a bitch." Arthur smiled and snickered to himself. Charlotte was elated to see him grinning again. He rose away from the headboard to meet her gaze, reaching out to touch her hand, intertwining his fingers in hers. "Charlotte, you've been the kindest woman to me."

She felt a heat rise in her cheeks, those beautiful eyes were staring her down. She could feel herself melting in his grasp but, it still felt too soon.

"Arthur, I…" She turned away, not being able to look into those eyes before she said what she was about to say. "Maybe now that you're settled down more, maybe you could try a final time with her."

He shook his head defiantly. "She made 'er choice, we both did. I jus' gotta move on."

She nodded. "I understand. I suppose I got lucky with Cal, everything worked out for us until…"

"I guess we're just two lost souls, ain't we? Lost our soulmates and now we're just wondering around."

"Well, maybe each person gets multiple soulmates, multiple chances to fall in love."

Arthur smirked at her, his face turned to the side as his eyes met hers. "Yeah, maybe."

"Well, come on then, time to get the day started. I wanted to finally get started on the fruit garden, weather is perfect for it." She rose from the bed, looking to the sun outside with the freshest of faces she could muster. "Do you have any plans for the day?"

"Actually," Arthur moved his legs to face the side of the bed, "I think I'm gonna go visit the grave I dug myself out of."

Charlotte laughed. "You can just say you're going for a ride, Arthur."

Wildfire was a loyal horse, as loyal as Arthur had told Charlotte she would be.

Her only issue, as Arthur had discovered, is she refused to go any faster than a trot unless she was truly frightened for her life.

Arthur was used to his Arabian before her, a beautiful white one who he lost shortly before she died. Now, that was a fast horse, and a true faithful filly until the very end.

He still thought about her, frequently. He was best friends with that horse, no matter where he was, when he whistled, she came.

Wildfire, on the other hand, while a dependable and sweet girl, was stubborn. Again, she refused to take him faster than a trot, and she stayed wherever she was left, no matter how many times he yelled "Wildfire! Get the hell over here! Wildfire!"

He had suspicions that she was deaf, but her interest in birds and anything that made gentle noises proved him otherwise.

Nonetheless, she never refused to go anywhere. Not the way she was refusing now, as he brought her near his own grave.

It had already taken them hours to get there thanks to her slow pace, but now she was refusing to go any closer to the rocky area, stopping on the road and holding fast.

She even went so far as to whinny and rear, nearly knocking him off the saddle.

"Wildfire, get a hold of yourself!" He kicked her hard, and she bucked, once more would have sent him flying.

She continued her temper tantrum, backing up a few steps before calming down. Arthur shook his head in disbelief and dismounted, walking the rest of the way on foot.

But as he came within clear view of his headstone, he took a step back at the sight of a woman dressed in black, crying over his grave.

He knew without even hearing her voice or seeing her smile, it was Mary.

He contemplated turning tail and running, he had no idea how he'd explain this to her.

But like a moth drawn to flame, he felt himself walking towards her, unable to control his own steps anymore.

She had her face in her hands, her knees in the dirt as she sobbed uncontrollably, "Arthur, I'm so sorry Arthur."

"Say it to my face why don't you." He quipped. She jumped out of her skin, turning to face him, hands over her heart as her teary eyes went wide with disbelief.

"A… Ar…" She was speechless. For once.

"Nice to see you coming to visit me for once."

She jumped to her feet, approaching him slowly, as though he was a ghost, believing him to be nothing more than a hallucination.

"Arthur… You're…"

"If I can explain in a few words," he scratched the back of his neck, revealing his other arm to be little more than a nub, "I needed an excuse to get away and, well, being dead seemed kinda nice."

"You faked your death?"

"In more words or less."

She shook her head. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"I genuinely believed you to be dead, Arthur. The pain of… of losing you, a second time."

"Hey, now you left me last time, I stayed in that hotel room. I was hopin t'wake up next to you but I didn't."

Mary approached Arthur cautiously, his recall of their last moment together reassuring her that yes, this was him, and not some elaborate trick. "You lost your arm."

"Wolves." He raised it up, showing off the stitch work on the sleeve of his shirt. "Been about a month, trying to get used to it."

Mary nodded, coming nearly toe to toe with him, wanting to embrace him but holding back for a moment. "Does this mean, you returned for me?"

Arthur thought about it. For once, nothing stood in their way. He had no responsibilities to a gang, her faith in her father's opinions had vanished long ago, and with everyone thinking he was dead, he didn't have to hide anymore.

Still, he looked into the eyes of the woman he had loved for so long, and realized that despite his love for her, he couldn't just leave Charlotte alone. Not after everything she had done for him.

"Mary, listen." He reached for her arm, her hands coming to rest on his shoulder. "I've been getting' taken care of real good, there's this widow, I helped her out some months ago and now she's been helping me."

Mary pulled back, as though Arthur had suddenly gone aflame. "A woman."

Arthur bit his lip, the mere tone in her voice setting him off. He snapped, "Yeah, she is a woman."

"Well," she crossed her arms, "I hope you make an honest woman of her yet. Lord knows you wouldn't make one of me."

"You left me, Mary!" He shook his head in frustration. "I don't blame you for leaving me but can you at least acknowledge that our entire life together was doomed from the start? I asked you Mary, I asked you to wait just a little while longer and you didn't."

"I should have stayed with you, I know that now." She held herself close, turning away from him. "If you aren't here for me, then, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

Mary closed her eyes, her arms crossing further and further against her chest. "I can't… I can't tell you without completely uprooting your new life, Arthur."

"Then don't tell me, I don't care anymore, Mary. I can't deal with-"

"You have a son."

Arthur's mouth dropped. His eyes awoke in shock, and he looked down at the ground, unsure of what to even say next.

Mary released her grip on her arms, wiped away a tear and tugged at her purse. "He was born last month. I named him Morgan."

Arthur looked dumbfounded. "Morgan? Morgan Morgan?"

"He doesn't have your last name." She pulled out a photograph and handed it to him. A black and white photo of a beautiful baby boy. Arthur's heart sank.

"My boy."

"Our son." She held her hands together and looked away. "I'm sure we conceived him that last night in Saint Denis, I haven't been with anyone else. About two months later I was vomiting like I couldn't believe, and then… I'm sorry I didn't reach out to you the moment I knew I was pregnant, I just… I didn't think I'd need your help."

"I would have liked to know I had a child on the way, Mary. This, this changes things." He looked at the photo like he was holding his son personally. It hurt, he looked just like his first boy.

"I know. I don't expect you to drop everything and play dad, but…" She trailed off. "It would be nice, Arthur, if the boy were to grow up knowing his father."

Arthur sighed, taking his eyes off the photograph only to look at her for a moment. "Can I see him?"

She nodded. "Of course, Arthur. You can come with me now, I have a cart not far from here."

He nodded, looking at the photo again. "I need to go let Charlotte know I'll be gone a while."

Mary looked at him almost painfully. "Charlotte, that's a beautiful name."

"I think so too." Said Arthur. "I'd say, as beautiful as Morgan."

Spoiler for RDR2:

So my fiance and I were discussing this song, Whiskey in the Jar, and we realized that it kinda sorta coincided with Dutch and Molly's dynamic from the game, namely the "betrayal" of Molly. I made the connection before it was revealed that Molly did not in fact betray him, but still, it makes me think of the game every time I play the song and I thought I would share that with you all.