Arthur saw the light. He had expected something entirely different, but if this is what he got, then he wasn't complaining. A figure appeared in front of him and he recognised him as the man with the moustache from that strange dream.

"Hello, Arthur Morgan," the man said.

"Uh, hello," Arthur was unsure of what was happening, "So this is heaven then?"

"If you like."

"Never thought I'd end up here," he looked around but there was nothing but himself, the strange man, and the light glimmering in the distance.

"You lived an interesting life, Arthur, and ultimately, actions speak louder than words."

"So, when I go through there," Arthur pointed at the light, "Will Grace be there? Or is she with William? I don't mind, but–"

"No, Grace isn't there."

"Oh, I'll wait for her then."

"She isn't coming."

Arthur frowned. "What do you mean 'she isn't coming'? Where is she?"

"She is still alive." The strange man removed his top hat to inspect it before putting it back on his head.

"But she told me her time was done!" Arthur yelled, "She was happy!"

"That wasn't Grace."

Arthur stared at the strange man incredulously. "Well who the hell was it then?"

"You were very sick and very weak, but you had one more fight in you. You needed her to keep going so you manifested her likeness. You saw her the way you did and heard her the way you did because that's what you needed."

"But… I could touch her. And, and I kissed her. I could feel her."

"Like in Guarma?"

Arthur was stunned as he realised that she looked exactly the same as when he had seen her in Guarma, down to the white dress she had been wearing. "No, that's not–" he paused, then turned to the strange man angrily. "Why won't you let her die and be at peace? Why does she have to stay alive for so long? Do you have any idea what it's doing to her? Why won't you even give her a chance?"

"She has already had her chance."

"What? When? Why didn't she take it?"

"Arthur, you were supposed to die in that shipwreck. Her time was done then, but she gave it up to save you."

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Well, she's a fool, then."

"Aren't we all? But by saving you, she also saved others. Now, if there is nothing else, you may go ahead," the strange man pointed to the light.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I will wait for her until she gets another chance. I don't care how long it takes."

"She will not get another chance."

"Why not?" Arthur demanded.

"There are some things even I don't know. Now, if you please."

"No," he started to back away, "No, I can't… I won't."

"You have no choice, Arthur."

He felt himself being pulled towards the light, but he fought against it as he heard her voice in his head.

You can alway turn back. It won't be too late.

He turned and tried to push himself the other way. He didn't know where he would go, it was complete darkness ahead. As he struggled against the invisible force, he felt like his skin was being torn away. Was he supposed to feel this much pain in heaven? Or was this not heaven yet? It was excruciating like he had never felt before, far worse than when he had been shot. But he pushed against it. More and more it felt like the darkness was ripping at his skin, tearing it up.

He didn't know how long he endured it, but suddenly he felt nothing under his feet and fell into the void below.

Then it was cold. The bitter wind felt like needles against his face. He slowly opened his eyes and saw snow falling. Where was he?

"Like I said, you are an interesting man, Arthur Morgan," the strange man appeared above him. Arthur sat up and looked around, realising he was in the same spot on the mountain where he had died, but it was now winter.

"What's happening?"

"What is that phrase people use? 'God works in mysterious ways.' Looks like you get another chance, but it won't last forever," the strange man said, "You will die when the last member of the van der Linde gang dies, or if you are killed before then. I advise you to be careful."

"So where do I start?" Arthur slowly got up, feeling unsteady.

"I suppose you should start looking for Grace," the strange man turned and walked away, slowly fading into nothing, "Be well."

Arthur looked around, almost expecting Grace to appear. He took a moment to get his bearings, wondering where to go first. Hamish's cabin should be nearby, if he remembered correctly, so he started heading in that direction. He carefully made his way down the snowy mountain, occasionally sliding on some steep patches. While he still felt weak, he was stronger than he had been in a long time.

He reached the road and thought it seemed different, but wasn't sure how. It seemed wider than he remembered, and maybe a little harder but that could just be the frozen ground. He felt a little bit lightheaded as he made his way to Hamish's cabin, but pushed on.

When the cabin came into view, Arthur stopped. It was different. It didn't look like Hamish's cabin at all. It was bigger, almost like a proper house. And instead of the small pen where Buell had stayed, there was a shed with some sort of vehicle inside. It looked like those automobiles he had seen in the papers, but different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was light in the windows and smoke rising from the chimney, so someone else was clearly living here and while he would rather not bother them, he had no choice.

He stumbled up to the door and knocked. A moment later, a middle-aged man in a suit answered.

"Yes, may I help you?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, I need somewhere to rest, just for a little bit," Arthur said, "I ain't got much, but–

"Who is it, dear?" a woman with short blonde hair, patterned sweater, and calf-length skirt appeared next to the man, "Oh! How did you get out here?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't mean to impose, but–"

"Do come in!" the woman pushed aside the man and pulled Arthur inside before either could protest. She led him over to a large soft chair by the fireplace where a large bloodhound was watching curiously. "Sit! Sit! Can I get you some cocoa, or something to eat?"

"Gertrude," the man started to say.

"Shush! It's nearly Christmas and this man is clearly in need of some help," Gertrude said.

"I just don't want to be robbed!" the man raised his voice before lowering it when he looked at Arthur. "No offense, sir."

"None taken, but I have no intention of robbing you. Only need some rest and maybe a bite to eat, then I'll be on my way."

"Not in this weather you're not!" Gertrude hurried to the kitchen area, "You will rest here tonight and should things be clear tomorrow, we will drive you into town."

The man sighed and sat in another chair beside Arthur. "I swear," he said to himself before turning to Arthur. "Reg Stackhouse," he offered a handshake.

"Arthur Morgan." Arthur shook his hand.

"And you've met my wife, Gertrude," he gestured to the woman near the stove.

"Please, call me Trudy!" she sang out.

"And this is Ambrose," he leaned forward to scratch the dog behind the ears, "Just so you know, we may be from the city, but we know how to defend ourselves. And Ambrose here can be meaner than he looks."

"I have no doubt," Arthur said as Ambrose then scooted over to him for pets, "Look, I appreciate you doing this."

"Well, what are you doing out here in the cold?" Trudy handed him a steaming mug of cocoa.

"I… well, I guess I got lost," Arthur said, warming up as he took a sip, "I think I've been out of it for a while. I know this sounds a bit odd, but can you tell me the date?"

"It's December twenty-first, sport," Reg handed him a folded up newspaper, "This is yesterday's paper if you need to catch up."

Arthur set the mug down before opening the newspaper. If he had still been holding the mug, he would have dropped it when he saw the full date.

December 20, 1922.

How can that be?

"Are you alright?" Trudy asked, concerned.

"Um, yeah, just… are you sure this is the correct date?"

"You been drinking?" Reg asked, lighting up a pipe.

"No, it's… sorry," Arthur looked back down at the paper.

"I think you need to rest. We have a spare room you can use," said Trudy.

"Thanks," Arthur started to skim through the articles on the front page of the newspaper. 1922. It's been 23 years since it all happened. He wondered what became of them. Did John and Abigail get out of the life, find somewhere to raise young Jack? And what about the others? Were they able to escape to a better life?

And what about Grace? Where was she now? He had no idea where to even start. She could be anywhere now. Was she going by Grace Morgan, or did she decide to revert back to Bellerose? Was she in the United States somewhere, or in Canada? Gallivanting around Europe or Asia? He was at a loss.

He flipped through the newspaper, looking for some sort of hint. It was ridiculous to think that there would be a headline announcing her whereabouts. He stopped at a page with a listing of steamship arrivals along the eastern coast of the United States. He decided right then where he would start. He didn't know how he would start looking for her, but that's where he would go.

"I need to go to New York City," he said.

"New York? Got family there?" Reg asked.

"In a way."

"We can drive you into town and get you a train ticket," said Trudy. She sat on the arm of Reg's chair and looked Arthur over. "Hm, and you ought to get some new clothes, especially if you're going to New York." She gestured at his outfit. "Quite outdated, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that," he looked down at his clothes, "Never gave it much thought."

"Clearly," Reg puffed on his pipe and his wife smacked him in the arm.

"Not to worry, we'll take care of that tomorrow," Trudy said kindly.

That night, Arthur lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the overly comfortable bed. 1922. He still couldn't grasp that. It had to be a joke, but why would these strangers who were clearly not expecting visitors have a newspaper with that date?

Did he make the right decision to start looking for Grace in New York? He had to start somewhere. Where in New York would he start? He supposed he'd just have to figure it out as he went.

The weather was clear the next day and Reg had determined the roads were okay to drive on. Trudy had Arthur try on some of Reg's clothes for something warmer to wear, but they didn't fit. She gave him a blanket to stay warm in the back of the automobile. Arthur was unsure of riding in one, but it wasn't like he had much choice.

While it was certainly quicker than a horse and wagon, it was about as bumpy. Arthur watched out the window as familiar scenery passed by. Soon he realised more houses and farms had been built along the way.

Emerald Ranch had expanded into its own small town, it seemed, with more buildings and houses, but Trudy insisted they continue to Valentine.

"Better shops and we can fuel up," she said.

They continued along and Arthur noticed that the oil factory had been repaired and now carried the name MacDougall. He wondered if Reg and Trudy knew what had happened to the original factory two decades earlier.

He barely recognised Valentine as it came into view. The train station looked the same, but there were now many more houses built around it. The auction yard had been replaced by a number of buildings, one of which had the name Campbell's Gasoline with some sort of pillars in front of it. They drove down to the main road, passing by other automobiles and a few horses and wagons. Reg stopped near the general store.

"Here we are!" Trudy sang out. "Will you be okay from here?"

"Yes, thank you," Arthur said.

"Here, this should be enough to get you some appropriate clothes and a train ticket to New York," she handed him a thick wad of bills.

"I appreciate this, I really do," he pocketed the money.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," Reg nodded back at him and Arthur got out of the car. He waved goodbye as they drove away and then headed into the general store.

He didn't know what would be appropriate for New York, but he bought a winter coat with some gloves then headed to the train station. He had just enough for a ticket to New York City with a stopover in Chicago leaving later that evening.

It was early morning when he arrived in New York. The train station was large enough to be its own town, he thought, but it was nothing compared to the actual city. It was far, far larger than Saint Denis, and far, far more crowded.

What an awful, noisy place, he thought, as he walked through the streets, unsure of where to go. He found himself walking with his neck craned to stare at the very tall buildings and having to apologise when he bumped into others. The roads were jammed with a variety of automobiles and horses and carts.

He found a cafe to buy a sandwich, which cost him the remainder of his money, then continued on. He still didn't know where he was to go, and despite the cold he kept walking. He soon found himself outside of an old church.

Arthur walked into the churchyard and to the cemetery. Strange that he felt like he should be here, but he didn't know why. The graves were old and worn, some of the inscriptions were difficult to read. Then he spotted a gravestone which was cleaner than the others, already wiped of the accumulated snow with fresh flowers laid at the bottom. He went over and his stomach began to flutter as he read the inscription.

Here lies the body of

William John Lawson

Born December 23, 1756

Died April 8, 1799

Aged 42 years

Arthur removed his hat and looked around, half expecting to see William's apparition standing nearby, but relieved that no one was there. The gravestones around William's were faded and grown over from not being cared for and Arthur could see they were all from the Lawson family, and all had the same death date.

He returned to William's grave and looked around at the footprints in the snow. Someone had just been there not too long before, someone who cared enough for this particular grave. He picked up a small brown glove, accidentally left behind when its owner had left, and brushed the snow from it. As he did, he heard a voice which made his heart leap into his throat.

"Pardon me, I think that's my glove you have there."

Arthur turned to see Grace suddenly stop in her tracks, her eyes widening. He expected her to break into a smile, maybe with tears in her eyes, then to run into his arms to kiss him. He expected her to be happy.

What he didn't expect was for her to back away in shock.

"Grace, it's me," he took a step forward but she backed up.

"No, no, it can't be," she shook her head. "You can't be here."

"But I am," he touched his arms and then held out her glove, "See?"

She hesitantly moved closer to him, her face scrunched as a wave of emotions crossed it. He reached for her hand and pulled her in. She reached up to touch his face gently with her other hand before slapping him hard, knocking his hat off.

"What did you do?" she yelled as he staggered back, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"What was that for?" he rubbed his cheek, which was stinging with pain, "Aren't you happy I'm here?"

"Yes! No! I mean, argh!" she yelled and threw her arms in the air before turning away. He heard her sniffling but he stayed where he was. "Why are you here?" she asked quietly.

"I was trying to find you, so I came to New York to start looking."

"That's not what I meant," she turned back to him, "You died. Charles and I buried you."

"And I thought you'd be there after I died!"

"Of course I wasn't, you know how it is for me."

"But I saw you, you told me your time was done," Arthur said sternly, "But apparently that wasn't you, just like that wasn't you when I was in Guarma."

"Damn it," she sniffled and looked down.

"But you had your chance to pass on, didn't you?"

Grace said nothing but kept her gaze down. She crossed her arms and shrugged slightly.

"Why didn't you? Why didn't you just let me die in that shipwreck?" he asked.

"How could I?" she looked back at him with tears streaming down her face, "If you died, what would have happened to the others?"

"I'm sure they could've managed," he said, though was unsure of what really could have happened if he had never been able to get back.

"How are you here?" she asked.

"I refused to go into that light."

She frowned. "But why would you do that? And how could you have refused?"

"They told me you weren't going to be there and weren't ever going to be, and I didn't want to stay if you weren't there."

"I don't understand, how are you allowed to be here?"

Arthur shrugged, "I don't know. I fought my way out and ended up back on the mountain where I died. And here I am."

"You fought your way out?" she turned away and started to pace, "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," he said quietly. Why wasn't she happy to see him? "Are you– I mean, do you have someone else now?"

She shook her head slightly, still seemingly deep in thought. After a few moments, she stopped pacing and looked past Arthur at William's grave. "Why?"

He looked back at the grave as well and realised she wanted to know why he was able to come back and not William. If she was given the choice, who would she rather have with her right now? He felt his heart start to sink as he figured the answer wasn't him.

Suddenly he was pulled around and Grace kissed him intensely. Arthur held her tightly, savouring the taste of peppermint on her tongue and ignoring the brim of her hat pressing into his forehead. She slowly pulled away, running her hands slowly along his scruff.

"I missed you so much," she cried.

He took her hands in his and kissed them, then noticed she was still wearing the ring he proposed with. "Still have this then?"

"Of course. Though, I've been having to explain to any Nosy Parkers the whereabouts of my husband."

"Didn't tell them I was dead?"

She shook her head. "I did that once and the woman immediately tried to set me up with her son, who turns out was already engaged but I guess she didn't like the fiancée."

Arthur laughed out loud and hugged her tight. "So what do you tell them now?"

"I've been saying you went missing during the war."

"The war?"

"Oh, right, you don't know about that," she pulled away gently, "So there was a war a few years ago. A big one. Bigger than the Civil War, Revolutionary War, and War of 1812 combined since it was fought across the world, primarily in Europe."

"Jesus." Arthur looked around the cemetery for a moment. "What about the others? Do you know what happened to them?"

"Let's go somewhere warmer," she bent down to pick up her glove which Arthur had dropped when she slapped him.

"Good, I could use a drink."

She paused. "Yeah, about that," she said, then explained the new prohibition laws.

"You must be joking," Arthur was aghast. "You mean we can't drink at all?"

"Well, it's more that we can't drink legally," she smiled, "So if you're up for the possibility of getting arrested, then I know a place."

He was about to reply when a deafening roar filled the air. Then he saw a strange contraption pass over them in the sky. "What the hell?" He watched it disappear into some clouds and he turned back to Grace who didn't look at all nonplussed.

"We can fly now," she stated, "It's not like going up in a balloon, you can go wherever you want, it's so much fun."

Arthur said nothing as he looked back to where the aircraft had disappeared. "I really need that drink now. Anything else I should know?"

She took his arm and looked one last time at William's grave as they walked out of the cemetery. "Oh, there is so much to tell you."


1985

Grace squeezed Jack's hand as Arthur placed the book back on the table. "It took us so long to find you," she said, "I knew you had gone missing in France during the first world war but I didn't know you had changed your name."

"I wanted to forget," Jack said quietly.

"I know, and that's okay," she smiled.

"The others?"

"What happened to the others?" she asked. Jack nodded. "Well, you already know about some of them. Sadie emigrated to South America and was a bounty hunter there until she died in 1935.

"Charles moved to Canada and had a family, but they were hit hard by the Spanish flu and he eventually died in 1924.

"Mary-Beth became a writer, and she ended up marrying her publisher. She died in 1958.

"Let's see, oh, Reverend Swanson lived the rest of his life in New York as a minister until 1911, and Trelawny lived in Saint Denis with his family until 1921.

"We never found out what happened to Karen. Pearson lived in Rhodes until 1910, then moved to California until he died in 1932.

"And Tilly stayed in Saint Denis until she died in 1977. We went to see her before she passed."

Jack smiled, remembering the good times with his extended family as a child. Then he frowned. "I don't want to die."

"I know," Grace squeezed his hand again, "But it'll be fine."

"Think of it as a good sleep after a very long day," Arthur said.

Jack nodded slightly, and leaned back into the pillow, closing his eyes. It had been a long day. Grace gently let go of his hand and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. Arthur did the same and they quietly left the room.

"I'll drive since you drove us here," he held out his hand for the keys.

"Oh, no, you are not driving my car," she said as they nodded goodbye to the nurse at the front desk, "Not after you crashed my other one."

"That was fifty years ago!"

"That's why you have your own! It's not my fault it's in the shop."

Arthur shook his head as they approached their car. Grace unlocked the driver's door.

"Besides, we're not going far anyway," she got in and reached over to unlock the passenger door. After a moment, she realised it hadn't opened. She looked over but couldn't see him. "Oh, for god's sake, is this really the time for jokes?" She got out of the car and rounded the other side, but he wasn't there.

She looked back towards the nursing home lobby and through the glass windows saw nurses hurrying down the hallway. Her heart sank as she knew he was gone. But she had thought Arthur would die normally, in his sleep or something, not completely disappear. She fell against the side of the car and began to cry loudly. She knew this was coming but she wasn't ready for it.

After a few moments, she felt like she was being watched. She looked up and saw that strange man with the moustache and top hat standing just in front of her car.

She stood up in anger and picked up a rock, lobbing it forcefully at him, irate that he had taken Arthur away from her so suddenly. He simply smiled then tipped his hat at her before slowly fading away. She reached for another rock but saw that she could see right through her hand.

She looked down in confusion and saw that her whole body was fading. She felt a comforting warmth wash across her as she realised that now, after all these years, Grace's time was finally done.


AN: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!