Author's note: And now the conclusion.
She had sort of begun to show now, though the bump was still barely noticeable to anyone except him. It had been a couple months since the incident with Hamish now. The gang was in Blackwater, waiting for them to return but he wasn't sure if they could ever go back to the boys or not. Colm hadn't pursued them yet that he knew of, which surprised him given what little he understood about the leader, but for now they were safe in Tall Trees holed up in a small cabin in the mountains. Granted, he had dispatched the former occupant, much to Annabelle's disgust and horror in order to ensure they would remain that way. He had barely been sleeping again, constantly eyeing every movement and shadow as though Colm would appear before them to take his revenge. But Annabelle, seemed cool, calm, and collected under the surface as always. Yet, despite her best attempts at putting on a courageous front, he too, could see that she was just as jumpy and anxious as he was, but he reminded himself to get back under control, for her and the baby's sake at least.
"Darling," she crept up behind him as he sat composing a letter to Hosea, placing her hand on his shoulder, "you've been drafting that letter for days now. Get some rest. I'll keep watch for a while, I have some housework to do anyway."
"I'm fine." He lied, reaching up with his hand to rub at the ring on her right hand before turning towards her. She frowned and sighed exhaustedly, closing her eyes as he set the pen down and placed his hand on her navel. "It's you I'm worried about. You should be the one at ease right now, not me."
"We're going to be alright, he doesn't know where we are and there hasn't been word of him pursuing us anyway." She put her free hand over his and opened her eyes again. She knew he was lying to her, but she felt it best for her to let it go rather than risk an argument. He was anxious and paranoid, more so than usual these days, but she understood why. She didn't like the knowledge that she was the source of his stress, but if she badgered him, it would just make things worse. He disregarded her attempt at soothing him and changed the subject completely as he didn't want to risk a confrontation either. At least we're not snapping at each other, he thought to himself. Yet anyway.
"Do you want fish or game? We're almost done with that deer I brought home last week. What are you in the mood for? Or rather," he gently rubbed his hand over her belly a moment and smirked, "what does my son want?"
"You seem so certain it's a boy." She snorted softly, pushing away from him and touching her own belly as he rose from his chair and wrapped himself around her, brushing the braid from her shoulder over to the other and kissing her neck softly. His redirection of the topic was his way of telling her to let sleeping dogs lie and she would respect that boundary, even if she didn't particularly agree with his thought process.
"You said the other day you felt it moving around for a good part of the day." He chuckled and put his hands over hers again, "Of course he would be the type to be a fighter, like his father. A little savage."
"We'll see. It could still be a girl for all we know." She replied softly, pressing her back against him before looking out the small window of the cabin and exhaling softly. There had been no reason to kill the man living here, other than some primal instinct that to drive her partner to kill people for what felt like sport sometimes, even though she knew in his mind it was out of perceived threat. That man wasn't a threat, she thought to herself quietly, no matter how many times he wants to justify it to me. She didn't like the way this back against the wall situation was making him behave, but she hoped as she got bigger that eventually it would pass, the way it always did.
"Either way it turns out, I will be content. Now, tell me what you need." He kissed her exposed shoulder and she giggled a bit as his facial hair tickled her flesh, biting her lip as she thought about what sort of game he ought to bring back to her today. There was no need to trouble themselves with 'what ifs' today.
"Rabbit." She said finally and he took his hands away from her, nodding quietly as he moved past her to retrieve his gun belt and put it on. She didn't want him to wander too far from home, not that she was afraid of being alone, but nervous about him being alone. It was when he became too much in his own head that he tended to lose sight of what was actually at stake, focusing on 'what if' instead and being caught up in an endless cycle of anxiety, exhaustion, depression, and then rage. And she knew that cycle all too well now, having been with him for six years. But he had held up part of his bargain but never even eying another woman or entertaining one. The hiding his bullshit from her, she knew, would be yet another cycle of 'give and take'.
"I'll go check the snares. See if our luck is with us today." He adjusted it on his waist and went to retrieve his hat by the back door.
He stepped out onto the porch, watching as the sleek ivory stallion lifted his head a moment to chew some grasses in his mouth before lowering his head again. He was nervous, Colm should've heard by now about Hamish, he wanted to return to the safety of the gang but knew if he did he would be putting Annabelle at risk. It was easier, he thought to himself, to lay low for a while and get through the pregnancy like she wanted him to. Colm would look for the gang first, he knew, and he felt ashamed that he was putting them in obvious danger to protect himself and Annabelle. He hadn't reached out to the gang yet, but he would soon to make sure he could keep tabs on the O'Driscolls, he didn't want to be caught off guard. He wanted to keep moving, it didn't matter to him what direction he did so in, so long as he continued to put distance between them and the rival gang. But Annabelle had insisted they lie low, wait it out and see. She's usually right about these things, he thought to himself though it was annoying to admit it when every instinct told him to run as far and as fast as he could. After Saint Denis and Atkinson, he swore he'd never doubt her woman's intuition or suggestions again.
He had changed over the years to try to suit her needs and it was along the game path that he realized he wasn't playing a character anymore. He didn't have to pretend with her, he could fall apart into pieces or be wild and savage, and his woman wouldn't bat an eye. She knew who he was and yet she loved him in spite of himself. He could keep himself in check, as long as he had her to protect him from himself, like she always did. While the situation wasn't his idea of true martial bliss or happiness for the both of them, he would at least try for her. After all, she was probably the only woman in the world that could love him the way he needed to be. She was fiercely independent, intelligent, charming, and motherly. But her true strength was her softness. Despite the harsh and unpredictable world, Annabelle always retained her tenderness towards him, or others like Susan Grimshaw who attempted to crush that gentle spirit out of her.
He admired that most of all about his beloved. As it convinced him somewhere along the way to be softer himself and the kind of man he actually wanted to be. Ferocious but capable of softness.
—-
She was definitely showing now as the two of them headed down to the trapper to exchange furs for whatever provisions he could provide. They were running low on ammunition and visiting the trapper was much easier and safer than going to a town. He had been hesitant about letting her ride The Count at all, but the stallion seemed to recognize he needed to behave and treaded very carefully, almost faithfully, as Dutch led him down the trail. It'll be time soon, he thought to himself as he glanced back at Annabelle who had squeezed her eyes shut and was rubbing her belly and hissing between gritted teeth. She had wanted to get out of the cabin for a while, enjoy some fresh air and had a craving for canned peaches and begged him to let her come with. He couldn't refuse her pleading with him and he smiled a moment as he glanced back at her and her growing belly. Trying to dispel any creeping feeling that this was too good to be true.
Rumor had it that Colm had gone out west, according to Hosea and Josiah anyway. But he couldn't help but feel like they were still under constant threat. For now, just enjoy the peace and quiet, he told himself. Tall Trees wasn't his idea of virgin wilderness, though it offered plenty of places to hide out in and disappear into. It was no Sherwood Forest, but it would do for now.
"Kicking again?" Dutch asked and the woman nodded, groaning a bit as the horse stopped just behind him. He had developed sort of a bond with the animal over the years, though it was clear the stallion still preferred his mistress over him. At least he doesn't throw me off anymore, Dutch thought to himself as he pulled a small bit of oatcake out of his pocket and held it out for the animal to take, hoping Annabelle wouldn't notice and chastise him for 'spoiling the beast'. The stallion snorted, gently nibbling at the small morsel out of his hand and debated whether or not to bite his fingers for good measure. Dutch side-eyed the steed as though he knew exactly what the animal was thinking of and The Count snorted again as if to say 'I wasn't, honest'. He scratched the animals chin, whispering under his breath at the stallion. "I have no reservations about turning you into glue."
"I think you might be right that it's a boy. He kicks like a goddamn mule. I can barely sleep these days, he's so restless. You two are going to be the death of me, I swear." She opened her eyes and felt the fetus give her another kick for good measure, her eye twitching a bit as she frowned and clutched at the place she had been hit. Dutch dropped the reins, resting a hand along the horses neck before placing the other over her hand. He had felt it moving in the night when she slept next to him, occasionally launching a kick or punch into him through her. He wants us to run too, Dutch thought worriedly, that's why he's fighting you so hard, my darling.
"Well, you're the one who fell in love and ran away with an outlaw, after all. But, I'll give him a stern talking to, don't you worry." He winked and she took her hand away and let him press his firmly against her, he cleared his throat and stared at her belly moving again. "Now, my boy, it ain't polite or very noble of you to be kicking the hell out of your mother. I know you're my son, but as a Van der Linde, sometimes we need to settle down and rest like your mother says we ought to. I know it's hard for rowdy outlaw types like us. But let's give your poor mother a reprieve. We'll move on soon, son, you have my word."
He could feel the child wriggle around for a moment, slightly shocked as he felt a tiny hand and fingers press against his own and he blushed.
"Are you alright?" Annabelle asked as she noticed his cheeks flush, tipping his hat back a bit to look at him and raising her eyebrow.
"He heard me. He put his hand on mine. I–" Dutch cleared his throat, taking his hand away from her and chewing his lip anxiously trying to calm himself down. We need to move, he wanted to tell her but struggled to find a way to say so without sounding like he was out of his mind. The Count snorted loudly, disturbing his thoughts and turned his head to gnaw at Dutch's gun holster and he put a hand on the animals face to push him away gently.
"Take a breath, darling. It won't be long now, maybe another month or two. You're going to be completely insane by the time he's coming into this world, I know you're nervous and excited but we're going to be okay. We're together and above ground. It's been months, he isn't coming, we're safe." Annabelle lightly tapped The Count with her foot, and the animal started to walk forward again, causing Dutch to quickly grab the reins and earning a snap from the animal who pinned his ears back at him.
"Don't you fucking start, you bastard." He and the animal glared at one another for a moment before The Count exhaled loudly and scraped a hoof in the dirt irritatedly.
"Dutch..." Annabelle had straightened up in the saddle nervously, putting her hand on the rifle that was slung on the right side of her saddle as he looked over the pommel and clicked his teeth. There were six riders, riding two by two on the trail towards them and he recognized the man in front instantly. He growled, he had been having nightmares both during the day and night about this exact moment since the incident and now they were a reality. He had told her they needed to strike first, to keep moving on, and coming up at the trail staring him in the eyes was his worse fear. He wanted to tell her, I told you so, but he could see that he didn't want that to potentially be his last words to her. He would make a final stand, here, and if he died in the process then he died, but they would be free.
"Take him and go. I'll find my way home to you, Belle. I always do." He tossed the reins up at her hoping she would understand what he was intending to do. She snatched them, turning the animal around and kicked him back towards the trail into the mountains, leaving him on the trail as Colm pulled his horse to a stop maybe ten feet away.
"You know, I thought we were friends, Dutch. But then you went and stabbed my brother, what," he looked over at the man riding next to him, "forty three times? Forty four maybe?"
"Am I not allowed to defend my family, Colm? Your brother tried to rape my pregnant wife." Dutch put both hands down on his revolvers, trying to read the situation as the riders from the back tried to push their way into the trees and he snapped both guns up and fired one round each on the ground at their horses. The animals spooked a bit, whinnying loudly or spinning around in small circles, their eyes wide with fear. "I ain't in the mood. I don't want trouble with you Colm. Leave right now or I'll kill every last one of you bastards. Or die trying."
"A wife? How sweet, I always knew you were weak and pathetic. Treating your crew like they're your friends and family. You took something from me, Dutch. It's only fair that I return the favor." Colm tossed his hand over his head as four of his six men scattered, using the trees as cover as they darted past him to catch up to Annabelle. But Dutch knew that The Count could outpace and outlast them, they could chase Annabelle all they wanted, her mount would never fail her.
"You're a dead man." Dutch replied coldly, firing at Colm and his new lieutenant, hastily leaping into the forest to find cover as they all fired on one another. As he emptied the revolver, he quickly pulled bullets out of the security of his belt, shaking angrily as he retried to reload and Colm barreled at him on horseback from the trail. He growled, throwing himself out of the way of the charging animal and noticing he got one of the men, now he just needed to take out the other five. Only then would they be safe.
He went to stand up from cover to fire again when he realized Colm had already turned and thrown a lasso at him, he went to move but it caught him around the neck and arm as the horse sped past and Colm tugged as hard as he could sending Dutch backwards. He dropped one of his guns in the process and immediately went to deal with the rope, he turned trying to fire a round at the horse as it came rushing back but Colm dropped from the saddle directly onto his chest with a knee. The gun went off, missing Colm and the horse completely as Dutch felt a few ribs crack and he roared in agony. They wrestled for the remaining pistol, but Colm had heard the crack of his ribs and pushed him there with his knee, forcing him to try to recoil as the man tried to choke him out now with the rope. The weapon slipped from his grasp as O'Driscoll snapped the rope tight and began to hogtie him.
"You know, I'm really going to enjoy this Mr. Van der Linde." Colm snickered as he finished and stood up, grabbing another rope from his black horse and unwinding it.
"You'll never catch her," Dutch groaned, "just kill me and be done with it."
"We'll see. I heard she always finds ways to protect her man. I certainly hope for your sake she's as loyal to you as Ming claimed she was." Colm replied as he secured the tow rope to Dutch's wrists and remounted his horse, tying it off.
"That's how you found us, isn't it?" Dutch snarled.
"Oh I promised him I wouldn't take it out on her, after I found out how much he despised you but we both know I'm not a man of my word like you are. I'll deal with the repercussions later." Colm giggled as he tapped his horse with his spurs and the animal began dragging Dutch behind them along the dirt trail back towards the house.
—-
"Well?" Colm called out to his two remaining men who were using the sparse trees on the side of the house as cover, he eyed the two dead ones who had stupidly tried for the open front door. She had put a single bullet between their eyes and it was clear that she was quite skilled with a firearm. He looked into the cabin and smiled, moving his horse up close enough so that Annabelle could see that he was dragging Dutch behind him on the ground. The woman didn't flinch, as her eyes seemed almost brown in the faded light of the cabin, but Colm could see she was just as wild as her man. He smirked and tipped his hat to her, in response she raised the rifle higher and hugged it tighter to her shoulder.
"LEAVE HER BE! IT'S ME YOU WANT! I KILLED HIM! JUST TAKE YOUR REVENGE AND BE GONE!" Dutch roared from the ground, snarling in pain as he felt the reminders of the rocks and sharp sticks that Colm had dragged him over to get back here. He was scratched up, dirty, and bloodied. He panted, looking over at Annabelle who had blocked the door with their dining room table on its side and was resting the rifle over the edge of it. God damn you woman, he thought angrily trying to somehow reach her mind with his, why didn't you keep running?
"I know. That really hurt me, you know. Hamish wasn't the brightest one, but he was my brother, Dutch. You came after my family, and I'm going to destroy yours." Colm tipped his hat to Annabelle again as he stepped off the horse and onto the ground. She didn't move, looking calm, cool, and collected even though she was terrified. We've gotten through worse, she told herself as she kept her index finger over the trigger, ready to pull it at any moment. She knew her man was pissed at her, but she had sworn to him that she would never leave him. I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me, she tried to reach his thoughts with hers as well, a queen always protects her king.
"You have two options, Colm O'Driscoll," Annabelle growled from behind the table, focusing the rifle on him, "leave with your life or I'll kill every last one of you. Your brother couldn't keep his hands to himself and he got what he deserved."
"She sure is feisty, ain't she fellas?" Colm laughed, gesturing to the two men remaining on the porch to come collect Dutch from the ground behind him before he looked back at Annabelle. "You ain't got bullets in that rifle. If you had, I'd be dead already. Ming said when you're bluffing, you make a real show of it."
"Bullshit, Ming would never sell me out. My husband, probably, but me? Never. Besides, maybe I just wanted to be courteous to an old friend, Mr. O'Driscoll. Leave us alone." She spat, still pointing the rifle at him. It was true though, part of their trip to the trapper had been to acquire more rounds for the rifle, unfortunately, Colm had gotten to them first. She tried her best to look as menacing as possible, though she had used the last of the rifle ammo to take out two of the four men who pursued her. She winced as she felt the child within her belly claw at her, squirming around as though to convince her to run. Dutch would want her to run too, but she had promised him she would never leave him, and she did not intend to break that vow to him today. We will get out of this alive, she told herself, we have to. She had written to O'Shea regarding their situation and she now felt stupid for having done so, because he now worked for Ming and neither of her old friends particularly cared for Dutch. Who needs enemies with friends like you two, she snarled as she thought about them, but she was angrier at herself for having reached out to them on account of 'what if'. She had broken her own rule. This was her fault.
"Heard your man put a baby in you. Judging by your size, I'd say it's almost time. I told your buddies I would leave you be, but, considering I'm a firm believer in an eye for an eye, well..." Colm replied coolly, removing a knife from his belt and stepping towards the porch.
"COLM! I KNOW WE HAVE SOME BAD BLOOD BETWEEN US BUT FOR FUCKS SAKE, I'M BEGGING YOU! LEAVE HER BE!" Dutch screamed, trying to move towards Annabelle even if he had to wriggle on the ground to do so. Colm snorted, picking under his nails with his knife for a moment before looking back up at Annabelle who had begun to retreat a bit from the doorway but maintained the rifle firmly fixed on him.
"You could've left Hamish be, but you didn't." he smirked, gesturing with a nod for the boys to retrieve Dutch as he stepped boldly onto the porch and Annabelle backed up away from him quickly. She continued to keep the rifle up to her shoulder, she eyed a knife and dropped the rifle to grab it. But as she did so, Colm kicked the table out of the way went to snatch her by the braid. "Come're!"
"LET GO OF ME!" She screamed, turning quickly to slash at him with the knife, slashing him across the nose and face and he snarled, grabbing her by the wrist and head butting her. She snarled, kicking at him as he tried to get a hold of her, but he was stronger than he looked and her child made it difficult to move as gracefully as she used to be able once. His face was bleeding and she cursed herself for not at least getting him in the eyes, but it would leave quite the scar as reminder once she was gone.
"Little bitch," Colm hissed, wiping his face a moment on his shoulder before he found purchase on her and locked her in his grip tightly, "I'll make you pay for that."
"COLM! DON'T!" Dutch roared, doing whatever he could to try to wriggle free but received a punch to the back of the head and was dropped to the floor as Colm wrapped his forearm around her neck and began to choke her. He held his own knife to her throat as one of his men took the kitchen knife from her hands and she roared, causing Colm to gently remind her that he had her and she wasn't going anywhere by putting more pressure on her throat. She gurgled a bit, her eyes watering as she tried to break his stranglehold by elbowing him as hard as she could in the ribs. He grunted and slammed the handle of the knife into the side of her head, causing her to go wide eyed and she panted as she saw stars for a moment.
"You gonna beg, Van der Linde? Come on, I wanna hear you plead with me for your little whore." Colm sneered, kicking Annabelles legs apart as a man brought him a rope and they began to tie her hands behind her back. He eyed their small bed and chuckled. "Or maybe I ought to ride her like one."
"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!" Dutch snarled, looking up from the ground as he spat up blood, "I'll do whatever you want. Just, I beg you, don't hurt her. I'll do anything you want! Have mercy, please!"
"Mercy…" Colm snorted as the man who had tied up Annabelle began to force her to bend over and she kicked at him, he grabbed her by the braid and slammed her head as hard as he could into the rough cut wooden bed frame. She thrashed, even though her eyebrow had split open and she was now bleeding profusely. Colm stepped over to Dutch and knelt down, grabbing a handful of Dutch's hair to pull him up to look at him, tapping his knife blade against Dutch's cheek.
"Yes, mercy. Tell me what you want Colm. Just don't hurt Annabelle or our child. It's me you want, not them." Dutch bit his lip, trying to hold back a muffled sob as he looked into the other man's eyes. If he weren't bound, he knew he could've beaten all of them and he could feel the dark things inside of him sneaking out of their hiding places.
"Mercy was your signature, not mine. How is your sweet wife's cunt, I wonder?" Colm spat in his face, rising quickly and placing the knife against Annabelle's throat as his man kept her pinned down, she and Dutch looked at each other for a long while. A thin line of blood trickling from her neck as she disobeyed the blade held to her throat as she turned her head to him. Her eyes full of tears, but despite what she knew was coming, he knew the look in her eyes and he screamed angrily. Trying to thrash his way towards her again, the man guarding him put his spur directly in between two ribs and he cried out in pain. He opened his eyes again, making sure he could still look into her eyes. He needed her to know how much he loved her.
"Colm, don't. She's with child, you bastard." He gritted his teeth as Colm took position behind Annabelle, but the O'Driscoll only chuckled in response as the bridge of his nose and cheek continued to bleed from where she had cut him.
"I love you." She panted through gritted teeth, letting the tears fall from her face as she began to cry. Colm had lifted her dress with his free hand and gestured to his man to do something about her underdress while he unzipped his pants and pulled himself out.
"And I love you." He whimpered, grinding his teeth as he realized it had been his own fault that this was happening to her. He had never deserved to be loved. He was selfish, believing he could have it all with her until the end of their days. He closed his eyes as he heard Annabelle try to avoid screaming, he couldn't watch and he was pissed that he was powerless to stop it. He had failed to protect the thing most precious to him, but perhaps it was fitting. He took from others and now life was taking from him.
"O'Driscoll, your cock is so small I can barely feel it!" Annabelle screamed loudly, gnashing her teeth as the man let go of the knife and yanked her up by her belly as hard as he could. She let out an ear piercing scream, her entire body wracked with pain as she felt him compressing the child against her organs. Dutch writhed on the ground, snarling and trying to free himself of his bonds so he could go rip Colm apart with his bare hands. He was powerless, helpless, and he could do nothing except watch as Colm O'Driscoll crushed her and their child beneath him.
"And your cunt is so loose, I'm surprised you only belong to one man. Or was your man generous enough with his companions to share you with his friends from time to time?" Colm squeezed her abdomen even harder and she tried to fight back, but the pain was becoming unbearable and she turned bright red and then pale white.
"DUTCH!" She cried out as Colm dropped her and let himself fall out of her, he panted and wiped his forehead, sinking a bit on his knees as he pushed himself into her again.
"COLM! STOP! SHE'S THE ONLY THING I CARE ABOUT!" He opened his eyes again and snarled at Colm who continued humping away at her, wrapping her braid around his hand and forcing her to look at Dutch. She groaned as she felt a contraction rip through her and she cried out, though Colm seemed to think it was for his benefit that she had moaned and he chuckled. She felt her waters leave her and she cried out in agony, thrashing in her bonds. But O'Driscoll didn't seem to care as the floor became saturated.
"That bastard is soft. Tell you what," Colm paused as he leaned down to whisper into her ear, "if you'll be my woman, I'll put a bullet in him and we can live happily ever after. What do you say, sweetheart?"
"Fuck you!" Annabelle seethed, trying to shake him off of her as he sighed and nodded his head in response before curling his lips into a smile again.
"Oh don't worry, when I'm done with you, the boys will be more than happy to oblige. Maybe I'll even be merciful enough let your man have one last go at you before I kill both of you. Or, should I cut that little runt out of you next? What do you think boys? Is it a boy or a girl? Should we find out?" He retrieved the knife from the floor as he finished and stepped away from her as the next man went to take his turn and Colm held her face to the floor with his boot.
"You fucking bastard." Dutch tried to look away again, he couldn't bear to see her in pain and be unable to reach her but the man above him dug his spur right into that sweet spot again and he gasped as the man stepped off of him and forced him up by the hair.
"WATCH!" The man commanded with a laugh and Dutch spat blood, trying to catch the man's eyes with his own.
"Go fuck yourself, you goddamn mongrel. I'll tear every last one of you apart with my bare hands." He spat again as hard as he could at his tormentor and the man slammed his head down against the ground in response before picking it up again.
"She's fuckin wet for us, boss." The man humping Annabelle pointed to the floor and Colm snickered, her water had given way to blood and she screamed as her womb contracted again as the man took his turn with her.
"No, I'd say the little Van der Linde is trying to make their grand entrance. We really ought to be merciful, help bring a child into the world. You wanna hold your child, don't you, Daddy?" Colm wiggled the knife between his fingers and Dutch snarled, his face bright red as he burned with rage.
"You'd better fucking kill me, Colm. Cuz if you don't, I will put you down like the dog you are. No matter how long it takes me."
—-
That night as Colm and his boys went to sleep, Dutch could hear the sound of Annabelle whimpering in agony, he squeezed his eyes shut trying to curl himself into a ball and disappear. He wanted to die, but he knew Colm would take his time with him when it came time to dispose of him. He heard as Annabelle wiggled along the floor, her arms still tied behind her back, sliding towards him and placing her head on his hip. He wanted to caress her so badly, but they couldn't, this was about all they could do to comfort one another. While O'Driscoll hadn't actually cut the child out of Annabelle, they both knew that something was terribly wrong with both her and it. Whatever Colm had done when he lifted her by the belly like that had caused her to hemorrhage internally. The child hadn't moved at all and she knew it was dead inside of her now, crushed by Colm O'Driscoll in revenge of his brother. It was probably too late for her, she knew, but it wasn't too late for her beloved. They needed to get out of here.
"I've got the knife," she panted quietly, lifting her head for a moment to check on Colm and the men but they were sound asleep, "I'm going to cut you free."
"Cut yourself free and go." He mumbled back painfully, trying to inhale as quietly as he could through his nose as his ribs ached. They had broken his nose at some point, though the entire ordeal began to seem like one long never ending nightmare for him. They had forced him at times by beating him to watch them tear her apart like wild dogs, at some point she had given up fighting, screaming, and crying and simply stared loving at him. It killed him, being unable to do nothing but watch in agony and rage. He had failed her when he swore to protect her even if it meant his life.
"I'm not leaving you." She groaned back quietly, carefully setting the knife down and rolling on her knees, trying to reach it with her fingers when she found his instead. He indicated to her that he wanted to intertwine their fingers together and she did.
"You have to. I'm going to buy you time." He closed his eyes again and sighed, squeezing her hands in his. There was a chance she could survive, he thought, go find the other members of the gang and come back for his body to bury it. He did not intend to continue living and he would use every last ounce of strength he had to take out Colm and his friends when she cut him free, giving her a chance to run away into the night.
"No. We keep moving forward, beloved. Like we always do." She let go of his hand and went to retrieve the knife from the floor and tried to eye over her shoulder the best place to insert it into the rope. You fucking idiot, she thought bitterly, I'm not going to make it back to the gang but I can make sure you do.
"Leave me, goddamn it. Take the horse and go." He begged, trying to keep his voice down as she found a suitable spot and began to work the blade into the bonds that held him.
"I made a vow to you. 'Till death do us part', remember? Or did you worry I'd forget?" She grunted slightly as she felt her uterus contract violently, causing her to nearly pass out and she squeezed her eyes shut, pausing in her attempt to free him as she tried to stifle her anguish.
"I died the minute he took my foolish and childish dreams away from me, Belle. I'm tired, I need to rest. Leave me. I don't want to argue with you about this." He whimpered, but she had continued trying to cut him free anyway. She was always so defiant and stubborn sometimes, he wanted to hate her for it, but the truth was it was one of the many reasons he loved her.
"We're not dead yet. There." She felt the rope break and she turned the blade over in her hands and pushed the handle of it against his back. "We have to go."
"I can't, Annabelle. Listen to me-" He didn't even move and she growled in pain again as she felt another contraction tear through her. She tried to pant quietly but held her breath when she saw one of the men move in his sleep, time seemed to stretch on for an eternity until it was clear that the man was still asleep. She scowled, pushing the handle into his palms again desperately.
"Then do me the courtesy of cutting me free. Since you're hell bent on cutting me loose now." She hissed and he finally began to move a bit, sliding the rope off his hands and sitting up slowly to begin to work on her bindings, quietly. The floor was covered in blood and water, he could even see the trail she had made as she had crawled towards him, she was pale and sweaty and felt cold to the touch. She'll make it, he convinced himself even though it seemed painfully obvious that she wouldn't, she's always been resilient.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't do a goddamn thing, but god I wanted to. Fucking O'Driscoll. I'm going to fucking slit his throat. Now get out of here." He mumbled in a sort of snarl, cutting her free as she pulled her arms forward to clutch at her belly with gritted teeth and she leaned against him to keep him there. He hesitated to rise from her side and slit their throats one by one, he could take them especially since they were out cold. But it was clear to him that she needed him too. He needed to choose between letting his animalistic tendencies take over or comfort the woman he loved, but he couldn't do both.
"Save it for when we get to Blackwater, back to the gang." She opened one eye, sensing his pause and gestured with a nod for the still open door, she turned a bit to face him and he chewed his lip. He ran his hand over her face, pressing his forehead to hers. He would sacrifice himself for her, he had to. She was the wife of an outlaw, she would understand. He needed to buy her the time to get out of here, she might curse him for it, but it would be worth it if he could protect her in the end. She always defended him, like a good queen does, and he needed to make at least one sacrifice for her. He had been a terrible lover, a terrible husband, a terrible leader, and would have been the worst father to that child if Colm hadn't crushed it like a bug. He needed to make it right. He needed to settle the score.
"I failed you and I intend to die here. Take the horse and go."
"If I weren't in considerable pain right now and it wouldn't wake up our 'friends', I would slap the fucking shit out of you. Get the hell up. We're not dying here. I will not leave unless it's with you. I know you want to avenge me right now, but we do not have the luxury of vengeance. We can deal with them later. Am I understood?" She whispered and he kissed her forehead. He loved her so much, despite both of them being brutalized and broken, she still insisted on picking him and defying him. You don't deserve her, he thought to himself as he pulled away from her and caressed her cheek, one of her eyes obscured by the bloody eyebrow wound she had sustained earlier. She was so beautiful, even after the cuts, bruises, and blood. She was pale, weak, and he realized that she couldn't and wouldn't actually get away without him. That's why she was adamant that he leave with her. He needed to find her help, she was right as always and he kissed her briefly and nodded his head.
"Yes, Mrs. Van der Linde."
—-
The Count's ivory white coat was saturated with crimson as he galloped down the trail with his riders. Annabelle had passed out completely and Dutch held her tightly in his arms, trying to keep both of them seated as they rode bareback towards Blackwater or at least some civilized part of West Elizabeth. He needed to get her to a doctor immediately, the bleeding hadn't stopped. His pant legs were soaked in her blood at this point, he was panicking that they wouldn't make it to someone in time to save her.
"Wake up, Belle." He tried to shake her gently, but her head rolled lazily to one side and he pulled back on the makeshift rope reins to make the animal stop as she flopped against him. He lifted his shaking hand to see if she was still breathing, it was faint but she was still alive for now. "Fuck."
The Count sensed his rider's despair and turned himself off the road without warning, startling Dutch a bit as he took off down a steep hill and towards a homestead in the trees that had been hidden from the main road. The animal whined loudly, drawing the attention of a couple horses in a corral near the front of the house who called back to him. The light was on inside the house and The Count skidded to a stop as Dutch became frantic.
"Excuse me! I need help! I hate to bother you at this hour but–" He yelled out at the front door which slammed open and a man wielding a shotgun snapped it up and pointed it at him. He was Native American, with long graying black hair wearing western attire and cold dark eyes.
"GO. AWAY!" He yelled, racking it and causing Dutch to hold his hands up. Annabelle slumped back, slipping a bit on the horse and he quickly wrapped an arm around her to steady her but kept his other hand raised.
"Please. My wife is hurt real bad. She needs help." Dutch pleaded and the man lowered the gun and grumbled, clicking his tongue angrily and gesturing to the inside of his house. He could see that the woman was in more than just wounded, it was obvious she was dying if she wasn't already dead. But the frantic and pained expression on her man's face roused something the man hadn't felt in some time. Poor bastard, the man thought sadly while staring intently at Dutch, he doesn't see how bad it is.
"Come on then." The man snarled as Dutch quickly slid off the horse and his knees buckled. He tried to find the best way to carry her but could feel his ribs annoying his organs again as he tried to sweep her into his arms. He lifted her over his shoulder and quickly tried to stand up straight again, as The Count scraped his hoof on the dirt and chewed nervously. The animal nickered at Dutch who looked back at the bloodied animal and panted a bit.
"She'll be alright, don't you worry. I won't let anything happen to her." He quickly carried her into the house and the man gestured at a bed and he laid her down on it, grasping her shoulders and trying to shake her conscious again. He tried not to be too desperate, but it was obvious that he was beyond panic at this juncture. He needed to keep it together, just a while, for her sake. He could do that, surely.
"What happened?" The man asked, grabbing a bottle of bourbon and pulling the cork out with his teeth, spitting it across the room as he eyed the blood soaked tattered dress and lifeless woman. He took a long drink from it, but chances are the other man in his house needed it right now more than he did.
"Bushwhacked. They–" He gritted his teeth and felt his eyes begin to water over again, the man took a step forward and tapped the bottle against his shoulder.
"It's alright. Here. I'll get some smelling salts, see if we can't get her up." Dutch didn't even look as he took the bottle from the man and immediately began to drink greedily from it. Bourbon spilling off of his lips and onto her chest as he pawed at her with his free hand.
"Come on Annabelle, we made it. Don't leave me yet. I'm begging you." He took another drink, coughing slightly as he felt the liquid burn going down. The man reappeared from around a corner and began to uncap a small brown jar, being careful to keep the lid over the mouth of it until he reached the couple and looked down at Dutch.
"Don't take the cap off all the way, it's strong stuff. I'll be outside if you need anything. I don't think she's gonna make it." He set it down on the table beside them, looking over the woman mournfully before patting Dutch on the back. "Let's hope she can at least say goodbye."
"She ain't dying on me." Dutch hissed angrily, setting the bourbon down and snatching the salts from the table frantically. "She won't. She promised she wouldn't leave me. You have to help her. Or I'll kill you. I won't lose her again. Understand?"
The man sighed, pitifully eying Dutch for a moment before he slowly began to head out towards his porch, closing the door behind him gently. Dutch snarled, quivering as he tried his best to keep the lid as close to the container as he could, becoming more enraged as his hands refused to steady themselves. He held it close to her nose and she gasped, coughing and panting before making a disgusted face and he quickly set the jar down and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead. He quickly searched for something to stop her from bleeding out but he could deal with that later. She was awake, she was alive, and she was with him. But she was cold. He needed to warm her.
"Thank god." He continued to kiss her and squeezed her tightly in his arms even as his own ribs burned and he tried not to cry out in pain. He would have to be the one to tend to her, though he didn't have the faintest idea what to do. He needed to call the man back in to help him, but as he turned his head he felt her frigid fingers against her cheek and she groaned a bit.
"Let me look at you," she murmured, putting her hand under his chin to turn him towards her and rubbing his bottom lip with her thumb as he stared down at her, "we made it Robin Hood. I told you we would, and you wanted to abandon me, asshole. It's my fault, I'm so sorry, I wrote to O'Shea and-"
"Yes we did. Because of you. I'm here, I'll take care of you. Stay with me. I'll fucking kill O'Shea and Ming for betraying us later, right now we have to get you patched up my darling." He moaned, clutching her hand against him as he felt tears begin to stream down his face. He looked around for something, anything to put between her legs to keep her from bleeding out more than she had been. She seemed to sense his panic and desire to save her no matter what the cost, her smile faded into a sad one and she felt her eyes water a little.
"I have to break my promise to you, sweetheart." She replied faintly, trying not to pass out again as her strength slipped away from her. It was difficult for her to say it to him, though deep down she knew she was dying and had been since Colm squeezed her belly. Whatever he had done, had killed both her and the child, but her partner didn't seem to understand that this was goodbye. For now. She inhaled sharply, almost laughing a bit as she thought back to something she had said to him a long time ago. That they either lived free or died like dogs, she needed him to remember that too, for his sake. She tried to move her fingers against his face, but she felt stiff and weak, she needed to save whatever she had left, but she wished she could stay just a little longer.
"Don't leave me. I'll do anything you want. Just stay with me a little longer. You promised me, we made it out, we're alive, and we are free. You can't leave me, Annabelle." He pleaded, closing his eyes and shaking as he began to sob.
"Dutch," she gasped, trying to keep her hand under his chin, "we will never leave you alone. That's what scares you the most, isn't it? Being alone in the world. Your son fought valiantly, just like you, and you should be proud. I know you, don't follow us into the twilight just yet. What's the point of living without a little tragedy from time to time? I can't stay. I want to, more than anything, but I can't keep moving forward with you, love. We live free or we die like dogs. We knew there was no happy ending for us."
"Don't, oh fuck please don't talk like this. I need you. I need you to stay with me. Annabelle," he pushed her hair out of her eyes and collapsed on her breasts and she wrapped her arms around him weakly, "I'm fucking begging you. I don't want to live without you ever again. I can't. Don't make me a goddamn widower."
"'We can't fight nature, and we can't fight change', that's what you told me when we found out I was pregnant. You are a paradox, that is why I love you. You are wild, reckless, and gentle when you feel like it. The gang needs you more than you need me right now and you'll come home to me someday, I know," she whispered back, trying to fight the desire to surrender completely, "and I will wait for you in Cochinay. No more running, no fighting to survive, just us, free and going wherever the wind takes us. Promise me. Take another woman, raise more poor lost souls from the earth, keep fighting and being a reckless asshole, and live. I will try to slip up from Hell every now and then just to annoy you. You must keep moving forward, Dutch Van der Linde. No matter what."
"Annabelle–" He pulled away from her as he felt her body completely relax in his arms. She smiled at him and blinked a moment, trying to find enough strength to smooth back his hair one last time but falling short a bit as her hand fell to her chest. She was exhausted and it took whatever strength she had left to stay with him right now. "Don't you fucking do this to me. Don't you leave me here alone, you promised me goddamn it."
"I love you." She exhaled and he watched the love she had for him in her eyes in that final moment slip away from him, like sand between his fingers.
"Don't go. I'm not ready to say goodbye, there's so much I want to say to you. Come back to me Annabelle. Please?" He wrapped his arms around her body tightly, trying to will her back into existence as hard as he could. But no matter how hard he held her against him, she felt cold and limp in his arms. He growled at first, trying to calm himself down but his heart burned in his chest and he screamed at the top of his lungs, clutching her against him as he felt like he would shatter into a thousand pieces. He would make sure that Colm O'Driscoll paid for what he had done and that Ming and O'Shea got what they deserved for ratting on them. Then, he thought to himself, I can come home to you Annabelle. He would return to the boys, he would find new recruits and someday soon he would put Colm O'Driscoll in the ground. That would be his plan from now on, and nothing else mattered to him except revenge.
'Be practical about this', he heard her voice in his head whispering to him from somewhere behind the beast he truly was, 'revenge is a luxury you can't afford right now, darling.'
"It's the only way I'm going to be able to bring you peace, Belle." He murmured aloud, looking down at her corpse.
'I can wait, you have to keep moving forward, Mr. Van der Linde.'
"I hate it when you say my name like that. I'll come home to you, soon. I won't make you wait too long." He smoothed back her hair and pushed her eyelids down over her cold eyes, keeping his hand over them for a while as he held onto some hope that she'd suddenly take a deep inhale and come back to him. "I always knew you were the type to break my heart in the end, Annabelle. I will try to keep moving forward, without you. The way I should've done when Arthur was impregnating his waitress. I don't want to, but I have to, don't I?"
He picked her up from the bed, slowly carrying her limp body in his arms and bent down to open the door. The man who had allowed her a final moment of comfort looked over at Dutch, he had already grabbed a shovel and lit a lantern.
"We ought to wrap her up in something before you bury her." The man rubbed his face with his sleeve but Dutch shook his head and made his way to the blood covered stallion who sniffed at the woman in his arms and heaved a sigh, inhaling and exhaling loudly as he ran his lips over her face but she didn't stir. The horse squealed a little, gently nibbling at her hair and pushed on her with his pink nose.
"No, let the world chew her bones to dust, that's how she would've wanted it anyway. That was the woman I loved and the woman I married. She knew what it meant to be an outlaw, even if I had forgotten. I will take her home and one day I will rejoin her. But I have business to take care before I do. A score to settle, a family to look after, and when I am finished I will join her in the dirt along with all of our hopes and dreams." He looked down at her a moment as he felt his own eyes water and The Count rested his white face on Dutch's shoulder. He leaned against the stallion and snarled, trying to keep himself together though inside he was roaring. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, it wouldn't be long before Colm realized they had slipped out and he would try to find them again. She had told him to live, but how could he? She had been his life.
"Where is home?" The man asked and Dutch turned towards where he thought the ridge where he had proposed to her would be for a moment, they never had a home, not in the true sense of the word except for each other. But they had Saint Denis, New Austin, Arkansas, and a million other places they had run to over the course of their time together, he should've asked her where she wanted to be buried, but he knew her answer would've been "wherever you are". He chewed his lip, hesitant on what to do or where to go at first when he realized she had given him an answer.
"Cochinay. Near the ridge."
"I'll hitch up the horses and we'll go together. I can make a cross to mark her resting place. My name is Nokoni." He extended his hand to Dutch but he didn't take it as he chewed his lip and tried to swallow back his rage, anguish, despair, and grief.
"She wouldn't have wanted one, she was not a God fearing woman." He replied coldly, "I'm Dutch Van der Linde. Why didn't you try to save her? It should've been me. Not her."
"Son," the man placed a hand on his shoulder and Dutch bristled under the touch of his warm hand, snarling at him like a wild animal causing the man to remove it slowly, "nothing could've saved her. Not me, not you, and not her. You knew that, but you didn't want to believe it. What did she tell you in her final moments?"
"To live." He growled, trying to swallow back tears and rage.
"Then live, Mr. Van der Linde. If you can't do that for yourself, then do it for her." Nokoni replied as he stepped off the porch towards his corral to retrieve the horses.