God he loved the feeling of the soft cushions beneath him in the opium den, the way they perfectly conformed to his body as he slumped against the wall with a girl tending to him with her mouth. It was pleasurable, but it wasn't enough to actually get him hard but at least the poor woman was trying everything in her power to get him to stand at attention for her. He exhaled, running his hand through his black hair as he closed his eyes, feeling both heavy but also light as though his soul might separate from his body at any moment.

And I can come home to you, he thought quietly as he moved his free hand down onto the back of the whore's head as she continued to try to suck him off.

"I don't think this is going to work out after all, my dear." He whispered, brushing the woman's hair back gently as she sputtered before raising her face to look into his eyes. He moved his hand to cup her chin and cheek in his palm, taking another long drag off the opium pipe and letting it settle in his lungs before he exhaled softly again.

"I can get you hard again, just give me a–" The woman began but Dutch pressed his thumb to her lips and shushed her.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart. They say opium makes a man impotent, and well," he gestured with his eyes down at himself before looking back up at her with a smirk, "I guess I've overindulged."

He was feeling sleepy, even breathing felt difficult, as though his lungs were becoming slowly full of cotton with every inhale. He grunted, trying to set the pipe down carefully but it slipped from his fingers as he slumped back and tried to remain conscious. Fuck, he thought, I really did overdo it this time. He had been here for hours now, or what had at least felt like hours as the thick sweet scent of burning poppy filled the air and choked him further.

'Dutch.' Her voice had changed, becoming worried and concerned as he felt his eyelids grow heavier with every blink.

"Annabelle…" He managed to mumble as he exhaled loudly and lost consciousness. He longed to return to her, he wanted to see her again so badly and he looked for her in his dreaming. Where are you? Don't leave me, Belle. I need you.

—-

"Darling, you need to keep moving forward." She pleaded, clutching his hands in hers as she began to be dragged away by the shadows. He snarled, frantically trying to hold her fingers in his. She was terrified, her hazel eyes wide and her mouth slightly open as tears began to stream across her cheeks.

"Don't leave me Belle!" He begged, feeling her frigid and pale fingers slipping as he desperately tried to fight the inky black current that was pulling them apart from one another.

"I could never leave you, Dutch. You need to get up. Our family needs you more than I do. GET UP GODDAMN IT!" She roared as they lost each other and Dutch was thrown in the opposite direction of her into the darkness.

"ANNABELLE!" He screamed, snapping awake as his heart pounded in his chest and he panted, trying to catch sight of her before realizing it had just been a dream. He was covered in sweat but he was chilled to the bone, shivering in his damp clothes as he regained his sense of self and reality.

"You're alive, God be praised." There was a man kneeling next to him with thick reddish gray facial hair and wild bloodshot eyes. The man panted excitedly, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm as Dutch flopped back onto the ground, still panting and shuddering a bit.

"Get the fuck away from me. Fuck God, and fuck you." He snarled, rolling over onto his side as he wobbled a bit trying to stand up from the wet dirt.

"You stopped breathing, Lee threw you out into the alley after looting you while you were unconscious, but I saw you and I knew I needed to help you. We're alike, you and I, mourning the loss of our beloveds by numbing ourselves to death. The Lord brought me to you, I just know it." The man chuckled nervously, reaching into his pockets to try to find something as Dutch turned to vomit and groaned mournfully.

Fuck, he thought to himself, now I've gotta kill the goddamn dealer to get my personal effects back. He couldn't in this condition though, not while his head was still hazy and his body refused to cooperate.

"Leave me alone, whoever you are. You should've let me die, you son of a bitch, that's the only way I can be with her again. She died a long time ago, and I have been trying to get home to her ever since." Dutch wiped his mouth with his sleeve as he felt the saliva in his mouth boil again, but tried to keep his bile down.

"Here, I admit I stole it first before Lee had a chance to, but as much as I'd like to pawn it for more…medicine, I'd feel too guilty." The man had taken the pocket watch with the red jasper and held it out as Dutch looked over at it. He snarled, snatching it from the man and stuffing it into his breast pocket angrily. He grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him towards him, headbutting him and pushing him away back towards the ground as he felt nauseated again.

"Fuck y–" He had barely managed to turn his head when he vomited again, clutching his chest as his heart tried to speed up on account of his rage. But it withered in his breast, squeezing and burning, flitting between what felt like one big pump of his heart and a painful and rapid unsteady beat.

"I'm sorry." The man whimpered, clutching his forehead where Dutch had clocked him a moment ago, whining and beginning to sob a bit.

"You should be, asshole. It was hers." He groaned, gripping his shirt tightly as his heart continued to beat in an unsteady rhythm, becoming more and more aware of it with every breath. He whispered a plead to his body, wondering if he was having a heart attack or dying again. "Come on, we promised her we'd live."

"You're lucky, you get to carry a piece of you with her always." The man groaned and Dutch shot him a glare as his heart beat settled down and he panted as it returned to a normal rhythm. My ring, he looked down at his empty hand and snarled, mother fucker. He was going to slaughter the dealer, his thugs, and the patrons if he needed to in order to get it back.

"You got a gun?" Dutch asked, realizing he could easily turn this situation to his advantage, of course, the strung out junkie in front of him didn't look like much of a fighter. He just needed a weapon, any weapon would do and he could do the rest.

"I sold it for medicine. I have this though," the man dug through his pocket and produced the smallest folding knife that Dutch had ever seen, holding it out to him, "take it. You're going to kill me, right?"

"No, I'm going to fucking kill Mr. Lee. That son of a bitch stole my wedding ring and I would very much like it back." Dutch snatched the small knife away, flicking it open to inspect the blade. Of course, he thought angrily, it's fucking dull as a butter knife. He snapped it shut again and tossed it away from him, he would need to break into the gunsmith then.

"You weren't wearing a wedding ring, sir." The man watched the knife fly off into the dark alley mournfully. "You might have pawned it to–"

"If the next words out of your goddamn mouth are 'for medicine', I'm going to tear off your arms and beat you to death with them. I would never pawn that ring, or trade it for anything. I might be a low life piece of shit, but I am not so fucking degenerate that I would throw away the love she had for me like it meant nothing to me. It was on my middle finger," Dutch had grabbed the man by the collar again and shook him violently, wiggling his right middle finger in the man's face now, "who took it from me?"

"The whore." The man whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he worried that Dutch would strike him but instead he let go and went to stand up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve again as he shivered with both rage and chill.

"Fucking cunt. I was hoping not to have to kill a woman, but I guess God had other plans for me." Dutch snarled as the man collapsed at his feet, snatching one of his legs for dear life and looked up at him pleadingly.

"What would your wife think if you did that? Let me get it for you. I know Miss Fang well, no one needs to die tonight. Consider it my way of apologizing to you for not allowing you to die." The man begged and Dutch snarled, eying the backdoor of the opium den before looking back down at the strange red haired man at his feet.

"If you're not back here with my fucking ring in fifteen minutes, I'm going to butcher every single person in there, am I clear?" He raised an eyebrow and kicked the man off his leg who nervously twitched and began to straighten himself up. He wasn't sure why he didn't just strangle the wretched junkie, spouting nonsense about God and acting as though he truly cared for him. No one gives a fuck about me anyway, not my friends, my alleged family, this asshole, or God himself. She did, but she fucking left me here, alone when she swore to me she wouldn't. You're a fucking vile bitch, Annabelle, betraying me like this.

'Dutch.' Annabelle whispered and he could feel her gently caress his back, her tone warm and tender as he tried to calm himself down. He felt horrible for thinking such terrible things about her a moment ago. You sent him to me, didn't you beloved? You have a cruel sense of humor, my love, allowing this wretched filth to tear me from your embrace and come back from the afterlife.

"Crystal," The man whispered as he tried to brush his unruly hair and tidy himself a bit before he stretched out his hand, "Orville Swanson."

"Dutch Van der Linde." He took the addicts hand and shook it, squeezing it so tight that Mr. Swanson thought his bones might break under the man's grasp.

—-

"Why are we keeping an addict at camp, exactly?" Arthur raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Swanson who was passed out in the shade of the medical tent, mumbling to himself delightedly as he shot himself up with morphine and shuddered a bit as it began to take effect.

"Because, son, he saved my life." Dutch was fidgeting with the onyx ring on his middle finger, eying it lovingly as he stared down at the stylized bold D stamped on it and rubbed his thumb over it. I didn't ask him too either, but she had other plans for me I guess. God may not exist, but he was certain that Annabelle haunted him for the sole purpose of ensuring he remembered how much she loved him. Willing to even avoid Heaven or Hell just to remain by his side. She told me to live, and I have been a fool.

"Okay…How, exactly, did he accomplish that?" Arthur leaned forward as Dutch lowered his hand away from himself and shrugged.

"It's not important, Arthur. He's my guest. John and I are going on a hunting trip for a few days, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join us? For old time's sake? You boys are like my sons, like brothers, and John looks up to you." Dutch replied, sinking back in his chair as he felt the warm spring breeze drift across the meadow where they had camped out.

"I ought to get back to Eliza and Issac, I promised I'd come visit them after the snow melted a bit. He's big now, Dutch. In a few years he'll be about the age I was when you…" Arthur's voice trailed off and he grunted, trying to suppress the memories of being alone and vulnerable when Dutch and Hosea had come upon him as a teenager.

"Go home to your family. Enjoy some much needed rest. I envy you, Arthur, for being able to…" He paused, having someone to go home to even if you don't give a damn about her, and he exhaled softly.

"We going?" John called out as he shifted his heavy bag across his shoulders and strode towards them. Dutch nodded, eying the ring one more time as Arthur clapped his shoulder and ran a finger over the brim of his hat.

"I can ride with you for a while." Arthur murmured and Dutch smirked as Susan tacked up The Count nearby, sliding his saddle bags into place as the stallion chewed at the tender green spring grasses.

"I'd like that." Dutch chuckled, turning to shut up his tent and motioning to both the men to head for the horses.

"Don't be gone too long," Susan watched him mount the white animal and gently touched his thigh, looking up at him in a way that almost broke what remained of whatever heart he had, "we need you."

"Of course, sweetheart. You're in charge while I'm away." Dutch kissed her forehead and retrieved the reins, turning the stallion towards the game path as Arthur and John mounted their horses.

"You bring him back in one piece, Mr. Marston. And," she turned back to Dutch, gesturing to Swanson, "should he be here when you return?"

"He is my guest, Miss Grimshaw. He may remain with us as long as he likes." But Susan didn't seem convinced he realized, as she anxiously chewed her bottom lip for a moment and looked back up at him from the ground.

"I know." Her voice barely above a whisper so the young men wouldn't hear her and Dutch felt his heart squeeze in his chest as he looked down at her and grew pale. Fuck, he gritted his teeth, she had found the opium in his belongings and she knew. Orville may have retrieved his belongings from Mr. Lee without incident, essentially giving the dealer whatever he had on his person in exchange for Dutch's belongings. The ring, the guns, the holster, and his spurs. Of course, he had just gone back anyway and demanded a hefty sum of the stuff by threatening them with a shotgun he had stolen off a horse waiting for it's rider outside the den. He hadn't killed anyone, but he had been fully prepared to in the event that they wouldn't give him what he needed.

"I'm fine." He mouthed back as her eyes narrowed at him and she shook her head, patting the stallions neck as he and the boys mounted up. The fuck I am, he thought as he gently nudged the animal away from where he had been hitched and waiting, I'm anything BUT fine.

'Don't focus on 'what if', darling. Focus on 'what next'.' He could hear Annabelle giggle in his ear as he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment as the stallion and the other animals trotted along the game trail.

I'm fucking trying, woman. He thought back at her bitterly, trying to keep it together so the boys wouldn't see his distress. I am fucking trying, but you are so frustrating to me, the way you whisper at me in the dark where I can't reach you.

'You promised you'd take care of our family, Dutch. You can lie to them, but don't lie to me…I told you I would never leave you, even in death I'm still here…with you. I promised, didn't I?'

"Leave me alone, Belle." He muttered under his breath as he sped past the boys and galloped down the game trail, hoping they hadn't heard him.

'I will never leave you. I promised.'

—-

He and John had caught a couple fish that evening as the sun had set just behind the stream they had camped nearby. They were small, meager little morsels but they would satisfy the growling in their bellies for now. He watched as John cleaned the small salmon, carefully stripping it of it's scales and allowing them to fall to the ground. He smirked, the young man had learned from his mother how to tickle the bellies of fish as they rested in the shadows, slowly luring them into a lucid state before plucking them from the water violently. He remembered the first time he watched Annabelle patiently wait in between the rocks of a stream, in nothing but her underwear, with her arm in the freezing water for what seemed like forever.

You didn't make me eat my boots though, he thought warmly as the vivid memory came back to him of her launching a hefty trout out of the water and onto the bank at where they had camped for the night. He hadn't believed her until she proved him wrong as she earned them dinner with her patience and tender touch. I wanted to make love to you that night, even though I was sore and exhausted from the cholla cactus and the war we waged on gravity itself.

"She taught you well, John. I remember the first time she tried to teach me too, but I lack the…patience and disposition to achieve such a feat." Dutch put his hands out to the fire as John continued to strip the scales off their meager dinner.

"It took her the better part of the time she had left with us. I'm a…slow learner. I never got the chance to show her I figured out how she did it." John mumbled, flipping the fish over and beginning to work on the other side now, unable to look up at Dutch.

"She would've been proud of the man you've become…son. I know I haven't exactly been, well, much of a parent to you the way she hoped I could be. It's difficult, for me," Dutch chewed his lower lip and felt his facial hair against his tongue for a moment before sighing and closing his eyes, "you remind me so much of her sometimes."

"Yet you can't seem to make good on your vow to never take another woman, sir." John looked up from his work as the two of them stared at one another for a while. The young man was pissed, Dutch could see that same fierce gaze that sometimes he wore himself resting on the man's face.

"John, she's gone. She knew she was…I…it's just us boys, so I'll be honest with you. No one could replace her for me, not now, not then, and not ever again. I am a man, John. I have needs, urges, and cravings for the sins of the flesh. But they mean nothing to me. I never broke my promise to her when she was here with us. But she's long gone, John. She would've understood, son." Dutch grunted, leaning back on the fallen log he was sitting on to retrieve a bourbon bottle and open it.

"Would she, Dutch? She gave you everything and more, and it cost her life. I am hurting every goddamn day too, but I get up and get going because that's what she'd tell me to do. Did you really love her? Because I did." John snarled, sliding the knife angrily over the scales and gasping when he cut into his hand which started bleeding profusely and he set the bloody fish down to clutch his own hand.

"Here." Dutch retrieved his bandana from around his neck, setting the bottle down in the sandy shore beside him and standing up to hand it out to the young man. John snatched it and began to wrap his bloodied hand up in the red and white checkered material.

"How did she die?" John winced as he tied it off, trying not to cry as his voice cracked a little.

"Colm crushed her and our child to death as he raped her. And I couldn't do a fucking thing to stop it. She survived long enough to make sure I could make it back to you. She died in my goddamn arms, John. Bleeding to fucking death. But her last thoughts, her wish, was that I lived on. And I don't…know how to do that without her." Dutch gritted his teeth, trying to bury the memory of that night, her last night with him into the back of his mind. God please don't call out my name right now, beloved, I can barely get through this. He shuddered, the numbing effects of the opium were wearing off and he would need more soon, but he would need an excuse to retreat into the forest and hide his habit from John. You'd be fucking pissed if you saw what I've become, he thought as he looked at John who clutched his hand and tried to growl a little as he must've been thinking about how the incident played out. "She fought tooth and nail so that I could make it out alive. Of course I fucking love her, John. How dare you accuse me of squandering it."

"I'm in love with Miss Abigail, Dutch. I see how you look at her, the way you looked at my mother, and I will fight you for first rights. Make her a decent woman. I don't give a shit that it's your gang and you make the rules, but I've never asked you for anything." John looked up at him, his dark eyes glinting dangerously at Dutch who glowered back in response, snarling a little as he felt cold again. Sweaty, anxious, shivering…he needed to take a bit of the opium now before she called out to him again, before he relived her last breath in his arms.

"Fine. John. Have your way with the whore first." His teeth chattered a bit as he turned away and went to retrieve the cigarette he rolled with a bit of the opium latex hidden inside of it. He found it and grabbed it and a box of matches, angrily striding towards the forest to hide his shame from John.

"Where are you going?" John hissed as Dutch disappeared into the woods and the young man shook his head, panting a bit as he was left alone by the fire with the bloody knife, bloody fish, and bloody bandana wrapped around his hand. "Goddamn it!"

'Dutch…' he heard her voice cry out in concern, though it was further away than it usually was as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and greedily inhaled.

"Fuck." He held the inhale in for a while before exhaling and slumping against the back of a tree as the familiar but comfortable sensation of feeling heavy came back to him. "I am trying Annabelle, I really am. But when you call out to me like that, I want to go home to you, to both of you. It's been three long, bitter, horrible years. Go rest, beloved. Stop harassing me, please!"

He squeezed his eyes shut and took another long drag off of his cigarette, rubbing the space between his eyes with his forefinger and thumb on the same hand. He felt the cold gold band against the bridge of his nose, cementing him back to reality, though his body felt so relaxed and warm, but heavy at the same time. I need to rest, Belle. Let me fucking rest.

'Darling, I'm here.' Her voice called out to him again as he tried to hold back tears, he wanted to be angry with her as he exhaled again loudly and shook a bit.

"Where? I want to go home, Belle. Let me come home to you. Please…" He grumbled, lowering the cigarette away from his face and sliding his back down the tree as his knees gave out and he flopped to the ground to stare up into the night sky.

'Dutch, you're being overdramatic. Colm O'Driscoll, O'Shea, and Ming need to die first, then and only then, can you come home to me.' He felt like she was sitting on his legs, straddling him as he closed his eyes. He could almost feel her warmth on him but knew if he reached out to touch her that he would find nothing but air.

"I know, beloved. I know. And making sure our family, our son, is safe. I didn't forget my promise," he paused angrily as she felt her arms around his shoulders now, "but you did. You betrayed me. You left me, you fucking bitch."

'No, Dutch. I am always with you. I never betrayed you. You're being an asshole.' Annabelle snarled back in response and he opened his eyes, she wasn't really there.

"I can keep it together, I can get through this, I have to. I have a plan, Belle," he chuckled as he took another drag of the cigarette, "it's a good one."

—-

"Um," Abigail swayed on her heels, her hands behind her back as she tried to creep closer to Dutch as he read his book, "what's it about? The book you're reading."

He smirked, though he hadn't meant to, if he didn't look at her directly she looked exactly like Annabelle. Though her voice and actual appearance were actually nothing like his beloved. Still, despite his blessing to John to pursue the whore in camp, he still wanted to taste her for a moment, just to see if she could be Annabelle. Come back to haunt him in the flesh instead of the way she had chosen to do so out of the corners of his eye, in his dreams, his nightmares, and his head.

"It's by Evelyn Miller, one of my favorites actually. 'American Eden'. I could let you borrow it sometime." He tried not to purr at her but realized it came out of him with a sexual undertone and he felt a tinge of guilt for not being able to help himself.

—-

"I want you," the young woman whispered in his ear, he had shut the tent flaps despite it being the midday and he had intended on trying to take a nap, but she had come in anyway to borrow the book he was reading, "right now, Mr. Van der Linde."

"I'm not a nice man Miss Abigail, I have…certain appetites that would break a pretty little girl like you." He murmured back as she straddled him on the cot and began to unbutton the front of her dress. I am going to destroy you, he thought as she slid the top half of her dress off herself and dangled her breasts in his face.

"I'm a whore, I'm not afraid of doing whatever it takes to please you." She panted as he debated whether or not to grab her breasts. But, because he had already indulged in his day's supply of opium poppy, so despite his willingness, he was quite unable to grant her heart's desires.

"I…" He chuckled, realizing his own dick was refusing to cooperate with him despite the eager look in her eyes, "I'm very tired, Abigail. Perhaps another time?"

"I can rouse you, if you just give me a chance…" She went to slide off of him to take her dress off entirely and he sat up, looking away from her and flushing a bit.

"Just let me rest a while, like I said, I'm–" But she slid back onto the cot and pressed her fingers to his lips the way that Annabelle used to, pushing him gently back onto the cot before standing up again and removing her dress and under dress. He eyed her naked body for a while, though it did absolutely nothing for him, she was beautiful but, you're not her.

"Let me rest with you a while, then." Abigail chuckled, sliding back on top of him and pulling the cover over herself as she lay on top of Dutch. She slid her hand down his pants and he gripped her wrist tightly, surprising her a bit with the cold look he realized he must've been wearing, he smirked warmly at her as he pulled her hand away. He let go and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her down to his chest to rest her head and he kissed the top of her hair.

"You don't need to work, just lay here with me a while, that's all." He mumbled as she adjusted herself into a comfortable position and tried to speak.

"But I–"

"Shhhhh. Be patient, Anna–" He gulped, he hadn't meant to say her name at all and he was horrified for a moment before he cleared his throat and corrected himself, "Abigail."