Arthur's note: Lenny/Tilly or Javier/Tilly? I'm still sorting out the pairings.
Chapter 7
Arthur knew that the moment Ms. Grimshaw threatened to inform Dutch and especially Hosea that he was going to have to listen to their demands. The amount of hell Hosea would give him for not taking care of himself would be an understatement to the threat that Micah represented to the gang.
Mary-Beth whipped up some stitches which went on Arthur's face.
Some time to sleep it off, and Arthur was back on his feet.
He stood next to the cabin. The weather now was not as grating so he could just relax. Others around camp seemed to agree, eager to get back on their feet after recent events.
Bill was blabbering off 'bout a man, Sonny. He was familiar with that man. He lived in a house northwest of Saint Denis, south of Lakay. Around the house were many alligators and some pigs kept in a pen. Arthur killed him last time-another kill he ain't regret. A kill he would commit again when given the chance. The man was obviously a rapist, and if he had anything to thank Dutch and Hosea for, it was his survival skills and instinctively knowing all of the dangers in an area. Rumors often popped up missing around that house. His suspicions were correct when the man's house was a bed with chains, shackles, and handcuffs around it.
Pushing aside the thought, Arthur kept his eyes focused. Really, selfish pleasures were having his lungs cleared for air, and he'd relished every moment, enough to not even smoke for the time being.
That was 'till something cut through his momentary peace, 'till the darkness only looming in the surface decided to invade, taking whatever peace and shoving it to the side.
Dutch van der Linde walked up to him and spoke, "With the number of failures that have been happening lately, I'm glad to see you were able to recover John." His lips quirked up into a smile. "At least, you two have similar scars that you can use to bond with one another."
"The wolves that were pecking on Marston decided they wanted more than some nibbling, he should be happy I'm a great brother," Arthur said in his ever bland dark humor, 'bout the only thing that didn't mellow through time.
Dutch snorted. "You two are more alike than you realize."
For a moment, they were father and son.
That moment didn't last.
"Listen, if there's something going on, I must know."
"It's nothing, Dutch." Arthur lied.
"Don't give me none of that, son, everyone sees the changes. Before I sent you to find us substance, you were alright. Since you've returned, you have been different. Now... Javier told me 'cause he's concerned and so am I so don't be angry at him," Dutch chastised him and leaned forward to the other, his voice going low, "You're terrifying folks, Arthur. Whatever it is that's gotten into you needs to stop. So talk to me. What's wrong?"
Arthur felt like a child right now, he hadn't had one of these talks with Dutch and Hosea since he was a boy, struggling with the harshness of the world.
'I gave you all I had. I did.'
"Now, Arthur," Dutch's face ticked with barely contained impatience, "I would like an explanation, son. Why are you badmouthing me?"
Each syllable came out with gingerly leisure patronization, concealed as a diligent tranquil that descended over the frangible, chill in Dutch's voice; he spoke as though Arthur Morgan was a fifteen year old yet again. Even now, he felt the urge to bristle. He had to stay strong... for Jack, for John, for all of them who would want to break free of Dutch's madness at the end. Whatever dissension which'd began to shattering between them since Blackwater, what'd stretched wider the further they evacuated from troubles what they'd caused 'cause they were unable to lay low, then transformed into an inevitable separation within the toxic air of Beaver Hollow? Despite how he knew in his heart Dutch wouldn't accept salvation, the shadows of the good dog from months ago still wanted to save him, submit to him, and bow his head down as he continued to move with the next plan.
That shadow was crushed. This was the same man who walked away from him when he'd begged him for help, hoping to reach whatever goodness inside of him. The same man who would leave him to die as he did to John in Sisika Penitentiary, off of a moving train in a bank robbery, believing that he was a traitor. The same man who was infuriated by his and Sadie's insubordination and perceived disloyalty. The same man who killed, no, murdered that innocent old lady in Guarma. Who drowned Angelo Bronte, a living and breathing man, to an alligator in an inexcusable way-no matter the crime.
He'd been loyal, too loyal, and it led to his death once. It wouldn't do so again, not this time, not with truthfully having his own wants and dreams. He couldn't judge him for actions that he'd committed in the future. Less he looked mad, but everything all resolved around...
Heidi McCourt. Around Blackwater. Around all of it. To Dutch, he was a brute. Well, he was 'bout to be a brute no longer. He'd ran out of chances. And simply put, Dutch didn't deserve them. Let Javier and Bill suck his balls off, Arthur Morgan wasn't having it.
"I would like an explanation to why you decided to kill that innocent girl, Dutch," Arthur rebuked with the same tone, even now feeling a wince travel through his body as he stared into those two cold irises. "It's Micah again. It's always goddamn Micah."
"Micah has been loyal, son." He defended his prize pupil with veiled anger. "Don't tell me you're still jealous."
A passive attempt to infuriate Arthur no doubt, so he could wrap him around his finger. He succeeded in one goal, but not in the other. Not again. NOT THIS TIME! Not after when he should have punched him in the face for leaving him behind to get stab.
He sneered. "Everything you and Micah touched have landed all of us into this shit. Take Blackwater for example."
Goddamn the lot of them. They were all fools. Then again, they were a gang of outlaws living rough in the Wild West. They don't have a human resources department. He did voice his disapproval about Micah numerous times, but Dutch didn't listen, and Arthur didn't want to challenge Dutch's leadership because he was his closest friend and he looked up to him as a mentor and a father figure. His emotions clouded his judgment, and he couldn't see the truth 'till it was too late.
But even if he ever grew to care 'bout Dutch, for Dutch to admit he'd fucked up sooner or later, he could never look at him the same as he once did.
His eyes became fiercer, boring into his soul, even though on the surface, Dutch's face stayed composed. "Blackwater was just bad luck, Arthur..."
Arthur couldn't help it. He scoffed. "Bad luck? So bad that you didn't even consult with me and Hosea before going through with the goddamn plan?"
"Consult, my dear boy?" His voice dropped an octave.
Unlike last time, Arthur didn't fidget or look around. No, he met those cold eyes with cold ones of his own, keeping his hands at his side. "Yes, Dutch, consult. Me and Hosea are both upset 'cause you decided to go on that damn massacre after we left on that con which would have served our interests better."
He wasn't going to be an apprehensive mess like he was last time. Death already claimed him once. If Dutch'd fallen that far to draw on him here and now, let him, Arthur would retaliate. The argument could be deescalated. But he wouldn't-Arthur believed so. Dutch may have always been crazy, but he hadn't yet been stressed by the deaths of Hosea, nor Lenny, and Sean. This was the sanest one could call Dutch. Hosea was still alive, and somewhere inside of him, Dutch'd cared about the man even though he valued himself more.
Very likely, he would take the first opportunity to leave him to die just as he did John's when even that fractured entirely. He already did so on that forsaken mountain, surrounded by Pinkertons. He could have at least taken him with him and given him a proper burial, but he didn't. When he could have shown that those years weren't for nothing, Dutch'd mattered far more.
'I expect you'll betray me in the end Arthur, you're the type.'
"Let's face it, Blackwater wasn't 'bout getting out," Arthur continued icily, noticing that the others, including Hosea, Pearson, Tilly, Javier, Lenny, Abigail, Charles, Mary-Beth, Uncle, all of them, were standing around now. The raised voices enthralled many of them to come forward, for Arthur actually questioning Dutch was rare. "It was just you and Micah were acting crazy again 'cause you want to cling on delusions of the past."
Dutch was quiet for a long moment, confirming that he wasn't ready to discuss this. He never would be. He gotta have a reason to sleep at night. There would always be rationalizations for why Dutch pulled that trigger and blew that girl's brains out. It was just one among many atrocities that Dutch van der Linde caused and would cause. John and Javier were spooked by what happened, and while the former went into detail, somewhat horrified, Javier shifted often, his demeanor turning a little dark as he tried to dismiss the thoughts.
Clearly, this wasn't something Dutch or anyone else expected. For Arthur to actually challenge him and call him out. He didn't look as mad as he did back in Beaver Hollow before that train robbery, but he'd came close. His lips opened and closed again. For the second time, Dutch van der Linde was rendered speechless.
"Blackwater was 'bout surviving, Arthur," he finally offered, though the small waver in his tone suggested that his control was shattering.
Arthur was forced to accept the harsh truth yet again. Heidi McCourt was right. So was the Strange Man. He couldn't save Dutch. It still hurt. It still hurt really badly. Dutch required far more than he could ever give, if anyone could ever really help him. Arthur felt he could argue 'till they were old and gray, but it would all be for nothing. The conflicting feelings arose and left, only leaving dull pain in his chest.
As if on cue...
Right behind Dutch, amongst the crowd of onlookers to the argument, he spotted the visage of Heidi McCourt, but not looking nearly as sweet as she did in that dream. Could it really be called a dream? Maybe, visions. Mary-Beth once mentioned that visions happened in legends. Purpose of storytelling, they said. Bullshit, Arthur called it... 'till now.
She was smiling a bloodied smile, the red liquid traveling down, sending a chill through Arthur's spine.
The urge to nausea surfaced, but he managed to resist it with most of his might, though small vomit came to his lip.
Her brains, blown out of her head, her eye hanging out by a thread of tendon, the most gruesome sight Arthur ever seen.
It disgusted and refilled him both.
Poison leaked into tone. "You're right, Dutch, we all survived. But that girl wasn't a threat. Heidi McCourt's child has to live without a mother, a family broken 'cause of what you'd done..."
Dutch's face paled white as the exposure of his crimes were called out by his third in command in front of a bunch of followers...
He found that he just couldn't care, not even as he moved over to his chair inside when the show rained down and began to think.
The man didn't even have the respect to admit his mistakes and wrongdoing, to face the consequences of his actions.
Some were eyeing him with obvious displeasure and distrust. However, others were eyeing him with something... different. Not disgust or negative emotions but as if they predictably agreed with him. The reception of what happened didn't matter, Arthur decided.
Loyalty went both ways.
What was the point of pledging loyalty to a man who would have - would - leave him the moment he'd began to question him just to keep up that act of being unstoppable?
The thoughts made him feel sick, worse than TB. When the truth came to play, Arthur couldn't trust Dutch further than he could throw him, and he couldn't trust him with the future of everyone here. At least, of what consisted of people who wanted to be saved.
He had to think about who to save. John, Abigail, and Jack were top priorities. Fixing the relationship and giving Jackie a better childhood was in order. The boy deserved to be with someone who cared 'bout him. That small resentment he had to John leaving died when he'd realized he was loyal to him at the end back in Beaver Hollow. Arthur had faith that John's parental responsibilities would reveal themselves.
Then there came the other folks. One image came to mind. The man whose death hit him the hardest. The old man who had always been there, offering comfort and support. The death that had hurt by far the most Arthur'd ever witnessed.
Hosea Matthews.
He knew if he could, he would shoot Milton dead if he'd gotten Hosea into the same position he did before and damn the consequences.
The real question was if he could save Hosea from certain death?
The man had shown signs of having a terminal illness of some sort, and his death drove the gang apart. Was it unavoidable? Was Hosea Matthews always meant to die? Arthur shook his head. Perhaps, but migrating the damage could still happen to prevent a repeat of what happened.
Oh, that horrible shot, the smoking gun in Milton's hand, him barely able to hold back a whacked sob from escaping his body as he watched his father figure collapse after that cruel execution.
He managed to force himself through those thoughts. While it lingered in the back of his mind, he'd reasoned it hadn't happened yet. It never would. Even if Hosea lived an extra week, that would be inevitable. Death was inevitable. A harsh reality of living. Nobody lived forever. Maybe another few years but it was only a matter of time. He would give Hosea something to be proud of when he died.
Sadie, Charles, Lenny, Sean, and Kieran were good people. Sadie was obvious. She only stayed 'cause she had nowhere to go. Charles was intelligent and knew what he was doing. Lenny had some tension with Dutch-very perceptive with a bright head on his shoulders, having some philosophical disagreements with the man. He couldn't allow Lenny to die, not again. Sean, he was admittedly uncertain 'bout given he quickly defended Dutch for what happened in Blackwater, but the man disliked killing so Arthur didn't know 'bout him. Kieran was not going to die without purpose. The man'd saw through Dutch since day one and only stayed to prove himself. Arthur wanted to save that boy no matter what! And he wasn't getting tied up and deprived of food this time around!
The women, Swanson, and Pearson were also other topics. They were good women. Mary-Beth would decide not to die, and Karen would likely follow. Tilly as well, when she'd overcame Dutch's webs of lies. Swanson and Pearson could be loyal if everything doesn't head to shit.
Then there was Javier. His betrayal hurt John more. For weeks, John'd tried to strike up a normal conversation with Javier, only to meet with coldness and detachment. So strong was the loyalty to Dutch that it overcame any previous friendships and interests that Javier had, making him another stooge who was blinded by Dutch & Micah's bullshit. Just like Micah, he was a survivor. He abandoned John with Dutch and Micah in their last train robbery. And he abandoned Dutch to save himself when Pinkertons came to the camp. He did things out of his own survivalism. He used to care about survivalism of the gang but by the end he only cared about his own.
Bill was insecure and inarticulate trying to stay alive in a rough world. He was constantly being belittled and bullied by the gang. Arthur doesn't think he remembered him doing anything cruel beside threatening Kieran... under Dutch's orders... even treating him nicely later... but he considered his past treatment of him. He'd gotten along with Cain at the end of it all. Maybe he could be saved, if he'd wanted to be...
And at last, Micah.
It was with anger that he'd admitted he'd respected the goddamn rat. Micah, even though he was always the worst, the stinkiest rat in the west, also knew how full of shit Dutch was. Micah wasn't a good person by any means, but his expression on that boat in Guarma shown the disgust of hearing someone like Dutch trying to sound like a hero, like someone who cared about anyone other than himself - he clearly doesn't, he abandoned his gang members several times - and called them family. Micah betrayed the gang 'cause he knew there was no salvation for them, in that point Arthur couldn't completely blame him, he was selfish and wanted to survive, so what was the point of siding with someone who would keep chasing after money forever? Dutch couldn't fight his nature.
Arthur came to that realization. Micah wasn't the ultimate villain who he had to be worried about. He was a hiccup for sure, but Dutch was. Dutch only cared about the gang to the extent that they helped his ego. The gang made him feel like the important leader he wanted to be. He was constantly trying to be seen by others as powerful, virtuous and learned, but most of that was just an act he put on to feed his need to be respected. Whenever one of the gang became more work than Dutch felt they were worth, he suddenly stopped supporting them. The lack of effort he put in to look for John shown that he could easily lose his "affection" for those he called family.
At the end of it all, Dutch was not a goddamn child.
Disregarding that thought, Arthur opened the journal to the empty page. Last time, he'd vented about running for weeks. This time, as he stared in the blank page, he had something else to vent about. He pulled out his pencil and began to write:
'When I went on that mountain, I knew I wasn't coming off. Tuberculosis, army of Pinkertons and the law, former friends, enemies, they'd all wanted me to die. Like I told John, I did all the running I could. That was 'till I given a second chance. I know one thing for damn certain. I'm going to do it right this time around. It ain't 'bout saving folks. It's 'bout giving people a chance to be happy.'
He placed the journal inside of his satchel and removed his boots, his hat, and decided to just relax.
Arthur's note: I always found Arthur's articulation skills considerable in his character for an outlaw so I include his journal into this fic. In another life, he could have been a teacher, a lawyer, etc. I was an outcast in middle school, and that was around the time I started writing fanfics, so I relate to Arthur so much.
Yes, my Arthur wasn't assaulted. I feel like Arthur, any other member of the Van Der Linde gang, or any gang in general would see right through Sonny. Arthur's life, nor mine, isn't full of a load of cupcakes, rainbows, and happiness. How I look at characters when playing them and have choices is the choices I would make. I feel like Arthur wouldn't be tricked when he sees this man with borderline a dress and outright a creepy vibe luring him into a shed. When you're going through a harsh life, you're going to be a lot more aware of your surroundings and catch onto things to make sure you won't be fooled out of instinct if anything else. You wouldn't fall for obvious traps like that. I can confirm this because my life was harsh for a long time, and I am very attentive when it comes to people. Additionally, wouldn't there be newspapers about someone going around and raping people? And if you make the argument Sonny wouldn't spare them, why would he spare Arthur? That encounter just felt like a forced attempt where the game was trying to make things darker. It's definitely not something that would be forgotten in the 18 and 1900s.
