"I don't know. Colm has a sense."
"Handing him over to the law, it's I don't know… strange times."
Arthur's vision was blurry, but he saw two O'Driscolls talking to each other by a campfire. He knew that he had to move. He forced his sore body to flip over onto his stomach and tried to crawl away.
"They killed Seamus, fuck the whole lot of them. Fuck the Slayer, too. I say we should've put one between his eyes when we had the chance."
Once Arthur stood up he tried limping away as fast as he could.
"He's escaping! Shoot him!"
"Relax! Relax… I got him. I got him."
There was a gunshot. It didn't hit him, per se, but it was enough to knock him off his feet. He fell onto the ground.
"Did I kill you?"
Arthur rolled over onto his back, groaning as he saw the two O'Driscolls hovering over him.
"Oh, not yet,"
The thugs laughed above him. "No, of course not," one of them said. "Not yet… but I will."
Arthur saw it: a sawed off shotgun being pressed up to his shoulder. It was too late to say anything.
BOOM!
The thunder had died down in the Heartlands, and Sam made it to the spot where Colm wanted Dutch to meet with him. Rain pattered down, but the spot was deserted. Did the meeting already happen?
Sam looked at the ground riding around the scene on his horse. There were tracks left by three horses. There were three sets of tracks on each side. One of them, however, led upwards. Sam followed the stray path upwards towards the cliffs.
Sam let out a soft gasp. He dismounted his horse, and ran towards what he saw.
No one was there. However, there was a Rolling Block Rifle, generally used for sniping, left abandoned. There was a huge trail, like something had been dragged through the dirt.
Or someone.
Sam gulped. He crouched down seeing that the gun wasn't the only thing left behind. Arthur's hat was there, too. There was no way he would intentionally leave it behind, let alone his weapon.
"What happened to you, Arthur?" Sam gingerly reached out for it, his fingers just brushing over the worn fabric.
Click!
"Stick 'em up, boy!"
Sam froze. He slowly stood up, raising his hands, with Arthur's hat clutched in one of them. He turned around, seeing an O'Driscoll was behind him.
The thug looked Sam in the eyes and laughed.
"It's you?!" he cackled. "You're the one who's been killing us? Why, you're nothing but a-"
Then there was a gunshot. The O'Driscoll dropped onto the ground, dead.
"Get down!" a familiar voice shouted. Sam bolted to some big rocks as more shots rang out. He growled and threw Arthur's hat onto his head before pulling out his gun. With a Schofield in one hand and a Volcanic Pistol in the other, he got up and shot the remaining stragglers.
Sam gazed up as his would-be hero descended from atop of the hill. Soon he saw that the horse was Old Boy, which means his "hero" was…
"John?"
John approached him and stopped in front of Sam.
"Looks like I was just in time," he said.
Sam ran back and picked up Arthur's rifle. "Don't try to stop me, John. I came out here to find Arthur, and I think something may've happened to him!"
"Well, you clearly had it under control," said John.
"Shut up!" said Sam. "I was waiting for an opening!"
"Look, do you want my help, or not?!"
Sam paused. "What?"
"I was listening to you scream like a little girl at Dutch about not letting you go."
"Hey!"
"And, well, I didn't trust it either," said John. "You seem to care about Arthur enough to go against Dutch's orders and come out here, anyway." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "And well, someone's gotta stop you from at least being an idiot."
Sam breathed deeply as another rumble made itself known. John leaned forward in his saddle.
"I'll take that as a yes," said John.
Sam huffed, but continued to look around the scene. "There's more tracks…" he then said. He whistled for Aurora and she was at his side in no time. "Let's go!"
Sam led on with Aurora going at a slow trot. He saw the footprints and crushed grass to lead him. John, having more experience, helped him when he got stuck.
As they went over some train tracks, they soon saw a plume of smoke from the top of the trees. It actually wasn't far from Horseshoe Overlook.
There was some idle chatter as Sam and John drew closer to the source of the smoke. They dismounted their steeds and crouched down to maintain stealth. There were only two O'Driscolls there.
"Sam!"
John's voice was kept low, but he stopped Sam from advancing with one hand placed on his shoulder. Sam turned his head to him.
"There's blood."
Sam froze. "What?" He looked down and there it was: a puddle of blood in the dirt. It looked a few hours old.
Both of them looked at each other. Neither of those O'Driscolls looked injured. Sam reached down, picking up an empty shell. It was from a shotgun.
Sam's breath began to speed up. No. It can't be. That wasn't…
Arthur's blood?
Before John could react, Sam immediately stood up and with one gun shot, took out one of the O'Driscolls, a bullet hitting him in the back of the head. The other one stood up, flailing and stumbling around before picking up their weapon:
A sawed off shotgun.
Sam had walked up closer with John. Just as the O'Driscoll began to squeeze the trigger, John raced up and kicked his gun upward just as it went off, firing into the sky. Then John yanked the weapon away before hitting the guy in the face with it. The man cried out, falling backwards on the ground. His nose started bleeding.
"Did you shoot Arthur, you bastard?!" Sam demanded. "Tell us, now!"
"Slayer!" the O'Driscoll shouted. John looked over to Sam who only nodded. So John smacked the thug again.
The thug looked up at John then over at Sam.
"You're him…" he said. "Ain't you?"
John continued to stand over him, shotgun pointed at his victim, face stern, and head tilted down towards the thug.
"I think it's best that you tell my friend here what happened to Arthur," said John.
"Why should I?"
Sam crouched down with a knife in his hand. "You can make this quick." He reached into his pocket and pulled out vials with various substances in them. "Or I can make it all the more… entertaining."
The O'Driscoll spat up some blood. "Yeah, I shot him…" he then answered, "in the shoulder." There was a flash of lightning, and Sam barely even flinched. "It weren't enough to kill him, but he sure ain't running awa-"
Sam yelled and slammed a syringe into the thug's left thigh. John stomped on the O'Driscoll's chest to keep him in place. Sam withdrew the needle and stood up. He sat down at a nearby log and John did, too, still pointing the shotgun at their victim. Sam lit a match so his unlikely partner could light his cigarette. Then, he pulled out his pocket watch.
"Well, now you have about sixty seconds to tell me where your buddies took my friend," said Sam, "because that's the only window of time for me to give you the antidote."
The O'Driscoll scrambled to sit up. John still had the shotgun ready.
"You think a little shot is gonna make me talk, boy?"
Sam tilted his head. "Forty seconds."
"He killed Seamus, you bastards!"
"Thirty-five."
"And you killed Rick and Maclean!"
Sam leaned forward. "For the record, I didn't kill Rick."
"We all saw him hang in Strawberry. And you put him there."
Sam leaned back, crossing a foot over his knee. "And I don't give a shit. Just like I'm sure you don't give a shit about whoever shot my uncle." He glanced at his pocket watch. "Well, you have twenty seconds."
"Hmph."
Sam wiggled the bottle of the antidote in his fingers. "Last chance. Where's Arthur?"
The O'Driscoll spat one more time into the dirt.
"I'm not giving up my friends…"
Sam glared. He stared as the clock ticked down to ten, then to five. Only Sam knew what was in that syringe. Still, his victim was sweating with nerves, breathing heavily.
Finally, Sam made a toothy grin as the timer went down to zero.
"PLEASE! I'll do anything!"
"What was that?" Sam said, leaning an ear in.
"Just make it stop!" the thug shouted.
John didn't understand it, but everywhere that thug looked, he saw something that made him wince in fear. It wasn't long before the O'Driscoll was afraid of everything he looked at. He hid his face in the ground and screamed.
"He's at Lone Mule stead!" the O'Driscoll squealed. "It's past Bard's Crossing and near Riggs Station!"
"That's in West Elizabeth…" said John.
"Near Blackwater…" Sam growled. "They're gonna hand Arthur over to the law…"
"Please!" the O'Driscoll reached up with a shaky hand. "I gave you what you wanted. Please…"
"Sam, if they do that…" John started. "It's probably all a-"
And well, that set Sam off…
He turned around and smacked the O'Driscoll across the face with the barrel of his sawed-off shotgun. He fell to the ground. Sam didn't relent and did it again.
John wasn't sure if he should say something, but he just… didn't.
"You… said… you'd… help… me…" the O'Driscoll rasped. "There was blood coming out of his nose and mouth, and several teeth were on the floor.
"You should have told me, before it kicked in," said Sam. The shine in his eyes was gone. "I can only do this for you." He pressed the barrel of the gun on his shoulder. "One good shot deserves another."
"Sam?!" said John.
And he pulled the trigger… just as lightning struck.
BOOM!
***...
Footsteps entered Arthur's ears. His vision was kind of muddy, but somehow he knew he was upside down and somehow suspended in midair. It didn't do anything to help his headache. The smell of blood was thick in the air and his shoulder was throbbing. Colm O'Driscoll came in. Great.
"Arthur Morgan…" he said. The gang leader was holding a plate of food. It obviously wasn't for him. He just wanted to taunt him. "It's good to see ya."
"Hello, Colm."
"How's the wound?"
"I hardly feel it," Arthur said, softly.
"You will…" Colm said. Arthur saw him sticking out the spoon he was holding towards that bullet wound in his shoulder. Despite the pain, and the weakness, the outlaw grabbed his arm, pushing back his attempt to make it hurt even more, "septic, it ain't nice." Eventually, Colm gave up, but it left Arthur panting and gasping. "Now, tell me… fine gun like you… why you still running around with old Dutch? Could come ride with me and make real money."
"It ain't about the money, Colm," Arthur said, his voice shaky despite trying to sound strong. It was kind of hard to do when he was upside down with a bleeding shoulder.
"Oh, no…" The gang leader said, setting up a chair. "It's Dutch's famous charisma." And he kicked Arthur in the side. "You killed a whole bunch of my boys… at Six Point Cabin."
"I ain't got no clue what you're talking about," Arthur said, hissing from the pain.
"Oh, you lie, my friend…" Colm stopped in front of Arthur, and pulled out a gun, "and I thought Dutch preached truth."
"Let me go, Colm…" said Arthur, "and end all this crap between you two… we all got real problems now."
Colm stared Arthur down. He didn't seem phased. "The way I see it… they get him… they forget about me."
"They ain't the forgetting sort. If I were you… I'd run as soon as I had the money."
Colm chuckled. "Oh, I know you would… but see… we lure an angry Dutch in to rescue ya… grab all of ya and hand ya in… then disappear. No Slayer, or whatever can get me with that."
Arthur gulped. "So you only met with him to grab me?"
"Of course… he's gonna be so mad. He gonna come raging over here… and a whole lot of ya… and the law'll be waiting for him."
Arthur breathed deeply, not from the pain per se. Moreover, he was worried for the others. There was no parley. Of all of the times they should've listened to Hosea, this was one of them.
"If the Slayer… ain't such a problem to you… why run?"
Colm looked at him, a brow raised for about a moment. Then he made a wicked grin and stepped towards him.
"Oh, Arthur… Arthur, I missed you," said Colm. He turned his gun around and struck him multiple times in the abdomen. Then he turned away while Arthur was left coughing and writhing in pain, and he walked out of the cellar.
John and Sam rode into the night. The rain continued to pour. Sam held onto the brim of Arthur's hat on his head. It was going down to a drizzle, the occasional thunder in the skies.
"Come back… Please…"
"Lily, get Aurora! We need to get him home!"
"Sam, we've gotta cross."
Sam was pulled back to the present by John. He stared down at the endless water below in the river, upward at the endless water that rained from above and the train track bridge before them. Had this been any other day, he may have been fine.
But it just had to be on a stormy night.
They skipped the Dakota River, opting to just ride across the train track bridge that was Bard's Crossing itself. Somehow, the watery river below seemed stronger, and further away. The bridge was longer to him, and even though he wouldn't technically be standing on the bridge, Aurora, who showed no hesitation in stepping onto the bridge didn't help. It still felt like the ground was sinking below him.
"Come on," said John. "Just…" He glanced around. "Focus on the other side. And don't look down."
And that only amplified Sam's need to look down…
But, he couldn't stop now. Arthur needed him.
He urged Aurora to go and shut his eyes tightly. John was following closely behind him. Sam started leaning forward, tucking his scarred arm away as the rain continued to pour down. He heard his steed's hooves clopping on the wooden tracks. They sounded stable enough. Aurora was loyal, and would probably make it through just fine.
Until he was jolted forward and thrown from the saddle onto the wooden floor at a crackle of thunder. Sam opened his eyes and immediately saw the waters below. He was laying on the edge of the tracks and arm hanging down over the edge. Suddenly, John's hands were on him, pulling him away. He was paralyed, but then saw he was looking from the ground to the sky. Then, John's scarred face was over him.
"Don't worry," said John. "Your horse just tripped. Let's go."
John stood up first and Sam was clinging to him like he'd die if he let go. He tried to shake him off, but he wasn't having it. Once Sam was up, they took the reins of their respective horses and just walked to the other side.
Sam scrambled to get off the train tracks once they were on the other side and immediately hit the grass. The rain continued to fall and Sam found himself hiding his arm. Then, there was a nudge on his back and Sam saw Aurora snorting above him. He smiled, and sat up, head swimming a bit.
"You alright?" said John.
Sam looked up, then at his horse and then at John. "I don't know… What are we doing out here…? This is stupid."
"Arthur's in trouble," said John. "You can't turn back now."
"We should've gotten Dutch, or-"
"No!" John knelt down in front of Sam. "You cared enough to come out here alone. You cared enough that you didn't care that Dutch threatened to shoot you."
Sam was still shaking, but he looked up at John. "Why do you care?"
John rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter." Then, he pointed up ahead. "Look."
Sam looked in the direction he pointed. The two saw a plume of smoke in the distance, along with a warm, inviting light.
John opted to have them hide in the trees on the hill. They left their horses a few feet away from the foliage, walked through the muddy grounds and then hid amongst the trees.
"Place is heavily guarded," John said, looking with his binoculars.
"Do you see Arthur?" said Sam.
John shook his head. "I see Colm. So he's probably not far away. Place looks like a party. Wait!" Sam turned around and looked at him. "I can see his bag by the shed. And Soleil is with the other horses."
"And you're sure?"
"'Course I am. They're all getting drinks from some kind of keg."
Sam growled. "They're celebrating his capture…"
John took his binoculars down. "What are we going to do? There's two of us and a whole lot of them."
Sam thought to himself for a moment. Then, he reached into his bag, pulling out some Wolf's Bane. "How much Wolf's Bane can you help me crush in an hour?"
"Shouldn't be so hard," said John.
Sam nodded. "Good."
It was about an hour later. Things got a little quiet, but some O'Driscolls were still loud and partying. O'Driscolls were switching between going out to patrol the perimeter and with others just guarding the base.
John was ready with Arthur's sniper rifle in case it all went to hell. Sam stayed low, sneaking towards the scene of a giant party. He approached quietly, grass crunching beneath his boots. He approached a tiny house and forced his back against the wall. There was someone walking outwards towards the perimeter. Also another about to round the corner.
The young man's thoughts were fast as he snuck around. He was crazy! He knew this, but he couldn't let Arthur down. It was rough to get along with him at first, but over time, Arthur started to believe in him, and he did so back, as well.
"You wanna learn, or what? You owe Dutch, and I ain't gonna let you off because you died, since you weren't able to at least throw hands."
Sam grabbed the O'Driscoll who turned the corner, like they were nothing but a rag doll, stabbing him repeatedly and then threw his dead body onto the ground.
"And the first time… you killed? Was it… hard?"
"Of course. It's not easy, but… Sometimes, the only way out is one or the other. Sometimes, we've just gotta… do whatever we can to survive."
"Will they hurry it up?" said an O'Driscoll. They didn't see a shadow whooshing past. "I don't wanna be here, when the law shows up for that side of beef." He took a sip of his drink. The O'Driscoll across from him did as well, after looking around a little.
"Colm said we'd leave, as soon as he was back from town."
Sam approached a keg. It looked like it was where they were getting their drinks from. He reached into his satchel grabbing a full flask of something and pulled down a gulp. There was no turning back after this. His hand shook, as he thought about the things they had done to him… the things they had done to Arthur and to Dutch, and the things he and Lily had gone through in the aftermath. He was an outlaw, but so was he. Arthur had been far kinder to him than the entire town of Valentine.
"Like I said: You ain't alone no more."
What was one more crime… to save the ones he loved?
He shut his eyes tightly and poured the mixture in.
A thug spaced out a little, enjoying the noises. Some people were probably drunk already. They were getting really loud. Colm would probably give them what for when he got back.
Then, he noticed the same noises coming from his buddy. He dropped his drink and he was coughing up blood. He fell onto the ground, his body twitching as he coughed up more and more. The last man standing turned around and watched that all those noises were not his fellow O'Driscolls partying.
They had all fallen to the ground, dead.
The man dropped his drink, and turned around, opting to run. Then a blade struck the back of his head. He fell onto the ground, eyes open, motionless.
Then from behind the crates, Sam rose up, holding an empty flask of poison in his hand.
Sam began to walk around, seeing the carnage before him. There was blood covering the ground, while Sam held his Scofield in both of his hands.
Then there was a thud. Sam rushed towards the source of the noise. He rolled his eyes. It just had to be in the cellar, didn't it? It was already open, and Sam could see light. He held out his gun and slowly crept down the stairs.
Once he was on the ground level, he saw Arthur, who had managed to break out of his shackles, and an O'Driscoll fighting over a phial.
"Get away from him!" Sam then yelled. And he shot the enemy, who hit the table and fell onto the floor.
Arthur winced, holding his wounded shoulder. He looked at the dead body. Then at Sam, who was covered in dirt and mud, before stumbling onto the ground.
"Holy shit…"
"Arthur!" Sam exclaimed. Before he could race to his side, someone jumped on him from behind.
"Bastard! You killed them all!"
The dark haired man tried to shake him off. Once he did, Sam saw it was Seth Laslow. He pushed Sam into the nearby shelves, making a few things fall, but Sam kicked Seth in the ankles and took him down, as well. The two fell onto the ground, struggling and kicking until his attacker grabbed Sam's gun. He scurried away, and Sam looked up just in time to see himself at the end of the barrel.
"SAM!" Arthur yelled. But before he could do anything else, there was the sound of thunder…
BANG!
Sam didn't hear anything.
There was no pain.
No light.
No sound.
All that went through his head at the moment was:
"So this is what it is like to die."
However…
When he moved his hands from his chest, he saw the burnt fabric from his coat, but there was no blood. Sam was laying flat on the ground, but when he raised his head, the O'Driscoll across from him was writhing on the ground, holding his leg, and it took a few moments for Sam to realize that it was the O'Driscoll screaming and not him. Sam quickly sat up and as soon as he saw his pocket watch, the item he kept locked away in a pocket over his heart, fell out with a dent in it, he knew what happened.
His mother had protected him.
Sam scrambled for his gun. He picked it up before the O'Driscoll did and pointed it at him. And like back then, all the way back in that police station in Rhodes, Sam remembered what he said to Seth.
"Told ya," Sam said, almost breathless. "One by one."
Seth rolled his eyes. However, he didn't panic or beg for his life. Maybe he knew it was pointless, or he had long accepted it. Instead, he looked Sam in the eyes, already knowing what was coming.
"Who shot Cliff Hawkeson?" Sam asked, slowly and concisely.
Seth spat on the floor, a cut from within his mouth causing him to spit out some blood. "Is that really what you want to know?"
Sam just blinked, his gaze unmoving. "You kidnapped my friends, raided my town, and killed some of the only family I ever had. You've seen the map, now spill it!"
Seth rolled his eyes. "It wasn't us! Colm came to us with a map already drawn out. He tells us what to do, but we help plan it. Someone else must have given it to him."
Sam smacked him across the face with the gun. "Then, someone among you probably gave it to him."
"Whatever you say…" said Seth. "Will it really give you the satisfaction you're looking for? I can't say I ever saw it that way… Good luck."
And Sam pulled the trigger. Blood splattered onto the floor and the walls behind his victim. There was a pause, while Sam caught his breath, and a wave of silence blew over him along with the patter of the rain outside.
"...Bastard," Sam muttered. He heard groaning and turned around. "Arthur! Are you okay?"
Arthur nodded, but the way he was grabbing at his chest and bloody shoulder said otherwise. Sam helped him off the ground and sat him down at the nearby chair.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Arthur said, through gritted teeth. "He could've…"
Arthur just stopped when Sam crashed into him, arms wrapping around him. Sam didn't care that Arthur was covered in blood, or that some of it would get on his clothes. He just wanted to see him. Arthur was more concerned that Sam was drenched in rain water, mud and grass stains and the fact that he was nearly shot to death at point blank, and was somehow still standing and drawing breath. Still, he put his arms around him, too, until his shoulder protested.
Sam then realized the situation, and pulled away a little. Arthur looked pained and sweaty.
"You look like hell…" said Sam.
Arthur managed to chuckle. "So do you…"
Sam wanted to laugh. Either that, or burst into tears. As much as Sam needed to process what the hell just happened, Arthur needed him, and so, that would have to wait. He leaned over and looked at his injured shoulder. It was still bleeding and the cloth of his shirt that had been over it was burned from the initial shot.
"I'm so sorry," said Sam. "This is all my fault." He bit back tears, but Arthur could see them forming in Sam's eyes.
Arthur winced at Sam's poking and prodding. "Would ya cut it out?!" He looked up at Sam, hazy eyes managing to focus on him. His silver eyes were crystal with tears. "This ain't your fault," Arthur's voice softened. With a friend nearby, he felt like he could let his guard down a little. "Don't worry about it. Just help me out, will you?"
Sam sniffled, but smiled. He picked up the nearby phial. "Um, this is gonna hurt."
"I'm already in pain…" Arthur grunted. He reached over and grabbed Sam's unoccupied hand. "Just take the fucking bullet out…"
"Sam, is everything okay down there?"
John came down the steps. The smell of blood was thick in the air. "Shit!"
He came in to see Sam trying to fish out the bullet with the phial. Arthur was shutting his eyes tightly, trying not to move, but his bare heel would hit the ground occasionally. Sam's eyes twitched, and John had looked away, hating the sight of more blood oozing out from Arthur's shoulder.
"Don't be a baby, John…" Arthur muttered, through gritted teeth.
"I'm not the one with a birdshot in my shoulder," said John.
Arthur suddenly screamed when Sam pulled out the phial, bullet in tow. He pulled off his handkerchief and put it over the wound to staunch the bleeding. "Will you old ladies stop fighting for two seconds?!" He looked over Arthur's injury carefully. "It's still bleeding. If I don't close it up it could get infected."
"No shit…" Arthur grumbled.
"Have you ever been burned before?" Sam asked.
"Just do what needs to be done."
Sam sighed. "Okay…" He patted Arthur's unwounded shoulder and had him lean back in the chair, his free hand holding the handkerchief in place. "John, I need you to hold him. I'll make it quick."
"You're a couple of idiots…" Arthur mumbled as John walked over. Sam raced over to the other desk to search through his things in his satchel.
John rolled his eyes. "And yet, here we are…"
"Never thought I'd say this…" Arthur shivered, "but I'm glad to see you, John Marston," he said.
John nodded. "Same to you…"
Sam came back and cleaned Arthur's wound the best he could, before dousing it with some whiskey. Then he ran a knife over the one lit candle on the table. It was actually there for a while. "This is… also gonna hurt," the would-be doctor reminded Arthur.
Arthur nodded, his head against the wall. "Just make it quick…"
Sam walked up to him. He held his shoulder, made sure his hot knife was on the flat end, and then, after a deep breath, slammed the flat end on Arthur's wounded shoulder.
The older outlaw screamed, which Sam and John had expected. The wound was burned shut, however. Arthur found himself leaning his full weight against the wall. His vision blacked out, but he took a sharp inhale. He found himself leaning his full weight against the table in front of him, blurry vision focusing on Sam's concerned face, until it was clear. Soon there was something cool on his burnt skin before he felt Sam's gentle hands wrapping his shoulder up.
"You still with me?" said Sam.
Arthur needed a minute to catch his breath. He rested a hand on the table trying to push himself up. Sam rested his hands on his unwounded shoulder and helped him. He pulled out a rag and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Yeah…" Arthur rasped.
"We need to move," said John. They could be back any minute."
John was right, and Colm could be among the O'Driscolls who did. However, his mind about hunting Colm down like an animal was numb at the moment. Arthur was hurt. He needed him. Sam needed him. His safety had to come first.
"Arthur?" said Sam.
The outlaw barely registered their voices. He opened his eyes and saw Sam and the man he had seen as his brother near him.
"You're hurt…" Arthur said, softly. His hand on the injured arm moved and brushed over the cuts and bruises on Sam's arms.
"It's nothing," said Sam. He started tugging at him to get up. "We need to-"
Arthur wheezed, probably wincing from the pain and somehow pulled out the bandages from Sam's bag. Sam rolled his eyes and took it.
"Fine, you stubborn pain in the ass…" Sam grumbled. He doused his own wounds really quickly with whiskey. Sam winced at the slight pain, but didn't care where the stray drops landed and then covered them up in bandages.
The next thing Arthur knew, he was on his feet, one arm around Sam and the other around John. With Sam on the left, he fussed over the hole in Arthur's shoulder. Every breath made Arthur's ribs ache, but he was just glad to be out of that cellar. He saw the night sky, looked down and saw the carnage that were the fallen O'Driscolls.
"Th-They're dead…" Arthur muttered. And he wasn't the cause. He didn't see any gunshots. So how…
"Don't look at them," said Sam. "Just look ahead."
Arthur's breath was heavy. He swallowed around his dry throat. "You came for me…?" he practically whispered.
Sam scoffed. Like he would ever leave him behind… "Of course I did."
Arthur would never say that he smiled when Sam said that. He came here for him. Against what Dutch said, however. Arthur turned to John.
"What about Dutch?"
"You let me worry about him," said John.
Arthur soon saw Soliel, but he wasn't shocked that Sam didn't let him drive. He was allowed in the saddle, but Sam took the reins.
With Aurora following behind Soleil and Old Boy, they rode back towards Clemens' Point. Arthur was still tired. He let his mind drift, but was both happy and shocked that Sam was able to support his weight as he leaned back. The younger man was still kind of lanky, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed how much stronger he had gotten. Sam's arms, slim yet now defined, remained wrapped around him, images of what they passed by fading in and out. Arthur let his eyelids get heavy.
"Thank-you…" Arthur mumbled, before he let the darkness overtake him.