A/N: Have fun! Some angst, comfort, fluff, and an a$$hole gets punched in the face. xD

People at the camp were awaiting the return of their leader and Arthur. Hosea awaited at one of the tables, reading his newspaper. That activity was a ruse. He was worried. It had turned dark and the rain was falling, but still he remained where he was.

"You and me, with Arthur protecting us…"

It was rare to hear Dutch get so curt with someone, even when they were committing crimes. But, he knew that he was only hard on Sam in his attempt to keep him safe.

Hosea looked up upon seeing lanterns and his newspaper dropped.

Why were there only two horses?

Lily had a tray ready, just as the horses arrived. People were running up, but Lily noticed that Sam hadn't even taken a peek out of their tent. She poured some of Pearson's stew in a bowl and walked towards the tent she shared with him, and parted the pieces of cloth.

"They're back, Sam," said Lily. "Do you think you can…"

The young lady paused. For when she walked into the tent and moved the flaps, she found it empty. All that remained was Sam's hat on the table.

Lily's heart rattled in her chest. Her blood ran cold. The tray dropped from her hands and she ran outside.

Outside, Tilly and Mary-Beth had helped Rose off of the Count. The other girls ran up to see her, with Miss Grimshaw scolding them to back off and to give her some space.

"Arthur said he'd meet us on the trail and he wasn't there," Dutch explained. Hosea was already worried. "He's not here, either?"

Hosea hesitated, but shook his head. "No. Dutch-"

"I told ya," said Micah. "He probably wandered off. He does his own thing all the-"

"No, he's a stubborn ass, but he'd never just take off on you, especially when it comes to Colm!" Hosea snapped. "Where the hell is he?!"

"He's gone!"

Everyone turned and saw Lily rushing towards the commotion. The girl briefly glanced at the hitching posts, her stomach dropping to see that Aurora wasn't there, either.

She stopped, almost out of breath. After hearing what Dutch yelled earlier, she didn't know why she was saying this to him, but he would find out either way.

"S-Sam… I can't find him…" said Lily.

Micah glared. He turned to Dutch. "After what you said?"

"Shut the hell up!" said Lily.

"He disobeyed him!"

"He was worried about Arthur!"

Dutch's hands shook while gripping the rains. His mind flashed back to a similar time. It stormed that night and he couldn't stop the horse from galloping.

Because she…

"Mr. Smith!" Dutch's voice cut through Lily and Micah's arguing. "I need your help! Bickering can wait, you two. We need to find where the hell they are."

Lily nodded. "Should I-"

"No, stay here in case they come back," said Dutch. "You too, Hosea." Charles was already heading over with his bow and other gear ready.

"But-"

"I've had enough people in your family disobeying me!" said Dutch. "Let's go, Mr. Smith. Just me and him. Everyone else, stay where you are!"

Charles patted Lily's shoulder as he walked by and then whistled for Taima. Hosea guided her away, as they set out once again. Dutch could only curse under his breath.

"They'll be fine," Hosea said, despite being nervous. "They'll find them."

Lily shook her head. "That's why I'm worried."

It was getting late, and riding out there and back was exhausting on the horses. Charles' horse still had some energy, but the Count was probably tired. Still, they made it to the Heartlands.

When they came over the hill, they were shocked to see the many bodies that were littering the place. Dutch wondered how he could have been so blind. Colm had O'Driscolls patrolling this whole area. The rain pattered down, and the lightning brought Dutch back to that night when he lost her…

And the night he met Sam.

"This way!" said Charles. "There's horse tracks. Two of them." He pointed ahead and past the tracks. "They go into those trees."

"It could be anyone!" said Dutch. "There's tracks everywhere."

"I can tell the horseshoes here were set by one of our own."

Deciding to let the horses rest, they went into the trees on foot. Dutch gulped at what he saw: More dead O'Driscolls. There was a pair of them by an unlit fire. One was shot through the head from behind.

Dutch turned the second body over with his boot. He stepped back, seeing the man's face. He was bleeding from his nose, his cheeks bruised and turning purple and a huge hole in his shoulder. There was no pulse upon feeling his neck, and a pool of blood was beneath him.

"He bled out," said Dutch.

"Fire was put out recently," Charles said, standing back up from his investigation. "Did Arthur kill them?"

"No," said Dutch. "There was no reason for him to do so, unless… something happened."

Charles looked to the ground. "There's more footprints, but we need to let the horses rest."

"No," Dutch then raised his voice. "If something is wrong, then Arthur or Sam are in danger! We can't just-"

"It'll be easier to see them during the day," said Charles. "I'm just as worried as you, but it's dark and I can hardly see a thing and there's all this rain."

Dutch took a deep breath. His entire body unsteady since being unable to find his sons.

"First light," Dutch said, sternly.

Rose had a few cuts that Lily easily cleaned up. They were in Sam and Lily's tent. Rose was glad for the hospitality, but seemed hesitant on letting the girls wash her clothes. It was very late, but it wasn't like Lily could sleep, knowing that her cousin was still out there doing who-knows-what!

"It'll just take a night," said Lily. "You can keep your weapons on you."

Rose's breath was shaky, and she seemed hesitant to answer. She relented, eventually, and took the spare nightgown she was offered to wear.

So Lily left her to undress. Rose took off her boots, her coat, her pants, and her shirt, and pulled on the nightgown.

Lily came back in to collect Rose's dirty clothes, but saw she was putting the red bandana back on around her neck. She turned and saw Lily and stepped back.

"Oh, you're done," said Lily. "We can wash that handkerchief, too." She tried to reach for it, but the redhead flinched. "Uh…"

Rose looked to the left and then the right.

"Something wrong?"

Rose took a deep, shaky breath. She lowered the piece of cloth that was in front of her neck.

And Lily gasped.

A huge scar ran across Rose's neck. The lines look like there used to be stitches.

"D-Did they…" Lily stuttered.

Rose shook her head. Of course not. Lily didn't need to have training as a doctor to see that the scar was years old.

Lily looked downward. "I'm sorry…" she said, quietly. Quickly, she untied the purple handkerchief around her own neck. "H-Here. You can wear it until your clothes are clean."

Rose didn't hesitate to take it and put it on. Lily took the red one and felt better once Rose gave her a thumbs up. The blonde left embarrassed, but relieved.

Though, she was curious. What happened to Rose's neck?

"Lily!"

The girl gasped. That sounded like…

"SAM?!"

Lily ran out of the tent as quickly as she could. Rose only followed her to the entrance of the tent and saw the commotion from there.

Sam had entered the camp with John. The two had dismounted and we're standing by Soliel helping Arthur down. He would have fallen right onto the ground if it weren't for them. He closed his eyes, his shoulder pain getting intense and he tried to breathe through it. Mary-Beth and Karen were rushing out in a hurry. Miss Grimshaw was storming up behind them.

"Lily, I need help!" Sam yelled. "Miss Grimshaw! Reverend!"

"Miss Jackson!" Susan soon called. "Get over here!"

Lily rushed out, towards the camp's entrance. She recognized that blue coat anywhere. Sam! Sam was here!

"We're almost there, Arthur," Sam said, reassuringly.

"Oh my god…" Lily stopped in her tracks, shocked at what she saw.

Arthur looked terrible. His face was bruised, was sweating something fierce, and his union suit was covered in dirt, mud, and rain. His left shoulder was bandaged up. Judging from the neatness it had to have been Sam's doing. Sam didn't look much better. His clothes along with John's were ruined, covered in mud, dirt and grass blood.

Hosea was over soon enough. He was the only one Miss Grimshaw didn't shoo away to give Arthur, John and Sam some space.

Arthur could barely stand on his two feet. His left shoulder still burned with pain, so did his throat, his face and pretty much the rest of his body. He was too tired to be so proud and let Sam and John guide him with Lily taking the lead and Miss Grimshaw bringing up the rear. Voices of concern swirled around him as he was guided.

"Let's get him to bed," said Susan. Her voice quivered. She was too concerned for Arthur to sound so tough right now.

Arthur practically hobbled towards his tent. All he wanted right now was a soft bed to lay down on, and by God, he was now only a short walk to it.

A pained yelp escaped Arthur's lips as he was laid down, but he was so exhausted, he didn't care who heard him. He saw Sam and John explaining what happened to Susan, Lily racing over with a box of medical supplies, with the reverend helping. Tilly was out gathering a change of clothes for him. Hosea was soon over, as well. Arthur moved his mouth, trying to will himself to speak.

"Where's… Dutch?" Arthur managed to rasp.

"He's out looking for you," Hosea said.

"N-No…" Arthur said. He tried to get up, but the elder held him down with ease. "It's a trap!"

"Dutch is smart," said Hosea. "Well, smart enough. He'll be back. I know it."

"Colm… he got me. Sam… John… he…"

"I know…" The elder said. He ran his hand through Arthur's hair. He was warm and the bandages on his shoulder made Hosea concerned. "Everything's gonna be okay."

Sam finished saying what happened to Miss Grimshaw, but before he could go to Arthur, the woman yanked him away by the back of his coat collar.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

"I was just-"

"You and John are revolting! Go wash up, or you'll get all of us sick!"

Sam looked over to John's tent, seeing him getting chewed out by Abigail for making her worry, most likely. He saw Arthur, struggling to relax, but Susan pushed him away.

"Get!"

"I've got him, Sam," said Lily. "Get changed before you get sick."

Sam nodded. He walked towards his tent, but he saw Arthur staring at him as he went to change.

Lily and Hosea worked together to get Arthur out of his ruined clothes. He was too tired to fight them off, and was pliant, letting them peel off his ruined union suit and just decided to find him some comfortable pants to wear and let him stay shirtless to keep an eye on his bandaged shoulder. However, they did tuck him in under a few layers of blankets to keep him warm.

Lily feared he was catching a fever. So, she placed a pail of water by Arthur's cot. She dipped a rag, rang it out, and gently placed it on his forehead.

Arthur's eyes were barely open, but the cold touch of the rag made him flinch. Hosea reached over and squeezed his hand.

"It's okay, Arthur," Hosea said, gently. "You're home."

"D-Dutch…?" Arthur managed to mumble.

"He'll be okay. I promise." At least, that's what the elder hoped.

Sam laid his dirty clothes in a basket, thinking to wash it in the morning. It wasn't like he was going to sleep tonight, anyway.

"He was in danger, Micah! We saved him, while you were whispering into his ear!"

"Blessed are the Peacemakers, John."

"All you know is trouble! No. That's what you are!"

Sam changed into his pajamas, before walking back out. John had walked into Micah and they started bickering.

"Oh, and there's the other one," said Micah. "I'm surprised you're still allowed to walk around the camp, freely."

"What?" said Sam.

"Don't you understand what you've done?" said Micah. He leaned in close. He was actually a bit taller than Sam, but the younger man tried not to step back. "You disobeyed Dutch's orders. He doesn't take kindly to that."

"I-"

"Arthur got captured because of you!" Micah yelled.

"Micah!" John yelled.

"And now Dutch is out looking because of you! He's at risk because of you!"

Sam looked up into Micah's blue eyes. He was appalled that a man like him could have the same eye color as Arthur. His eyes darted over to the injured outlaw shaking and shivering in bed.

His hands formed fists.

"And now, you're gonna get yourself and possibly John shot," said Micah. "You have no one to blame but your-"

Suddenly, Micah cried out. He stepped back, nearly falling over, while holding his nose. Micah moved his hand away and saw blood dripping from his nose. He looked at Sam who lowered his fist, breathing heavily. Several people around the camp looked on at the scene.

Sam had punched him.

Hosea walked over just then before Sam could pursue any further violence.

"Go wash your hand, Sam," said Hosea. "You got blood on it."

Sam nodded. However, he squeezed his hand. It actually hurt hitting that bone and cartilage on that bastard's face. He raised his head and looked Micah in the eye.

And he ended up saying exactly what Arthur said to him, as well.

"Stay away from him." And he left to wash his hand. Hosea and John dispersed as well.

"Hey, no one's gonna say anything?!" Micah yelled. "He just punched me!"

Silence.

Sam made it to the barrel by Pearson's wagon. He scooped up some water with his clean hand and poured it on the bloody one. He then grabbed a rag and wiped off any blood that remained.

The young man tossed the dirty rag into the pile of other ones when he was finished. He took a deep shaky breath before he let the tears escape from his eyes. There was no way in hell he was going to let that bastard have the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He wiped the tears away soon enough and left to rejoin Arthur's side.

Like Dutch declared, he and Charles set out at the crack of dawn. The rain had subsided mostly, but the skies were still dark. At least the tracks were still present. They were confused when they disappeared by Bard's Crossing, Charles' only hypothesis was that whoever led the tracks, which he was starting to believe was made by Sam, went across the bridge.

So, they crossed. Sure, it would be wiser to go around a train bridge, but at this point, Dutch was sure that Sam was not. Something forced him to cross that bridge, like he was in a hurry.

And now, Dutch had a feeling it was for the same reason he was about to cross it, as well.

Charles followed silently, and they crossed Bard's Crossing together, passing the Dakota River below them that would lead out to the giant Flat Iron Lake. Dutch knew his face was all over West Elizabeth, but even if it was just for a short spell, he had to know if his sons were okay.

Once they were on the other side, the pair made their way to a patch of red they saw nearby. It stuck out like a sore thumb, even with the sun only just rising.

But it was jarring…

O'Driscolls were laying dead all around Lone Mule Stead. The blood laying on the floor had dried, but was still present, like a dried up paste. Both the gang leader and Charles looked around. Dutch didn't smell gunsmoke, but he knew the smell of blood anywhere. With his foot, he managed to flip a body over, and saw no gunshot wounds, but saw blood running out of the victim's mouth.

They were poisoned.

"Sam…" His name was on Dutch's lips. That wasn't to say that no one else in the gang had ever used poison, but he had never seen one that would cause such a horrid affliction.

"Mr. Van der Linde!" Charles raised his voice slightly, but it was enough to draw the gang leader's attention. "Arthur was here!" He bent over and held up his satchel. Dutch's jaw dropped at the sight.

"Search the place!" Dutch then ordered, almost frantically. "Now!"

Charles checked the small shed, Dutch checked the house. The Native man even hopped back onto Taima to check the area. The gang leader checked around the house and found a trap door that had been left open. He called Charles over, and with a spare lantern, they headed down inside.

A pair of dead bodies awaited them at the bottom. One was laid still against the walls, dead. It was Seth Laslow. The other was lying dead, face down on the floor from a gunshot to the back of the head. Dutch flipped them over, and he breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't Arthur.

However, it didn't ease either of their worries. There was a pool of blood on the floor and neither man knew whose it was. Above the stain on the floor were a pair of chains. Charles checked the locks, they were picked open by someone and there were foot and handprints on the floor. A phial was on the table covered in blood, along with a candle that had long since burned out.

Dutch's frame shook. His lips moved, barely forming the words. "He was here…" his voice was unusually quiet and shaken. The lack of volume scared even Charles. "Arthur…"

"He escaped…" said Charles. He thought for a moment, and remembered the poison. "And he wasn't alone."

"That crazy bastard…" Dutch muttered. "But where are they?!" His voice raised almost in a shrill tone. Arthur's hurt! He could be dead! He-"

Dutch had the urge to leave, to search for Arthur, to beat Colm O'Driscoll within an inch of his life, pull his boy into his arms and tell him he was safe.

Both of them.

Where was Arthur?

Where was Sam?

Where were they?

Despite what Dutch wanted, his body wouldn't move. The darkness of the cellar and the darkness today wasn't helping.

He failed Annabelle, and now he felt like he was failing her son.

His son.

Their sons.

He didn't realize he had been as still as a statue until Charles placed a hand on his shoulder.

"They'll find they're way back," said Charles. judging from his voice, however, he wasn't sure, either, but they were out of leads and options.

Dutch nodded, looking away from Charles, almost ashamed that he let his walls down in front of someone. He sighed and managed to start going back up the cellar stairs.

"We should get out of here. There could be more O'Driscolls about."

Charles nodded and silently followed.

The day came and then the night fell once more. Things at the camp were quiet, but Miss Grimshaw was quick to remind everyone that there was still work to do.

The guys went out to do their work in town. They still had that thing with the two families going on, Sadie took Karen and went into town for supplies, while Lily was zipping back and forth through camp to take care of Rose and check on Sam, who had refused to leave Arthur's side, only leaving to use the restroom, and eat a little something every now and again.

Sam barely remembered the last time he slept. He didn't sleep after the O'Driscolls assaulted him, only got about an hour or so after his argument with Dutch, before blindly rushing out to follow and find Arthur. Now, he had been sitting here in Arthur's tent, changed back into his regular clothes, once they were clean enough and dried. A pair of chairs had been taken into his space to watch him. For the moment, they ditched Arthur's open-air thing for his tent and put up some extra tarps to allow the injured outlaw some privacy.

Sam had given Arthur medicine to fight off the fever, cleaned his wounds, and dabbed them with other mixtures and herbs to protect him from infection or fight it off if it had already taken hold, and changed the bandages on his shoulder. It was the gunshot wound that he was particularly worried about and he was sure Hosea felt the same.

The worst part of the job was the waiting. Arthur had woken up a few times, wondering where Dutch was, wanting to tell him that he was walking into a trap. Hosea and Sam had taken turns trying to calm him down and get him back to sleep.

Hosea refreshed a rag with some water from the pail nearby and placed it gently on Arthur's forehead. His breathing was still labored and his left hand, that was gently being held in both of Sam's, twitched occasionally, most likely feeling the pain that still remained in Arthur's shoulder. His hand was warm, almost abnormally so, but it was typical for someone running a fever.

Hosea was occupying the only other chair next to Sam. Other people had come in before Hosea: John, Abigail, Sadie for a little bit, Miss Grimshaw, Mary-Beth, Tilly, Karen, and even Sean and Javier. The reverend came by every so often to read a prayer. Jack wanted to see him, but Abigail wasn't sure if she should show her child the state Arthur was in, and just told him that his Uncle Arthur needed some space and to let the grown ups take care of him for now.

All of their visits had the same thing in common: Sam was there, refusing to leave Arthur's side. Despite the lack of sleep and the dark circles under his eyes, Sam remained determined. He was not going to lose him.

"I'm not running," said Sam.

Sam had been worryingly quiet for a while. So, Hosea was kind of shocked at first.

"Pardon?"

Sam ran his thumbs over Arthur's calloused palm.

"I know Dutch is going to punish me for this," said Sam. "I don't care. I'll take it like an outlaw."

Not many people would disobey Dutch. Usually, it was for an act of betrayal. He liked to limit killing in the camp. Well, there was that one guy, but he was a traitor.

Sam, however, did not do it out of disrespect. That's what Hosea could see as Sam sat at Arthur's bedside.

"Sam, Dutch is not going to kill you," said Hosea. "At least not literally. He only said that, because he was trying to protect you."

Sam wasn't sure. Dutch didn't seem like the type, but he never knew when it came to that man. Hosea put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"You saved his son, Sam," said Hosea. "You trusted your gut and you were right."

"But I didn't trust in Dutch." Sam's gaze remained on the injured outlaw, sleeping away. His occasional muttering wasn't very coherent. "He wouldn't listen… and goddamn Micah, was…" He shook his head.

"He won't kill you," the elder reassured him. "It ain't his style." He almost mumbled that last part. He wasn't really sure about Dutch right now, though, as much as he hated to admit it. Not after Blackwater…

Not after that girl…

"Just… make sure Arthur lives," Sam almost whispered. It was almost a plea. "Keep Lily safe. They deserve to live… I…" His lip trembled, his teeth showing as he struggled to keep his mouth closed.

"'I'm the one who should be dead'," Hosea said, taking his hand off Sam's shoulder. The younger man turned to him. "Is that what you were going to say?"

Sam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. All he could do was suppress a sob.

"I suppose you may have heard about Dutch's… previous lover," said Hosea. "Colm killed her, but it wasn't as open and shut as it seemed. Your…" He cleared his throat. "She saved his life. Apparently, his brother got into an altercation of some sort with her. Dutch didn't like it and killed him."

Sam listened and stared at the elder, the darkness around his eyes present.

"Afterwards, Colm and Dutch got into many fights, and the two gangs were at odds, but at one point, Colm did manage to get the upper hand. Annabelle helped him escape, but…" Hosea leaned forward in his chair and looked at his injured son. "There were too many of them, and only her and Dutch… he was injured… So, she stayed to hold them off while he got away…" Hosea shook his head. "I can't tell you how many times he told me that he wished it was him who was left behind and not her. He carried that same guilt you do, and he probably still does. That's why he probably keeps that leader's mask on and shoulders all the responsibility." He leaned back in his chair. "Poor Molly… she tried."

Sam sniffled. Hosea patted his leg.

"But you're not alone, Sam. Dutch ain't either. I don't know why you survived that night and I doubt Dutch knows why he survived all those years ago either, but there are people counting on us. Arthur is counting on you, Sam." And with that, he smiled. "You're the best doctor we have around here, son."

Sam nodded. Then the tent entrance was pulled open. John was at the entrance and out of breath.

"Hosea… It's Dutch. He's back."

Sam's heart jumped in his chest. His grip on Arthur tensed.

Arthur shook under the blankets. He groaned, but was too tired and weak to move around too much. Hosea stood, adjusted the rag on his son's forehead and pressed it down gently.

"It's okay, Arthur," he said, gently. "See? What did I tell you? He's back safe."

John turned his head away. "Dutch, he's in here. They were-"

Dutch came into the tent, gently pushing John out of the way. Hosea was on his feet almost immediately. Sam stared as the two men embraced each other. Dutch hadn't taken his eyes off Arthur, seeing the poor state he was in.

"There you are!" said Hosea. "Arthur's been asking for you."

Dutch sighed, seeing Sam dabbing Arthur's face with a rag. They were safe. Both of them were. He felt like he could breathe again.

"Arthur's running one hell of a fever, but I think he'll pull through," said Hosea. "Ain't that right, Sam?"

Sam nodded. Dutch stepped towards the two. The young man locked eyes with him, and he gently passed Arthur's hand to him. The gang leader took it gently, but Sam was very reluctant to let go.

"Son?" Dutch asked quietly. He was still staring at Arthur in disbelief. He saw the carnage, the blood in the cellar, but to know that it was true, was almost heart-breaking.

Arthur's voice was quiet and raspy. It was barely loud enough to leave his lips.

"...utch?"

"I'm here, Arthur," said Dutch.

The outlaw opened his eyes that were glossy but still held that deep blue in his irises.

"I told you it was a set up, Dutch…" Arthur practically groaned.

Dutch struggled to swallow down the guilt. He held his son's hand tighter.

"My boy," he said, leaning over his bedside. "My dear boy, what?"

"He got me… but… Sam and John found me…"

"Yeah…" The gang leader nodded. "Yeah, they did… You're safe, now, Arthur. Everyone is safe. Don't worry about a thing. You're gonna be just fine."

Arthur sighed. "That's pretty, Dutch… That's real pretty…"

Dutch ran his hands through Arthur's hair and his eyes slid closed again. It didn't take long for a soft snore to make itself heard, as he slipped into a deep sleep. He took his hand away and saw the thick amount of bandages.

"Birdshot," Sam was quick to see Dutch staring. "They shot him while he was trying to escape. I shot the bastard who did it, took the bullet out and cauterized it."

The older man nodded. The two stood quietly for a while. Dutch noticed Sam's lack of sleep, and then he grabbed his hand.

"We need to talk. Now."

Sam yelped as he was yanked away.

"Dutch! He saved him!" Hosea pleaded. It went ignored, as Sam was dragged from Arthur's tent. "Dutch! Don't hurt him!"

Sam didn't even say a word as he was taken to Dutch's tent. He didn't struggle or yell against his fate. The young man went into the tent like… well, a man.

A gentle push was all that was needed to get Sam to sit down on Dutch's cot.

Dutch was tired. He probably wasn't as tired as Sam, but still tired.

"I'm sorry…" Sam said, his voice soft and hoarse.

"You disobeyed me!" Dutch stated, his voice clear and concise. He stepped forward, and Sam still didn't look up. He sat still, his head hanging low and his hands in his lap. One of his arms was still bandaged up from hitting that shelf in the cellar. "John told me what happened out there and I saw everything. It was reckless and dangerous."

"I know…" Sam said, slowly. "I should be dead. I don't know why I'm not."

Dutch was appalled. He saw Sam reach into his coat and pull out his pocket watch.

"This is the only reason I'm still here."

Dutch looked closely, he saw the dent in it. It was the dent of a bullet on the pocket watch. The same pocket watch that Sam kept tucked away in a coat pocket that went over his chest.

"Oh my god…" Dutch didn't realize he muttered it out loud.

Sam lowered the watch and tucked it away. "I don't deserve your forgiveness or your understanding. If you have to shoot me, then do it. Just make sure Arthur is okay."

It didn't make sense to Dutch. Earlier, Sam had been going on and on about how he couldn't die until he got his revenge for his uncle.

Still, despite all of that, he saved Arthur and brought him home.

"...Why?" Dutch then asked.

"Huh?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Does it matter?" said Sam. "I went against you, I went out despite what you said and worried everyone."

"And despite the danger, and the storm, you still went and brought Arthur home. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, it was dangerous. You acted on your feelings, and it's only because of… your mother… that you're still here. But why despite the danger and my threats, did you go?"

"A-Arthur…" said Sam. Dutch noticed Sam's voice started to crack like a broken dam. "I… I owe him everything… h-he taught me stuff… and I…"

Dutch walked forward, and with a firm grasp, placed his hand on his shoulders.

"Sam. Look at me."

The younger man took a deep, shaky breath. He lifted his head, his gaze meeting with Dutch and he froze.

Sam was crying.

Tears were streaming down from his silver eyes, past the dreadful circles around them and down his cheeks. Sam was terrified to answer, but Dutch would not let him leave.

Still, it was now or never. Like he said, he would take what was coming like an outlaw. Sam willed his mouth to move, his voice struggling to free itself. The weight of keeping it in was too much to take anymore.

"Because… I love him, Dutch…" Sam finally answered. "I… I couldn't stand it… if I… if I lost him."

Dutch cupped Sam's face as more tears fell over. His hands had moved as if on their own. The eyes of the boy shined like mirrors, with the same shine of his mother's. It just made him remember the night he lost her.

"Oh, Sam…"

Sam shut his eyes and tried to lower his head, but it was held in place by the older man.

"I'm sorry…"

"Why are you apologizing for being in love, son?"

Dutch was close to crying as well. His sweet boy managed to find love. Sam looked at him, eyelashes clumped together and cheeks red from the tears.

It was clear, now. The gang had been led so far astray since Blackwater, but this… This was the reason everyone stayed together. It was the reason Sam defied the odds, why his mother protected him, and why Sam put aside his need for revenge to save Arthur.

It was love.

Sam disobeyed him, but Arthur was now safe because of it. Does he deserve to be punished? Dutch didn't know, but now the dam had broken, and the tears wouldn't stop flowing from Sam's eyes.

Perhaps that decision could wait. Sam needed him. He needed his leader. He needed his father. He put his arms around him, pulling the young man into an embrace.

"Sam, you need to rest."

Sam sobbed. He hugged him back, but shook his head. Dutch sat down on the cot next to him, holding his boy close.

"Please, Dutch…" Sam practically moaned, his voice muffled as his face hid in his shoulder. "I… I don't want to lose him…"

"You're not going to," said Dutch. "I'll make sure of it. Arthur is a fighter, and you brought him back to us." He shushed him when he heard a small hiccup escape him.

"I'm sorry…" Sam slurred. "I'm so sorry…"

"Take it easy, son," Dutch said, rubbing Sam's back. "Everyone's safe. It's gonna be okay, but Arthur needs you strong. He's hurt and unwell, and he can't afford to be worrying about you while he's recovering."

It took a while, but Sam's crying died down, but he wouldn't let go of him. Dutch started to lean back, taking the younger man down with him until they were laying down. Sam was muttering something, but the gang leader remained calm, hushing him until he was silent.

"...Sam?" Dutch said, after a while. He looked down to see that Sam had fallen asleep, at last, a soft snore escaped his lips. His hands had loosened their grip on his shirt but his head was on his chest.

Dutch sighed. He was tired as well, so he placed a heavy arm on Sam's back and closed his eyes, as well.

Hosea was worried when it went quiet in Dutch's tent. Lily had come in to check on Arthur, so he left momentarily to check on them, only to find an exhausted Sam and Dutch cuddled up and fast asleep on the bed. The elder breathed a sigh of relief. It was clear that the pair were thoroughly tuckered out, as they weren't stirred awake by Hosea slipping their boots off, or when he tucked them under a warm blanket, before hurrying back to Arthur's bedside.

"DUTCH VAN DER LINDE!"

Dutch was awakened by the sound of a shout. He looked down to see that Sam was still deep in sleep. The gang leader was only able to smile at the sight for a moment before turning his gaze towards the source of his interruption.

Molly had stormed into the tent. She was fuming mad.

"I'm not an idiot, Dutch!" she yelled.

"Will you keep it down?!" Dutch hissed. He sat up slowly, moving himself free from Sam as the younger man just mumbled and curled up some more in the blanket. "The boy's barely slept in days, Arthur waltzed into camp practically half-dead, and you're only thinking about yourself!"

"You'll barely look me in the eye, but you'll cuddle that boy all night! You're a liar! A liar! What have I done wrong?!"

Dutch stood up. "The only thing you've done wrong right now, is telling me how to take care of my own!"

"He's just some thief from Valentine!" Molly pointed accusatively. "Everyone else are thieves and killers, but I'm-"

"Those are my thieves and killers, and I won't have you bad mouthing what we have here!" Dutch immediately raised his voice. "If you don't appreciate that, then you're free to leave!"

The noise woke Sam a little. He opened his eyes just barely, seeing a fuzzy image of Molly standing before Dutch, who was gesturing… towards him?

"That boy is my son! I will not allow you to insult him in such a way! If he needs me to spend the night with him, so be it! Stop thinking about yourself for once in your life and do something!"

Molly could only growl. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the tent.

Sam wasn't sure if he heard any of that correctly, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"What… what…"

Dutch turned back to Sam. He still looked dreadful, but much better than last night.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Dutch asked him.

Sam lowered his hands to his blanket covered lap.

"Can I see Arthur now?" Sam asked, his voice was soft and shaky.

Dutch could only smile at Sam's concern.

"Maybe in a bit, son," said Dutch. "Let's get you some food first."

Sam could only quietly groan in somewhat confusion and disappointment. The gang leader could only chuckle, seeing that Sam wasn't entirely awake. He laid back down, eyes half lidded, not wanting to upset his boss anymore.

"...Okay."

Dutch threw on his boots and it didn't take long for him to return with some stew. Sam was lightly dozing when he returned and the gang leader was pleased to see that. He shook him gently and Sam sat up once again, his socks touching the wooden floors of the tent as he took the bowl from Dutch. He stayed with Sam while he ate, his energy returning to him with every bite. Pride swelled in his heart that even with how old Sam was he still needed a firm hand to guide him at times, and Dutch was happy to provide it.

Another day or so passed. With Rose quickly on the mend she decided to help out for their impromptu rescue. The girls seemed to take a liking to her, despite her not saying a word. She made sure to send a messenger dove to Brandon to let him know she was okay.

Sam got right back to work taking care of Arthur, but Dutch and Lily were on his heels about taking a break when needed and getting sleep.

In those few days after Dutch's talk with Sam he sat with Arthur, silently. He wasn't sure how many times he apologized to Arthur's sleeping form.

Or how many times Arthur actually heard it.

Eventually, when Arthur opened his eyes on the fourth or fifth day, since Sam and John brought him back, his mind was finally clear. He found himself staring at the ceiling of his tent.

He moved his left arm, but it was limited, which was fine, because it still ached. Arthur turned his head slowly and saw it was in a sling.

"Arthur, are you awake?"

Arthur looked and saw Hosea, sitting with him in a chair.

"H…sea?" Arthur's voice was soft and quite dry. He struggled to sit up, using his one good arm to put himself up until he was somewhat sitting and saw the state of his tent, which had ditched the open-air thing he had going. He saw the flower on his leather covered table and knew he was home.

"Easy, son," the elder said. He reached down and handed Arthur a flask of water. "This should help."

"Thank-you." Arthur graciously accepted the drink with his good arm and was practically chugging it like he'd never drank before.

"Go easy on that," Hosea warned. "Don't wanna make yourself sick."

Then, Arthur saw something out of the corner of his eye. He put the drink down and saw a bedroll on the floor and a form sleeping there. Locks of dark hair stuck out from under the covers, and he recognized the gloved hand and the blue duster coat that was folded neatly next to it, with their hat on top.

"Sam?"

Hosea turned to Sam's sleeping form, briefly. "My bad, Arthur. Sam barely left your side while you were fighting that fever, but Dutch wouldn't have him working himself to death, so they compromised: Go to sleep, but he'd get to stay nearby. It's been about four or five days."

Arthur scratched his head. "That long?"

"Just about. Everyone's been here to see you at least once or twice."

Arthur nodded. He had vague memories of such, but remembered John, Sam, Dutch and Hosea's appearances the most.

"Arthur?"

Sam had woken up, his eyes half open while he held himself up from where he was with one of his elbows.

"Mornin', Sam," said Hosea. "Look who's finally up. See?"

Sam and Arthur finally locked eyes, and all the younger man could do was smile. Hosea patted his knees and stood.

"Well, you must be hungry, Arthur," he said. "I'll go see if Pearson has anything for you. Wait right there."

Arthur rolled his eyes as Hosea stood and exited the tent. "Not like I have much choice."

Sam eventually moved from the floor and just sat at the foot of Arthur's cot. Arthur laid back down, seeming to relax with Sam awake to keep him company.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

"It hurts," said Arthur.

"Where?"

"Everywhere, but… I'll live. Thanks for taking care of me."

Sam turned his head to him. "You remember that?"

"Who else but you or Lily would've done it?"

Sam nodded.

"I remember you there, mostly."

"It's the doctor's oath," Sam said, almost proudly, hands on his hips. He smiled, but then it faded. Goddamn… What was taking Hosea so long? His shoulders sagged and he lowered his head a little, staring at the flower on Arthur's table.

"So Dutch didn't kill you, huh?" said Arthur.

"Guess not," said Sam. "I have to tell him where I'm going when I leave and I'm not allowed to leave alone, or Bill or Javier will drag me back by the hair."

Arthur sighed. "Well, I'm sorry about that…"

"Don't be…" Sam had his hands interlock their fingers with one another. "I… I'm glad I found you. I… I couldn't forgive myself if… if it happened again."

"What?"

"If I… If I lost someone I… cared about to those O'Driscolls…"

"Sam… it was stupid and dangerous," said Arthur. "You could've died!"

"And I would do it again!" Sam instantly stated, snapping his head towards him. He swallowed hard. It was now or never..if he didn't say it now he swore he was going to explode!

Arthur and Sam shared the silence for a moment. They could hear the birds outside, the faint noise of the chickens and Cain's barking.

Sam stared back at the tent wall.

"You're a cruel man, Arthur Morgan. You rob. You kill. You steal. You were even willing to send a family of helpless immigrants who were missing a father and husband on their way!"

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"But I'm not any better."

Arthur's gaze softened.

"I stole from a gang, stole plenty of things, and probably from people who needed the shit I took more than I did. I poisoned all those people, and now I'm going to kill the man who killed my uncle. But, after a while, I started to see that there was more to you. You offered to help me, and other people. You can be kind and pretty funny." Sam started to smile. "You're great at drawing and you're so willing to fight and die for this gang. You work so hard for the two men who raised you, which is more than I can say for all the trouble I caused for the man who raised me. It's because of you that I wanted to be braver… stronger. I wanted to be that, not just so I could take my revenge and protect Lily, but to repay the people who took us in after that awful night. I…" Sam turned his head and looked Arthur in the eyes. "I know you don't think much about yourself, but you mean so much to me. I wanted to protect you, Arthur. To do anything near you, really. I…"

Arthur wanted to stop this. Something in the back of his head already knew what was coming. At the same time, however, he didn't want him to stop. He wanted to hear it. This would make or break them, and he wasn't sure if he was ready. He never was.

Sam paused, his mouth hung open but the sound refused to come out.

"You 'what', Sam?" said Arthur.

Sam wasn't sure how he would react, but he didn't care anymore.

"I love you, Arthur," Sam's voice came as soft as the wind.

Arthur grunted, straining against the feelings in his chest and the heat rising on the sides of his face. And when he spoke to him, his words came out about as soft and shaken as Sam's.

"You… You better not be joking…"

Sam shook his head. He turned away, staring at his hands.

"I know I can't offer you much. For starters, I am another man, and I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I just had to tell you this. We can still stay friends, if that's what you want. It's probably better that way, anyway. I'll go check on Hosea."

Sam made to stand, only to get yanked back to where he was sitting by Arthur.

"Will you shut the hell up and stop for two seconds before deciding everything?!" said Arthur.

Sam gasped. He saw that Arthur slipped his left arm out of the sling to stop him from leaving. So, he stayed where he was.

Arthur sighed. "It was frustrating, at first. It definitely didn't help when you shot at me, but… I will admit, you did start to grow on me, and you did help me when I needed it. Shit…" Arthur suddenly found it hard to maintain eye contact. "You… Despite everything, you still did good when good was needed. You didn't need to think when it came to doing good or bad. It was just… natural for you. And… I wanted to protect you, too. But, it wasn't in the way like I do for everyone else… It was… different… God… I didn't think I would like to have someone, whose face would light up at the mere sight of me, even though I ain't much. I know I'm a fool, but you're just as much a fool for liking someone like me."

Sam smiled. When he sniffled, Arthur finally brought himself to look and saw tears streaming down from Sam's eyes.

"There's no need to cry, Sam."

Sam wiped one of his eyes. "Sorry…"

Arthur just chuckled lightly. He moved his good hand and thumbed away the tears in his other eye.

"Don't be. I've wanted this too."

Sam grinned. He reached up his hand and held the one that was caressing his cheek. He scooted a bit closer, before he felt Arthur guiding him. He leaned over Arthur, the outlaw's hand going to the back of Sam's head, fingers getting tangled in the hair underneath Sam's small ponytail before Sam felt Arthur's lips against his, felt the stubble of his beard and placed his hands on the sides of Arthur's face. Sam had wanted this for so long.

They both did.

A/N: Oh my god! He said it! AAAAAAAAAH!

WOO! Merry Christmas everybody, or whatever you celebrate!

And if you don't celebrate any of those, have a nice day! :)