A/N: Okay! Finals are done, I'm good until January, and here's a chapter. Fluff and angst ahead! Mostly hurt/comfort and cuddles. Yayz!
"Heard you buried him."
Sam was startled awake by a low, tired, but rough voice. It was a lot of effort just to open his eyes. He found himself in a dimly lit room. Judging from the walls, he could see that the room was compact, and that he was wrapped up in a blanket like a caterpillar in a cocoon, his arms snuggled up at his sides.
"Yeah," another voice spoke up. This one was also quiet and rough, but smoother. Somehow it sounded like a whisper even when they were talking normally. "Reverend helped. It's a little ways out of camp and it's quiet. Won't be disturbed."
Sam's ears picked up on dripping. Water? It was outside. The last time he heard rain, there was thunder, and where there was thunder there was lightning.
"I guess that's more than he deserved," a raspy voice commented. It sounded female.
Sam groaned. His body ached, but all he could do was turn his head. There were figures by the windows, some were sitting in chairs. He tried to get up, making his chest lurch forward first, but it was quite a challenge without using his arms. In the end, his fatigue won, and he laid back down with a plop, not that he got far, anyway. He hated the whimper that escaped him as he laid back down, the movement rattling his aching head. He shut his eyes tightly.
"It's not the time for that, Sadie," another raspy voice replied. This one sounded male.
Footsteps made their way towards Sam. He balled up his hands. These voices were familiar, but what were they doing? Long, gentle and slender fingers ran through his damp hair.
"Hey, it's okay." Out of all the voices, this one always made him feel like he was home. "Look at me."
Cautiously, Sam opened his eyes, seeing a dimly lit lantern. His head was lifted and a cool tin met his lips. Sam looked away from the lantern, seeing the figure of a woman. Long blonde hair, hazel eyes, smooth lips.
Sam moved his mouth, vocal cords struggling to work, like they were rusted shut.
"Li… ly?" Sam managed to rasp.
Lily nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. "Drink," she said. "It's good for you."
Sam hazarded a sip, disappointed to taste medicine, but drank it all, anyway. Once it was done, Lily had him drink some water, as well. Sam swallowed all he could, but Lily took it away before he could drink too much.
Sam's head was lowered back onto the pillow. He didn't realize something was on his forehead until his cousin peeled it off.
"You've got a fever," said Lily. She dipped the rag she took in some water and rang it out. "I'm just gonna cool you down, okay?"
Sam nodded slowly, eyes not really focused on anything. He flinched a little when Lily dabbed his forehead and then his cheeks. The rag wasn't that cold, and it felt nice against his heated skin.
"Where are my arms?" Sam slurred, softly.
Lily stifled a giggle. "Right by your sides. You're in a blanket."
Sam's eyes closed again after becoming too heavy. He was glad he made Lily laugh a little, even if he didn't know why asking about his arms was funny, but it looked like she needed it. Poor girl. He sighed when the damp cloth touched his neck. How long had he just been laying around?
"Sorry," he mumbled. Even though he was tired, he couldn't just lay around when the camp probably needed all the help it could get. "I'll be up soon."
Another giggle. "Don't worry about that right now. Just rest."
Sam smiled again. He was really glad Lily turned out alright. She would be a good doctor, just like her father.
"You're the best…" Sam slurred, before drifting off again.
The next time Sam woke up, it was to crickets. He felt the blankets still wrapped around him and the pillow beneath his head. His hair was loose all around his head, which probably meant he tossed and turned something fierce at some point.
Finally, Sam opened his eyes, seeing the far wall and a few of the boards on the roof. For a moment, the young man wondered where he was. There was indeed a blanket wrapped around him with a second one just layered on top of him as he laid in a bed. As he moved his head, Sam saw the barrel in the corner with the tiny mirror and the shaving equipment on it, the shelves and table that stored ammo, arrows, and dynamite, the photos in the other corner of the room of Arthur's father, mother, and his dog, Copper, along with that horseshoe, and there was that boar-skin covered table with a regional map, on top of it, along with that weird flower Arthur liked, and his dark cowboy hat, and…
Wait a minute…
Sam let out a gasp. He grunted, teeth held tight as he wiggled free from the blankets and forced himself to sit up. His hands immediately held his sides, trying to soothe his sore ribs and felt the bandages wrapped around his torso, through the night shirt he was dressed in. It was long enough to reach his knees. He didn't remember having one. Maybe it was borrowed?
Looking around, Sam confirmed that he was indeed in Arthur's room. It was illuminated by a dimly lit lantern, allowing him to see the doors and the windows that showed the night outside.
The young man threw the blanket off and swung his bare feet over the side of the bed, rubbing his sore right thigh before standing. Immediately, he hissed again, body stiffening and upper leg burning. Sam fell forward, landing on his knees. He panted heavily for a few moments, looking around before crawling over to the nearby table and using it to hoist himself up again.
His knuckles were white, gripping whatever he could as Sam hobbled into the hallway. He only managed a few steps before his shaky legs gave out again and he found himself slumped against the railing by the stairs. He was out of breath, his head resting against the wooden beams. It was at least quiet, and the crickets outside helped him calm down. As Sam closed his eyes, he thought he could almost fall asleep where he was.
"Shit! Sam?!"
Sam's eyes snapped back open. He looked past the railing only to make eye contact with none other than Arthur Morgan, who was halfway up the stairs and looking up to see him.
Not wanting to appear weak, Sam gritted his teeth and tried to stand up again, only managing to get up about halfway. Arthur made it to his side just in time.
"Hey, easy!" Arthur caught a hold of Sam as soon as his hand slipped from the railing, and lowered both himself and Sam to the floor. With his arms around him, he could feel Sam shaking, making him tighten his grip. "It's okay," Arthur said, softening his voice. "What are you doing up?"
Sam, head on Arthur's shoulder, just shrugged. No. He shouldn't be here! And he shouldn't have been in Arthur's bed, but all his energy had slipped away in just a short burst from his ordeal and fighting a fever. All he could do was just lean against the outlaw and mumble.
"Don't know…"
Arthur snaked his arm around Sam and felt his forehead. His fever was thankfully gone, but he wouldn't be surprised if his mind was still foggy. He was just glad he caught Sam before his woozy brain got himself hurt. The outlaw just sighed in relief and patted Sam's back, careful to avoid the wounded area.
"It's alright. Let's just get you back in bed."
Sam tried to get up, but was quickly interrupted when Arthur just picked him up, lifting the younger man off the ground and over his shoulder.
Sam stayed still, arms hanging limply in front of him. His need to explore had sunk down to his limbs and into the floorboards, while his brain worked overtime to catch up to what happened: Lily's kidnapping, Archie, the explosion, the beatings, the torture, and…
"Kieran…" His name slipped from Sam's mouth before he could even comprehend what he was thinking.
Arthur grimaced. They made it back to his room and the outlaw walked towards the bed. "Don't worry about that right now," he spoke up, knowing Sam would be quick to blame himself. He hesitated to say more when he heard Sam sniffle.
Sam was pliant as Arthur set him back down on the bed. The realization hit Sam hard, as he was hanging his head low, sitting on the edge. His jaw trembled, halted when Arthur held a tin to his lips.
"Come on," said Arthur. "You need it."
Sam hazarded a sip, face scrunching at the taste for a moment. It was medicine, but he drank it down like the good patient he was. He was soon rewarded with water, which Sam drank down greedily. Once it was empty, Arthur set the tin down and laid Sam on the bed again gently. He checked on Sam's leg for a moment before rolling the edge of the younger man's nightshirt back down and tucking him in. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, because Sam suddenly started trying to get up again. Arthur easily held him down with a hand on his chest.
"What are you doing?"
Sam's eyes darted around, as if avoiding eye contact. "Th-This is your room."
Arthur just nodded. It didn't take long before Sam's strength gave out again and he laid back down.
"Yep," Arthur confirmed. "And you're gonna stay here until you're feeling better."
"B-But-"
Arthur gently brushed the hair away from Sam's face. "But nothing."
And Sam was silent again. He watched as Arthur took a chair and sat at his bedside, but avoided eye contact. It was just like with Dutch, which just made Sam feel small.
"You're too forgiving."
Arthur sighed and shook his head. If anything, Sam was being the one who was too forgiving, acting so shy and polite to a bastard like him. Still, he held his tongue for all of that.
"I know."
Sam finally turned his head and looked at Arthur. He was leaning forward in his chair.
"How long?" Sam asked.
"About three days," said Arthur. "Two since the fever. Your cousin finally went to sleep a while ago."
Sam kept staring. He saw that Arthur's beard had grown in a bit, his long hair was messy and unkempt, and dark marks were under his eyes. His mouth opened at the sight of a bruise on his cheek.
"What happened?"
Arthur somehow knew what he was referring to. He felt the side of his face. It no longer hurt, unless he pressed on it.
"You happened," the outlaw answered. "You were out of your mind with a fever. I was surprised with how strong you were, even with everything that happened. You thought I was trying to hurt you. It was like…" He paused for a moment to think, "like patching up a damn wild cat."
Sam sighed. "Sorry…"
Arthur snorted. With the fever finally gone, the memory seemed almost comical to him. "It's alright. You didn't know what you were doing."
The young man wiggled his weak body to the edge of the bed by the wall. He then lifted the blanket a bit, while the older outlaw observed.
"You need sleep," Sam said, softly.
Arthur's brows raised for a second. He then sighed, leaning forward and pinching the ridge of his nose before getting up. He shook off his boots and unbuckled his gun belt, placing it on the table.
Sam scooted over a bit more on the bed, making room for Arthur to settle in next to him. Just like when they shared Arthur's cot at Clemens Point, Sam rolled onto his side and hesitantly leaned on Arthur. The older man just sighed and pulled him close, a heavy arm resting on his back. The more he laid on the bed the more Arthur realized how tired he was.
"You came for me…" Sam recalled, his voice slightly muffled from cuddling his face into his neck.
"Arthur turned his head, admiring Sam's soft hair for a moment. "Of course we would. Just… I'm sorry we didn't come sooner."
"But… what about Mary?"
Arthur took a deep breath. He knew Sam hesitated to ask, but if anyone was going to bring up the elephant in the room, it was him.
"It's dealt with…" he answered.
Sam's jaw dropped. He lifted his head and looked at Arthur.
"But-"
"We both wanted different things," Arthur explained. "And we still do. I can't just leave you. All of you."
Sam held back a whimper. He tightened the grip he had on his shirt, and instead let out a growl.
"What did I tell you?" he said. "I-I told you to not think about me, Dutch, Hosea, or John. She… She could've given you everything you wanted. She-"
Sam was silenced when Arthur moved his hand and placed it behind Sam's head, pushing slightly so that their foreheads touched.
Even when he was being manhandled, Sam didn't usually protest or argue. He trusted Arthur completely: A thief, a killer, an outlaw…
The storm was in his mind again, and the sight of those two graves. He recalled how he came up to the camp and found the building Sam was fighting for his life in, on fire, and how he almost lost it when he walked in, to find Sam bleeding on the ground, with a gun to his head.
He had something so great, and he almost lost it all again. Whatever spat they had from that damn letter from Mary felt so far away now. Even at this moment, Sam patiently awaited his answer, whatever it may be.
"You're what I want."
Sam's heart fluttered. No one had ever said that to him. He tried not to make a sound, but with his mouth open Arthur could hear his breath shaking.
"I'm… sorry if I made you feel otherwise," Arthur continued.
"I… I'm sorry," Sam said, voice quivering. "For… everything."
"You were just… It's okay."
And the tears spilled from Sam's eyes. He put his head back down, hiding his watery eyes in the outlaw's shoulder. He moved his hand, letting it rest on Arthur's other shoulder, where the scar would be from that gunshot. It warmed his heart that Sam held that memory close, where most would try and forget.
The older man closed his eyes and smiled, fighting back the heat stinging his own eyes, and just moved his hand, resting it on Sam's back. The younger man tightened his grip, the muscles around the stab wound twitching a bit, but Sam didn't say anything.
"I've got you, Sam," Arthur assured him. "It's okay."
It took a few minutes, but he eventually settled down, his breathing evening out. He actually didn't mind Arthur's hand where it was, it made the wound feel truly covered. He closed his eyes, content with Arthur and a blanket practically all around him.
"I love you," Sam slurred, voice softening as he drifted off.
Arthur nuzzled Sam's hair. He never thought someone would want him this close, but here Sam was, craving his touch.
He didn't have to lie to Sam. The younger man knew exactly who he was, but didn't care. Sam didn't need a thief or a killer, he didn't need a workhorse or a big, scary enforcer. He didn't need Arthur to sacrifice anything or make him prove himself and be something someone else wanted.
All Sam wanted was Arthur Morgan.
"I love you, too," Arthur said back. He drifted off, as well, hopes held high for the first time in forever.
They would be okay.
Despite being bedridden for days, Arthur still woke up before Sam once morning rolled around. Sam was still out cold, but also still cuddled up at Arthur's side, arm and torso practically covering the outlaw's body.
Arthur smiled, and ran his fingers through the younger man's hair. He realized how peaceful everything was in the morning whenever he woke up like this. He watched the small dust particles dance by the windows, visible from the sunlight gently shining through. Maybe if they actually made it out to Australia or wherever the hell Tahiti was, every morning could be this peaceful.
Arthur slowly started to slide his way out of bed, earning some grunts from his partner. Sam then let out a soft whine, grip tightening on his shirt. Arthur gave Sam a small squeeze with the arm still wrapped around him.
"I'm gonna get you something to eat," he whispered, voice still raspy from sleep.
It took a few moments, but Sam slowly loosened his grip and let Arthur get up. Once he was standing, he tucked the blanket back around Sam, who drifted back into sleep. The outlaw guessed it would also be a good time to let everyone know that Sam was okay. So he went out and came back with a plate of food for himself, another for Sam, and with Dutch, Hosea, and Lily following behind him.
Hearing all the footsteps woke Sam back up. His eyes glanced around the room and saw the gun belt on the table.
The door swung open.
"There he is!" Dutch boomed, first to enter the room. He was still wearing his union suit, but he had his pants on. Hosea was fully dressed, though. Sam jolted up and scrambled for Arthur's holster, before realizing who was there. "Whoa, easy!"
Sam was immediately still, a hand on his sore ribs. He was unable to reach for the aching wound on his back.
Lily, wearing her nightgown, walked over to Sam to still him and turned back to the gang leader. "Dutch!" she snapped, her voice raised, before turning back to Sam, her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay, Sam. You're among friends."
As much as Arthur wanted to help, Hosea urged him to eat his own food first. Lily handed Sam his spoon, and they both watched his handshake uncontrollably before Lily took it back and just fed him, herself. Sam didn't seem to mind. He was too hungry to be embarrassed, and his returning hunger eased Lily's worries. Between mouthfuls, Sam answered Dutch's questions to the best of his abilities.
Sam sat at the edge of Arthur's bed, a blanket around him with Lily sitting next to him, giving him food. Arthur and Hosea took the two chairs in the room, with Dutch deciding to stay standing.
"I think… No. They wanted to know where we were hiding," Sam answered. "I-I didn't-"
"We know, son," Dutch replied. "Archie told them."
"Bastards probably just wanted Sam to break," said Hosea.
Sam chewed down another mouthful of beef. "Colm also talked about wanting me to join."
"Course he would," Arthur growled. "He tried to do the same to me."
Hosea nodded and looked over to Sam, who took another bite. "Anything to make Dutch suffer."
Sam's chewing slowed. He swallowed, wincing when Lily wiped his mouth. "He… He told Kieran he could go if he killed me… but…"
Dutch took a step forward, his top half leaning in. "He didn't…"
Sam lowered his head, his form trembling. "He tried to shoot him instead… but…" His next breath was shaky. "I tried to stop him."
Lily put the spoon down. "Sam, it's okay."
"No, it's not!" Sam snapped back. "He's goddamn dead and I couldn't stop him!" He stared at the floor, trying to breathe through the tears forming in his eyes. Suddenly, all the eyes on him were becoming too much… It reminded him of those damn O'Driscolls, staring down at him, laughing at him, kicking him, those people telling him he was nothing… even when he was a child.
Dutch knelt down before the boy. The movement brought him back from the past, his eyes focusing once again.
"You're home, Sam," the gang leader reminded him. The hand he placed on his knee grounded him. "And you did a number on Colm by the time we got there, remember? If it means anything, you can be proud of that."
Sam nodded, but didn't raise his head. "Yes, sir." When Dutch stood back up, Sam remembered something. "Wait," he then said, looking up at Dutch. "What happened to Colm? D-Did you…"
Dutch smiled warmly and wiped Sam's eyes with his thumbs. "He'll swing soon enough," he said, "and we're gonna make sure of it."
Sam's mouth hung agape. He didn't kill him. He was gonna let the state do it. Then Lily lifted a spoonful of broth covered veggies to his mouth, which he responded to with a muffled pout.
"Come on," said Lily. "You need to get your strength back."
Arthur looked up from his meal. "John said Brandon has a few friends with the law. He'll let us know when Colm's gonna swing sooner than regular folk. I think they're gonna try him publicly."
Dutch huffed. "And hang him publicly, but we're gonna make sure it goes swimmingly this time." He turned back to Sam. "We managed to take care of the last of the Laslows. Was that everyone?"
Sam shook his head. He swallowed his food. "There's one more. Brandon said he's a sharpshooter."
Arthur sighed irritably. "Of course…"
Dutch scratched the back of his head. "Right, well, I've got Trelawney coming up with something with that riverboat. Hosea, keep looking into the bank and I'll take a look at the trolley station one more time. After all this, we need to get what we can and go. No more losses."
Sam nodded again. "I'm sorry…"
Dutch sighed and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "There was nothing else you could've done. He gently grabbed the boy's chin and made him look up. "The best we can do is keep going for those who can't."
Hosea and Arthur nodded in agreement. "He's right, kid," Hosea added. "It's the best way to honor them."
"Is there… any way I can help?" Sam asked.
Even with how he was now, he still wanted to help. The thought brought a smile to Dutch's face.
"Aw, you know we'd love your help, son. But right now, just focus on getting strong."
Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."
"And don't call me 'sir.' This ain't the army. We win our fights. 'Yes, Dutch!'"
It wasn't much, but it made Sam smile at least a little. "Yes, Dutch."
The gang leader nodded affirmatively. "Alright, Old Girl. Let's go make us a scheme for money."
"I'll be ready whenever you are, Dutch," said Arthur.
Hosea stood and patted Arthur on the shoulder before following Dutch out.
Sam did indeed feel a little better after being spoon fed by Lily like a baby. His hands were at least a little more steady. Arthur helped him get his nightshirt off, so Lily could check the stitches on his back and leg. They weren't as red as before, thankfully. The girl just cleaned up the wounds and rewrapped them in fresh bandages and then Arthur helped him dress back up.
The pain had made Sam space out again, making him recall images from that night. Finally metal hit his lips again, and Sam saw another tin with medicine.
"S-Sorry…" Sam stuttered. He drank obediently.
Lily set the tin down once it was empty and gave him some water. "You've been through a lot, Sam," she said. "No one's expecting you to be at a hundred percent yet."
"Except for maybe goddamn Micah," said Arthur. He was relieved to see Sam smiled a little, despite his trembling. Reliving the past few days must have taken a lot, seeing as the younger man wasn't as used to these things. No one should be. The outlaw started pushing him to lay down. "Come on, you need to rest more."
Sam shook his head, but Arthur's strength won again and the newer outlaw laid down, anyway. "I've been sleeping enough as it is," Sam lamented.
"And you need it to heal." Arthur pulled the covers over him. "You heard Dutch. You need to focus on getting strong."
Lily nodded in agreement. "Yeah, for once, he's right." That earned her a glare from the veteran cowboy. "Just concentrate on feeling better. Do you need anything else?"
Sam looked up from the blankets. He was actually kind of tired which made him feel small, but he used his knowledge of health to remember that he was injured and just fought off a fever.
"Some books would be nice…" he answered.
Lily leaned in and kissed his forehead. "I'll talk to Hosea and Mary-Beth."
Arthur had stuff to do around camp, so he had to leave, promising to return. Lily had some duties, as well. Sam knew the older man tended to head out of camp more often than others, but something told him that he and Lily didn't want to stray too far right now.
After napping for some time, Sam woke up to a few novels on Arthur's table. He took a chair and used it as support to wander out onto the balcony. Something about being out there made Sam feel vulnerable, but he tried to push past it to just relax and read outside.
It had been a while since he just took in the sights and sounds. He honestly thought he'd never enjoy them again: Cain's barking, Jack's laughter, Pearson's whistling… Hell, Sam welcomed Miss Grimshaw's voice whipping the girls into shape.
In between pages, Sam would occasionally look around, hearing the birds, some of them flying tree to tree. There had been a chill in the air at night, even without the storms, probably signaling the approaching end of summer. Sam wondered if everything went according to Dutch's plan, if this would be his last summer and autumn in America.
No. Not until Colm swings… and Milton joins him in hell.
Sam wandered back inside when the sun started setting. Sitting outside in nothing but a nightshirt didn't do much to protect him from the oncoming cold.
Sam had just set the book he was reading down, when the door opened, and Abigail stood in the doorway.
"Miss Roberts?"
Abigail smiled warmly. "The boy wanted to see you."
Jack squeezed through the crack in the door. "Uncle Sammy!" The boy ran right up and sat beside Sam on Arthur's bed, leaning in for a hug, which Sam happily gave.
"You okay, kid?" Sam asked.
Jack nodded. "Those O'Driscolls were scary."
Sam ruffled the kid's hair. "Don't worry about it. They won't bother us anymore."
"Okay. Uncle Dutch said they hurt you really bad."
Sam swallowed. "Aw, don't worry. I'll be fine. I just need to take it easy for a while. When you're done playing, I can read you some stories."
"Yeah! Will you teach me more soon?"
The question gave Sam pause. The image of his other two "students" came into his mind.
Sean, now Kieran…
"Jack, this ain't the time to ask about class," Abigail interjected. "Uncle Sammy needs to concentrate on feeling better."
Jack flinched and lowered his head. "Sorry, Momma." He got up from the bed and took a piece of paper Abigail was holding, before turning back to Sam. "Get better soon, Uncle Sammy. I drew this for you."
Sam forced a smile and took the drawing. "Thank-you, Jack."
"Let's go, Jack," said Abigail. "It's time for dinner."
Sam's smile faded once the kid and his mother left the room and the door clicked shut. He really wasn't sure if he should continue his "class" at this point. He unfolded the paper Jack had drawn on. It was a picture of what he assumed was John, Abigail, and Jack in front of a house, with sheep roaming the fields.
He smiled again.
Lily came by later with dinner. This time, Sam was able to hold his own plate and spoon. Lily brought some more chairs and they, along with Arthur and Charles, ate together upstairs in the room. Though, Lily insisted on Sam staying in bed to rest his leg.
Charles never talked much, but around Lily and Arthur, he really opened up. Sam didn't want to disturb their harmony, and he didn't really feel like talking at the moment, so he just focused on his food. When he was done, he would add in his own response when asked, but he mostly just listened.
Lily could sense something was on his mind, but he seemed relaxed in just listening. Content even. He was just happy to be back in the company of friends.
By the time it was late, Arthur and Lily turned to see Sam fast asleep. Lily took his empty plate, while Arthur tucked him in. Charles took the extra chair they had brought in for him and just left it out in the hall before deciding to turn in. He bidded both Arthur and Lily a good evening.
Lily brushed her fingers through Sam's hair and he didn't even react. He was really out cold, his breaths deep and steady. She stayed for a while, holding his hand, and running her thumb over his knuckles, until Arthur urged her to get some rest, herself. Eventually, Lily relented and stood from Sam's bedside. Before she left, she leaned over and embraced Arthur, who was taken aback, but let it happen. She soon let go and left without a word.
"Why does it matter when I put the fucking R and E?"
Both Jack and Kieran locked eyes and turned back to their writing exercises, while Sam stormed up and took Sean's paper. The sun was shining, and the birds were tweeting, while they were sitting in Sam's tent. An English session was in full swing.
"Because this word makes it say, 'This is you are gun.' Y-O-U apostrophe R-E is 'you are'. Y-O-U-R is 'your'."
"Ahhh…" Sean growled and took his sheet of paper back. He began to scribble out his misspelled words like a five-year-old. "Who made this stupid fucking language?"
"I'm telling Uncle Dutch you said a swear," said Jack.
Sam shook his head and turned to his desk. It was only a few steps away, but he had to move medical materials to get to some of the study material he and Lenny put together.
"And we've got a nark in the classroom, too!" Sean added. He turned to Kieran who snickered. "What are ya laughing at, O'Driscoll?"
"Come on, I already told you!" Kieran whined. "I ain't no O'Driscoll."
Sean scoffed. "No O'Driscoll, eh? I coulda told ya tha-"
Then Sam heard it: A shot that went through flesh… like in Rhodes. Sam turned back around and suddenly, he was no longer in his tent. Instead, he was back in that wretched shack.
Sam looked down, not even noticing that he was sitting in that chair again until now, and saw his injured thigh bleeding again. He moved his hands, covering it and staining his palms red, the pressure made him groan and it burned. His leg moved and his foot hit something solid.
Sean and Jack were gone, and Kieran was lying motionless on the ground in a pool of blood, oozing from a gaping hole in his head, and another in his chest.
Sam yelled, getting up immediately, but tripped over the corpse in his horrified shock. White, hot pain shot up through his back. He screamed and writhed, reaching his hands at the floorboards until he could drag himself to the door frame and painfully onto his feet. The door flew open with one push and the once peaceful, sunny skies over Clemen's point were gone, replaced with dark, burnt trees, and a black sky with powerful winds and rain pouring down. Sam's bloody palms left prints on the frame as he lunged himself forward into the dark, stormy night. Voices hung in the air, but Sam couldn't place any of them.
"All of you… pick your sides now, because this is over."
Sam stumbled past trees, bushes and nearly tripped over rocks. He shook whenever lightning flashed or thunder rumbled. There were gunshots from pistols, revolvers, shotguns, and rifles and there were more voices. Yelling. There were still too many. They were getting louder, none of it making much sense.
"It would mean a lot to me… please."
Sam tried his best to run as fast as he could. His body was freezing and his heart was pounding. Even with all of his might, his limbs felt like they were being weighed down by something. His feet left bloody footprints in the dirt and when he pushed through the foliage, it felt like a million needles poking into his skin.
"Who amongst you… is with me… and who, is betraying me?"
More voices. More people were struggling. More people were screaming. Sam desperately wanted to block it out, but he needed his hands to push through, grab and swipe things, hold his aching leg and reach as close as he could to his back. Sam was out of breath, but couldn't see safety anywhere. Everywhere he looked it was just more trees, more grass, more dirt and more darkness.
"I gave you all I had… I did."
Sam suppressed a whimper, and limped onward, dragging his wounded leg. He couldn't die here but the wilderness went on and on.
"You're my brother.."
"I know… I know."
Parts of the forest he slugged through were on fire. Even with the flames, there wasn't much it illuminated. There was a thick smell of oil and tar, so much so that Sam felt like he would choke on how thick it was in the air, but it meant nothing. The heat and conflicting chill meant nothing. The fire meant nothing. Sam's wounds meant nothing.
He just wanted this to end.
"Dutch! Micah! Come and get me you bastards!"
Sam let out a soft cry when he finally made it to a clearing. His tired and broken body gave out and he fell onto his hands and knees, the former somehow still smeared in red.
"You rat. You rat!"
The young outlaw looked at his surroundings. He was high on a cliff, with the skies clear over the horizon and the storm clouds and rain on his side. Smoke was rising from the flames, visible past the cliffs, as well. He was surrounded. Sam tried desperately to get back up, anyway.
"I'm a… survivor, Black Lung… A survivor. That's all there is… living and dying."
But Sams' body just couldn't take anymore and slumped back on the ground. His head hung low, vision blurring, as he used his elbows to keep from face-planting.
"Tell me."
A clear voice cut through all of the noise, making Sam raise his head. The figure of a man was standing in the distance. All Sam could make out was that he was wearing a top hat.
"Why are you here?"
Sam didn't understand what he was asking. He reached out a shaky hand, to plead for help, but his voice wouldn't work.
"Do you wish to change it?"
The stranger didn't approach Sam, but he didn't walk away, either.
"The future."
Still, Sam didn't understand, but he didn't look away. The pain, the nerves, the rancid oil and tar smell and the flames faded away in his presence.
"Damn you…"
But not the voices. Who was this man? Sam wondered why he needed to-
"Damn us both!"
Arthur!
Sam fought through the weight and lifted himself so he could turn around. Instead of the trees he came from behind him, he saw white. There was another figure. He had a revolver.
And there was the sound of thunder.
"NOOOOOO!"
Sam's eyes shot open and he sat up in Arthur's bed. He immediately regretted it as pain shot up his back. The gasp he let out was as loud as his scream and his hands moved to hold his aching ribs.
His back and thigh burned. His heart pounded so hard, Sam heard it in his own head. No matter where he looked, he couldn't get his breathing to slow down.
"Sam! Sam!"
Arthur got up from the floor of his room and rushed over to his side. He had been sleeping on a bedroll, as Lily insisted that Sam needed some space to rest his leg. However, when the older man placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, he flinched away like he'd been touched with a branding iron.
"No! Get away from me!" Sam flailed, fighting against Arthur, who was trying to grab ahold of him.
"Damn it! Sam!" Arthur called out to him. "You're not there anymore!" He grabbed onto Sam's arms to stop him before he hurt himself. Still, Sam continued trying to twist his body, hoping to break free, fists punching at Arthur's arms to break free, but to no avail.
"No! Get off! You'll die like everyone else! You'll-"
Arthur pressed Sam against the wall. "Sam! SAM!" He quickly grabbed the younger man's face, thick hands gently on his cheeks and forced him to look him in the eye. Sam gasped and grabbed Arthur's wrists, but somehow, seeing the outlaw's eyes stilled him.
"Look at me," Arthur said, his voice finally registering in Sam's ears. His breathing was still rapid, and he was still shaking uncontrollably, but he had at least stopped fighting. "Look at me," the outlaw repeated. "It's okay."
Sam opened his mouth. He tried to speak, but he struggled to form words.
"I-I…"
"I know. I know. None of this is your fault. You know this."
Hot tears stung Sam's eyes. He didn't even realize they were there until Arthur wiped them away with his thumbs.
"I-I thought… I s-saw… I…"
Sam was pale. Even though he wasn't struggling anymore, his body didn't stop shaking. All Arthur saw at that moment was that broken body laying face down on the floor of that burning fishing house, and how Sam clung to him for dear life. His hands moved away from Sam's face slowly, as he sat down and pulled the younger man into his arms.
"It don't matter what you saw," said Arthur. "It's okay."
Sam wrapped his arms around the older man. "I'm sorry…" Sam wept, softly.
"Shh…" Arthur rubbed Sam's back, being mindful of his stitches. "What are you apologizing for? It's the least I can do. I ain't gonna leave you like that. Just listen." He grabbed one of Sam's hands and placed it on his chest. "Ain't sure why you're so scared for a bastard like me, though."
Sam felt it. Arthur's heart beat. It was a bit fast, but given what just happened, he wasn't surprised. What mattered was that it was there, beating. Life. Arthur was alive. Sam tightened his grip.
"I worry because I love you, you idiot!" Sam growled, but even then, it teetered on the edge of just sobbing. "Do I need another goddamn reason?"
Arthur sighed. How could Sam say such mushy things so easily? "I guess not."
The pair stayed together for some time. Sam didn't want to let go of Arthur, even as his breathing evened out and his shakiness ebbed away. His nails dug into Arthur's skin when he tried to get up.
"We gotta check on those wounds, Sam," Arthur said, gently. "Think you can let me?"
Sam nodded, but didn't say a word. His hands slowly slid off Arthur as he got up.
The nightmare and subsequent panic had left Sam exhausted, so he was pliant as Arthur straightened his right leg and checked on his thigh, then undid his nightshirt to check on his back. No stitches were torn, thankfully. Arthur just cleaned the wounds and wrapped new bandages over them, before dressing Sam back up.
The younger man shedded more tears, but wiped them away with his sleeve. Arthur's heart sank at the sight. He feared the ordeal messed with Sam more than he initially thought. He walked over to his desk and poured some medicine into a small tin cup, but Sam shook his head when Arthur presented it to him. He knew it was for the pain, but it would also just make him sleepy.
"You need to rest, Sam," Arthur said, his voice raising very slightly. "You ain't gonna let one bad dream stop you, right? You're tougher than this."
Sam hesitantly nodded. Arthur put the tin to his mouth and he drank it all. Afterwards, he gave him some water and they laid down together.
Arthur adjusted the pillows, so they could just recline on the bed instead of just laying down. He sat against the pillows while Sam sat in front of him, laying on Arthur's chest. The outlaw held Sam securely with one arm and rubbed his sternum with the other hand. It was calming, grounding Sam to the present.
Like Sam predicted, the medicine did indeed make him get sleepy. He grabbed the discarded blanket and pulled it up and around them, before nuzzling the bottom of Arthur's head with his own, his eyes closing as they grew heavy.
"Arthur?" Sam spoke after a long time of silence. It was soft, but Arthur heard him.
"Yeah?" Arthur replied, voice just as soft.
"Thank-you."
Arthur felt his face burn. He couldn't suppress the small smile that formed and patted Sam's chest, gently.
"Get some rest, Sam. I ain't going nowhere. I promise."
Sam just hummed. He drifted off with a blanket and Arthur all around him, along with a steady heartbeat at his back.
Arthur was safe. They both were.
Golden light danced in Arthur's vision. He could see a grassy field and clear skies. The light tinted everything in beautiful gold.
Somehow, Arthur could see the sun and not be blinded by it. There was a stag with big antlers just grazing. Then it slowly raised its head and locked eyes with its observer.
Arthur woke up.
The first thing he saw was the roof of his bedroom. He sat up, the remnants of his dream still swirling in his mind, but obviously, there was no buck. The sun had risen, however, light illuminating the room.
Then Arthur noticed: Sam wasn't in bed with him. He wasn't even in the room. Arthur groaned and threw his feet off the bed, slipping into his boots, and stepping out in just those and his union suit on.
"God dammit!" Arthur grumbled. "Fever breaks and he can't stay still for two seconds."
Arthur checked the balcony, but didn't see Sam there, either. He did see Molly at the docks. Karen was approaching her slowly, trying to talk to her.
"Go away! Stop laughing at me!"
Karen wandered over to one of the dock posts. "You know… nobody's laughing."
"Shut up!" Molly spat. "Don't you talk down to me!"
Karen winced. She then just shrugged and turned on her heel before walking away. "I wasn't… suit yourself."
Arthur left his quarters and checked Dutch's room. The gang leader wasn't there. Perhaps he had gone to scout out the trolley station and the bank with Hosea. Jack was playing with his wooden horse on the room's balcony.
Proceeding down the stairs, Arthur checked the first floor. There was nothing in the infirmary, the sitting room or the living room.
Arthur tried to piece together where Sam could've gone. Even when wounded, he would try to move carefully and quietly, like the thief he was.
Well, good thing he was in the company of quite a few other thieves.
Mary-Beth saw Arthur as he walked past her little tent that was set up against a wagon and stood. She rushed to him immediately.
"Arthur, I saw Sam walking around," she said. "Is he okay?"
"No. Where'd you see him?" the outlaw asked almost immediately.
"He came out from the door on the right of the house, and wandered out into the grass." Mary-Beth brushed a lock of her hair back. "I think he was heading towards-"
Arthur nodded. "Kieran's grave."
The girl dusted herself off. "Here. I'll come with you."
Arthur recalled a story he heard. When Sam lost his mother, he wandered off and wasn't found until three days later when he was starved, dehydrated, and nearly dead with broken ribs and burns that still scarred his arm and upper back. He had seen the very marks himself.
Out in the field with Mary-Beth, Arthur realized how fitting it was to have Kieran's grave where it was: Nearby to visit, but not too close, so people didn't have to constantly be reminded of what happened. Plus, Kieran did love horses and horses loved open fields to run in.
There was a horse in the field with a dark coat and a white mane. Aurora. She was just laying down, sleeping in the grass. Nearby was Kieran's grave. A thin slab of wood was used as a headstone with neat lettering that simply read: "R.I.P. Kieran Duffy."
Aurora was sleeping on her side, and Arthur and Mary-Beth quickly figured out why. Cuddled up on her flank was her master, still in his nightshirt but wearing his boots.
Mary-Beth gasped. "Sam!"
The girl got down on her knees in front of him, being careful to be quiet, but it wasn't quiet enough. Aurora snorted and raised her head, staring at her and Arthur.
The older man slowly raised his hands in front of himself. "Easy, girl," he said, his voice quiet and low. "Just checking on your master."
Arthur crouched down carefully in the grass, in front of Sam's sleeping form. With Aurora watching over him protectively, he looked very peaceful. So, Arthur smiled…
And flicked Sam's forehead.
"Ow!" Sam hissed. The irritating flick woke him immediately and had him grabbing his forehead. He moved his fingers that were over his eyes and saw Mary-Beth and an irate Arthur staring at him. He lowered his hands slowly.
"Care to explain why you ran off and worried us?" said Arthur.
Sam turned his head and faced Kieran's grave. "I heard they buried him here. I wanted to pay my respects."
"This is kind of away from camp!" Arthur then snapped. "What if one of them O'Driscolls were still out here?" The outlaw grabbed Sam's chin and forced him to look up and into his eyes. "You ain't gonna be the only one hurt if something happens to you, you idiot! Don't you understand?!"
Arthur was almost yelling. Sam had heard his sharp tongue before, but he didn't feel as threatened this time. The red appearing on Arthur's face and the tremble of the hand on his chin, albeit slight, said it all. He was just worried about him.
"I didn't… want you to worry… after last night…" Sam mumbled.
Arthur lowered his hand and shrugged. "You're hurt, Sam. If you wanted to come out here you could've just asked. Just… let us take care of you."
Sam leaned back on Aurora. Red was spreading on his face, too. "Yeah. Sorry."
Mary-Beth just giggled, watching the two boys being embarrassingly mushy.
Arthur eventually sat down next to Sam. With her master nearby, Aurora didn't mind. Mary-Beth knelt down in front of the grave. Both boys listened as she said all the wonderful things about him, despite having been an O'Driscoll., and how he was such a gentle soul.
Sam knew better than to blame himself at this point, but it didn't stop the intrusive thoughts. He swallowed hard and Arthur squeezed his hand.
"I'm sorry," Sam said, quietly. He watched Mary-Beth wipe her eyes. She turned to Sam, slowly.
"Was he brave?" she asked. "In the end."
Sam nodded. "He went down fighting."
The girl faced the grave again. She closed her eyes, more tears escaping.
"Thank-you."
Sometimes, I forget Sam's still new to all of this. He's a thief, but he was only small time for pretty much his whole life. If it weren't for his uncle, I bet that sheriff would've hung him a long time ago. He spent the past few days living through things I'm pretty much used to, unfortunately.
Poor Kieran. Killed by those O'Driscoll bastards. They chopped his head off and tried to kill the lot of us. He saved my life and I could not save his. Maybe that's what Sam thinks, too, considering the fact that the fool chose not to kill him for freedom.
Lily nearly lost her goddamn mind over this whole thing. As for Mrs. Adler, I think she lost hers a long time ago. I guess that's what love does to people. It's like they're driven by forces I scarcely understand.
I feel like an animal, too, living out in the mud here. Whole place gives me the creeps.
"Hey."
Arthur was in his room, sat down in a chair by the bed, when Lily walked in. She made sure to knock first.
"Mornin'," Arthur responded.
Lily stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "I heard Sam wandered off this morning."
Arthur closed his journal. "Yeah," he said, gesturing to the sleeping Sam on his bed. He was out cold, snuggly tucked in a blanket, looking exhausted, but relaxed. "He's taking it hard."
Slowly, Lily walked over, pulled out the chair next to Arthur, and sat down.
"He was like this when my father died," she said, remembering how he wandered off back at Horseshoe Overlook. "And… I guess my mother, too, but he was really young and she was sick, and there's also his mother."
Arthur sat back in his chair. Sam did indeed have a strong desire to keep the people he cared about alive, like himself and his cousin. Not only alive, but close. Arthur began to understand his motives, like why someone like Milton killing Cliff Hawkeson was the last straw for him…
And why he hid Mary's letter…
The outlaw sat back in his chair. "Might explain why he can't sit still when he needs to rest."
Lily nodded. "Yeah. Usually, he's such a good patient and rests when told to."
Arthur scoffed. "Now you take your eyes off him for a second and he's gone like a five-year-old."
"Well, maybe we can do something once he's healed a bit more."
Arthur remembered when Dutch spoke to Sam yesterday.
"The best we can do is keep going for those who can't."
"You know, Sam told me they went fishing while I was… away. I remember a month or so back, how we almost nabbed us a big one, but the big bastard snapped the line."
Lily's hair twirled as she turned to face him. "It was that strong?!"
"Yep."
"Hmm." The girl stared at the floor then locked eyes with Arthur again. She smiled. It was kind of like Sam's when he got another sneaky idea or nabbed something he shouldn't have. "Then let's do it!"
"What?!'
Sam would continue to sleep until the late afternoon. Afterwards, Lily was there when he woke up with some food. After they were done eating, he and Lily chatted for a bit before she checked on his stitches, which were healing up nicely.
Others came in as the day went on. Dutch and Hosea returned from scouting those places to rob. Dutch especially seemed confident… or was he nervous? If he was, Sam had a hard time saying whether or not he was just pretending he wasn't. Still, he tried to just have faith like, he would always say, and focused on just feeling better.
John also visited with Jack in the evening. They still had yet to really make up a story as to what happened to Kieran to save Jack from knowing the truth, but… he unfortunately was used to people in the gang just vanishing. Maybe just being near his Uncle Sammy made the kid more confident that he wouldn't just disappear, as well.
"Thank-you," Sam said, after a while. "For… coming to save me."
John watched as Jack galloped his little toy horse on the balcony. "We were all racing to that shack. Arthur just happened to get there first. I think he worries about us more than we think."
Sam looked over in Jack's direction and nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right."
Tonight was more peaceful than the previous one. Though, the sight of Kieran's grave didn't leave Sam's mind… which led him to think about his murder.
John had left to put Jack to sleep, and it sounded like more of the others were settling down for the night, too. The rest were probably getting ready to patrol until sunrise.
Arthur had stepped out with Lily when the evening started. They didn't say what they were doing, but as long as they were with each other, they'd be fine against those horrible "Night Folk" he had heard so much about.
Hosea brought Sam dinner and some tea. They talked about certain novels they had read recently. Their talk of mysteries soon led into the topic of future heists.
"Trewlawny's got a whole array of bastards in high places. I think he's somewhat associated with Brandon's group, but it would take a whole team of detectives to know anything about him."
"So, you're gonna rig the poker game?" Sam asked.
Hosea chuckled. "No better way to ensure the big take is ours. Strauss is gonna sit somewhere where he can signal Arthur."
Sam grinned, making that mischievous smirk. "Aw, that sounds so fun. I wish I could…" He paused for a second and yawned, "go with."
The older man grinned. "Looks like that tea is kicking in."
"Sneaky bastard…" Sam grumbled, rolling his eyes.
"Well, don't want Arthur and Lily worrying about you." Hosea stood up from his chair, knees cracking as he did.
"Well, Arthur and Lily aren't back yet. I wanted to wait for them." Even so, his eyes were getting heavier no matter how hard he tried to concentrate. He didn't notice Hosea pushing him to lay down until his head hit the pillow.
"And what do you think Dutch would say to you right now about that?" Hosea put Sam's legs onto the bed, careful to place his right thigh on the pillows Lily set up for it to rest on. He then took the book Sam had been reading and placed it on the table nearby.
Sam just groaned while Hosea pulled the blanket over him. "Have faith they'll come back or something."
Hosea still had that same smirk when he sat back down in his chair, book in his hands. "Yep. Now get some rest."
Sam sighed, irritably. Though, having Hosea read quietly near him took him back to when he was just a kid and his uncle would read to him at night. Being a doctor made Cliff a busy man, so Sam cherished the nights when he had time to read to him and Lily. He closed his eyes.
And he fell asleep with that parental safe feeling he hadn't felt in a long time.
Sam slept a deep, peaceful sleep. He didn't really remember any dreams. The only thing he saw were several moments of a sky, being near the underside of a waterfall and the brisk air. The sun casted a golden shine and through the veil of water he saw a figure on a cliff. They were on all fours and when he saw the tall antlers…
He woke up.
With the image of the deer still fresh in his head, Sam rose up sluggishly, his voice slurring something incoherent as he tried to find the animal. Lily soon entered his view, holding his shoulders to still him.
"Hey, it's okay," Lily soothed. "It's okay."
Sam blinked away the sleepiness and rubbed his eyes. The remnants of his dream ebbed away as he stared at Lily with half-lidded eyes.
"Nuh… Hey, Lily?" Sam mumbled, leaning back on his elbows. "Wh-What's…"
Lily smiled. "Sorry. Looked like you were still dreaming. You slept all night."
Sam sighed. "Where'd you go?"
"That's what I wanted to tell you, er, show you. Think you can handle some walking?"
Sam nodded, and Lily peeled the blanket away from him and helped him sit up, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. Lily brushed out his hair and tied it up in that loose ponytail he liked, before helping him slip his boots on and putting a coat she borrowed from Arthur on him.
Carefully, Lily escorted Sam out of Arthur's room. They walked slowly, mindful of Sam's injuries and how his right hand rubbed his aching ribs, still bruised from the beatings.
Sam still had no idea what was going on as he stepped outside. He and Lily walked past the fountain and the main camp and then, by the horses, a carriage had been set up. The back was padded with several blankets along with some fishing rods, tackle, and… Javier's guitar?
"Ah, there he is!" Javier stepped out from hiding behind the wagon with Arthur. "Good morning, Sam."
Sam was still staring at the wagon, his jaw hanging open. "You wanna take me fishing?" he asked.
"We're going to that spot near Rhodes," said Arthur. "I know the line snapped when we tried to catch that strong thing last time, so Lily and I went down to Lagras. The people there knew their way with a fishing pole, so they gave us a few pointers and some new equipment."
"The creek near Rhodes…" Sam mumbled. He thought for a moment and then gasped. "Y-You don't have to-"
"Alright, don't give us that now." Arthur approached and patted Sam's shoulder. "I got Javier on board 'cause he's better at fishing than the rest of us. It'll be easier than we thought." With that, he dragged Sam towards the wagon while Javier and Lily boarded the carriage from the front. "Now, come on!"
It wasn't until Sam got into the wagon that the thought of straying far from camp actually terrified him. While this wasn't the same wagon, he still had flashes from that day, clinging to his lover, while his cousin had to twist that wretched hook from his back. He felt the warm flow of red on his back while that crooked metal tore through his flesh. Even with that thousand yard stare, he got in the back.
Arthur, seeing Sam's trepidation, gently pushed the young man to lay down on the make-shift bed of blankets. Sam didn't fight it, and stayed on his side, facing Arthur, while the older man covered him with an extra sheet and rubbed his back. Sam closed his eyes and hid his face under the blanket, tufts of black hair sticking out.
Sam feared the O'Driscolls finding them. What if they took him to finish the job? Or finish what they started with Arthur? Even if Sam tore his stitches, he would fight with everything he had. With all that chaos, Dutch assured Sam that the O'Driscolls were finished and he would make sure Colm would swing at the gallows and they could all point and laugh. A bit dramatic, but Dutch was a fan of theatrics. After what Colm did to his Annabelle and to him, Sam was shocked that Dutch let him live long enough to face a judge, jury, and executioner.
Sam hated how he flinched when the carriage started moving, and whenever they passed by another carriage or rider. He kept reminding himself that the chances of running into an O'Driscoll were low, but the Lemoyne Raiders were still around and in his condition, he doubted he could be of much help. He also definitely made the top of the hate list back in Rhodes, as well. If any law wandered out, or some angry idiot with a gun found them, what would happen then? Lily, Arthur and Javier wouldn't let him take a gun.
He curled up tighter, beneath the sheets. He loathed how pathetic he probably looked right now. With the blankets on top of him, Sam prayed no enemies found them and saw how weak and vulnerable he was right now.
A hand lifted the covers, forcing Sam to hold back a whine. The young man looked up as the light hit his eyes again, saw Arthur and looked away, pink beginning to appear on his cheeks. Arthur put the blanket back down, but made sure it was just around his shoulders. The two locked eyes again, before Arthur just rubbed Sam's blanketed back again and went back to scribbling in his journal.
And somehow, it helped Sam feel a little better. Arthur was here, now. Lily was up front with Javier.
He was safe. They would take care of him, like Arthur said.
Sam didn't realize he had dozed off again, until Arthur nudged him awake. This time he was gentle and just rubbed his shoulder, instead of flicking his forehead. The outlaw helped him sit up and dismount the carriage, while Lily and Javier gathered the fishing supplies.
Arthur brought a small fold-out chair for Sam to sit on. Sam gazed out at the large body of water that was the Flat Iron Lake. He remembered they were here with Kieran all that time ago.
To not pull at his stitches, Arthur casted out with Sam's fishing pole before handing it back to its owner. Instead of bait, though, Javier attached a special kind of lure on all the fishing rods.
"Alright, now just reel it in really slow," Javier instructed. "Should make the fish think there's a small meal, just begging to be eaten."
Sam listened, as if it were Kieran who was teaching him. He would have said something, but he was ashamed to admit that while he did want to catch this fish, his ears were listening carefully for anyone approaching.
Lily came back from the carriage with some canned food for everyone. Sam didn't realize he had missed breakfast until his cousin brought some for him. After reeling in some bluegills and pickerels, Sam took a break to eat, leaving his fishing pole casted out, with Lily taking over.
Sam focused on calming himself and slowing his breathing. He listened to the water rippling, the birds in the trees, and the movement of the leaves in the gentle wind. Arthur and Javier spoke of their adventure out west. Neither Sam or Lily had ever been to Nevada or California.
"It's not as hot as New Austin, but it's dry," said Arthur. "But it's open like New Austin. Dutch says riding out there makes you feel closer to the sky."
"The dryness goes away once you get to California," said Javier. "You can smell the ocean just at the entrance of some of those towns."
A few more bluegills and other small fish were reeled in. The bigger ones, like the bass, were kept to take back to camp. Just as Sam finished up his can of beans, he saw the end of his rod being tugged. Lily pulled back, getting a fish on the line, but then she was nearly knocked off her feet. The young man practically threw himself to get his fishing pole back from Lily.
"Easy, amigo," Javier chimed in, almost laughing. "Don't wanna pull a stitch.."
Lily wouldn't let go. "I've got this. Whoa!" She saw the fishing jumping around and splashing.
"Don't reel when it's fighting," said Sam. "Let him tire himself out."
"I'm trying!"
Sam grabbed the handle of the fishing pole and held the reel wheel still, until the fish was tired. Yeah, it was that big guy from before, alright. And like before, this one was tough. Sam held the rod, while Lily reeled it in as fast as she could.
The fish fought again, making Sam hiss as his stitches were tugged. Then, Arthur came up from behind and wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him in place.
The fish fought again, forcing the trio to fight back again some more. Arthur and Sam were a team, holding the rod back, while Lily reeled it in. Even with his injuries, Arthur made Sam feel like he was still in fighting shape.
Cheers filled the air as the fish was finally pulled from the water. It was, in fact, a Bluegill, but…
"Oh my god!" Sam exclaimed.
"Damn!" Arthur exclaimed, as well.
Lily and Javier were speechless. The Mexican walked over and unhooked their catch from the fishing pole, holding the beast of a Bluegill in his hands. The thing was bigger than their heads and longer than their lower arms.
"You did it!" said Javier. "See? No one's bad at fishing as long as they have the right bait."
Arthur scoffed. "Lily hooked the little shit. I just helped her and Sam get it."
Sam was positively beaming, which was what Arthur and Lily wanted. They got the big thing wrapped up and packed away with the other fish they were taking back to camp.
The adrenaline wore off eventually and the four decided to stay a bit longer and rest. Lily was setting up the wagon for when they were ready to head back, and Arthur was drawing a sketch of the giant Bluegill they caught. Sam sat down next to him under a tree, while Javier tuned his guitar. He smirked at Arthur and began to play a slow peaceful melody.
Sam grinned at the sketch Arthur was making and rested his head on the outlaw's shoulder, closing his eyes. Arthur glanced over at Sam and then turned back to finishing his sketch, face slowly turning red.
Images of his waking nightmare played in Sam's head, making him wake back up, before he could fully fall asleep. The sun left a golden gleam on the lake. Sam stared for a moment before he saw a group of deer in the distance. One with giant horns bent down to drink some water. It soon raised its head and made eye contact with Sam.
He didn't know why, but at that moment, Sam felt the knots in his stomach fade away. It wouldn't be forever, but Sam did feel better. The young man closed his eyes again with a quiet, but deep sigh.
Finally, it felt like there was light shining on them once more.
...
A/N: And there you go! Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa or whatever you celebrate. And if you don't celebrate any of those, have a great rest of December! See you in January! :)