#obscureness. downrange

[roseghoul26]

Part 3

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author’s Note: soooo this was meant to be the final part but i got carried away so now there are four parts :D

also like 99% sure the location i describe later in the part doesn’t exist but im too lazy to figure out an actual one so just go with it please. and i have no idea if the robbery plan “arthur” came up with actual works. there’s a reason i write fanfiction and don’t rob houses.

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

Arthur had stayed by your side ever since then. He was gone some days, returning to you exhausted and sleepless, but still returning nonetheless. He helped take care of you as you recovered, attending to your every need with no complaint (you had joked that you were going to turn into an actual princess with his treatment)

By the end of the first week of your return, you had regained enough strength to get up on your own, being able to take small walks around camp and chatting with the others. You found yourself being able to stay awake longer, only having to stop a rest once or twice throughout the day. Also, most of your superficial wounds were pretty much healed at this point, small scabs and scars the only proof of their existence. 

By week two, you had started contributing with the chores, doing lighter work around the camps like sewing. You stayed outside of your tent more and more now, the weather at Clemens Point usually pleasant. The wound on your shoulder was doing much better now, and where deep purple bruises once resided were patchy yellow marks. 

When the third week rolled around, you were starting to go insane, having been confined to the one place for so long. You were pretty much back to normal, your energy returned and your wounds healed. You had begged every person who left camp to take you with them, but to no avail. 

You had even begged Charles to take you out hunting, but the steadfast man didn’t budge. Upon seeing your disappointment in his rejection, he relented… partially. Finding a spot far enough away from camp to not be an issue, but close enough for safety’s sake, Charles set up a small practice range for you to shoot your bow and guns at. You had hugged and thanked him profusely, your fingers itching to pull a trigger. He just requested you to not make him regret his decision.

The rest of the time that week was spent at the range, building back up the strength and endurance in your arms and shoulders. Your aim at the beginning was questionable, to say the least. Targets you’d normally have no issue hitting were becoming difficult, and you struggled to hold your pistol up for longer than ten seconds, your hands shaking and straining at the effort. Still, you persisted, and you found your marksmanship began to, slowly, come back to you. 

It was now the first day of the fourth week, the evening sun soaking the range in gold. It wasn’t particularly hot out, yet you still found yourself wiping beads of sweat from your brow as you started down the barrel of your rifle. There was one target left, a small green bottle roughly 200 meters downrange, slightly obscured by some hay barrels until only a portion of it was visible to you. Every other bottle lay shattered except for this one, which you’d been trying to get for what felt like forever. 

Grumbling angrily to yourself, you refocused on the object, sheer spite keeping your feet planted at the range instead of returning back to camp to retire for the night. There was a slight breeze, not enough to deter the path of the bullet, but enough to cause a few pieces of hair to flick you in the face. Your eyes focused on your target, and the world around you seemed to grow still. It was right in your sights, and you just had to squeeze…

You took a deep breath in, holding it for a split second, before releasing it. Your finger moved with your lungs, squeezing the trigger gently. A loud blast shook through you, and if there were any birds still sticking around, they would have flown away at your angry outburst afterwards.

The bottle stood intact, and you swore it was grinning smugly at you. With a huff, you released the empty shell, joining the growing pile at your feet. The sound of hoofbeats from behind caused you to lower your weapon, slinging it over your shoulder. The motion caused a slight tinge of pain to shoot through you, going away as quick as it came. Still, you couldn’t help the slight grimace of pain from appearing on your face as you turned to see who was behind you. The place that Charles had selected for you was just off the entrance of camp, so you had a slightly obscured view of people coming and going.

The sight of a familiar brown horse, and the sound of an even more familiar gruff voice had you smiling widely. Quickly scooping the empty shells into a bucket, the fresh one burning your hand slightly, you headed back to camp. 

As you approached, you heard many voices all at once, all greeting Arthur as he got off his horse. As he patted his steed, you saw him glazing around, eyes darting around as he searched for something. He must’ve not found what he was looking for, as he had a slightly confused expression as he made his way toward Dutch. The leader of the Van Der Linde gang stood outside his tent smoking a cigar as he warmly greeted Arthur, clapping the younger man on his shoulder. Arthur had his back to you as he talked with Dutch, and you were just out of earshot of their conversation, barely in the camp at this point. 

Passing Pearson’s wagon as you approached Arthur, you saw Dutch look around as well. When his gaze landed on you, he greeted you with a friendly smile, before pointing at you with his cigar over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Your lover spun around, an enormous grin on his face when he finally locked eyes with you. Finally close enough to hear the two of them, you heard Dutch say “We’ll talk later,” practically shoving the younger man away from him and towards you. He gave Dutch an incredulous look before returning his attention to you, smiling impossibly brighter when you were finally within arms reach of him. 

Setting the bucket and gun down at your feet, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burrowing your face in his chest as you held him close. A pleased hum left you as you felt one of his hands hold the back of your head, the other wrapping around your hip. “Hello, princess,” you heard him say. Tilting your head back so you could see Arthur fully, you stood up on your toes so you could kiss him. He held your kiss longer than what was probably appropriate for being in the middle of camp, but you couldn’t care less. After pulling away, he rested his head against yours, one hand still around your backside. His hat sat precariously on his head, dangerously close to falling off. 

“Hi, Arthur,” you breathed. “I’ve missed you.”

“Already? It’s only been a week. I’d’ve thought you’d been sick of me already.”

“Never.”

“And just what were you up to while I was gone?” You saw him eye the bucket and rifle forgotten behind you, and the two of you took a step back from the other, still close enough to touch though.

“I’ve been doing some shooting. Charles set it up for me.”

“Did he now?” He asked, not out of jealousy, but more out of concern of you overexerting yourself. 

“It was either that, or take me hunting. I’ve practically begged everyone in camp to take me out. I’ve gone a little crazy being stuck here.”

Arthur chuckled. “Noted. So,” he gestured to the weapon, “any luck?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you turned and  picked up the items, the rifle going back over your shoulder. You stepped out of the shade created by Dutch’s tent, the light causing your eyes to scrunch close. It was close to sundown by this point, but a nice amber glow still washed over the camp, with the lake turning into a body of lava. “Mostly,” you scoffed, and began walking back toward the range, determination now taking over you again. 

You expected to hear footfalls behind or beside you, but when you didn’t, you turned back around with a puzzled expression. Arthur just stood there, still in the shade, mouth parted slightly as he stared at you. 

Cocking your head, you thought that might get his attention, but you started to feel a little self conscious (and worried) when he continued to just look at you. “Is there something on my face?” you joked half-heartedly, tapping a rhythm on your waist as you awaited a response. 

The cowboy had a slight rosy tint on his cheeks as he shook his head, but he still held his eyes on you. “Nah, it’s just… you look beautiful.”

That was certainly not what you were expecting to hear, nearly dropping the bucket of empty bullet casings. “Well, thank you, Arthur,” you responded bashfully. 

“I mean it,” he continued, slowly walking towards you now. “I mean, you always look beautiful, but somethin’ ‘bout the light… you look like an angel, like you were taken out one of them paintings.”

You certainly didn’t think so yourself, but with the way Arthur looked at you, you just had to believe him. His hands now cupped your face, thumbs rubbing gently against your cheeks. “My angel…” he said, the words leaving his mouth gently like a secret. 

He held you, transfixed, until someone else in camp awkwardly cleared their throat. His hands dropped back to his sides, but he still had a lovesick look in his eye as he gestured for you to continue walking. “After you, my angel.”

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments. “So what am I, princess or angel?” You teased, willing your heart to slow down. You could feel Arthur’s heavy gaze on you as you walked. 

“You can’t be both?”

“‘Fraid not. One or the other.”

“Says who? ‘Cause they clearly haven’t met you.”

“You’re a silly man, Arthur Morgan.”

“I’m only tellin’ the truth! I swear!” 

Finally reaching the practice range, you stood where you had prior, and you set the bucket back down. Turning your head to look at Arthur, you were slightly startled at his closeness. Wrapping  around your midsection, he rested his head on your shoulder that didn’t hold your rifle. “‘Sides, you love it,” he continued. Kissing your temple lightly, he rocked with you back and forth, just enjoying the feeling of having you in his arms. You didn’t bother to reply; you both knew what your answer would be. 

Resting your hands atop his, you leaned back into him, your purpose for being where you were forgotten temporarily. The last rays from the setting sun lit up the field, but the growing darkness was beginning to take over. Sighing, you lightly stroked his arm, rousing his attention. “If you’re trying to distract me, you’re doing a good job at it.”

“Sorry,” he drawled, the slight laugh in his voice making it clear that he wasn’t at all. 

“I’ve got one more target. After that, I’m all yours.”

After a beat of silence, Arthur responded by opening his arms to let you out. The lack of heat from his body caused a slight shiver to wrack your body, the cooling night temperature not helping either. Bringing up your rifle and staring at your target through the scope, you found it hard to concentrate with his eyes on you. Still, you took a deep breath in, then pulled the trigger upon its release.

The shot from the gun shattered the peaceful atmosphere in the field, a few birds that had returned flying away instantly, their angry squawks and your angry curses following the blast. The shot went wide by a few inches, to your not surprise. Incoherently grumbling, you discarded the empty round, the new one loading in with a click. 

You fired off a few more rounds, each one missing your target by a small bit. It was getting late now, and it was starting to get hard to see the bottle now. 

Bringing the gun up again, you were about to fire, until a soft wait from behind you caused you to lower the weapon, looking over at Arthur confused. “No, no, bring the rifle back up.” As perplexed as you were, you complied, bringing the gun up like you were going to fire it, but keeping your finger off the trigger. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Arthur stalked around you, eyes scanning over you, assessing. 

You tried to keep still, but you couldn’t help but shift your feet nervously as his ocean blue eyes observed you. “You’re holdin’ it differently,” Arthur finally spoke, and you lowered the rifle back down.

“Huh?” Bringing it back up again, you did a mental scan of your body. Nothing felt different, but then again you did have a significant time off from using your guns. Maybe your marksmanship wasn’t coming back as well as you thought. 

“Nothin’ major,” Arthur continued. “It’s… it’s your shoulder. The left one. You’re rollin’ it forward more, and I think that’s what’s affecting the shots.”

So you tried rolling back your left shoulder, the injured joint stiff as you readjusted. Apparently that wasn’t enough, and you felt Arthur come back behind you. His chest brushed your back as he brought his arm up to your left shoulder as you held your gun up, holding it but not pushing yet. “Let me know if I’m hurtin’ you,” he murmured, and you could feel his other hand settle on your waist. 

After you nodded, you felt him press the shoulder back. It was slightly tender, but it didn’t hurt too bad. When he was satisfied with your new posture, which was starting to feel familiar, he mirrored the other hand on your waist. His lips were dangerously close to your ear as he leaned in, the fingers on your waist tightening ever-so-slightly. The proximity, while not unwelcome, caused you to take a sharp intake of breath. 

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed, a satisfied hum leaving him when you did so. God, his voice was doing nothing to help your flustered state. “Good… now, shoot.” 

Praying that your exhale wouldn’t come out shakily, you breathed out, pulling the trigger as you did, like who had so many times before. However, this time, instead of the sound of the bullet hitting the hay bale, the sound of glass shattering hit your ears.

Lowering the gun slowly, a joyous laugh left you as you finally registered you hit the target. Spinning around so you were facing Arthur, you smiled brightly, the same expression on his face. “Atta girl,” he practically purred, taking the rifle from your hands and setting it on the ground beside the two of you with a thud. His praise caused a jolt of warmth to shoot through your body, causing your blood to feel like it was simmering. 

Linking your hands around his neck, you played with some of the hair that stuck out from under his hat. “How’d you know I was holding it wrong?” you asked. “It wasn’t even that obvious, you said so yourself.”

You felt him shrug. “I dunno.”

“Spend a lot of time lookin’ at me, then?” Looking up at him, you could tell that some of his confidence was beginning to falter, scared of what your reaction would be to his answer. 

“I…” he trailed off, and you could feel his fingers, which had returned to your waist, begin to pick nervously at your clothing. 

“I don’t mind.” It must have alleviated some of his worries of making you uncomfortable, because his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you nearly flush with his own. His eyes darkened at the contact, and when you tugged slightly at his hair, and a similar whine to the one he let out last time left him. The two of you had shared a good amount of kisses over the past few weeks while Arthur was still here, but they ended before anything happened. This was only the second time you’d heard that noise from him, and you had forgotten how addicting it was. 

He said your name in warning, and you gave him the most innocent look you could muster. 

“You must look at me a lot if you’re able to notice something like that.” You couldn’t help the teasing tilt in your voice. 

“It ain’t my fault you’re breathtaking. And I sure as hell ain’t the only one who looks at you.”

“You’re the only person whose eyes I want on me.” Grabbing one of his wrists, you dragged his hand up your body, bringing it up until it reached your chest. His breath hitched at the action, staring at you with pleading eyes as his hand hovered uncertainty over your breasts. “And the only person whose hands I want on me, too.”

He pulled you impossibly closer, space nonexistent between the two of you. His lips were mere centimeters from yours, and you could feel his shaky exhale as you rocked your hips against his. There was a new heated tension in the air, something you hadn’t experienced with each other yet, but you were more than willing to cross that line tonight. 

“I love you,” he whispered, an utter devotion in his eyes that you’d only seen in the most zealous devotees. But there was nothing holy about the way his lips crashed against yours, desperate and needy and hungry.

The hand that once rested on your waist cradled the side of your neck, holding you securely as he kissed you. His other hand finally made contact with your chest, and you let out pleased groans as he felt you, causing your mouth to part slightly. Eagerly taking this opportunity, Arthur’s tongue swept into your mouth, and your hands fully tangled into his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hat fell somewhere on the ground, the soft thump unheard by both of you. 

He continued exploring your chest, and you craved nothing more than to rip your shirt off so you could feel him touch on your bare skin. Imagining the calluses of his hand running across the delicate skin caused you to shiver, which didn’t go unnoticed by the cowboy. You felt him smile against your lips, before moving his kisses to your jaw, to underneath, then trailing down your neck. 

“You like that?” his spoke, voice debauched. 

“Your hands…” was all you were able to get out before your focus dissolved. 

“What ‘bout them?” He spoke between kisses, littering them across your neck. 

“I want… I want you to touch me.”

He squeezed your chest gently. “I am.”

“Take my shirt off… please.”

“As much as I’d love that, we don’t want the whole camp to see you now. You only want my eyes on you, right?” You felt his teeth nip gently at the base of your throat. 

Groaning, you rolled your head back, partially out of frustration, and partially to give Arthur better access. His touch left your chest, trailing back down your body, inching closer and closer to your center. Rutting your hips up, you tried to meet him halfway, but he remained just out of reach. Instead of touching you where you wanted, you felt light touches circle your waist, lightly brushing the small of your back before settling lower. Grabbing a handful of your ass in his large palm, you felt him smile against your neck as you let out a surprised noise. 

His other hand left your neck, and in a show of strength lifted you into his arms, both hands now holding your backside. Interlocking your legs around his waist, you couldn’t help the shocked laugh that left you. It was no secret that Arthur was a strong man, his muscular build evident of that, but the effortlessness in the way he picked you up had your stomach doing somersaults. 

Still attacking your neck with kisses, you felt him begin to move forward until you felt bark against your back. “Arthur…” you panted, and you heard a pleased groan leave him. An unmistakable hardness pressed into you now, and you felt yourself unconsciously rolling your hips against him. Your own name left his lips, the last syllable trailing off into a moan, which he muffled in the crook of your neck. 

“Please. I need you, Arthur,” you whined out, and Arthur lifted his head up, resting it now against your own. 

“Here?” Arthur asked, breathlessly. When you nodded, you could see him fighting with himself internally. “You sure? It’s… you deserve better. Should take you out… get us a room. Hell, get us an actual bed.”

“I just need you.” You ran your fingers through his hair, the brown locs haven been thoroughly tussled by your hands. Pressing a light kiss on the crooked bridge of his nose, you poured as much sincerity as you could in the action. 

“Fuck… alright princess. But we’ll have to be quick. Someone from camp-”

An unmistakable raspy voice cut through the clearing, startling poor Arthur to the point he nearly dropped you. “Arthur!” John called out, and you felt the man below you grow deathly still. 

“Where the hell are you, Arthur?” John called out again, and you could tell that Arthur was debating whether or not to respond. When the younger outlaw yelled out again, he let out a regretful sigh, before slowly lowering you to your feet. Your knees wobbled, and you held on to his broad shoulders momentarily for balance. A small proud smile adorned his face, which promptly fell when he heard John’s voice again. 

“What?” He yelled back, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. His hands were on your waist, tapping randomly as he awaited a response. You saw the light from John’s lantern begin to illuminate the clearing, so you tried your best to fix up Arthur’s appearance, smoothing out his clothing and adjusting his hair. Based on how the two of you looked, it wouldn’t be hard to determine what was happening, but you wanted to save some of the man’s dignity when facing John. 

Looking down, you saw him adjust himself, trying and failing to hide the obvious tent in his pants. Luckily, it was getting quite dark out, so he wouldn’t have to try too hard to hide it. You gave him a sympathetic smile, and he just sighed defeatedly. “Don’t kill him,” you half-joked, noticing the death glare he gave the figure approaching the two of you. 

Pulling away from you, he turned and walked over to John, you trailing behind him by a few steps. Gathering up the items you’d brought, you returned the rifle to its home over your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye, barely visible due to the lack of illumination, you saw Arthur’s hat lying in the grass, which had been knocked off his head by your hands. 

You put it atop your own, and you found it sliding around as you walked up to the two men, wrapping your arm around Arthur as you joined in the conversation, which was turning into more of an argument. 

“You’re needed back at camp,” you heard John say angrily, not even looking at you as he stared the other man down.

“And I’m sayin’ it can wait. I’m busy.”

“Oh, really?” John challenged. “Doin’ what?” 

Arthur just gave him a pointed look in response, expecting John to figure it out.

“No, really. What is so important right now?”

You could hear Arthur roll his eyes. “Maybe the wolves really did eat your brain, Marston.” You let out a chuckle at that, and John finally seemed to notice your existence. Confusion, then realization, then finally embarrassment washed over his face as he took in your disheveled state and Arthur’s hat on your head. 

John shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with you any longer. “Just… just get back quickly,” he muttered, leaving the two of you as quickly as possible. You heard him grumble something under his breath, before wrapping you into a tight hug, locking your arms to your body. His hat barely stayed on as you tried to look up at him, and you saw his eyes widen as he registered what you were wearing. 

“You’re makin’ it real hard to leave, ya know?”

“So are you.”

“Yeah…” he agreed, yet made no move to loosen his grip. 

Arthur held you for a few moments, the fire that had been growing during the last minutes subsiding to a small candle flame. As much as you both wanted to just continue, the duty to the camp and gang took priority, especially for Arthur. 

Wiggling out of his arms, you returned the hat to its owner, but the angle you placed it at caused it to cover his eyes. “C’mon, cowboy. Giddyap,” you teased, lightly smacking his backside while doing so. You started walking back to camp, following the direction John went

You had gotten a few feet away before Arthur began bounding towards you, causing you to break out in a sprint. Laughing wildly, you ran through the trees, the branches whizzing past your face as you ran towards camp, Arthur hot on your heels. 

Because you weren’t far from camp, it only took a minute or so before you ran in, panting in exhilaration. Running to your tent, you looked behind you, expecting Arthur to be right there. When you were met with empty air, you halted, dirt skidding up at the sudden stop. Looking around, you peered through the darkness, barely able to see anything in the evening light. 

You saw Javier, Bill, and Micah all sitting around a nearby campfire, mindlessly conversing while Javier strummed on his guitar. You saw Molly in her and Dutch’s tent, which was between yours and Arthur’s, getting ready to retire for the night. Abigail was with Jack, sitting with him on her lap while Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen sat around another fire, drinking and laughing with each other. But for the life of you, you couldn’t find Arthur.

Without warning, you found yourself pulled into a strong embrace, the smell of leather and gunpowder filling your senses as Arthur grabbed you. A startled noise left you, turning into laughter as you felt his place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Gotcha, princess.”

“You scared me! How’d you do that?”

He gave you another kiss on your cheek in apology. “I’ve got my ways.”

“Is that all the explanation I’m gonna get?”

Arthur paused for a moment, debating your words. “Yes.” When you just shook your head in amusement, he gave you one last kiss before letting go, albeit reluctantly, and he walked around so he was facing you.. “I’ve gotta go see what they want,” he huffed. And… I just wanna say I’m sorry for tonight. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Arthur.” You tried to reassure him, but he continued to frown slightly. Cupping his face with one palm, your thumb brushed the top of his cheekbone lightly, and you felt him relax under your touch. “I know you’ll make it up to me, eventually. Tonight, just come see me when you’re done. I’ve… It’s been hard sleeping without you.”

“Alright,” he conceded, kissing your hand before returning it to your side. “Go get ready. I’ll be back shortly.”

“You better not keep me waiting, Arthur Morgan,” you warned, backing into your tent slowly. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” he said with a wink, then turning and walking toward Dutch, who stood with his arms crossed, watching the whole interaction between you two. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Arthur would never hear the end of it from the other men and camp. As your tent flaps closed shut, you heard Dutch say something to Arthur, who grumbled something out in response. A hearty laugh from Dutch filled the camp, and you just knew that Arthur’s face was beet red right now.

Undressing quickly, and now only in a chemise, you sat atop the bed, you glanced around your tent. Your tent, which was slowly becoming Arthur and your’s tent, was still lit up by candlelight. Your shared bed (which was yours and Arthur’s cots pushed together) sat in the middle, with the same pelt operating as your flooring. Arthur had yet to fully “move in” with you, but most of his belongings, which wasn’t a lot, sat beside yours. You guessed that in a few weeks he’d be offering his tent to the other members of camp.

Picking up your copy of A Cristmas Carol, you began reading, trying to pass the time as quickly as possible. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

As much as you tried to stay up, the minutes turning to hours as you waited for Arthur to return, you ended up falling asleep, not even tucked into the bedsheets. Your book lay open if you lap, as it had fallen out of your grip.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you remember how the words on the page began to blur, and how it became so hard to focus on the narrative. Eventually, you succumbed, no longer fighting the growing heaviness on your eyelids. 

The bed shifting caused you to stir, groaning slightly as the kink in your neck made itself known, the awkward sleeping position causing your body to protest. You felt the blanket get pulled out from under your legs and wrapped around your body, then a warm body cuddling up next to you, arm resting on your midsection. Shuffling back until your back was flush with their front, you heard Arthur murmur out an apology for waking you. 

You adjusted so your head was now resting on your pillow, and you wove your fingers through Arthurs. “It’s alright,” your voice was heavy with sleep. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” his breath tickled your ear as he spoke. “Dutch wanted me and Lenny to go scout somethin’ out. Went longer than we thought.”

You let out a light hum, and a yawn threatened to overtake you as you spoke. “Tell me more in the mornin’. Get some sleep.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Arthur replied, nuzzling into your hair and sighing deeply. 

Sleep came back easily, and you found yourself being roused a few hours later by the smell of coffee and light chatter. You and Arthur had swapped positions in the night, and you woke with an arm across him and your legs intertwined. 

As carefully as possible you disentangled from him, halting all movement when you heard his breathing change. Eventually you were free, and you sat on the edge of the bed. Glancing behind, you saw Arthur still fast asleep, a light snore coming from the man. 

It was nice, seeing him so at ease. The normal furrow in his brow was smoothed over, the creases around his eyes seemed less prominent. Everything about him seemed softer somehow, like all the troubles in his life had been sucked out of his body while he slept. You just hoped that one day you might bring him that same peace in the conscious world. 

Stretching as you stood, you quickly got dressed, being careful not to make any loud noises. You wore something simple today, opting for a pair of pants and a shirt. Eying Arthur’s growing pile of belongings, you chose to wear one of his button ups. You smiled as you put it on; despite being freshly cleaned, it still smelled like him.

Tucking the blue shirt in, you left your tent after putting your boots on. The bright morning sun caused you to squint heavily, making your way to the communal coffee pot. If you had to guess, you’d say it was about nine or so in the morning, most of the camp up at this point. Saying good morning to those you passed, you poured two cups of coffee, the liquid precariously sloshing over the edge of the cups as you walked back to your tent, drinking yours while you walked. 

You were about halfway back when you spotted Lenny sitting at one of the tables, who kept anxiously looking up at your tent while cleaning his gun. He gave you a polite smile as you approached, which heavily contradicted the impatient way he tapped his foot. As you got closer, you saw how tired he looked, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Good morning, Lenny!” You greeted, trying your best to sound chipper. 

“G’morning, miss,” He tried his best to not sound annoyed, you could tell.

“Care to tell me why you’re glaring at my tent?” You teased.

Sheepishly, he dropped his gaze, the tapping of his foot slowly subsiding. “Sorry, miss. It’s just… I need Arthur up, and he’s in your tent, and I don’t wanna be improper and walk in there…”

Laughing loudly, you set one of the cups down on the table before patting him lightly on his shoulder. “You’re too good for us, kid. I’ll go get him up for you… if I get to come with you two, that is.”

“How’d you… you don’t even know what we’re doing.”

Shrugging, you took a sip of your drink. “I like surprises. So, do we have a deal? I’ll save you from having to walk into a lady’s tent, and then I get to tag along on whatever y’all are doing.”

“I guess,” Lenny sighed, but you could tell he wasn’t upset. He sounded more tired than anything.

With a final light tap on his shoulder, you picked up both drinks, taking another hearty sip from your own. “Thanks, Lenny.”

“Nah, thank you. From me and my dignity.”

His response had you rolling your eyes, shaking your head as you entered your tent. Excitement was growing in you, your desire to finally leave camp finally being fulfilled. Arthur was still passed out, and you felt bad for reaching down and shaking him gently. You watched his eyes flutter open, and you smiled warmly. 

“Good morning, pretty boy,” you brushed his hair back, and his eyes threatened to close again. He was barely awake, and you could tell because he had barely any reaction to what you called him. “Lenny’s waiting for you.”

That seemed to stir him, and he practically shot up out of bed, nearly causing you to spill both of your drinks. He cursed to himself, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes as he paced around the tent. He was still fully dressed from last night, the only things missing being his hat, shoes, and gunbelt, which you watched him grab and put on, turned partially away from you as he dressed. The furrow in his brow was back, and you also noticed the heavy dark circles under his eyes. 

Pressing the hot beverage into his hand, which he took with a soft thank you, you set you own on the nightstand before fixing the collar of his shirt which got all messed up during the night. “What time did you get back?” 

“Late,” he responded between gulps, either not noticing or caring that the liquid was scorching hot.

“Arthur…” you sighed. “You look exhausted.”

He just shrugged, neither agreeing with or denying your statement. “How long has it been since you’ve slept for more than four hours?” You’d always noticed how tired Arthur always was, pushed to his limits day in and day out, and this conversation wasn't new for either of you. Even before the two of you became lovers, you’d always hound him on his sleep, or lack of it. It was, however, the first time you’d asked him that question, and you could tell he was trying to come up with an answer or excuse. You found yourself coming up with a plan that would get you and Arthur away from camp, at least long enough to let him sleep for a while. 

“After we get done with whatever you and Lenny are doing, me and you are gonna take a little vacation. And you can’t say no.” You added that last bit when he opened his mouth to protest. 

As he woke up more, a confused look crossed his features as he comprehended what you said, and he turned towards you. “We?” 

“Yup. I’m going with y’all.”

“I don’t…” he trailed off with a sigh, realizing that arguing would be pointless. “Are you sure?” You nodded.  “Alright. We’ll fill you in on the details on the way there. Shouldn’t be too complicated.” He took a final gulp of his drink, and set the empty cup next to yours. “Also, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, princess. You focus on getting yourself back to normal.”

“But I am pretty much back to normal! And you’ve taken such good care of me these past few weeks, it’s time I return the favor.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Maybe I don’t. But I’m gonna do it anyway. I want to help you, to care for you. And like I already said, you can’t say no.” 

“You’re difficult, woman,” he shook his head, as if amused by your antics. “We’ll discuss this later. Don’t wanna make Lenny wait any longer.”

“Alright,” you accepted. “I’ll see you outside, love.”

Arthur actually short-circuited at the use of the new pet name, and you giggled as he stood there dumbfounded, and you left the tent before he could say anything. “Arthur’ll be right out, Lenny!” you shouted out, the man’s head snapping up as you spoke. 

Getting to his feet and slinging the very ocean repeater over his shoulder, Lenny gratefully smiled at you. “Thanks again, miss. Did he tell you anything or…?”

“Nothin’. Said you tell me on the way there, and that it ain’t supposed to be too difficult, apparently. Not that anything ever ends up that way,” the final part you muttered more to yourself, and it went unheard by the other. 

“You got a bandana? Gonna end up needin’ it. What we’re doing ain’t exactly lawful.”

“My favorite. Lemme go grab one-”

“I got it. Here,” you felt the cloth placed around your neck, Arthur securing it with a knot. “Go ahead and meet us by the horses, Lenny. We’ll be right there.”

With a nod, the younger gunslinger headed toward the hitching post. Adjusting your hair so that it sat over the bandana, Arthur then combed the stands back so that they were tucked behind your ears. “Is that my shirt?” He asked once Lenny was far enough away.

“You just noticed?” You chuckled, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Shut it, princess.”

“Never.” You stuck your tongue out at him, then started heading toward Lenny. “You don’t mind, right?”

“God, not at all. I’d give you all of ‘em if it meant I’d get to see you wear ‘em every day.”

“Then what’d you wear?”

“Nothing, but I suppose you’d like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you faced forward to hide your expression as you imagined a shirtless Arthur. “Hush now,” you feebly reprimanded.

“Never.”

By this time you had reached your destination, mounting your horse (after thanking Lenny for saddling him up) who knickered excitedly. Both of you hadn’t been out of camp in some time, and you both missed the feel of the wind in your hair and the exhilaration of the ride. You wanted nothing more than to just bolt out of camp, but you held steady, tapping your fingers to try and let out some of the building energy within you.

Arthur, after mounting, took the lead as your group exited camp. After saying goodbye to Javier, who was standing at the front of camp on watch, Arthur began explaining the plan, going at an easy trot as the three of you rode, looking over at you as he spoke. 

It was a home robbery, and a rather large one at that. Located east of Valentine, about a mile or so from Emerald ranch, stood a large multi-story house that was rumored to be filled with precious items and jewels. Lenny and Arthur’s scouting provided intel about the guards that patrolled the ground, getting their general numbers and learning the relative schedule they operated on. By learning that information, they were able to figure out when it was best to move in order to not be spotted. 

Originally, when it was just going to be two of them, only Arthur was going into the house itself, Lenny staying back on watch, ready to create a distraction that would allow Arthur to leave unnoticed. But now that you were tagging along, it was up to you to decide what you wanted to do: join Arthur, or send Lenny with him and be on watch yourself. 

“Well, saying the last time I was on guard duty didn’t go so great, I’ll go in with Arthur.” Your “joke” seemed to only amuse you, but then you saw the way Lenny tried to hide a light chuckle. 

When Arthur had finished explaining, you were still only about a quarter of the way there, the casual pace Arthur had set making your journey slow. You tried not to seem too fidgety, knowing that Arthur and Lenny were quite tired and probably wouldn’t like to go as fast as you’d like, but there were a few times when you had to slow down TT and ease him back; it seemed you were both getting antsy. 

Arthur, bless him, took notice of this, and he moved himself off the road to let you take the lead. Taking your spot, you cocked your head, trying your best to keep your eyes on him. “Go to Emerald Ranch. Wait for us there.”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to pull out all your hair. Go ‘head and ride out ahead of us, fast as you like… but be safe. We’ll meet you there.”

You’re sure you looked crazy with the excited grin on your face. “You’re serious?”

“Very. Now,” Arthur shooed you, “go.”

“I love you, Arthur Morgan,” you said, before taking off in a cloud of dust. It took little encouragement from you to get TT moving, snorting wildly as he pushed as hard as he could, happy to finally stretch his muscles out. With a loud whoop that bounced off the rocks and trees, you quickly rode away, Arthur and Lenny becoming small specks on the horizon. Arms outstretched and your eyes closed, you took in the feeling of the wind finally being back in your hair, trusting TT to take you to where you needed to go. 

You hadn’t even realized you were crying, the sheer happiness you were feeling overwhelming you. Yes, you loved being at camp, and you loved the people there, but you were starting to feel trapped. You knew that being put on a “bedrest” was for your health and to allow you to fully recover, but it was exhausting. You were still an outlaw at heart, and you needed to roam. You couldn’t be tied down to a place for so long, and a part of you knew that’s why you and Arthur became friends in the first place: two wild hearts that needed space to ride free, the only bonds holding you being the ones you held for each other in your hearts, not where you called “home” or where you lay your head at night. 

Opening your eyes again, the world around you passed in a blur as TT ran, hooves barely hitting the ground. As you passed other riders, you heard them cry out, startled, but you paid them no mind. Right now, you were allowed to be as selfish as you wanted on the road. You were barely able to make out a signpost that showed that you were going in the right direction. 

Patting his neck, you urged your horse onward, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him, just like the last time. However, instead of it being the ride between life and death, it was a ride of pure joy. Joy that you had survived and overcame so much. Joy that you finally confessed to Arthur the love you had for him, and that he felt the same, and you were now closer to him more than you ever thought possible. Joy that despite the honestly shitty cards you and the gang had been dealt, you were all still thriving, able to create bonds and relationships in spite of the hardships. 

Life, in all of its bullshit, was treating you well. You were going to enjoy it for as long as you could, and you were going to do everything in your power to bring Arthur the same joy you felt. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You arrived at Emerald Ranch nearly fifteen minutes before the other two.

Letting your horse drink heavily from one of the many troughs available, you walked around the area, chatting with a few of the farmhands as you waited for Lenny and Arthur to arrive. You had even traded some items with the fence, Seamus, for a little extra cash, in the middle of stuffing it into your saddlebag when you heard them approach. 

“You already robbed the place?” Lenny joked as you remounted, falling back to your original position in the formation. You were surprised, however, when Arthur didn’t take the lead, instead motioning for Lenny to lead the way as he took his spot next to you.

“Y’all were taking too long,” you chuckled. “Nah, just selling a few trinkets I had.”

“Get a good amount for ‘em?”

“Nothin’ crazy. But money’s money.”

“Take what you can get, I guess,” Lenny shrugged, falling into silence as he continued forward.

“How was your ride?” Arthur asked, finally speaking since meeting you at the ranch, which you had now left. 

“Amazing. It was… needed. Thank you, Arthur.” You beamed brightly.

“Of course. Can’t blame you for wantin’ to do that.” You watched him glance towards Lenny to see if he was paying attention before leaning over, as well as he could, to whisper to you. “And, for the record, I love you too.”

“I guess if we’re saying things for the record,” Lenny didn’t even bother to turn around as he interjected, “then you should know that this one turned bright red once you left. Didn’t think I’d ever see a man like him that flustered, but here we are.”

“Aw,” you cooed, flicking the rim of Arthur’s hat down as he was still leaning close to you. “Did I embarrass you, Arthur?”

“Am I really gettin’ ganged up on by both of y’all?” Arthur sat back upright now, scoffing in disbelief when you and Lenny both nodded. “I see how it is, then. Well, I’ll just leave you two to it…” Arthur sighed, a slight grin peeking up at the corners of his mouth. 

“No,” you dragged the word out, nearly falling out of your saddle as you reached to grab his reins. “I’m sorry,” you laughed. 

“I ain’t,” Lenny countered. 

“Remind me why I keep you around, kid?”

“Well, it ain’t up to you if I stay or go. And I distinctly remember you asking me to go with you on this.”

“And I am startin’ to regret my decision.”

“You can always change your mind. Want me to go get John? Or Sean?”

“I pick you, cause unlike them, you don’t annoy me. Which is slowly startin’ to change.”

You had held on to Arthur’s reins during this entire exchange, you head moving back and forth as they spoke. “What has gotten into both of you?” You couldn’t help laughing in surprise. 

Finally, Lenny looked at you. “Sorry, miss. Just… tired.”

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep when we get back. Both of you,” you made sure to look at Arthur when you said this. “I’ll talk to Dutch, see if I can’t get a break for the two of you. There are sure as hell others who can do this type of work, if only for a day.”

“That ain’t necessary-” you cut Lenny off with a raised brow. “Alright. Thanks, miss.”

“Of course. And don’t think I forgot about what I told you, Arthur.”

“No I didn’t.” He responded unenthusiastically. 

Wonderful. Now,” you finally let go of Arthur’s horse, “let’s go rob these sons of bitches.”

It took about twenty minutes for your group to reach your target, pulling off the trail and into a thicket as the house came into view. Dismounting and then sending the horses away, you stayed crouched behind Arthur as the two men made their way to the house, keeping to the dense underbrush, remaining undetected by the guards you saw. 

Arthur held a hand up, and you came to a halt, and he pulled out binoculars and a pocket watch. Quickly surveying the area, he then handed the binoculars to the other man before checking the time. “Right. Here’s the plan. You see them guards over there?” Arthur pointed to two of the guards that patrolled one of the side entrances to the house. “They rotate out every hour, meanin’ theres about a two minute window where there’s no one. That’s when we move. Inside, from what we can tell, isn’t heavily guarded, but be cautious. There shouldn’t be any homeowners or servants or anything like that either.”

 Arthur now pointed at the house. “Once we’re inside, you can take the top floor. When you’re done, meet where we entered. Lenny will give us twenty minutes, then he’ll create a ruckus, giving us an opportunity to leave. We’ll meet up at Emerald Ranch, then head back.” He took a deep breath. “Make sense?”

“Yeah. How long until the next rotation?”

“It’s 10:53, so about seven minutes. I’ll give you a heads up.”

Nodding, you settled back on to your haunches, adjusting the equipment on your body as you waited. “Are you fine with what you’re doing, Lenny?”

“Yes, miss. Ain’t my first time doing it. Arthur can vouch for me.”

“He'll be fine.”

Content, you sat in silence for the next couple minutes, staring off into space until someone pulling your hand had you refocusing back on reality. Arthur’s face was now covered by his bandana, but his eyes crinkled as he pulled you along, and he motioned for you to affix your own bandana. Securing the fabric, you relinked your hand with his, keeping crouched as the two of you approached the house, being mindful of any branches or twigs that you might step on that would alert the guard.

Just like Arthur had said, when the top of the hour rolled around, the two guards stationed at the side left, turning their backs to you as they moved to their new spots. Glancing both ways, he bolted for the side once he deemed it clear, holding on tight to you. The door, thank goodness, was unlocked, and the two of you slipped inside, seemingly unnoticed.

The first part, and arguably the hardest, was done. Glancing around, you took the large bag that Arthur handed you as you both took in as much as you could. You were standing, wll, crouching in a large walled in  dining area; a large oak table stood in the center adorned with expensive china and silverware; a tall china cabinet stood in the corner, various baubles hiding within the shelves; a large staircase was directly at your right, which you started to make your way towards, stopping when Arthur grabbed your hand. 

“Promise me, that if you get caught, you’ll get the hell out. Run. Don’t look back.” He spoke low to not alert anyone, but it made it no less emphatic. His words were surprisingly familiar; the last time he spoke like that was right before you got kidnapped.

“And my answer is still the same: I can’t promise anything, but for you I will try.” It was all you could say before you went back to trying to climb the staircase, time being a limited resource. You had seen the fear in Arthur’s eyes, and you could feel your own worry for him as well. Things were different now, and there was more on the line this time. But you couldn’t afford any anxieties; you had a job to do.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You had to commend yourself on a job well done, clearing the top floor quickly and efficiently. You bag was almost filled to the top, and you slung it over your shoulder, looking like some evil version of St. Nicholas. The house had no shortage of jewelry, gems, and other valuable items, and you doubted whoever owned them was going to be missing them for long. 

Shuffling slowly down the stairs so as to not make too much noise, and you sat on the bottom step as you waited for Arthur to finish, as you literally had no room to carry anything else. Making sure your bag was securely closed, you peeked through one of the windows that were parallel to the door you had entered. Two new guards stood watch, chatting with each other without a care in the world, not aware that two people were currently robbing the place of all its valuables. 

Arthur only took a few more minutes than you, bag equally as heavy as he plopped down next to you on the stairs. Pulling out the pocket watch, he read the time, before turning towards you to read. 

11:16. 

Sighing, you leaned back, the back of your head thumping against the hardwood flooring. You dared not speak, just in case, but you let your guard down slightly. There was no one in the house, just as Arthur had said. It seemed like this whole adventure was going to go off without a hitch, for once. 

Maybe you were too relaxed, because when you felt Arthur rest his hand on your thigh, you jumped out of your skin. It was hard to tell because of the mask, but you think he whispered an apology. As Arthur rubbed the muscles there, you felt yourself relaxing again, resting your head back and closing your eyes.

You weren’t expecting Arthur to slowly bring his touch further up your thigh, massaging as he went. Peeking at him, you found him already looking at you. He halted his exploration, raising his brow in silent questioning as he tested the waters. When you nodded, he didn’t continue, still giving you plenty of time to change your mind if you wanted. 

“Please,” you doubted he could even hear you, but he seemed to understand, continuing up your thigh at a slow pace. He shifted closer to you, the creak of the wood barely audible over your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Still holding eye contact with you, he continued his ascent, mere inches away from the junction of your thigh and hip. 

Instead of moving inward, however, you felt his touch disappear before reemerging on your other thigh, repeating the same process as he caressed you. You said nothing, only letting out small pleased sighs that were only audible to you. 

Finally reaching the apex of your thigh, his squeezing and massaging turned to featherlight touches, barely felt through the material of your pants. Running his fingers across your hips, he repeated the motion a few times, laughing when he heard you finally let out an audible noise, which was a frustrated huff. Like last time, he was so close to where you wanted him to touch you, but he remained so far. You knew that he wasn’t going to do anything here, in the middle of robbing a home of all things, but a part of you hoped that he would just throw all caution in the wind and take you right there.

As soon as the touches started, they left. Arthur leaned back, looking almost startled in a way, like he’d just been snapped out of a trance of sorts. “Shit… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease-”

Shouting from outside had his head snapping towards it, and you were immediately on your feet, peering outside the window with Arthur behind you. His proximity behind you wasn’t helping you calm down, but you forced it down. There would be time later to get him back for his teasing, but right now it was time to go. 

Lenny, back on his horse, had approached the house, standing far enough away to lead the guards away from the house. The two guards were only a few feet from Lenny now, and roughly twenty feet away from the house, giving you enough clearing to leave. They were engaged in a heated discussion, one of the guards training his gun on Lenny while the other did more of the talking. 

Both of you slung the bags over your shoulders, the metal items clunking as they were jostled around. Grabbing your hand, he led you out the front door, moving slowly to not create any too much noise. The argument with Lenny seemed to have the guards full attention, and loud enough to allow you guys to move faster. 

Before long, you were far enough away to safely whistle for your horse, who came running from a nearby bush. Both of you secured your bags to the horses, riding as far away from the house as you could and toward Emerald Ranch. Pulling the bandana off, the breeze did little to cool you down, the fire consuming you only able to be put out by one thing. The look in Arthur’s eyes as he rode away had you shifting in your saddle, but not because you were uncomfortable. You took off after him, and you took a steadying breath. 

It was going to be a long ride back.

[callsign-owl]

When Irony pulls the Trigger

Hereford, United Kingdom - March 2019

The sun was just beginning to sink behind the horizon, casting long shadows across the Hereford firing range. The sounds of gunfire echoed in the crisp evening air as Owl focused on the target downrange. Each squeeze of the trigger was met with the sharp crack of the rifle.

Ghost stood a few paces behind Owl, arms crossed over his chest, his balaclava obscuring his expression but not the intensity of his gaze. He watched as Owl lined up another shot, his movements precise, almost mechanical. When Owl finally lowered the rifle with a satisfied girn, Ghost spoke up, his voice calm but carrying an edge of something deeper.

“You’re good, *redacted*. No one can deny that,” Ghost began, stepping closer to stand beside Owl. “But shooting targets on a range is one thing. Shooting a person—taking a life—is something else entirely.” Ghost uncrossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Owl. “You were a doctor,” he said, the statement hanging in the air between them. “You spent years saving lives, fixing what was broken. Do you really think you can pull that trigger when it’s a person in your sights? When it’s a life you’re about to end instead of save?”

Owl didn't even blink, his expression indifferent and his tone nonchalant. “Yeah, I think I can,” he said simply, his eyes meeting Ghost’s without flinching. “I won’t have a problem with it.”

Ghost’s eyes searched Owl’s face for any sign of doubt, but all he found was that same detached confidence that had already unnerved the team during some of his earlier tests. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them—the very hands that had once been used to heal, to save, were now being trained to kill.

Ghost raised an eyebrow. “You say that now, but it's different when you're out there. You don’t think it’ll weigh on you? The shift from saving lives to taking them?”

Owl shrugged, his posture relaxed as he set the rifle down beside him. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Not as much as it probably should,” he admitted, his tone betraying a hint of the darkness that Ghost had sensed in him before.

Ghost studied Owl for a moment, trying to see beyond the calm facade that Owl presented. “Ending a life, it stays with you. No matter how much you try to rationalize it, you can’t escape that.” he said, his tone serious.

Owl met Ghost’s gaze, his expression unwavering. “Maybe for some people,” he replied, his tone still eerily calm. “But I’m not some people. I know what I’m capable of. I’ve already taken one life. I can take another.”

Ghost fell silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered Owl’s words. The casual way Owl spoke about taking lives was unsettling, even to someone like Ghost who had seen and done more than most men could bear. But there was no doubting the conviction in Owl’s voice, the certainty that he could do what was required of him. Finally, Ghost nodded slowly, accepting Owl’s answer for what it was. “Alright then,” he said quietly. “But just remember—this isn’t just about pulling a triggers. It’s about making the right choices.”

Owl nodded and shrugged, acknowledging Ghost’s words without truly absorbing them. "I’ll keep that in mind," he replied.

Ghost watched him for a moment longer. “We’ll see soon enough once things are actually getting serious for you.” Ghost couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Owl would become once he crossed that final line—if he hadn’t already. The thought lingered in his mind as he watched Owl methodically clean his rifle, each movement precise and controlled, devoid of any emotion.

“*redacted*,” Ghost began again, his voice cutting through the silence, “I’ve seen good men turn into something else entirely after their first kill. It changes you, whether you realize it or not.”

Owl glanced up at Ghost, his hands still holding the rifle. “And you think that I am a good man?” Owl asked, his tone casual, almost conversational.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Ghost knew Owl was testing him, perhaps seeking validation or maybe just trying to gauge the kind of man Ghost thought he was.

“I think you’re a man who’s been through hell, who’s seen more than most,” Ghost finally said, his voice measured. “And I think you’re trying to figure out where you stand in all of it.”

Owl smirked slightly, his expression unreadable. “That’s a very diplomatic answer.”

“It’s the truth,” Ghost replied. “Whether or not you’re a good man—hell, whether any of us are good men—isn’t for me to decide. But what I do know is that the choices you make from here on out will define the kind of man you become.”

Owl considered Ghost’s words, his smirk fading as he absorbed them. He looked down at the rifle in his hands, running his thumb along the barrel. “I’ve already made choices that most people wouldn’t understand,” he said quietly. “Choices that would make some people think I’m not a good man at all.”

Ghost nodded. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But what we do isn’t about being good or bad. It’s about doing what needs to be done, making the hard calls when no one else can. You’re here because Price sees something in you—something that might just be what this team needs.”

Owl looked up again. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—resolve, perhaps, or maybe the ever lingering uncertainty that he couldn’t quite shake. “And what do you see in me?” he asked, his voice low.

Ghost paused, considering the question carefully. “I see someone who’s been pushed to the edge,” he said slowly. “Someone who’s been forced to make impossible choices. But I also see someone who still has the chance to decide who they’re going to be, before it’s too late.”

The words hung between them, heavy with the weight of truth. Owl knew Ghost wasn’t just talking about the missions they would face, but about the personal battles that lay ahead—battles that would test every part of who he was. Owl finally nodded. “I guess we’ll see which way I go,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of finality.

Ghost gave a short, almost imperceptible nod in return. “We will,” he agreed.

[daxwebster]

Training Montage 3

It took a moment for the bet to be worked out, the sum agreed to, reassurances to be paid that either party were good for the amount. The bet itself was for fun, the theatrics was the real trick. While he talked, could still, out of the corner of his eye, see the targets moving, getting used to their timing. More importantly, he was able to get a calibrated read on when they pass in front of the first target, marked as it was with his previous shots.

By the time the deal was made, and he was pulling the front of his hat down to block his eyes as agreed on, he wouldn’t need them. The ‘paint’ rounds were strong enough markers to work well at this range, and the number of them on the target gave multiple signals to lock in on. All that remained was to line up the barrel of his pistol, adjust his grip and... “Headshot, both.”

The multiple contacts over wider areas between his hands and the holes in the gun let him flush more material down different paths than before, and by the time he squeezed the trigger the energy-boosted projectile flew downrange, an inelegant but effective metallic spike.

Dax knew, based on his past experience, about how quickly his projectiles traveled, and he knew from his beacons how long it took for the two targets he meant to hit took to travel in front of the one he’d already hit. It came down to data analysis and math more than intuition or skill. But the impressed reaction he’d heard was just as gratifying.

“So what’s that one meant to be?” Perkins, to his left, still where he had been standing before Dax obscured his vision.

“Armoured target impact. If I go any farther I can possibly do more *damage* but that’s about the upper range on what I can do that still leaves a viable beacon for use.”

“Beacon?”

Dax held out his hand, making the universal gesture for money. “Pay up and I’ll explain” He heard mock affront, and felt an appropriate amount of fundage deposited into his hand. After pocketing it, he lifted his hat, holstered his gun and started mess with something on the counter. “While I’m combat equipped, I’m designed to be away from the front lines most of the time, ideally well ahead of it. I’m good at making it *eaiser* for the blokes with the big guns to do things.”

He pulled his hand away from the table, revealing a scannable QR code on a thin sheet of the same material he’d been firing downrange. “Scan this into your IFF and let me know if it works out for you. Figure I should make sure they still work for others while I’m here.”

Corporal Perkins was intrigued, and hoped that someone else would visit, as this sounded like it was going to get too interesting for anyone to believe him if there weren’t more witnesses.