#( ch: abigail roberts )

[sednonamoris]

last time i say sorry

Pairings: John Marston x Abigail Roberts, John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John and Abigail break up.

Warnings: Toxic relationships, breakup, negative self talk, canon-typical references to violence, strong language

Word count: 904

A/N: see ch. 17 of ghost story for context - this is the conversation abigail pulls john away to have!

Series masterlist • AO3

—

John blames the wolves for ruining your hunting trip, but deep down he knows that all they did was finish the job. He was the one who ruined things the moment he opened his big fat mouth about the very thing he was trying to run from: Abigail and Arthur. 

Stupid, he thinks bitterly. Ignorant fucking son-of-a-bitch.

Whether he’s talking about himself or Arthur, even he doesn’t know. You might. You seem to know just about everything, which maybe is why he started the argument in the first place. He’s just sick of everyone else sticking their nose in his and Abigail’s business. So what if things are a mess? Haven’t they always been? What do they really expect him to do? Father that kid? Raise him? He doesn’t know the first thing about fathering, and even less about nice childhoods. And Arthur—

The less he thinks about him, the better.

So really it’s no surprise that Abigail ambushes him the second the two of you arrive back at camp. She wants to talk. Probably about Arthur. If he can get his head out of his ass long enough for a serious conversation. John raises his lip in a sneer but follows her to the edge of camp anyway, where they can play at privacy. Everyone’s eyes are on them as they go, but he feels yours. 

“What?” he demands, arms folded, voice monotone, when she stops. The cruel satisfaction he gets from the flicker of hate in her eyes doesn’t last as long as he’d like.

Then Abigail Roberts, the quickest woman he knows with a sharp word, thinks for a long moment about what she’d like to say. He feels the ground shift beneath him, the usual rhythm of their fights thrown off beat.

“I can’t keep doin’ this, John,” she finally settles on. “We can’t keep doin’ this.”

Even her voice is different than usual, soft and resigned instead of fighting mad.

“Doin’ what?” he scoffs. He knows exactly what.

“This,” she gestures emphatically between the two of them. “You and me. I love you, and a part of me always will, but I’ve got to think about Jack.”

“So this is about me bein’ a father.”

“Not just that.” The way she looks up at him with those blue, blue eyes stops the defensive snarl caught in his throat. They’re the same color of the flowers he used to go out and pick for her, back when they were younger and dumber and happy. It’s so easy to forget they used to be happy. “I got to think about myself, too. I’ve begged and begged for you to change, John, but maybe it’s time I saw that you can’t, or you won’t. I’ve got to let you go.”

You’ve got to let me go, she leaves unsaid.

He’s never been good at much, but especially not that.

By the time he lets anything go it’s ruined and marred and scarred - rent with claw marks and no good to anyone. Broken. At seven his father beat him for breaking things just to see how hard he had to push before they cracked. He killed his first man at eleven for much the same reason, though he still claims self defense when asked. Now, at twenty-six, he’s gone and done the same to Abigail. Pushed her ‘til her pretty porcelain skin cracked and then dug his fingers in so it wouldn’t heal. He can’t live with her but he doesn’t know what to do without her, and the mean, grasping thing in his chest refuses to let Arthur have her even if his heart knows, deep down, they’ll both be happier for it.  

It’s an ugly thing, knowing that.

Even uglier that he can’t stop. Won’t, maybe. The realization makes his scars itch.

He covers his face and sighs long and deep. When he looks back she’s still standing there. Patient. Waiting. Caught up in a snare he should’ve freed her from years ago now. 

“Abigail…” he starts, then stops. What else can he say?

“I’m sorry,” she whispers past tears that don’t know how to fall.

He shakes his head and pulls her into a too-tight hug.

“Sorry ain’t enough for what I am,” he rasps into the crook of her neck. And it isn’t. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, but not enough to change. Not enough to love her the way a man should. Not enough to be a father, and certainly not enough to give up the powerful, nameless thing between you and him that’s always been a shadow over their relationship.

“I know,” she says. “I know, John.”

She must. 

He can’t quite look her in the eye as they part, and maybe it’s for the best, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less like he hoped it might.

“I’ll get my things from your tent,” he says. 

“That’s probably best,” she agrees. 

There’s a million stabbing pieces in his chest as he walks away. Usually spying you across camp is enough to turn his blackest moods, but not this time. Now that same inexplicable, happy feeling makes him sick with guilt. Maybe if he understood what it was, he and Abigail might’ve worked out. But a whisper at the base of his skull and the back of his teeth says that maybe if he knew, he never would’ve been with her in the first place.

[rubysrevenge]

drew abigail as a warm-up and got carried away lol anyway- i love her and so should everyone else!

[riseofasunfallofastarverse]

BOOK SCREENCAPS: eye of the hurricane, book one | goblet of fire

❝Asterope Malfoy (Natalia Dyer), Neville Longbottom (Matthew Lewis), Cedric Diggory (Robert Pattinson), Ginny Weasley (Abigail Cowen), and Olivia Newton (Lana Condor) in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.❞

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[daisyjohvson]

mischief and chaos series :: minka + chapter titles (1/?)

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[afro-hispwriter]

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[squidproquoclarice]

It was only John and Jack, riding Rachel and Uncas. John leaped off Rachel’s back, barely pausing before he dashed over to Abigail. “Abigail, I got the license!” He was beaming, the natural fearsome sternness the scars gave his face dissipated like clouds on a sunny day. “All ready for signatures and a date. Preacher says all we gotta do is set a day and he’ll come out here.”

“Let me see,” Abigail said, pushing up to her feet, expression alight with joy herself. “I can read now, you know. I want to see them papers for myself.”

“What, woman, you doubt I’m telling you the truth?” But he said it teasingly.

“No,” she said, giving him a light swat on the arm. “I just...I want to read it for myself. Your name and mine there together.” She colored slightly, but her gaze didn’t leave John’s. “Make it all real. I’m gonna be able to sign my own name to something for the first time in my life, you know.”

“That’ll be real fine. Though you’d better get used to signing ‘Abigail Marston’, not ‘Abigail Roberts’.” John handed her the paper with , and she unfolded it.

Marston? That hit a chord of unease within her, and as she glanced over at Arthur, she could read his face well enough to see the subtle signs of disquiet there too. “Will you look at that,” Abigail said, laughing. “There we are, you and me together. John Marston and Abigail Roberts, sure enough.” Holding the paper in her right hand, she touched it with her left index fingertip, over their names, finally joined together on something indelible and legal.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 16

Reclaiming the Swamps 

Warning: swearing, murder

Word count: ~6700

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Read on AO3

The sun sets properly on Clemens Point and camp is deathly still. There is little talk, except to say how worried people are about Jack or how sad they are about Sean’s death. 

Karen’s in rough shape. It’s no secret she and Sean had a complicated relationship. She drinks heavily from her bottle, sitting on the ground near her cot. Susan sits on a crate next to Abigail, patting her hand and whispering to her. Abigail’s completely distraught, her cheeks shining with tears. Cain dutifully sits by her lap, whimpering every now and then. 

You, Tilly and Micah take up the roles of camp lookouts while they’re gone, keeping an eye out for the men and any intruders. You’re doubtful any of the Braithwaites will show up, most likely they’ll all be gathering at their homestead. You’re also doubtful the Grays will try an assault, it sounds like most of them died in Rhodes. 

You stand in the treeline, keeping the campfires in sight. You’re still worried about what might happen and if they’ll find Jack. You hope none of them come back hurt or worse. You stand quietly until you hear a faint rustle. You grip your repeater tighter until you see the stumbling form of Kieran. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, trying not to sound accusatory. 

“Oh, I - I’m sorry, miss,” he stutters, looking sad and scared. “I… I just wanted to make sure things are okay.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Everything’s fine, Kieran. Everthing’s gonna be fine. You’ll see. Soon, they’ll come in with Jack and… and everything will go back to normal.”

You tell yourself this just as much as you tell him. You still have a tight feeling in your gut as though something is wrong. You tell yourself it’s because of Sean’s death. You remember seeing Jenny and Davey die all those months ago when the gang fled Blackwater. You were still so new to the gang yourself, so their deaths had little effect on you. Sean is different. He was the clown of the gang, the one who could effortlessly lift everyone’s spirits. He was so confident, so sure. And now he’s dead. 

“I hope you’re right, miss,” Kieran says, bringing you out of your thoughts. You see the sadness pulling his lips down. 

“What is it, Kieran?” you ask quietly. 

“It’s my fault them boys got Jack. My fault. I… I saw them boys comin’ in, but I thought they meant to do some business with Hosea or Arthur. Never thought they’d kidnap a boy.”

He rubs his hands over his eyes, sniffing. “I been tryin’ so hard to… to make Dutch and all them fellers see me as one of them. And now I gone and let Jack get taken.” “Hey,” you say, trying to calm him. You put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not how it is, okay? No one would have guessed them Braithwaites had come to take Jack. That’s the last thing anyone would have figured they were here to do. This isn’t your fault, Kieran.”

You pat his shoulder and release it, feeling slightly awkward. You aren’t used to comforting people, even doing it with Arthur has required some getting used to. Not only that, you hardly know Kieran. You suddenly remember that he was once an O’Driscoll, and you recall what those men did to Arthur. You shake your head, swiping away the thoughts hovering on the edge of your mind. You know Kieran didn’t have anything to do with that, and he doesn’t have anything to do with Jack being stolen. He’s too sweet, too gentle. 

Kieran nods, but you can tell he still feels guilty. You don’t know what more to say to him.

“Just keep working hard, Kieran,” you say, “and don’t take this too hard, okay? Once they get Jack back, none of it is going to matter.” 

He nods again and walks away. You feel slightly guilty yourself, not being able to comfort him. You know how difficult life has been for Kieran since Arthur captured him up in the snow. How hard he works and how little thanks he gets in return. He doesn’t even have a proper sleeping cot. You’ve seen him sleeping against a tree by the chicken coop. The others have been hard on him, as well. Some of them you can understand, like Sadie. Once you witnessed Jack throwing rocks at him until Abigail stopped him and said that was a job for the adults to do. You feel a pang for Kieran. Despite how he’s been treated, he still cares. 

You pass the time by pacing in your section of the trees and naming some of the plants in the vicinity. You constantly look up the path, waiting for signs of the others’ return. The moon comes out, nothing more than a small wedge in the black sky. 

You hear the sound of a horse coming down the path from the direction of camp. You turn and see Josiah Trelawney astride his appaloosa. You’ve spoken little to the man yourself, mostly because he’s hardly been around. He pops into camp every once in a while with a tip on a lucrative job, then disappears without a trace. Nearly a week ago, he’d gotten himself in a spot of trouble with bounty hunters from Blackwater and Arthur and Charles had gone to rescue him. Since then, he’s stuck dutifully close to camp, entertaining you and the other women and Jack with his cheap card tricks. 

He stops when he sees you standing guard on the trail. 

“Hello, Mr. Trelawney,” you say somberly.

He greets you back in his north eastern accent. Despite the late hour, you see he’s already dressed in a fine suit, his thin, long mustache twirled finely into shape.

“Where you headed off to at this hour?” you ask.

“I have some other engagements that need my attention, Ms. Y/L/N,” he says, adjusting his seat in his saddle. “Besides, there’s talk that the camp will likely be moving once those boys return with young Jack.”

You nod. You’d heard Pearson and Grimshaw discussing it not long after the party left to Braithwaite manor. Not that you disagree. Now that the men in camp have so openly feuded with both families, it would be unwise for any of you to remain here. 

“Well, take care of yourself then, Mr. Trelawney.”

“And you as well, miss. Keep an eye out for Arthur. He’s got a talent for getting himself into trouble.” He tips his top hat to you before urging his horse to walk on. 

You return to your watch, eyeing Trelawney’s horse as it vanishes through the tree trunks. You watch as a fox chases a rabbit, growling in delight. An owl hoots somewhere in the distance. You notice the sky’s beginning to get lighter, the stars dimming. It’s then you hear a large troop of horses coming down the path. You grip your repeater just in case. Dutch suddenly appears on the trail, followed by Hosea, Arthur, John and the others. You greet them warmly but don’t see Jack on any of their horses. 

Arthur stops Artemis and offers you his hand. You take it and he swings you up behind him.

“Jack?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Boy wasn’t there,” he says heavily. He urges Artemis to walk on and he regroups her with the others. You see Abigail dash over to John and Dutch, sobbing. You dismount Artemis, followed by Arthur. 

“He isn’t dead, is he?” you ask, fearing the worst. 

“No. Braithwaites specifically wanted him alive,” Arthur explains. “That Braithwaite woman said she gave him to some Italian feller in Saint Denis.” 

You walk with him over to the table where Dutch and John stand, Abigail sitting on one of the seats completely broken down into sobs. Dutch places a hand on Abigail’s shoulder.

“Try to get some rest, Ms. Roberts. We will find the boy. John, go with her.”

John gives him a look but doesn’t argue. He grabs her hand and leads her to her tent, which she doesn’t refuse. You know, along with everyone else, that she won’t be sleeping. 

You look at Arthur and see he’s exhausted. You know he’s had a very long and hard day. 

“Come on,” you say, taking his hand. “You need to rest too.” 

You lead him to your shared tent and begin taking off your boots. He sits next to you but doesn’t move, his hands resting on his knees.

“You wanna talk about it?” you ask.

“About what?”

“Anything.” 

He sits silent for another moment. “Ain’t really much to talk about, sweetheart. Once we’ve all had some rest, Dutch and Hosea will come up with a plan. We’ll find the boy.”

“And the Braithwaites?”

He looks at you. “They’re dead. All of them. Most of them we shot, and then we… burnt their house down after Catherine told us what she did with Jack. They ain’t a problem anymore.”

“Well,” you sigh. “Guess Rhodes is now freed from these two warring families. Can’t tell you how many times I heard people complaining about them, or about which family they sided with.”

Arthur doesn’t respond. You put a hand on his shoulder and slide the other under his hand resting on his leg. 

“Come on, Arthur,” you say after a moment. “Let’s get some rest.”

He ends up curling behind you on the cot, holding you close. He holds you tighter than usual, almost as though he’s afraid you might slip through his fingers. 

After a few hours, Hosea knocks on the wagon forming your tent, waking you and Arthur. He tells you both to get up, that a plan needs to be made to find Jack. 

Arthur sits up and tucks in the parts of his shirt that came out from under his pants. You both put your boots back on and walk out of your tent. You see Dutch, Hosea and John sitting at the table. Arthur joins them as you walk over to Pearson’s tent to grab some cups of coffee. 

You come back to the table a moment later, offering one of the cups to Arthur who drinks it quickly. He hands you the empty cup back.

“It’s gonna work out, John,” Dutch says as Arthur places a foot on the last remaining crate by the table. You take your cue and head off towards the donation box by Dutch’s tent, planning on putting in some of the trinkets you’ve collected over the past little while inside. 

Just as you open the lid, you hear Lenny call out.

“Hey Dutch! Think we’ve got a problem.”

You peak around the tent’s fabric and see Lenny leading in agents Milton and Ross, the Pinkertons. You, along with most of the others, join into a circle around the table, closing in the agents around you. You stand just behind Arthur, feeling worried.

“Not a problem,” Milton says arrogantly. “Visitors. Good day, fine people.” His eyes travel around the circle, staring hard at everyone. His eyes settle on Dutch, who sits with his back to the agents. “Mr. Van der Linde, Mr. Matthews. And who are you?” he demands of John.

“Rip Van Winkle,” he shoots back.

“Huh,” he says before introducing himself and Ross to the group. Arthur takes a few steps towards him. “Ah, Mr. Morgan, nice to see you again.”

“And to what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?” Dutch says, not looking at Milton. Arthur steps back and you place a hand on the small of his back, trying to keep him calm. You know after everything that happened yesterday, it will take little to set him off. 

“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Milton says, “but this is a civilized land now. We didn’t kill all of them savages only to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded. This thing of yours, it’s done!”

“This place,” Dutch says, finally standing up and facing Milton, “ain’t no such thing as civilized. It’s man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites.”

“And as a consequence that lets you take what you please when you please?” Milton demands. “Kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the messiah to these lost souls you’ve lead so horribly astray?” 

“I’m just a seeker.” 

“You ain’t nothing more than a killer, Mr. Van der Linde. But I came to make a deal. You come with me and I give the rest of you three days to run off,” Milton gestures to everyone in the circle. “Disappear, go and live like human beings someplace else.” 

“You came for me?” Dutch says in a sarcastic tone. “Risked life and limb in this den of lowlives and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain’t that fine.” 

Many of the others chuckle darkly, you don’t. You’re too worried about what might happen. 

Milton just shakes his head. “I don’t wanna kill all these folk, Dutch. Just you.” 

“Well, in that case,” Dutch raises his hands and takes a few small steps towards Milton. “It’d be my honor to join you. Excuse me, friends. I have an appointment to keep with…”

You aren’t the only one to withdraw your pistol from its holster, nearly everyone else in the circle does so. Milton ignores them and stares hard at Dutch.

“I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch,” Susan says as though Milton were nothing more than a pesky neighbor boy who trampled her vegetable garden. 

“You’re making a big mistake, all of you!” Milton says. 

Dutch chuckles. “Yeah, dreadful. We have got something to live and die for here. Mr. Milton, stop following us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he replies. “And when I come back, I’ll have fifty men. All of you will die! Run away from this place, you fools. Run!”

Lenny marches forward and makes to grab his arm. “Come on,” he says.

“Get your damn hands off of me, boy!” Milton snaps, turning away from him. You and the others watch the agents stalk off into the trees, followed closely by Lenny who keeps a firm grip on his repeater. 

“What now, Dutch?” Arthur asks, replacing his pistol into his holster. 

“We need to get outta here, and quick,” Dutch says. “Any ideas?”

“I know a big ol’ house,” Arthur replies, “hidden outside the swamps in Saint Denis. I’m sure they’ll find us eventually but it should buy us a few days.”

“A few days is all we need,” Dutch says confidently.

“It’s a place called Shady Belle. Lenny, Y/N and I got into a dispute with its previous occupants. Place is well hidden.”

Dutch nods for a second and then he gestures to Arthur and John. “You both go and ride out. Make sure no one else has moved in. John?” he says as he and Arthur begin heading off to their horses. “We’ll get Jack back, don’t you worry.”

John nods and walks away to his horse Old Boy. You’re about to head off to your tent to begin packing up when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn and find Arthur standing behind you.

“I want you to ride with us,” he says.

“Why? I ain’t too sure Grimshaw’s gonna be happy about me leaving.”

“I don’t care what ol’ Grimshaw thinks, darlin’. I want ya to come. You helped me and Lenny clear out Shady Belle before, should be easy for you to do it again if needs be.”

You nod, grabbing your hat and follow him over to the horses. No one stops you as you mount up on Rannoch, to which you are grateful. You follow John and Arthur out of camp. 

“It’s gonna be a’right, John,” Arthur says from up ahead.

“We should be going for Jack!” he retorts. 

Arthur explains that it will be done, but that camp needs to be moved first before the Pinkertons have a chance to return. 

“We made too much noise once again!” John says. “Lead ‘em right to us. I mean, how many people we killed these past few weeks? It’s Dutch playin’ his games, Hosea too.”

“They thought there was a lot of gold,” Arthur says defensively. 

“Yeah, there always is.”

“Look, Marston, I don’t know what to tell you. Things don’t always work out.”

“Jack’s gone,” John says. You can hear the anger rising in his voice. “We lost Sean, Mac, Davey, Jenny and for what?”

“We can’t change what’s done. We can only move on,” Arthur replies. 

“We need to start learning from our mistakes. We keep doing this over and over again!”

“Come on, it ain’t all that bad. We’ve had a rocky run, but we’ll be okay.” 

“Oh sure,” John snaps. “Dutch’ll fix it. Dutch will come up with a plan. Every plan of his gets us into worse trouble.”

“Now you can’t put all this on Dutch. You’re worked up and rightly so. Just don’t get too far in your head with all this.” 

“Why you care so much about Jack now anyways, John?” you say from the back. 

He glances back at you briefly. “Ain’t none of your business, Y/N. Why’d you invite her along, Arthur?” 

“Because she’s a good shot and she’s been to Shady Belle with me and Lenny before.” You feel there’s more to his answer than that. John just shakes his head. 

“That poor kid. We chose this life, he didn’t.” “I don’t know, think this life chose us,” Arthur says.

The three of you canter down the trail you know leads to Shady Belle. The house is almost exactly the same as it was the last time you were here. You spot up ahead two men standing by the double doors leading inside the house. They’re obviously Lemoyne Raiders. 

“Oh shit, it’s them again!” one of them yells as the three of you stop your horses just by the small bridge going over the stream cutting through the land. Arthur and John pull out their rifles, but you take one of them down with your Springfield. John kills the other.

“Come on, bet there’s more inside,” Arthur says dismounting. You and John follow him in. John kills another Raider inside the dining room then tells you and Arthur to go clear the upstairs. You jog up the rickety staircase. Arthur takes the back half of the house and you go through another set of double doors leading to the master bedroom. 

Sitting on an old, mildewy bed is an old man with thick, unkempt white hair and a beard to match. 

“I knew you’d come soon enough,” he says in a sharp voice. “You or some other coward like you.” 

You see him grab a pistol beside the bed. You point your rifle at him as he starts loading it. 

“The bounty hunters, the freedmen, the carpetbaggers,” he says as though he can’t see your gun. “I have survived them all.” 

You see him pull the hammer back on the gun and you respond by firing a bullet into his skull. “Survive that,” you say quietly. 

“How’s it lookin’ up there?” John shouts from the lower level.

“Think we’re clear,” Arthur responds, exiting a room from the other end of the hallway with a large hole in the wall. 

“Good. Gimme a hand movin’ these bodies.”

Arthur walks into the room you’re in and sees the dead man on the bed. He pats your shoulder. “I got this one, go help John.” 

You nod and head out of the room and down the stairs. You pick up one of the men by the front door, struggling with the weight. Somehow you manage to heave him onto your shoulder and follow John out to the river. As you approach, the stench of the water grows stronger and you hear the growl of an alligator somewhere nearby. John walks onto a broken boat dock and heaves the corpse on his shoulder into the murky water. You do the same, watching the corpse bob up and down briefly. You turn away, not wanting to watch the alligators enjoy their meal. 

Arthur walks down the front steps, the corpse of the man you killed swaying on his shoulder. 

“Go meet up with the rest, show ‘em how to get here,” Arthur says. “I got the rest o’ this.”

You and John nod and mount your horses again, bolting back up the trail away from Shady Belle.

“Look, John,” you say. “I’m sorry about Jack. And I’m sorry for thinking you didn’t care about him.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, you figure he’s mad at you. 

“I can see why you think I didn’t care. About him or Abigail. I treated ‘em both bad. I just hope we can find him before it’s too late.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll have an opportunity to try harder and be better. Maybe this is your second chance.”

He quietly agrees, though you can hear the doubt in his voice. The two of you gallop down the trail and meet the caravan just past Braithwaite manor. You look across its fields and see black smoke billowing up from the crumbled wreckage of the manor itself. No one pays it any attention, so you say nothing as you fall in line behind the wagon driven by Pearson and Grimshaw. Grimshaw shoots you a dark look but says nothing. 

You ride with them down the trail until Shady Belle comes into view once more. Now that your adrenaline has calmed, you take notice of the thick, wet air and the nearly overwhelming stench of the river. Even the mossy trees seem to emit an odor. You pull Rannoch up and hitch him just as Arthur walks out of the double doors, holding his arms up above him and smiling as though he were lord of the manor. 

“Welcome home,” he says, “to my humble abode! We got fine living. Ignore the corpses and the alligators it’s paradise.”

“I love it!” Dutch says happily. You feel that you are not the only one who quietly disagrees with Dutch. He instructs everyone to begin getting the place prepared as a camp holdout. “Arthur, take a ride with me.” 

He and Arthur begin mounting up. Molly pushes past you and jogs over to him. “Dutch, can I have a word with ya?”

“Not now,” he says sharply from the back of the Count. He spurs his horse into a gallop, followed by Arthur. You see Molly’s shoulders sag as she stares after them.

“Miss Y/L/N!” Grimshaw suddenly hollers. She marches over to you and grabs you by the ear. “It’s time you work, missy! Stop starin’ after those men and go do your job!”

She pushes you towards the manor, releasing your ear. You dash over to the wagons before she can get a hold of you again. 

Grimshaw doesn’t relent seeking her revenge on you until the sun is nearly set. She marches over to you as you finish helping Pearson set out his supplies and toss the last few ingredients into the pot. 

“A’right, girl. You can stop for the night and join the others for dinner.”

You sigh in relief, dropping the knife with a loud clatter that you had been using to chop carrots. You grab a plate of stew and join Karen and Javier at the round table. As you eat, you continuously look at the path leading out of camp. Dutch had returned some hours ago, stating they found the place where Jack’s likely being held by a man named Angelo Bronte. Arthur wasn’t with him when he returned and you haven’t had the chance to ask Dutch where he is, but you figure he’s probably out on one of his journeys or scouting the city. You overhear Dutch telling John they’ll meet Arthur tomorrow in a park to visit this Bronte fellow and hopefully get Jack back. 

After you put your plate into the wash bin, you sit by the fire and listen to Charles play his harmonica. The camp’s subdued once again. You wish Arthur was here with you. For the first time since your arrival to the gang, you have your own room, mostly thanks to the fact that you’re with Arthur. Earlier, you had unpacked his belongings into one of the rooms on the upper level of the manor, a single rickety and rather uncomfortable bed along with a table and a scratched bookcase were the only furniture inside. You sigh heavily, knowing you’ll be spending the first night alone in that bed. You don’t fancy the idea much. Something about the swamp gives you the creeps. Perhaps it’s the alligators, the dark river water, or maybe it’s the feeling that there’s always something watching. You don’t know, but you hope you and the others won’t be here too long. 

Charles finishes his song and then he bids you a gentle good night before wandering off to his own cot. You sigh once more and resign yourself to the fact you’ll be alone tonight. You stand up and stretch. You walk into the manor and up the stairs, where you hear the sounds of sniffing and sobbing. Peaking through the massive hole in the room across the hall from yours, you spot Abigail sitting on the rusty bed. Karen sits by her side, patting her knee. 

“They’ll find him,” she says. “Your boy will be just fine, you’ll see.”

You go into your room, leaving Abigail and her sobs behind, and close the door. You look around the room, hoping Arthur will approve of the way you’ve designed it. You put all his pictures on the bookcase, including the one of Mary, despite you wanting to leave it in the box it was packed in. You take off your boots quickly and then douse the lantern sitting on the table by Arthur’s map. You lie down in the darkness, listening to the cacophony of insects, alligators, and other night creatures. You’re glad to have four walls and a roof. You certainly wouldn’t want to sleep in the open swamp. 

You wake early in the morning, the horizon just beginning to lighten. You sit up in the empty bed. It’s a strange sensation to wake up alone now. You realize how ironic that is, seeing as how you used to shy away from even sharing a tent with Arthur. Now you struggle to sleep if he isn’t by your side. 

You put your boots back on and stand up with a yawn. When you walk out of your room, you see Abigail standing next to a long window through the hole in the wall. Her crying has stopped, but you wonder if that’s due to her being unable to produce tears at this point. You knock on the wall beside her door. 

“May I come in?” you ask.

She glances back at you and nods, her face red and blotchy. 

Cain lies on the floor near the bed. He gives you a bark in greeting before settling his head on his paws again. 

“How are you holdin’ up?” you ask, aware of how stupid that question is.

“I… I just miss him so much.” She pauses, running a hand over her forehead, her back to you. “What if… what if they don’t…”

“They’ll find him,” you say sternly. “Dutch will find your boy and he’ll be fine. Trust me, this Bronte fella won’t have him killed. What use would he have for a dead boy? And if he’s hurt, well I imagine Dutch will burn that entire city to the ground.” 

Abigail sniffs and nods, but she still doesn’t look at you. You sit in silence for several moments. 

“Come on, let’s get you some coffee,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder. She seems too weak to disagree, so she lets you steer her towards the door, down the stairs and out onto the grass. You pour her and yourself a cup, but she simply holds the steaming cup in her hand. You steer Abigail over to the round table and gesture to one of the crates. She responds by sitting, though she still doesn’t drink. 

Kieran suddenly marches over. “Miss Abigail,” he says with determination. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Jack. When I saw them Braithwaite fellers, I had no idea. They didn’t seem like they were comin’ for him. And I don’t know anyone who would kidnap a boy.”

He pauses, putting his hands on his hips. He finally looks down at the grass beneath his feet. “I feel like a fool. I know it don’t sound like much, but I would gladly give my life for his. Not that it matters or that it works that way. But I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” 

Clearly feeling awkward, Kieran walks away, looking miserable. Abigail watches him leave but says nothing. After a moment, she stands up and walks away. 

Dutch suddenly walks out of the manor, followed by John. Dutch grabs Abigail’s shoulder as she passes him. “We’re going to get him back, Ms. Roberts. Right now. I swear we won’t return until we have him.” 

He lets her go and continues on to mount his horse. Abigail trades a pleading look with John. The two men canter out of camp on their mounts. You see Abigail disappear around the corner of the house, you follow her. You can tell by her face she isn’t hopeful about their outcome. You find her sitting on a broken set of stairs leading into the manor. 

“Well, at least the waiting’s almost over,” you say, trying to sound optimistic for her sake. You sit next to her and stare out at the dirty river. 

“Pathetic. All of them,” she suddenly snaps. “Whole camp full of goddamn men who can’t even protect a boy!” 

“Like Kieran said, none of us expected them awful folks to steal a boy.”

“Everyone keeps sayin’ that!” she stands up and glares at you. “Everyone keeps sayin’ that and that they’re gonna get Jack back! Yet they just left to get him now and we don’t know if they’ll even find him! For all we know, my son is on a goddamn boat!”

You sit there, partially shocked at her outburst. You know this is just a product of her nerves and fear, so you tell yourself to stay calm. 

“Say something!” she demands. “And don’t tell me that same bullshit everyone’s been spoutin’!” 

You pause. “I’m sorry, Abigail. I don’t know what else to say that hasn’t been said before.”

She waves a hand disappointedly at you and marches away. You let her leave, knowing she needs to be alone. The sinking pit in your own stomach returns. You stay on the stairs for a while until Grimshaw appears in your line of sight. You get up, knowing she’ll probably explode if she sees you sitting around again. 

You’ve kept yourself busy over the day doing chores and finishing setting up camp. Although the mansion’s falling apart, its inner walls turning gray with mold, you and the others do your best to turn it into a survivable fort. Still, there’s a certain ugliness to it you’re not sure could ever be covered up. 

You approach the river late in the afternoon, a bucket in your hand. You hesitantly step onto the bank, eyeing the water carefully. You’re terrified of getting close to it, knowing an alligator could be inches away from the surface, hidden by the murkiness of the water. You suck in your breath and dip the bucket in, filling it as much as possible and then snapping back from the water. Nothing happens luckily and you turn away from the water and dump the bucket into a barrel by Pearson’s wagon. 

Dutch, John and Arthur still have not returned. You’re not the only one who’s worried. Everyone’s tense with the lack of information on Jack. Abigail’s stuck relatively close to Karen, who has been comforting her. You feel somewhat sorry about that, knowing you did less than a mediocre job on that front. She sits now at the round table, her untouched plate of stew in front of her. 

You grab a beer bottle from a crate, not looking forward to spending another night alone in that damp room. The sun sets and a thick fog rolls in, cloaking everything. The stench from the river seems to grow in strength with the fog. Frogs begin to fill the air with their songs, which you actually find yourself enjoying. 

You sit down by the campfire. Uncle and Swanson are there too, but like the past few nights no one sings or plays their music. You wonder how much longer things are going to be like this. 

“They’re back!” Bill suddenly yells from the barracks where he’s been keeping watch. “I think I see Jack!” 

The sounds of horses coming down the trail hit your ears and you glance up. The fog is too thick to see far but then you see their silhouettes come over the bridge. First Dutch, then John with Jack sat in front of him, and then Arthur. For the first time in two days, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Abigail!” Dutch hollers. “Abigail, we got you your son!” 

“We got him!” John yells behind him. 

Abigail looks up and sees the men along with her son. She hops up and jogs over to them, fresh tears streaming down her face. You stand up and watch her hug Jack, who looks fine and is even wearing new clothes. You look to Arthur, who is talking with John. You see him light a cigarette as Dutch and Abigail walk away from them with Jack.

“I got my son back!” Abigail announces to the gang. 

Hosea, Karen and most of the others go to welcome Jack home. You, however, walk past them straight towards Arthur. 

You wait patiently as Dutch talks with Hosea, John and Arthur. After a moment, he turns away from them. “We got some work to do! But first let’s have a drink.”

You slowly approach John and Arthur, the sinking feeling in your stomach finally lifting. John and Arthur begin slowly walking your way.

“Do as Dutch says,” you hear Arthur say to John. “Go be with your family.” 

John walks to you and gives your shoulder a friendly pat. You smile up at him. “Knew you’d find him, John.”

He says nothing as he continues on. You look at Arthur once more, who gives you a grateful smile. You approach him and immediately loop your arms around his neck. Laying your head on his shoulder, you breathe in that familiar scent of pine and leather, a welcome reprieve from the swamp stench. He clutches you tightly, his arms are warm, steady and familiar. 

After a moment, he pats your back and lets you go. 

“Come on,” he says warmly. “We rarely get an excuse to have a party.” 

You smile at him and take his hand before walking with him to the main campfire. The whole gang has gathered there to celebrate. Javier sits down and grabs his guitar. Abigail and John sit on the log with Jack on Abigail’s lap. Javier begins singing in Spanish and the others join in on the chorus. Not knowing the words yourself, you simply sway with the tune. Arthur stands behind you and wraps his arms around you. You lean into him and wonder if he missed you as much as you missed him. 

When Javier finishes his song with a high flourish, everyone cheers and laughs. Abigail announces that she’s going to take Jack up to bed. Several of the others welcome Jack back, including Kieran. John goes with them, looking happy and relieved. The gang begins to break up into small groups, some go to get drinks, others gather at the round table with Uncle, who starts singing. One of the songs you recognize. You’ve heard Arthur singing it on the trails during your hunting trips. You smile fondly at the memories. 

“Arthur?” you say quietly, his arms still wrapped tightly around you.

“Hmm?”

“We need to go hunting again. Just the two of us.” 

You feel the soft rumble of a laugh in his chest against your back. “I’d like that, sweetheart.” 

He kisses your temple and then releases you so he can grab himself a drink. He sits down on an empty crate, singing to the tune. You go to grab yourself a beer when you spot Kieran, swaying around the camp. You hear him muttering to himself, although his words are so slurred you can’t make them out. You’ve never seen Kieran drunk before. You’re about to go and talk with him when you hear Arthur call your name. 

You turn and approach him. He grabs you by the waist and sits you on his lap as Uncle begins a new song. You join in, drinking your beer. Arthur’s hand doesn’t leave your hip as he mutters the words to the song between sips. 

Uncle finishes the song with a round of laughter, which Lenny and Javier join in on. Arthur gives Lenny a teasing look. 

“Lennaaayyy!” he suddenly yells out.

“Oh God!” Lenny reacts. “It’s all comin’ back to me!” 

Arthur laughs. Suddenly from up above, a flash fills the sky. You flinch a bit and Arthur’s hand slides up your back reassuringly. He looks up and notes the dark clouds above. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, finishing the last of his beer. “Let’s go to bed.”

You stand up and he grabs your hand. You lead him inside the manor and take him upstairs to show him where you’re both sleeping. You open the door and gesture for him to go inside. 

“What do you think?” you ask, wishing it looked nicer. 

“Can’t remember the last time I slept in a house,” he says simply. He then looks at you and smiles. “This is already better.”

“Can’t imagine that,” you say, looking around at the grimy walls and the creaky bed. 

“Sure it is. I got you with me this time.”

You look up at him, expecting him to be wearing his teasing smile. While he is smiling, you see no sign of a joke on his face. You put your hands on his shoulders and reach up to kiss him. 

“Glad you’re home,” you say, finally pulling away. “I missed you last night.”

“I know, I’m sorry, darlin’,” he says, guiding you over to the bed. “I wanted to come back last night, I did. But I had to scout this Bronte feller’s house.”

As he sits down, he tells you about how he and Dutch looked around for clues on where Bronte lived and how he got mugged by two kids. You try not to laugh since you can tell how frustrated he still is about it. Then he tells you of how they met Angelo Bronte, a slippery Italian snake who believed himself to be King of Saint Denis and how he demanded he and John steal from grave robbers in order to get Jack back. 

“I’ll be happy if we never see that snake again,” he says after he removes his boots. 

“Well, you did good. Maybe things can finally start going back to normal.” You take off your boots as well and throw them into the corner. 

“Don’t know if we’ve ever had a normal life, darlin’.”

He takes off his hat and tosses it onto the ammo crates. You bite your lip and look at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. Like I said, I just missed you last night.”

He chuckles and begins removing his shirt. You watch his hands work on his buttons before you smack them away and take over for him. 

“Let me show you how much I missed you,” you purr into his ear. He groans in response as you lay him down onto the bed. 

[lucacangettathisass]

How The Light Gets In (ch.5)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be tagged in future chapters please lmk!

NOTES: What’s that sound you ask? Why, that’s the sound of me shooting myself in the goddamn foot for not watching a playthrough of chapter one to actually see what happens so I can write everything out accurately. oh well. description of stitching up a wound in this chapter, don’t know if it’s entirely accurate but i did feel a little nauseous while writing it so just a warning (of course im already sick so that might have something to do with it but eh). as always reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated, if you like the work, share it!

Later, you learned that the man Mr Morgan had brought back with him, Mr Duffy, claimed to have only been with the O’Driscolls for a few months, and that he hated their leader, Colm, as much as the rest of the gang. However, Mr Van Der Linde appeared to be unconvinced, and decreed that poor Mr Duffy was to be tied up in the barn with some of the other horses, and denied all food and drink.

You felt rather sorry for him. After all, he was on a snow-covered mountain, surrounded by enemies that were heavily armed. The least that Mr Van Der Linde could do was allow him some comforts, at least in your mind.

When you shared these thoughts with Sadie that night, quietly, and away from the other women, her mouth contorted into a cruel sneer. You knew it wasn’t meant for you, but you flinched all the same. “He’s an O’Driscoll.” She snarled. “You don’t owe him nothin’, least of all your pity.”

Maybe she was right. Sadie always said you had a bad habit of wanting to fix people. But then you thought of the look of terror on Mr Duffy’s face when he saw Mr Van Der Linde, like he truly thought he was about to meet his maker, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to hate him the way you hated the O’Driscolls that had taken advantage of your willingness to help them, and killed Jake. Those men had been made of something meaner than whatever it was Mr Duffy had in him.

You hoped he would live long enough to prove you right.

“I ain’t waitin’ any longer.”

You looked up Miss Roberts, pausing in your braiding of Sadie’s hair. “Miss Roberts?”

If she heard you she showed no reaction, just wrung her hands and paced. “It’s been too long, someone should be out there looking for him.”

“That ain’t your decision to make.” Miss Grimshaw said sternly, lighting herself a cigarette.

“Hosea said he would send someone out if John wasn’t back, and he ain’t back!” Miss Roberts argued, with more force than you expected.

“Miss Roberts,” you started gently, “I’m sure Mr Matthews is already organising to have someone go out looking for him. He understands how worried you are.”

This seemed to placate Miss Roberts somewhat, but she was still clearly fretful. “I-I just don’t like it is all. It’s cold out there, and who knows what kind of trouble he could get into.”

She had a point. The cold and thick snow alone were causes for concern, but you knew that wolves lurked on the mountain range as well, and you had heard whispers of a deadly gang hiding out in one of the more remote parts of the wilderness. You had a hard time deciding which would be worse to run into.

Just as you felt the hairs on your body rise, the door opened before quickly closing, heralding the arrival of what could only be more gang members. It was odd, how quickly you had adjusted to being around outlaws.

You recognized Mr Morgan, Mr Matthews, and the well-groomed man, and they were handing out bowls of the same warm soup from the day before. The well-groomed man approached you and Sadie, a bowl in each hand.

“Thank you.” You said, taking both and handing one to Sadie.

“Arthur!” Miss Roberts was almost immediately at Mr Morgan’s side. “H-How you doing?”

Mr Morgan raised an eyebrow before giving Miss Roberts, Jack, and Miss Jackson bowls of soup. “Just fine Abigail. And you?”

“I need you to-” Miss Roberts was momentarily cut off by Mr Morgan scoffing slightly, but she remained undeterred. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry to ask-”

“It’s little John.” Mr Morgan sounded partly exasperated, partly amused, which confused you a little. “He’s got himself caught into a scrape again.”

To say you were surprised at Mr Morgan’s apparent lack of concern would be an understatement, and made you wonder what kind of relationship the two men had. But then, you knew men had a tendency to conceal how they truly felt, even about those they cared about, with very few exceptions.

“He ain’t been seen in two-” Miss Roberts cut herself off as her voice rose, and you could see her make a mighty effort to calm herself. “In two days.”

“Your John’ll be fine.” Mr Morgan insisted. “I mean, he may be as dumb as rocks, and as dull as rusted iron, but that ain’t changing because he got caught in some snowstorm!”

You exchanged a glance with Sadie, and she also seemed surprised at how blase Mr Morgan was being.

“At least go take a look.” Everyone turned their attention to Mr Matthews. “Javier?”

For a moment you were confused, before you heard a “Yes?”, and realized that it had come from the well-groomed man. This made you realize that he was none other than Javier Escuella, the Mexican man Miss Grimshaw had told you about.

“Javier, will you ride out with Arthur, to take a look for John?” Mr Matthews looked from Mr Morgan to Mr Escuella. “You’re the two best fit men we’ve got.”

“Now?” Mr Escuella sounded reluctant, but whether that was because of the conditions or his own feelings towards his missing comrade you couldn’t say.

“She’s...we’re all...we’re pretty worried about him.” Mr Matthews put a hand on Miss Roberts’s shoulder, and you were touched at the show of affection.

Mr Escuella nodded, his previous reluctance apparently forgotten as he approached Mr Morgan. “I know if the situation were reversed and…” He handed Mr Morgan a gun, which you had no idea he had on him, and your eyes widened at the sight of it. “He’d look for me.”

Mr Morgan sighed, but he took the gun from Mr Escuella all the same, and the two men made for the door.

“Thank you!” Miss Roberts smiled, and it warmed your heart to see it.

“Mr Morgan!” You spoke before you could stop yourself, just as Mr Escuella had his hand on the door handle. “You-you can borrow Gladys if you want.”

Mr Morgan seemed surprised at the offer and raised a brow. “You think she’ll let me?”

“I think she knows how she should behave from now on.” You said confidently. “Just-just tell her I said to let you ride her.”

Mr Morgan appeared skeptical, but he nodded, and with a short burst of cold air, he and Mr Escuella were gone.

“Is Papa coming home?” Jack looked up at his mother, eyes filled with hope.

“Here’s hoping.” Abigail sat back down and brought her son into her lap, cradling him.

“Gonna need more than hope.” Sadie said.

“Sadie!” You scolded, glancing back at Jack to see his reaction.

“What? You know I’m right.” She looked at everyone else. “That’s rough terrain out there, even without a snowstorm. Throw in the animals that are out there, and those boys are gonna have their work cut out for them.”

You frowned, wholly disapproving of Sadie’s pessimism. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” You said, with more firmness than you usually use. You smiled kindly at Jack and Miss Roberts. “Mr Morgan and Mr Esceualla sound like very capable men, I doubt they’ll have much trouble.”

Sadie made a noise of skepticism but said nothing, possibly sensing your displeasure.

Even if what she said was true, that didn’t mean she had to say it.

-

As the hours ticked by, you became more and more anxious, wondering what had befallen Mr Morgan and Mr Escuella in their search for their friend. You occasionally glanced over at Miss Roberts and Jack to see how they were feeling, but they were being comforted by Mr Matthews so you had no real cause for concern.

The whole time you thought of Sadie’s words. You had always tried to be optimistic, after all, people who are positive are far more pleasant to be around than those that aren’t, but you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that she was right. That perhaps the worst had happened, and that Mr Morgan and Mr Escuella would return with a corpse. If they returned at all.

Just as the world outside got darker and you were beginning to consider turning to prayer, you heard yelling from outside. You couldn’t make out what was being said, but you had a feeling you knew what was afoot.

You watched as Mr Matthews and Miss Roberts rushed outside, Jack only being held back because of Miss Jackson. You all exchanged glances, and seemed to be holding a single collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

After what had felt like entirely too long, the door swung open, revealing a relieved Mr Matthews. That was promising.

“He’s gonna need your help Susan.” He said to Miss Grimshaw. He seemed to pause before turning to you. “Are burned hands all you can treat?”

A little surprised, it took you a moment to register that he had said and formulate a response. “I-No. I can do other things too.”

“What about scratches? Deep ones. From animals.”

You swallowed. “I have a friend who likes to hunt.” You said. “I’ve had to fix him up plenty of times.”

This seemed to be enough for Mr Matthews and he nodded. “You can come help too then.”

Despite being somewhat hesitant, you nodded. When you stood, you felt a hand on yours. You looked down and saw Sadie giving you a stern look. “You don’t have to help everyone who asks.” She said in a low voice.

“We owe them.” You reminded her. “I’ll be fine.” You gave her hand a reassuring pat before pulling away, following Miss Grimshaw out into the snow.

You managed to catch a glimpse of Gladys, and noticed that she was tied to the hitching post. You vaguely wondered if she was behaving because she knew how bad the situation was, and if she would go back to her usual ways once you were all out of the woods.

The building across from the one you were staying in with the other women was just as dubious looking as all the others, and only a little larger. You supposed that there were men than women in this gang, which didn’t really surprise you.

Once inside, you hung back a little, not wanting to overly insert yourself in what was clearly a delicate matter. You stayed at the edge of the small group that had formed, unable to see past them.

“Come on now, let Susan get a good look at him.” Mr Matthews said, urging everyone to stand aside. “Looks like he’ll need some stitches and a splint for the leg.”

The group parted, allowing Miss Grimshaw to get closer, and you tentatively followed behind.

Lying on a cot against the back wall was a tall, wiry looking man, with dark hair, and three deep cuts on his face. He was looking up at Miss Grimshaw before his dark eyes traveled to you. “Who’s this?” He asked, voice raspy and hoarse.

“[Name] [Surname].” Mr Matthews said. “She and her cousin Sadie will be with us for a while. [Name], meet John Marston.”

“How do you do Mr Marston.”

Mr Marston snorted.

You swallowed nervously. “Do-do we have any morphine? Or anything else that could ease the pain?”

“No.” Miss Grimshaw said, with surprising sharpness. “He’s going to have to cope without.”

Her reaction was confusing but you didn’t have time to dwell on it as a bottle of whiskey was quickly produced.

Miss Grimshaw uncorked the bottle and poured the contents over the bloody wounds, making Mr Marston clench his jaw and cringe.

You instinctively put a hand on his arm and gently squeezed. “It will be over soon.” You said soothingly.

“What happened to him?” You heard Miss Roberts ask.

“Wolves apparently.” Mr Morgan said, with a surprising amount of annoyance. “Couldn’t seem to be able to handle them on his own.”

“And his horse?”

“Wolves got her.” Mr Marston replied through clenched teeth. “Broke my leg when I got to the ledge where Arthur and Javier found me.”

You gazed at Mr Marston in amazement. Through freezing cold, a broken leg, wolves, and no doubt starvation, he managed to hold onto life. You couldn’t imagine the kind of mental fortitude that would require. ‘He’s so brave.’ You thought breathlessly. ‘Incredible…’

You watched as Miss Grimshaw stopped pouring the whiskey and got out a needle and thread. She sanitized the needle with a few drops of the alcohol before passing over to you. “Go on.” She said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Now feeling every pair of eyes on you, you took the needle and thread, turning back to Mr Marston as you knelt beside him. “You’ve done very well so far.” You said.

He snorted again. “I ain’t done nothing.”

“You’ve survived.” You pointed out. “I wouldn’t call that nothing.”

You threaded the needle and tied off the end before leaning in closer to Mr Marston. It was obvious that the wounds would leave lasting scars, but if you did this right, then they shouldn’t be too bad. You would dare say that they would add a certain level of mystique and intrigue to him, as even while he was in this state you knew he was very handsome.

‘Stop it.’ You told yourself. ‘He already has someone. Now focus you silly girl.’

You lined up the needle as carefully as you could. “Let me know if it gets to be too much.” You said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mr Marston gave no reaction that time.

Slowly, you pierced the skin, leading the needle and thread through the gaping wound, pulling out the other end and giving a slight tug to make sure it was properly taut and closed. You looked at Mr Marston, and saw that his jaw was once again clenched, and his knuckles were now white from gripping the cot. But he made no sound, and barely moved a muscle.

You continued with the stitches, silently in awe of the constitution Mr Marston had. You had no doubt that he had acquired it over his time as an outlaw, but it impressed you nonetheless. However, you were still careful in your movements to make sure you didn’t cause him any more pain, and made sure to watch what you were doing. Dexterity wasn’t something you lacked, far from it really, but you knew to still be cautious and make sure the thread didn’t tangle or get caught or leave too much of a gap for the wound to heal properly.

“You’re very lucky.” You said as you were close to completing the last stitch. “Things could have been much worse.”

Mr Marston grunted. “Sure don’t feel lucky.” He said, moving his jaw as little as possible so you could finish up the stitch properly.

“Don’t coddle him too much now Miss.” You heard Mr Morgan say from somewhere behind you. “Dutch does that enough.”

A sharp look came over Mr Marston’s features, but it was soon gone.

The dynamic between the two men continued to puzzle you, although you supposed you would be able to make more sense of it over time.

You tied off the last bit of thread and cut off the excess so that it wouldn’t irritate Mr Marston. You gently took his face and turned it slightly at different angles, to see if there was anything else that needed treating. You kept your touch feather light as your fingers skimmed over Mr Marston’s skin, looking for anything that might be a cause for concern. When you were satisfied that there was nothing else amiss, you pulled away, taking the needle and thread and returning them to Miss Grimshaw. “That’s all I can do I’m afraid.” You said apologetically. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

Mr Marston said nothing, just stared at you intensely, and you noticed his throat moving to indicate swallowing, but you couldn’t think of a reason as to why he would.

You rose from the floor, legs slightly numb and aching but you ignored it and backed away, allowing Miss Roberts to be by Mr Marston’s side.

Miss Grimshaw exchanged a few hushed words with Mr Matthews before approaching you. “You did well.” She said, and she sounded genuinely impressed.

You flushed a little at the praise and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Knees not feeling too bad?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine. I’ve spent a lot of time on my knees.” You thought of the hours you spent as a child praying, and how the kneeling position became almost comfortable, unlike just now. Of course, back then you weren’t as cold and the floors weren’t as rough, so that probably had something to do with it.

As you left the building with Miss Grimshaw to return to the other women, you looked back over your shoulder at Mr Marston. “He needs a proper doctor.” You said in a hushed tone, not wanting anyone to hear and cause panic.

“Once we’re off this damn mountain he’ll see one.” Miss Grimshaw said firmly. “But for now, you’ll have to do.”

The thought of being Mr Marston’s doctor made you swallow thickly, but you nodded, not wanting to talk back. “Yes ma’am.”

The thaw couldn’t come quick enough.

[sarahsilverdog-blog-blog]

One Problem At A Time Ch. 6

NOTHING BURNS LIKE THE COLD

Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you, starts to fill you up, and after a while you don’t have the strength to fight it.

~George R R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

The three armored trucks drove northwest across rough terrain, and Jackson, Tessa and Dariela bounced along with Morris Brown in the rear of the caravan, heading towards an area the Australian knew to be rife with hybrids. Mitch had rigged a cooler in the back of the truck to keep the blood samples cold and safely cushioned, but even with refrigeration they would only be good for Mitch's purposes for a week so they were to head north, collecting what samples they could, and rendezvous with the others at an abandoned airstrip in San Francisco in six days so Mitch could do what he could with the samples he had.

It felt good to be back out on a safari and Jackson was honest with himself also glad to get away from Jamie- and Mitch, whose decision to let Jamie out of the cell without consulting anyone else was a clear delineation between the two of them and the rest of the team. Mitch was always going to side with Jamie, and Jackson didn’t trust Jamie, she was cold-blooded, dangerous, a liability. She didn’t care who her schemes hurt, who they put in danger. She supposedly cared for Mitch but she'd let a dangerous psychopath inhabit his mind in order to commit a murder, he thought she'd cared about him but she'd still let her novel expose him as Robert Oz's son and he'd had to leave his life behind to go into hiding. He hated leaving Sam behind and his grandson, and he ached to tell his son the truth about them but Sam wouldn't believe him now. Maybe he never would, but he was going to let the boy heal before opening up new wounds.

“So, Dylan, Green," Brown said to Jackson, beside him in the passenger seat, "there's just the four of us now so no worries. Tell me the truth- that's not really your name, is it?”

Jackson just laughed, though Tessa could see his shoulders stiffen from the backseat. "Well, yeah, it is," Jackson answered, "What makes you think it's not?"

Morris Brown was shrewd, no doubt about it. “It started knocking about my noggin when I recognized Miss Campbell. As l said before I’m a big fan of her novel, mostly because after my experiences in Australia during the animal uprising l felt the ring of truth about it, knew that she wasn't just writing about the damn thing, she had lived what she was writing. Now, if know women, the female lead in the novel is most likely based on Miss Campbell herself, and here she is, on a fancy laboratory plane, with Dr. Mitch Morgan, who just happens to be a scientist - and her love Interest- so he of course would be the veterinary pathologist in the book. Mrs. Kenyatta," he nodded at Dariela in the backseat, “strikes me as the lady Army Ranger who married Mr. Kenyatta the safari guide. So, that leaves you, Tessa Williams, who l know to be ex-IADG and only recently acquainted with the group, and you," he winked conspiratorially at Jackson, "Dylan Green, as the remaining piece of the puzzle. Or should l say Jackson Oz?"

Before Jackson could pull an answer together the radio crackled and Brown's guy in the lead vehicle said, "Hey, Brown, there's a herd of rhinos up ahead. Looks to be about ten or twelve of them, on the move, headed north.”

“Copy that, let's round 'em up, get ourselves a blood sample for the Doc!" Brown swiveled around and grinned and Tessa and Dariela in the backseat, then at Jackson as he said in his broad Aussie accent, "Well, Jackson Oz, are you ready for a prehistoric rodeo?"

Jackson grinned back at Tessa. Why deny it anymore? "I have already gone a round with one of these guys," he said, "As the rodeo clown.”

***

The plane was in the air on its way to Alaska. Clementine and Baby Sam were in the kitchen, reheating some of the cold breakfast leftovers for herself and Sam, who was still recuperating in Mitch's room. Abe was working on the sterility cure in the lab and, knowing how little he himself liked to be disturbed when he was in his science zone, Mitch left him to his work and instead migrated to the bar with a tablet, trying to figure out if there were some connection between all of the hybrid animals they knew about that could possibly lead them to the rest they would need, like the links in The Courier had done ten years ago. He barely glanced up when Jamie joined him some time after takeoff, grunting a gruff hello as she went behind the bar and poured them both a drink. He didn't look up at her until she slid onto the barstool next to him, leaning over to see what he had on his tablet. "What are we looking at?" she asked, taking a sip from her cocktail.

He cleared his throat and pulled himself away from the screen taking the glass Jamie slid toward him. "Thank you." He look a long drink, then plunked the glass down and pointed to the tablet screen. "I have been trying to find some kind of connection between the animals Abigail has used to make hybrids. but so far I haven’t been able to come up with a thing. Bears, snakes, wolves, rhinoceros, spiders, goats, mammoths, dinosaurs- they have no common denominator that l can find, unless go back to the original glob of primordial ooze that slithered up onto land." She leaned closer, putting her hand on his leg nonchalantly as she peered at the screen; it honestly wasn't helping his concentration but he certainly wasn't going to ask her to move it either. He noticed she had abandoned her Early Jamie' clothes and was now wearing what he considered Post-Tank Jamie' outfits- skin-tight leather pants and a very complimentary black sweater. He had to admit, while he missed the Jamie of ten years ago, he didnt mind her change in style so much. "How long before we land, and where exactly are we going?”

"Anchorage, about four hours. There have been three reports about our polar bear, all three within a twenty mile radius of the city of Anchorage. When we land we go to the local wildlife refuge, and a park ranger will lead us to where the bear was last seen." Her voice tightened with barely suppressed anxiety, "It's only September and they already have six feet of snow, which is unheard of there." She shivered almost imperceptibly, though Mitch could feel the vibration of her hand that still rested on his thigh and he realized she still hated and feared the cold the way she had after being stranded in Canada so many years ago.

“Hey, it's okay," he said, covering her hand with his, "you don’t have to go, Abe and Clem and l can handle it, you stay here with the baby. He likes you, remember?" He smiled, to lessen the sting he knew she was feeling, the idea that her fear was stronger than herself; his smile faded and he said softly, "Nothing burns like the cold, Jamie. I know you dream about Caraquet, you wake me sometimes, calling out for,” he swallowed and looked away from her, "for Logan, and telling him he has to burn the money because you're freezing…”

She sat back on the barstool sharply, taking her hand away from Mitch's grasp with a jerk and glancing automatically down at her foot, though it had been more than ten years since she had lost her toe to frostbite in the wilds of Canada. "I'll be fine," she said, withdrawing from him at the mention of Caraquet; her PTSD diagnosis had its roots in that town and everything that surrounded it and while she would never step foot in British Columbia again she visited the place often enough in her nightmares. Mitch’s observation was a bit too on the nose because in those awful, paralyzing dreams she was always freezing. so cold she couldn’t move her legs to run, or her arms to fight off the polar bears when they came to attack her and Logan and the other shadowy people on the school bus. In those nightmares Mitch never showed up with the rescue team and they were all killed one by one and then the bear would get its jaws around her throat, claws raking her body as she watched her blood spatter on the windows and she’d wake up in a frigid sweat, hoping she hadn't vocalized the strangled scream that echoed in her mind for hours afterward. And now here she was, flying off into the glacial northern wilds of Alaska to get blood from a polar bear, it was like a nightmare and she was trying to keep it together but her voice was bitter and edgy as she said, "I hope blood will be enough for you. I don't think we want to try to get a polar bear the size of my Mustang on the plane.”

“Oh, I don't know," Mitch said testily, draining his glass in one long swallow, trying not to be hurt by her reaction or to think about his own heartache after Caraquet, still so fresh for him; Jamie’s bewildering retreat from their relationship, the confusion brought on by Allison and his father-he suppressed a wave of sadness at the thought of Max- the emotional upheaval and stupid missteps he made with Jamie that pushed her further away, mistakes which he seemed determined to repeat here and now. He reached over the bar and plucked the bottle of vodka from the rack. "Sometimes you have to shoot for the stars."

It was uncomfortably silent as they both retreated to their shells, but then Jamie tapped her fingers on the bar and said, "Stars...stars...what about constellations? There's a bear, snake, and a goat at least." Mitch looked unsure, but it was a straw to grasp at in their awkwardness so she went to one of the drawers behind the bar where they had searched for the CB radio two days earlier. "l think I saw a star chart here somewhere," she bent over to rummage through the drawer, her back to Mitch, giving him a fine view of her posterior, he poured another drink and downed it in a swallow, his eyes never leaving her as he said, "Of course. Who doesn't keep a star chart on a self-flying plane?”

Jamie pulled out a large square of folded paper and peeled the corners back, peering inside, "Here it is." She unfolded the chart and spread it out over the bar. The night sky opened out before them, and Jamie traced a few familiar star formations, learned from countless nights on the farm, laying outside in the grass on warm summer nights, watching the sky and praying to the Gods- any Gods- to save her mother. The frostiness between them was dissipating with the comfort of action, as Jamie quickly scanned a list of the constellations on the side of the poster-with a grid pattern to tell how to find the constellation in the sky- she let out a breath. "There's so many.”

“Some aren't animals though." Mitch ran his finger down the side of the chart, counting rapidly. "Oh." He looked over at Jamie, "Forty-two.”

“Forty-two. Well, that's quite a few." She added under her breath “It's also the meaning of life, the universe and everything.”

Mitch was bent over the chart but he gave her a sideways smirk. "Nerd”

"English major," she corrected.

Mitch pushed his glasses back on his nose and gave her a quick smile then pointed to the list where Canis Venacti, Canis Major, and Canis Minor were grouped together. "Some of these animals are redundant, for instance there are three different constellations named after dogs; Canister Venacti, the hunting dogs, Canis Major, the Big Dog, and Canis Minor, the Little Dog. Same thing with snakes, serpents, there's Hydra, the water serpent, Hydrus, the water snake and Serpens, the serpent. Two bears, nine different kinds of bird, three different horses, if you count a centaur as a horse, which we do, I think?"

"There are several different kinds of birds but no vultures," Jamie said, "maybe she wasn't exact? Maybe she combined DNA from more than one bird?"

"Well, that's easy enough to test," Mitch said. We have one of the things on board."

"There's no rhinoceros here," Jamie said, skimming the list.

"No, but there's a Unicorn. Monoceros, ‘one horn'.”

"Wait," she said, pointing at the upper portion of the map. "All of these are Northern Hemisphere constellations. Goat, bear, snake, eagle. Unicorn." She shook her head, her red hair swinging to frame her face. "No spider or mammoth though. Or dinosaur."

“But here's Lacerta, the lizard," Mitch said, pointing between Cassiopeia and Cygnus, also in the Northern Hemisphere, "That fits a dinosaur, right? And as for the mammoth," he pointed at another area of the chart, "Cetus, the whale. It's the largest constellation in the Northern sky, and is close to other water signs like Pisces and Aquarius. Whales are the largest mammal but making hybrid whales probably wasn't really an option, or very productive, since they would only threaten sea traffic but the elephant or similar Mammoth is the largest land mammal. Maybe she just adapted. Or maybe we're just grasping at straws.”

“So long and thanks for all the fish," Jamie muttered under her breath, then continued, "And here's Aquila, the Eagle, and Cygnus, the Swan. I guess a vulture could be a cross between an eagle and a swan. Long neck, bad attitude?”

Mitch cocked his head to the side in agreement. "Sounds about right.”

The excitement of possibly finding a link, solving a puzzle was growing, and Jamie said, "That's seven of the eight we know about. The spider?”

“Cancer, maybe? It’s a crab, maybe crabs just had too limited a range for her needs, having to stay close to water, but they would be fairly terrifying so, I don't know, this is all conjecture anyway, just like the spiders and unicorns we’re worried about.” He was getting frustrated, she could tell by the set of his shoulders and the ugly tone creeping into in his voice, though he was trying to tamp it down. "So what's left in the Northern Hemisphere?" he asked.

“Leo, scorpius and draco. Lion, scorpion, dragon." Jamie looked up in alarm. "Oh my God, you don't think she made a dragon hybrid do you?"

Mitch added them up, trying not to show his concern either. "Well if she did that's eleven, and unless she's a Stranger Things fan, that's a weird number.”

"Wait," Jamie said, looking at the chart, "there's this one too. Bootes.”

"Bootes?" Mitch said, wrinkling up his nose under his glasses. “What the hell kind of animal is a Bootes?"

"It's not an animal," Jamie said, looking up at him with concern. "It's The Shepherd.”

***

Getting the sample from the rhino had been relatively easy, it was the eight foot tall goat that had been the bitch.

They were northwest of Boulder, on the Strawberry river about a mile above Starvation Dam in Utah. They had gotten a sample from the rhinos after Jackson snuck up on one with a needle and syringe and ran like hell when the beast turned on him. Brown waited a second or two before turning on the hybrid repellant frequency, just for a laugh, and he was whooping as Jackson jumped into the truck, brandishing the syringe and breathing heavily as the herd thundered away. They kept going northwest until they came to the dam, and Brown started to tell them how the place acquired it's odd name. “So the party of fur trappers were caught in a blizzard but they stumbled on an abandoned Ute Indian camp, only it wasn’t abandoned and when the men came back from fruitless hunting and discovered their only food devoured by white men, they ousted the fur trappers from the camp, and they stumbled to the banks of the river to die of the cold. But in a cruel twist of fate, the Indians perished also because the trappers had eaten the only food they had and they were trapped by the storm.”

“Well that's depressing," Dariela said. "Remind me not to tell it to Isaac for a bedtime story." Thunder rumbled in the distance and a dense brown cloud rolled across the rocky landscape around the river. Brown rolled to a stop beside a large rock formation, with lots of crevices and holes and he got on the radio shouting, "Abandon vehicles! Cover in the rocks!"

Jackson grabbed his rifle and his backpack, helped Tessa and Dariela out and they all ran in confusion to the rocky formation, ducking down into sheltered caves made by the boulders, Brown and his four remaining men jumped down among them, and they crouched down as the rumbling grew louder and louder and the ground began to vibrate beneath them. The rocks began to shake and pebbles and sand sifted down on them as the light suddenly vanished beneath thundering so loud Jackson couldn't even think. He looked up and all he could see was flashes of shadow and bright fur, he looked sideways at Brown who shouted, "Goats!”

Jackson pulled a ready syringe from his backpack, took off the safety cap and motioned for Brown to hoist him up. Brown looked at him like he was insane, then shrugged uneasily and motioned to one of his men to help lift Jackson close to an opening in the rocks.

He waited, knowing he was only going to have one blisteringly quick chance to get any blood at all from one of these monstrous creatures. Now that he was so close he could see them a little more clearly and they were huge- the hooves that flashed within inches of his head were easily the size of dinner plates and looked to be frighteningly sharp. Taking a deep breath, he waited until a shadow was just right, then jabbed the needle up, pulling the plunger as soon as he felt contact and jerking the syringe back down through the rocks as his unwilling subject squealed and kicked, catching his wrist with one of those deadly hooves.

Blood sprayed from his wrist as Brown brought him down; his hand suddenly wouldn't work right and Dariela darted forward to catch the syringe before he dropped it. Miraculously, it seemed to be filled with enough blood for Mitch's uses.

Tessa ran to Jackson, supporting him as she checked his wrist, which was still bleeding but not spraying, and he grinned at her and whispered, "Spicy.”

The herd had passed, a thin haze of dust floated in the air, and after a few minutes Brown climbed out of the rocks and descended back to the riverside. The trucks were destroyed, turned over and trampled into junk, and Jackson and Dariela ran to the one they had been in, digging around for the cooler. Tessa found the first aid kit and wrapped Jackson's wrist and Dariela found the cooler intact, prying open the lid briefly to check the rhino sample and add the goat. "It's all good." Dariela said, "but who is gonna carry this thing? Because those trucks aren't going anywhere.”

“Anybody have a radio?" Tessa asked. "I think we need to call a cab.”

***

They lost track of time going over the star chart, knowing that it was probably a useless endeavor but needing something to do to feel productive. The plane's cool, pleasant PA voice interrupted them when it chimed and said, “Wheels down in Anchorage, one hour." Mitch stretched his arms over his head, groaning at the aching muscles in his shoulders as he leaned away from the chart, thankful that Jamie had changed the plane's voice back from Logan. "So, tell me what we have," he said, as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

“Well," she said, "If we run with the Northern Hemisphere constellation theory we have to find a scorpion, a lion, and," she sighed as if she couldn’t believe she was about to utter the words, “a dragon. And a Shepherd”

"The dragon could refer to a Komodo Dragon, but that wouldn’t be much better, those guys are nasty. A Shepherd," he repeated, pushing his glasses back up again, “that can only be Abigail. We need to contact Jackson, tell him what we found and what he needs to be looking for."

Jamie snorted a bitter laugh. "Hey, Jackson, be on the lookout for a dragon!”

Mitch shrugged. "No stranger than a wooly mammoth or a prehistoric rhinoceros. Or earthquake sloths for that matter.”

“Maybe not.” The chilliness between them earlier had gone, but something was up with her, there was something else she wanted to say, he could tell by the way she played with her straw and looked studiously away from him and he sighed, reaching forward to touch her face gently. “What is it, Jamie? I can hear the gears grinding in your head from here.”

It had been nagging at the back of her mind for a while now since finding him alive, - or if she really wanted to pinpoint it, since the first time he put his glasses on and looked at her with his deep brown eyes, and she actually knew it was him, so familiar behind the plastic frames- a kind of unease, a fingernails blackboard feeling, and with the mention of Caraquet earlier, the subject of the cold, she realized what it was that was bothering her: guilt. Guilt for being so distant with him before he...he died, guilt for squandering the time they had on misunderstandings and anger; she had beaten herself up for years over it but managed to put it behind her but here he was, her regret made flesh and bone before her. "I'm sorry, Mitch." She stopped him, knowing he was about to say something about Duncan but she had apologized for that already and this went much deeper. She took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry for how l treated you after l came back from Canada. I'm sorry for all of the time I wasted between us because.. because you had gone on living after you thought I was dead.” The words came tumbling out before she could stop them, and truthfully, she found she didn't want to stop them. She was tired of secrets and lies and darkness. Mitch was the person she trusted most in the world, he was the man she loved, he was her path to the light and she wanted him to know everything while they had time to say it because they had both learned in excruciating ways how easy it was to lose each other in the blink of an eye. She'd almost lost him again over the Duncan fiasco and she knew she couldn't bear to lose him again, and she was going to do whatever it took to make sure she didn’t. "I'm sorry," she gripped the hand that was caressing her cheek and held it tightly, "I'm sorry l gave up on you. knew you weren't dead, l knew it in my heart, I looked for you for years, I followed every lead, l went to Pangaea...I interrogated every Shepherd l caught because I hoped that one would have information that would lead me to you, alive. And then...I lost hope and l gave up. I gave up on you, Mitch Morgan.” She took a deep, hitching breath as tears started to run down her cheeks. "You were alive and l loved you and I gave up on you.”

The only noise was the soft rumble of the planes engines, and Mitch pulled her close as she wet his shoulder with her tears. "When we were on the plane from Africa to DC," he murmured huskily in her ear, "and you kissed me, I couldn’t believe it was happening, couldn't believe that you wanted me, because l had been in love with you since the day you took me to your mother's grave, amazed at the way you were so open about her and how you felt and I- I had been avoiding my emotions for so long...l hid it, because was afraid of a relationship, I was afraid of you, of what you could do to me mean to me if let you in." He swallowed hard, and kissed her forehead. "And when I did let you in, BAM! You were gone-“ he choked a little at the memory of the plane falling, feeling Jamie's hand torn from his as they spun into the icy North Atlantic sea, how he screamed her name and swam from floating body to floating body until Jackson forced him onto a rescue boat, saving him from drowning because he would have died trying to find her. "You were gone, and I didn't go on living. I gave up on everything except trying to drown myself at the local bar. You were alive, I loved you, and I gave up on you too. After only three months, I may add.” He was quiet a moment, feeling her breathing against him. "I’m the one who should be apologizing.” He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “Then I got a miracle call, and had a reason to live again," he whispered, wiping Jamie's tears away as she gave him a sniffling smile that he returned, remembering how it felt to hear her voice that morning at the bar, to realize that she wasn't gone, that he had a second chance. His heart started to hammer and he rasped, “How about we don't waste anymore time on the past? We have about forty minutes until we land, I bet we can find something to do until then.”

****

“I have something else to tell you." Jamie said, and Mitch peeled an eye open and looked over at her, sprawled against him on the bed.

“No good conversation has ever started with those words," he said, and with a groan lifted his arm to look at his watch. "You have about ten minutes to talk before the plane starts yelling at us to get up for school.”

She rolled over on her side and kissed his chest lightly. "Abe stopped me in the hall shortly after we took off, he wants me to be his test subject for the sterility cure. The formula is finished, he wants to test it soon and since Clem is already fertile, and Dariela isn't here…” His body stiffened almost imperceptibly but she felt it and frowned slightly to herself as she continued, "Anyway, it would only be a test to see if it produces a normal ovulation cycle and a viable egg.”

“So what are you going to do? Wh..what did you tell him?" He looked like a deer trapped in the headlights and she felt kind of bad for springing it on him here, like this. She hadn't meant to, she had intended to bring it up as soon as she found him at the bar but he had been so into his research that she didnt want to interrupt, and well, the time had just never seemed right. Sure, Jamie, this is really the right time.

“I told him that I had someone else to consult about it." she said, looking up at him until he met her eyes. "I think the person who shares my bed every night has a say in whether or not we can suddenly make babies." She felt him relax a little, though he was still eyeing her warily, as if she might produce a child at any time and thrust it at him. She would have found it funny if his reaction wasn’t mildly insulting. "What do you think l should do?”

“I think it's up to you," he said, as he remembered a very important point about the current world. “I’m still sterile so if you want to be the guinea pig who saves the world, go ahead.”

"You're the pig here, Morgan,” she retorted, and then with a flick of her wrist stirred the shit pot just a little. "Are you though? Sterile?" She sat up, the sheet falling away from her as she rose from the bed, bending down to pick up her clothes and Mitch felt himself start to rise even though they had just- God, she was beautiful. He dragged his attention back to what she was saying with difficulty. "Have you been tested since you came back? Because you went into the tank before the TX-14 gas had spread and by the time you came out the gas was probably diffused into the atmosphere enough to not affect you. And there's no telling what Abigail did to you, or what she had planned, she was probably going to make a family of little Abby/Duncan hybrids to rule over her apocalypse kingdom!"

Mitch shot out of the bed liked he'd been fired from a rifle with a look of panicked horror that was so comical Jamie burst out laughing as he pulled his boxers from his pile of clothes on the floor. "That's not funny." he snapped, pulling his clothes on hastily, as if he was suddenly afraid Abigail was going to barge in and force herself on him. It was obvious that this was something that hadn't occurred to him and she was immediately sorry- after all, in Mitch's world three weeks ago his daughter was eleven and now she was twenty and he was a grandfather. Things were upside down for him.

Before she could apologize there was a tentative knock at the door and Abe's somewhat embarrassed voice floated in. “Uh, Jamie? Sorry to...bother you but Jackson just called, they have run into some problems. Apparently their convoy was destroyed by a...” his reluctant sigh was audible through the door. "A dragon.”

***

[h4nnibalism]

Chapters: 45/45 Fandom: Hannibal (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Chiyoh (Hannibal), Beverly Katz, OFC, Abigail Hobbs, Robert Lecter, Lady Murasaki, Mischa Lecter, OMC Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Canon-Typical Violence, Helpless Hannibal, Will Graham Helps His Own Damn Self, and Hannibal, Actual Plot!, excessively dubious plot devices, Short Chapters, Slow Burn, References to bullying, References to Past Child Abuse, Angst, Serious hurt/Limited comfort, Armchair Therapy, Canon-Typical Cannibalism, Past Underage, Exceptionally unlikely symptoms of empathy disorder, Season/Series 04, Bottom Hannibal, Top Hannibal, Bottom Will, Top Will, a variety of improbable sex acts committed by fictional people, so much porn, D/s undertones, Always the D/s undertones with these two, crossing boundaries is different than violating them, Jealousy, Frottage, sex is not a suitable substitute for therapy, an unexpected amount of rimming, inappropriate therapeutic techniques, really an embarassing amount of porn Summary:

Hannibal’s heart stopped for the first time after he’d dragged himself and Will out of the frigid ocean onto the rocky shore at the bottom of the bluff.

  *Title from Unkempt Thoughts by Stanislaw J. Lec

Explicit from Ch 26.

[houseofwisteria]

“What are you doing up at this hour?” / for miss abby <3

Abby was sitting in a moment pulled straight out of her dream. their house, a comfy bench on the porch. windy weather and a blanket draped over her legs keeping them warm and now Sadie is awake? She beams up at her. " Why don't you c'mere and sit a while. I couldn't sleep then I heard the wind whipping up a storm out here and I just had to listen. You know how much I love the sounds of nature. C'mon, sit. "

She pats the spot beside herself and lifts the blanket up a bit waiting until she does so she could drape if over them both and then she gets nice and close and leans into Sadie's side, hugging her arm and laying her head on her shoulder with a peaceful smile. " Isn't is nice? " Leaves brushing. light cricket songs. the moon nice and bright and full.

[sednonamoris]

ghost story

known by law enforcement, civilians, and outlaws alike as ‘the ghost rider of new austin’, you join up with the van der linde gang in your youth. so begins a long and complicated history.

ch. 1 cloudburst

shot by a bounty hunter and left for dead, you’re saved by an unlikely pair in the dead of night.

ch. 2 gift horse

now healed, you plan out the job that will fulfill your life debt to these van der linde boys. what else would it be but stealing horses?

ch. 3 daddy’s got a gun

a job gone wrong, and a journey home gone worse.

ch. 4 drowning lessons

the hottest day of summer launches your friendship with john off the deep end.

ch. 5 raise a little hell

you, john, and arthur go out on the town after a successful score. of course you couldn’t leave it at just one drink.

ch. 6 american dreams

need, morality, and family are difficult to conceptualize in a life defined by crime, and your vision of the world has been shaped almost entirely by the van der linde gang.

ch. 7 stormchaser

abigail roberts joins the gang. your relationship with john is changed, maybe forever.

ch. 8 dear john

a year’s worth of letters, never sent.

ch. 9 hang ‘em high

a high stakes bank robbery forces you and john to confront exactly how close - and how far - you are from one another anymore.

ch. 10 a dark alley and a bad idea

after an argument with abigail, john goes into town to drink his worries away. as always you follow, and as always there's trouble - seems like you bring it with you wherever you go. 

ch. 11 sold down the river

the blackwater massacre, and the aftermath.

ch. 12 teeth

john never returns from his scouting trip. you, arthur, and javier seek him out through the snow.

ch. 13 through the valley and the vale

once dutch gets a train robbery out of his system and the snowmelt starts, the van der linde gang makes its way to horsehsoe overlook.

ch. 14 pony up

john and abigail continue to argue. you and jack are both stuck in the middle, so you make the best of it by teaching him to ride.

ch. 15 act the maggot

sean is rescued, and the gang celebrates his return the only way they know how - drinks all around.

ch. 16 life ain’t fair and the world is mean

arthur’s decision after meeting with mary linton again leaves you caught between a rock and a hard place.

ch. 17 once bitten

john and abigail’s relationship continues to deteriorate as arthur begins a clumsy courtship. you and john run off hunting to get away from it all, but things don’t exactly go to plan.

ch. 18 come all ye sinners

driven from camp in the aftershocks of an earth-shattering shift in john and abigail’s relationship, you find yourself in an unlikely situation with and even more unlikely friend. is there a way forward?

ch. 19 oil on troubled water

tensions are high between john and arthur. will collaborating on a train robbery bring them closer or tear them farther apart?

ch. 20 blood of the covenant

arthur and abigail make a promise. you and john have a chance to find out what that means for you, if you’re brave enough.

ch. 21 good, honest thieves

a fight with micah leads to a lecture from dutch. loyalty is exactly what you've been raised on, but to what? to whom? the answer seems to be john every time.

ch. 22 unbridled

a theft gone right and a deal gone wrong.

ch. 23 thunderstruck

a storm brews over your journey with john to meet an old friend and make a profit on the braithwaite horses. what will happen when lightning strikes?

ch. 24 working for the knife

you and john return to camp, where an unexpected crisis awaits.

ch. 25 arsonist’s lullaby

with sean dead and the confederate gold nowhere to be found, the braithwaites learn exactly why boys are off limits.

ch. 26 water of the womb

[coming soon]

[cloudaintfair]

The Letter Ch.1

Professor Callaghan was sent to the Isle of the Lost for the crimes he committed: attempted murder, arson, manslaughter and the many other things. When Carlos and Jay were going back to the school and create a phony wand, the disgraced Professor gave the de Vil boy an envelope containing a letter and asked him to give it to his daughter.

FFN I AO3

Carlos and Jay were hurrying towards the limo when they were stopped by an elderly man. He was wearing a green vest over his red shirt.

“Carlos.” The man called.

“P-pro-professor Callaghan!” Carlos breathed out.

It’s been years since Robert Callaghan was sent over to the isle from his cell in San Fransokyo. It was a miracle work that his daughter wasn’t sent to the isle with him.

“When you go back to Auradon.” The disgraced professor handed Carlos an envelope. “Can you give this to Abigail?” He asked. “To my daughter.”

“Carlos.” Jay called out. “We need to move.”

“Y-yeah.” Carlos stuttered out. “Sure.” He immediately pocketed the letter and ran to catch up to Jay.

Robert was left standing alone as a smile graced his face.

“So C.” Jay started as he started the car’s engine. “How’d you know Professor Lunatic?” He asked.

“Hey!” Carlos replied indignantly.” Professor Callaghan isn’t a lunatic.” He defended.

“Really?” Jay questioned as he drove the limo. “Cause I’ve heard rumors.” He chuckled.

“You always hear rumors Jay.” Carlos retorted as he elbowed the driver.

“As I was saying.” Jay resumed his train of thought. “I’ve heard that he’s way worse than your mother.” He continued. “Like abusive worse.”

“And my mother wasn’t?” Carlos rolled his eyes. “But no, he’s actually the only sane person in the isle, us four included.”

“Hey!” Jay reacted with indignation.

Jay and Carlos chuckled at Carlos’s words. Their foursome were the people ruling the isle, well Mal was and the other three were more or less glorified lackeys.

“How so though?” Jay asked.

“Let’s just say none of my scars came from Professor Callaghan.” Carlos stated. “He never lifted a finger against me.”

“No way!” Jay stated in disbelief. “Dude you were told stay after his classes.” He explained. “And you know how the teachers of Dragon Hall are!”

“Well yeah.” Carlos agreed. “But he’s different.” He added. “Before I met you guys, Professor Callaghan was the one making me safe from my mother.” He admitted. “Every time people can’t find me, I’m hiding inside Professor Callaghan’s quarters.”

“Wait, so when we were trying to find you that one time, you were actually hiding with Professor Lunatic?” Jay exclaimed. “Nice!” He applauded. “No one would think you’d go to Professor Lunatic for help.” He chuckled. “He’s one of the most feared teachers on the isle after all.”

“Well people were killed over misinformation before.” Carlos chuckled. “In my case, I survived.” He continued.

“We’re here.” Jay stated as he stopped the car. “Let’s go!” He continued as he unbuckled his seatbelt.”

“Yeah.” Carlos nodded as he did the same and followed Jay.

A few hours before Cotillon started. Carlos had successfully asked Jane to be his date for the event, finally. He was about to put on his white button-up shirt when Jay went inside their room, his scars visible to the other.

“Are you really sure none of those came from Professor Callaghan?” Jay asked.

“No.” Carlos answered. “He’s the nicest person in the isle.” He added. “What did you hear about him anyway?” He asked. “To make everyone conclude that he was worse than my mother.” He explained.

“Well.” Jay began as he stripped off his Swords and Shields attire. “People say that he was arrested in the isle after he took his daughter hostage.” He shared.

“That certainly explains things.” Carlos chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone, but he intended that to happen.” He added.

“Then people were right!” Jay exclaimed. “He’s really as bad as Cruella, maybe even worse.”

“No, it’s not.” Carlos immediately corrected. “Professor Callaghan was completely sane when he did that.” He explained. “It was to save his daughter from being sent to the isle.” He added.” He had heard that my entire family were sent to the isle just for being related to my mother.” He continued. “To save Abigail from that fate, he made his daughter into a victim of a crime.” He added. “His crime.”

“Clever.” Jay praised.

“Where do you think I got my skills from?” Carlos raised his eyebrows.

“No way.” Jay exclaimed. “He tutored you privately?!” He questioned.

“That and also taught me how to invent things.” He proudly answered. “I was just a fast learner.”

“What was he and his daughter were supposed to be in anyway?” Jay asked.

“Arson, manslaughter, damage to property, attempted murder.” Carlos enumerated.

“Seriously?” Jay exclaimed. “That’s a lot!”

“I don’t know about that tho.” Carlos continued. “I feel like Professor Callaghan isn’t telling me the whole story.” He stated.

Jay gave off a non-committal sound as he began to tied his hair in a bun and wear his leather jacket Evie made for him for Cotillon.

“I’m guessing you’re going to deliver his letter to his daughter after Cotillon.” Jay asked.

“Yeah.” Carlos nodded. “It’s the least I could do for him.” He explained.

Evie had just requested to let the other Villain Kids get to Auradon.

Carlos can’t say he disagreed with Evie’s sentiments, after all a lot of the kids in the isle need saving. He didn’t want any young kids to experience what the older people experienced, he certainly didn’t want any kid experience what he did.

“Speaking of requests.” Carlos opened. “Can I go to San Fransokyo?” He asked.

“Sure.” Ben approved. “Can I ask why?”

“I just want to give a letter to someone there.” Carlos answered. “It’s the least that I could do for them.”

“Okay.” Ben nodded. “When would you want to leave?” He asked.

“Can I go to tomorrow?” Carlos asked.

“Tomorrow it is then.” The king nodded.  

[papermoonloveslucy]

Little Old Lucy

S6;E7~ October 23, 1967

Synopsis

When the 90 year-old president of the bank is in town and needs an escort to the bank's banquet, Lucy is volunteered.  She discovers that although he is old, he is still very interested in the opposite sex!  Dennis Day guest stars.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carmichael / Abigail Vandermere), Gale Gordon (Theodore J. Mooney), Roy Roberts (Harrison Winfield Cheever), Mary Jane Croft (Mary Jane Lewis)  

Guest Cast

Dennis Day (Cornelius Heatherington Jr.) was an Irish singer who's name and career were synonymous with Jack Benny's, working with the comedian on radio and TV.  It was Benny who gave him his big break in 1939 and Benny who kept him employed as a singer and naive comic sidekick.  His "Gee, Mr. Benny!" became a well-known catchphrase. Day would play second banana to the comedian until Benny's death in 1974. Day died at age 72 of Lou Gehrig's disease.

The character is the 90 year-old President of the Bank.  He is a bachelor who has two yachts, as well as homes in New York, Paris, and Hawaii.

Sid Gould (Airport Announcer, uncredited) made more than 45 appearances on “The Lucy Show,” all as background characters. He also did 40 episodes of “Here’s Lucy.” Gould (born Sydney Greenfader) was Lucille Ball’s cousin by marriage to Gary Morton.

William Meader (Bank Clerk, uncredited) had appeared as an airport extra in “The Ricardos Go to Japan,” a 1959 episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour.” He made many appearances on “The Lucy Show,” most times as a clerk in Mr. Mooney’s bank. James Jackson (Commuter, uncredited) gained fame as Farina's older brother, Pineapple, in six of Hal Roach's "Our Gang" serials (1924-25).  He appeared with Lucille Ball in the 1963 film Critic's Choice as well as this episode of “The Lucy Show.”  With Sammy Davis Jr. he was an uncredited extra in the 1964 film Robin and the Seven Hoods. He will be seen in one more episode of “Here's Lucy” guest-starring Ginger Rogers.

Joan Carey (Commuter, uncredited)  was a frequent background player on “I Love Lucy” and “The Lucy Show” where she eventually became Lucille Ball’s camera and lighting stand-in.

Judith Woodbury (Commuter, uncredited) nine (mostly) uncredited appearances on “The Lucy Show.” She also appeared in one episode of “Here’s Lucy.”

James Gonzales (Commuter, uncredited)  was a popular Hollywood extra who first acted with Lucille Ball in the 1953 film The Long, Long Trailer.  He was seen in 23 episodes of “The Lucy Show” and 3 episodes of “Here’s Lucy.”

The other airport extras are played by uncredited background performers.

Dennis Day was mentioned on the previous week's episode “Lucy Gets Jack Benny's Account” (S6;E6).  In the same breath, Benny also mentioned Phil Harris, who will guest star on “The Lucy Show” later in the season. Script supervisor Milt Josefsberg, who also wrote for “The Jack Benny Show,” is likely responsible for getting these performers as guest stars.  

The Westland Bank is celebrating its 50th Anniversary, which means it was founded in 1917.  Dennis Day's character bears more than a passing resemblance to the elderly banker Mr. Dawes Senior played by Dick Van Dyke (insert) in Mary Poppins (1964).  

We finally learn Mr. Cheever's first name: Harrison. This will also be Gale Gordon's first name in “Here's Lucy.”  In a previous episode we learned that Mr. Cheever's middle name was 'Winfield'.  

Lucy borrows a mink stole from Mary Jane, who shares it with five others: Mildred, Roselle, Ella, Edith, and Irving, who uses it as 'date bait.' 

Mrs. Mooney spent three weeks of her husband's salary on an evening gown with a mini-skirt.  Mr. Mooney says she is bow-legged.  This is yet another incredible visual about Mrs. Mooney, a character that never appears on screen.

Lucy orders the banquet hall decorated in green and gold to match her new gown. Luckily for Lucy, those are also Mr. Hetherington's favorites. Mr. Mooney wanted pink and purple because they are his old school colors.  

Heatherington says he chartered the entire plane so he could have the stewardesses all to himself.  He says “It's the only way to fly.” This was the advertising slogan for Western Airlines, a US carrier that was in operation from 1926 to 1987, before merging with Delta Airlines. The extremely popular slogan was first spoken on the series in “Lucy Gets the Bird” (S3;E12) and then again when Lucy is getting shot out of a canon in “Lucy and the Return of Iron Man” (S4;E11).

Whenever Lucille Ball is called upon to play an old lady, she dresses in clothes that are more befitting of the late 1800s than the present day.

As Mrs. Abigail Vandermere Lucy says her husband was a poor Texan named Harvey. She only got wealthy when they struck oil digging Harvey's grave.  

Lucy gets a phone call from a bank secretary named Gladys to report that Mr. Heatherington is on his way to Mr. Mooney's office. In the previous episode, “Lucy Gets Jack Benny's Account” (S6;E6), we hear Gladys' voice on the intercom.  

Callbacks!

Lucy calls Heatherington the “Don Juan of the stone age.” Don Juan, a literary figure famous for wooing many females, was also the first (but shelved) movie project of Ricky Ricardo.  In “Ricky's Screen Test” (ILL S4;E6) Lucy took the role of one of his conquests.  

Lucy Carmichael previously dressed as an old lady in “Lucy Helps the Countess” (S4;E8) and “Lucy and the Soap Opera” (S4;E19) – both times wearing the same dress!

Lucy and Ricky Ricardo put on old age make-up hoping that “The Young Fans” (ILL S1;E20) Peggy and Arthur will flee the horrors of old age and find crushes on people their own age.     

An older neighbor, Mr. Ritter (Edward Everett Horton) gets fresh with Lucy Ricardo in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) just the same way Mr. Heathrington does here. In both episodes Lucy aggressively rebuffs the advances of the men. 

In that same episode Bea Benadaret (as Miss Lewis) dresses as the stereotypical little old lady, wearing something at least 60 years out of style, and also tottering when she walked, just like Lucy does here.  

To escape the amorous advances of Mr. Heatherington, Lucy (as Abigail) swings around the room on the hotel bell cord.  Lucy first swung on a rope as Iron Man Carmichael and then again in “Lucy and Bob Crane” (S4;E22).  

Blooper Alerts!

In this episode, Lucy claims that she has never met a millionaire before. Except that in “Lucy Meets a Millionaire” (S2;E24) she dated wealthy Italian Umberto Fabriani.  

“Little Old Lucy” rates 2 Paper Hearts out of 5

[houseofwisteria]

“ you had me for a minute there. ” / for abby! <3

" Baby ~ You've got to be less gullible. I'm a liar. I do it for fun as per my right and hand over my heart and my honor as an outlaw I will do it again! " She chuckles. " I mean really! You think if I saw uncle out there I'd invite him back? To OUR HOME? After all that mess back in blackwater and with Micah? I'd rather eat my own foot! He'd never leave! "