#Hosea suddenly tired: well if you do remind him that he has a son

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

powerwalking towards the campfire bc Hosea is talking about his father but Mary-Beth stops me to ask about Mary Gillis and I don’t want to skip that conversation either

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 23

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

DAWN

Rushing into my room with Eddie in tow, I hurried over to the bed as he limped along beside me before gently setting him down, allowin’ the boy to finally find some comfort after these past few days of torment.

Eddie looked exhausted, despite the fact that Rodrick seemed to have gone easy on him. His usual, energetic expression was nowhere to be seen, and instead of the joyful twinkle I normally spotted in his eyes, the pianist’s face sagged with not only fatigue, but also a layer of anxiety.

I let out a worried sigh and slid a soft hand down his cheek, tryin’ to calm the boy down as I took a seat next to him.

...Was I doing the right thing? I wondered. With every attempt I made to protect Eddie, I only seemed to end up dragging him deeper into this mess.

I mean, Jesus-- I never intended for our relationship to turn out like this. From the first day I met Eddie, everything I did was to keep him away from the gang’s activities. I never wanted him to get involved with our world of outlaws and Pinkertons, and I certainly never planned to bring him into the heart of all our problems.

And yet...here he was. Fightin’ for his life in the ass-end of some swamp that had been shot to hell by Atticus’ gang...all because I tried to protect him.

I could lie to myself about it all I wanted, but the truth was: I was puttin’ this boy in danger with every move I made. And sooner or later...I was gonna have to let him go.

But for now, I simply threw those thoughts away and focused on Eddie, keepin’ him company as he slowly fell asleep.

I bent down slightly, bringin’ my face closer to his.

“Try to get some rest, Eddie,” I whispered to him. “You need it.”

Eddie sluggishly forced his eyes open and looked at me with refusal, attempting to bring himself into a sitting position.

“...What, here?” He asked. “But...this is your bed, Arthur. It’s not big enough for the both of us. Where will you sleep--?”

“--Hush,” I cut him off. “It’s yours for now. Just get some shut-eye, alright?”

He fell silent at that and halted his movements for a second, finally relaxing into the bed once he realized he weren’t gonna change my mind...but somethin’ was still off about him.

There was a certain...mood to him that made me suspect he wasn’t quite as alright as he claimed. Every time I glanced at Eddie, he looked like he was about to break into tears, and he kept his eyes in a downcast angle. He looked devoid of all life.

I tilted my head at the pianist and peered at him in a curious manner, checkin’ to see if he was okay as he settled into the thin mattress.

“...Eddie?” I said. “R’you doing alright?”

He frowned out of despondence and brought his forlorn gaze to me, his eyelids low with weariness as a quiet sigh escaped him.

“I...I don’t know,” Eddie lied at first, eventually opening up to me. “...No. No, I’m not.”

I was quiet in response, causin’ the other man to prop himself up on his elbows before he continued to vent.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t mean to act like this. I’m trying my best to stay strong -- just like you said I should -- but...” Eddie let out a breath of defeat, hanging his head low, “...I’m just not built like you, Arthur. I’m not built for the life of an outlaw, no matter how hard I try to be...and I think it’s finally starting to take its toll on me.”

I nodded in understanding, patting a hand on top of his own.

“I figured that was part of it,” I admitted. “You’ve been actin’ differently ever since that bank robbery, after all. Not to mention all the shit that’s happened these past couple o’ days. I think everyone in the gang’s startin’ to grow a bit tired.”

“I suppose I just feel guilty,” Eddie confessed. “I thought robbing those people would be easier. That we’d just...barge in, wave our guns around, and take the money like any gentleman. But the way that bank manager looked at me...it made me feel like a monster. Made me realize it wasn’t right, what we did...”

Eddie sat all the way up, draggin’ a hand down his face as it drooped in sorrow.

“And Hosea...” he carried on, “I’m so sorry about Hosea, Arthur. I know how much you loved him, and I know how much he loved you.”

I glanced away from the boy for a moment, tryin’ to hide how I truly felt.

“Yeah...” I simply said. “I miss that old man. It’s gonna be strange livin’ in a world without him, considering he was in mine for over twenty years. Thankfully, Dutch managed to get him buried somewhere. Somewhere he can rest.”

“That’s good,” Eddie replied. “It’s what he deserves. I mean, I didn’t know him for nearly as long as you did, but Hosea treated me almost like a son in the short time we knew each other. I imagine he did the same to you.”

I agreed. “He sure did.”

“Well...if it’s any consolation, I also know what it feels like to lose a father.”

A thought popped up in my mind at that, causing me to change the subject.

“What was your daddy like, anyway?” I questioned. “I know you said he was involved in crime, but you haven’t really said much else about your family. Not that I blame you. I’ve just been curious.”

The pianist sifted through his memories for a second, thinking about what to say.

“My father...he was--” Eddie hesitated, unsure of how to describe him. I guessed his daddy must’ve been quite the complicated man.

“...His name was Jonathan,” the boy finally settled with. “He had his flaws, but I still loved him. And I know he loved me. Some people described him as cold, or emotionless, but he showed compassion in his own, distant kind of way. The man rarely ever smiled, but others always seemed to be smiling around him. ...He kind of reminds me of you.”

I chuckled. “You think I’m cold and emotionless, d’you?”

Eddie cracked a smile. “Most of the time. But it only makes your caring side stand out all the more.”

The pianist went back to the topic of his family, tellin’ me about the other members as his voice softened with a reminiscent tone.

“As for my mother, her name was Ethel. She had...quite the spirit in her. She wasn’t exactly as gentle and delicate as the other women in our neighborhood, but I liked her that way. She was boisterous, yet composed. Comical, yet serious. Harsh, yet loving. She’d often spend her time knitting in the living room, and the rest chasing me and my sister around with the needles when we were being disobedient. Though, it was usually me.”

I chortled at the image. “Sounds like Miss Grimshaw in a way. And, ah...what ‘bout your sister?”

“Her name was Alice,” Eddie answered, his tone slightly morose now. “She was...very quiet. Almost alarmingly so. She always kept to herself, and didn’t really have any friends, but not because she couldn’t make any. Just because she seemed content with being alone. Both my parents often protested her self-induced isolation and tried to get her out of the house, but Alice would simply spend her days reading book after book. She’d also listen to me play the piano as she did so.”

Eddie’s voice faltered at the painful memory and his expression steadily began to sink, makin’ me blurt out a hasty apology once I noticed what my big mouth had done this time.

“Aw, shit...” I murmured. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I...I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright,” he reassured. “I just...I miss them so much. And I regret not being able to save them from Atticus. None of them deserved to die the way they did, and there’s also the fact that seeing the man again has brought back some...horrible memories. But I’ll be fine.”

A question suddenly posed itself in my thoughts, leadin’ me to grow even more curious about Eddie’s past.

“Why does Atticus even wanna kill you so bad, anyway?” I asked. “I mean, I know he didn’t really get along with your father, but...all this effort just to kill one man? And for so long? It seems like a waste of time to me. Why is he so obsessed with huntin’ you down?”

Eddie quirked a brow. “Didn’t I tell you? About Nathaniel?”

I shook my head, findin’ myself in an even deeper state of confusion. “No. Who’s Nathaniel?”

A blanket of realization covered the boy’s face at the answer and he turned away from me, thinkin’ about how to explain the whole story as I waited for a response.

...Just what the hell was going on?

“...I’m sorry, Arthur,” he started off. “I thought I already told you, but...I guess it just slipped my mind.” Eddie let out a short sigh. “Nathaniel was the name of Atticus’ son.”

I perked my head up in interest. “Atticus has a son?”

“Had,” Eddie corrected. “Nathaniel was killed a long time ago. He was a few years younger than you when he died, and an outlaw just like his father.” The boy switched to a more sullen temperament. “...He was also my first lover.”

My eyes widened with shock. “You were in love with...Atticus’ son?”

The other man nodded, evidently not proud to admit it.

“This was before Atticus betrayed my family,” Eddie clarified. “We never knew things would turn out like this. In fact, Nathaniel always did everything he could to keep me away from his father’s world of crime. He never introduced me to the other members in the gang unless they approached us first, he never talked about the jobs they did -- he pretty much pretended they didn’t even exist. Nathaniel just wanted to keep things normal...and for a time, they almost were.”

I urged him to go on. “...But?”

The pianist got to the point. “But...then Atticus decided to wipe out my entire family. He sent Thatcher as the assassin to finish us off -- and for the most part, he did -- but when the man reached me, Nathaniel stood in his way. He disagreed with his father’s actions and tried to protect me, but in doing so, had to go against his own gang.”

A pang of realization hit me.

“...So that’s what Thatcher meant...”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“Before I killed Thatcher,” I recalled, “he told me I wasn’t the first one to ‘throw my life away for you.’ It just never really clicked until now. I guess he was referring to Nathaniel.”

The boy thought back on the incident. “Well, unlike you...Nathaniel didn’t survive. Middleton was forced to kill him in the end, and by the time he dropped dead, I was already long gone. ...That’s why Atticus hates me so much. He blames me for the death of his son, and will do anything he can to take revenge.”

I rested my elbows on my knees. “Surely, a man like Atticus would know revenge is pointless?”

Eddie shrugged. “Perhaps, but I don’t think he cares anymore. Whatever concern he had for his gang’s safety died with Nathaniel. He fears nothing because he has nothing.”

Breaking out of his thoughts, the pianist suddenly put his hand on top of mine and used the other to caress my face as he scooted closer to me, lookin’ me in the eye.

“Listen, Arthur,” he said, “whatever happens, I promise I’ll never run out on you like I did with Nathaniel. I know you’re always telling me that there might come a time when I’ll have to save myself, but...I don’t think I could. I don’t think I could just leave you behind like that. Not after all this time.”

I leaned closer to him and removed his hand from my cheek, holdin’ it in my own.

“Now, don’t you worry about that,” I comforted. “Dutch has a plan. We’re gonna pack up this camp, and we are gonna get the hell outta Shady Belle. You’re gonna be safe.”

Eddie disregarded that, sighing in disapproval. “I don’t care about being safe anymore. We’re outlaws, for God’s sake. We’re never going to be safe. The only thing I care about right now is you, Arthur.” He glanced away for a moment, bashfully averting his eyes. “...I love you.”

My entire body froze at that and I simply gazed back at the boy in bewilderment, feelin’ more touched than I would’ve liked to admit.

It had been ages since someone last said that to me, and part of me couldn’t believe it was real. All these years of fightin’ people and being betrayed by them, making new enemies with each passing day...it was hard to see myself finally having someone who was not only a friend, but also a lover.

I snapped outta my trance-like state and brought my attention back to Eddie, tightenin’ my grip around his hand in an affectionate manner as a gentle chuckle escaped me.

“Boy, you really are a fool, ain’t you?” I teased. “Well, if it makes you feel any better...I love you, too.”

Eddie beamed brightly at that and the joy returned to his face as he happily planted a kiss on my lips before embracing me, practically meltin’ against my chest once the fatigue finally started to catch up to him.

Holding the pianist close, I let him lay his head on my shoulder and tried to make him forget his worries, calming him down as he slowly fell asleep.

It felt like it had been an eternity since I last spent any time with the boy, and now that he was finally back with the gang, I intended on keepin’ it that way. I didn’t give a damn if Atticus blamed him for Nathaniel’s death, or blamed him for any of the other problems he had in life -- I was gonna keep Eddie safe no matter how much it cost me. And Atticus was dead wrong if he thought otherwise.

I mean, with everything else fallin’ apart around me, Eddie was the only thing I had left that I could truly protect. Dutch rarely ever listened to me anymore, Micah was already beginning to replace Hosea, and the rest of the gang was fightin’ itself with fears and doubts. It was like witnessing a train-wreck before it even happened, and I’d be damned if I let Eddie get caught in the middle of it.

Interruptin’ my train of thought, a knock emitted from the bedroom door as Dutch’s guttural voice came through, grabbing my attention.

“Arthur, you in there? I need to speak with you.”

“I’ll be out in a minute, Dutch.” I replied.

“Alright,” he said, his footsteps slightly faltering as he wandered away from the door. “Meet me on the balcony. It’s important.”

Softly pushing Eddie off my chest, I placed the exhausted boy down on the mattress and slipped my coat off, layin’ it over him like a blanket as the cool breeze drifted in through the broken windows.

“Go on and get some sleep.” I whispered, earning a series of incoherent mumblings from him in return.

I let out a quiet laugh, switchin’ off the lantern on my desk as I headed out the room.

“G’night, Eddie. It’s good to have you back.”

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Strollin’ through the doors leading to the balcony, I found Dutch casually leaning against the railing with his back turned to me as he silently enjoyed a cigar, taking in the gloomy view.

There was something different about the old man. He seemed content in an odd way and didn’t appear as agitated as I expected, but the air about him still felt...wrong, despite the solace.

I mean, the O’Driscolls was finished. We had just gotten back from killin’ their leader, and now, Dutch’s lifelong nemesis was suddenly absent. I supposed his focus had probably moved onto Atticus by now, but considering how he handled Colm, part of me didn’t even wanna know his plans for the future.

They might’ve been a success individually, but with every plan I carried out for Dutch, the deeper I found myself stuck in this shit. It was like adding even more weight to an anchor strapped around the gang’s feet, and Dutch wasn’t doin’ anything to keep us from drowning.

I calmly walked up to the man, leaning my body against a nearby pillar as his eyes flicked in my direction, leadin’ him to greet me.

“So...” Dutch said, shaking some ash off his cigar, “Colm O’Driscoll is finally dead.”

I adjusted myself, resting a hand on the buckle of my belt. “Yep. He sure is. You feel any better?”

“Oh, yes,” he admitted darkly. “Much...better. I know you don’t think much of payback, Arthur, but I assure you, this was well-deserved. Colm is finally where he belongs. In the ground.”

“And what ‘bout you?” I pointed out. “You on the top now?”

Dutch picked up on my irritated tone and turned to face me, his brow furrowed in frustration as he let out a breath of smoke.

“I am gettin’ tired of all these doubts, son,” he confessed. “What happened to your faith? Ever since Blackwater, it’s been shaken. You’ve turned into a different man. Before, you was more than willing to gun down any O’Driscolls in our path, and now you’re disappointed in me for killing their leader? I did our gang a favor, Arthur. I saved lives. I saved Eddie.”

I was unconvinced. “Atticus saw us, Dutch. He was at the fort. He knows we’re the ones who killed Colm, and if I’ve learned anything about how that man’s mind works, he’s gonna retaliate. People are gonna suffer ‘cause of what we did.”

“Yes,” Dutch acknowledged, albeit sarcastically, “that tends to happen when you’re an outlaw. But like I said before, I have a plan. We’re gonna move the gang up north to Roanoke Ridge before Atticus even has a chance to do anything, and disappear.”

“North?” I questioned. “What we gonna find up there? As far as I know, only towns in the north are Annesburg and Van Horn. Ain’t nothin’ to rob in those places, Dutch.”

He nodded. “Which is why we are gonna take one last score in Saint Denis before we leave.”

I paused. “Wait, what? What else is there to take?”

Dutch reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded letter, swiftly handin’ it to me as he explained its contents.

“I received a letter from Trelawny. He said he’s stayin’ in Saint Denis right now. Might’ve overheard a tip that could help us out.”

Scanning the message, I quietly muttered the words out to myself as my eyes scrolled down the page.

“...a high-stakes Poker game on a riverboat...” I jolted my head up. “You sure about this, Dutch? I don’t doubt that there’ll be lots of money, but do we even have the time to plan for something like this? We’re already livin’ on borrowed time as is. We need to move.”

“You said it yourself,” he countered. “Ain’t nothing valuable in Annesburg or Van Horn. If we don’t wanna show up there empty-handed, we’ve got to take this opportunity while we have the chance. We got no choice. Trust me on this, Arthur. It’s worth it. And besides, if there’s anyone in the gang who can play Poker and blend in with high society at the same time, it’s Eddie. This is perfect for him.”

I sighed in defeat, finally giving in to Dutch’s plan.

“...Alright. What d’you need me to do?”

Dutch took a step towards me, gesturing inside the manor with his cigar.

“Take Eddie, go to Saint Denis tomorrow, and meet with Trelawny. Talk with him. Stay the night if you have to. Just get as much info as you can about this riverboat party. We’ll hit it the moment we’re ready, and then leave this place as soon as we have the money.”

Folding the letter, I shoved it into my satchel and complied, reluctantly goin’ along with this idea.

“If you think that’s what’s best.”

The other man seemed satisfied. “I do, son. I do. And so will you. You just need to have faith. After all...” Dutch took one last drag on his cigar and put it out, sauntering back inside as the sun climbed the sky, “...what else have we got?”