An Unfortunate Face (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

(25.) Home, At Last

Two weeks. Three weeks. A month.

No one else had returned since Charles and John.

"They'll be back in a few days..."

No one had any idea where the rest of the gang could be, if they were even alive. You didn't want to think about it.

"You're thinkin' too much again," sighed Abigail as she swept dirt from the rotting porch.

"I know," you sighed quietly, closing your eyes and furrowing your eyebrows together. "They should've been back weeks ago, Abigail, it—it ain't like they're a few days behind schedule. It's been a—it's been a month."

"Somethin' tells me they're still alive. You just gotta hope, y/n, that's all you can do. But no amount of worryin' ever got anybody anywhere. Go wash with the ladies, or sweep with me...just somethin' to get your mind off things."

You nodded and rubbed your hands together in a soothing manner. It had felt like a century since you'd last seen Arthur, oh...Arthur—what you would give just to see him again, alive and unharmed.

You found yourself drifting towards the old stump being used for firewood chopping. It might help relieve a little stress, calm you down.

As you picked up the axe you remembered the first time you'd gone on a real mission with Arthur. That old bounty Benedict Albright with his silly snake oil potions. You'd wanted nothing to do with Arthur that day, and even for a little after that...oh, how things had changed.

You sent your arms downward over the wood and split it in half. The feeling was familiar and the hard wood let you take out quite a bit of anger in the process.

***

A heavy fist slammed into Arthur's stomach and he keeled over in his chair, hands tied tightly behind his back.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time. Who are you!?" The man asked, switching between Spanish and English.

"I already told you, my name...is Leviticus...Cornwall..."

Another punch to the stomach made Arthur cringe and feel sick enough to puke. The man's hands grabbed Arthur by the shirt and started to pat him down for any valuables.

"I didn't want to rob you...but you make things hard for me."

His hand reached into Arthur's breast pocket and pulled out that same beautiful photo of you he loved so much.

He couldn't believe it wasn't ruined. It should've been waterlogged, or ripped up, or—"

"This your woman?" The man asked, holding up the photo in delight. "She's very pretty—"

Arthur tried to kick his legs out in an attempt to escape but he was too restrained to move at all.

The man laughed and threw the photo to the ground. If Arthur wasn't angry before, he was now.

He turned around to deal with another prisoner and Arthur began rocking his chair to the left, and then the right until then he fell over, snapping the brittle chair.

Using his arms, Arthur choked the man from behind. Once he was down, Arthur grabbed your photo and the knife adorning his enemy's belt.

He set the other prisoners free, holding his abdomen in pain. He'd gotten in fights before, but at least then he'd had a fair chance. He hasn't gotten this bruises in a long time.

"Thank you," one said, handing him a repeater. "You will need this."

Arthur nodded and slung the gun over his shoulder, biting back a hiss as his sunburned skin rubbed against the leather.