This is a collection of one-shots that takes place in my Traveler Trilogy series.
In the Traveler Trilogy, Arthur does not die and is instead brought to the present day by Charles Smith and Francis Sinclair, who save his life by bringing him to a mo...
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2021
"Damn, it's hot," Jackson complained, leaning on a fencepost. It was June now, and one month since Arthur had come to live with Jackson and his sister. He was not quite sure how he felt about Arthur Morgan yet, but standing here in this heat with sweat dripping from his brow, he had an idea for how to make the man tick.
Arthur, from what Jackson could tell, was a quiet man. He didn't speak much, except for each night when he woke up screaming bloody murder. During his waking hours, he kept his feelings inside, responding with one-word answers and refusing to smile and laugh. When he slept, though, the man must have been plagued by nightmares so intense that they made it impossible for him to sleep. Having never been through trauma as intense as Arthur's, Jackson had no idea what it was like, so he chose to give Arthur space to cope with his demons and never disturbed him.
In spite of Arthur's obvious mental health problems, he was a decent man from what Jackson could tell, nothing like he'd been expecting. As a student of history who knew more than most about his family heritage and had done his graduate project on outlaws and gunslingers, and as a man who had literally written a widely-acclaimed book about the Van Der Linde gang, Jackson had assumed he knew everything about Arthur. He could not have been more wrong.
Arthur had so many layers Jackson doubted he'd ever get to the center of them all. He was coarse and gruff as expected, but his sarcasm and sense of humor were legendary. In fact, Arthur seemed to use it as a sort of coping mechanism to hide his inner feelings. He never seemed to open up to anyone except presumably Francis, and Tori.
Jackson hated to admit it, but the comfort Arthur exhibited around Tori made him feel white-hot with jealousy. When they'd taken Arthur in, Jackson had imagined bonding with him and having fun together, all while Arthur filled in the gaps in Jackson's research and helped him learn everything he'd ever wanted to know about Dutch's Boys. Instead, Arthur clung to Tori as if they were glued together at the hip. Most of what Jackson knew about Arthur was information he'd gleaned from her.
It wasn't that Jackson didn't make an effort to reach the man either. He scheduled movie nights with him and frequently made them both dinner, but it seemed Arthur had eyes only for Tori. When he spoke to Jackson, on the other hand, his expression was at times angry, at times sad, and at times a bit confused. It was as though the very sight of Jackson repulsed him, meanwhile Tori's presence calmed him.
It wasn't lost on Jackson that he happened to look a lot like Micah Bell. Arthur had told him as much once or twice, and upon looking at old photographs he'd found for his book, Jackson had to admit it was true. He and Micah shared the same bushy eyebrows, strong chin, and substantial gut. To Jackson, however, they weren't relics of his bastard of a great-great grandfather. They were features that reminded him of his father.
Somehow, neither he nor his sister had managed to look much like their mother. Like Tori, she'd been a very slight woman with very dark, brown hair and troubled, chocolate-brown eyes. Her time in the military had taught her to carry her posture straight and speak with a flat, harsh voice. She'd died when Tori was young, but Jackson still remembered her. She yelled a lot and had sad eyes. It wasn't until he was older that he understood why, and even now he recognized those same sad, faraway eyes on Arthur's face. Her demons were the same ones as Arthur's demons, only Jackson's mother had chosen to blow the demons out of her brain with a firearm and Arthur hadn't quite reached that point yet.
