HIS II | Arthur Morgan x Reader

Ghosts

Warning: angst

The train took no time at all, the speed of the locomotive ensuring as much distance as possible was placed between the group and Micah. It was somewhere outside of Rhodes that you had begun to feel weak, John ensured that the train never stopped, its carriages thundering through the station at full speed, much to the shock of the townsfolk who jumped back from the tracks in fear. Arthur wipes across your brow with a handkerchief for what felt like the hundredth time, wiping away the cold sweat droplets that slide down your temples.

"Abigail this ain't right, she's as white as a ghost." You hear Arthur whisper, his voice laced with worry.

You heard him but found you didn't have the energy to respond, your strength fading with each passing mile. Abigail had taken baby Alfred from your arms when you had begun to vomit, your skin turning an ashy grey as you had rolled sideways and emptied your stomach's contents onto the floor. Tris had scrambled backward, kneeling at your feet, and rubbing them gently with her tiny hands, a trick she had picked up during your pregnancy when she saw her father caressing your back soothingly as the throes of morning sickness gripped you.

Overwhelming tiredness weighed down on you and you fought to stay awake, a small ounce of worry in your head whispers that you must not fall asleep because, god forbid, might not wake up.

"Sh-she'll be fine." You hear Abigail reassure whilst rocking Alfred, but the stutter in her voice gave her away, she was just as worried as he was.  "She's tough, she will get through this." She adds more to reassure herself than anything.

You sense Arthur nodding, his hand stroking your hair gently.

"She has to, I can't do this without her."

You hear him but he seems to be miles away. You want to reach out and grab his hand to reassure him that you're fine, but you can't, instead, you feel yourself slipping. Arthur's whisper of your name turns to shouts as you drift off into a dark void, consumed by the emptiness.

"Y/n?" Arthur whispers, noticing your eyes beginning to flutter. It seemed impossible for you to lose any more color, your skin already a pale sickly tinge, but you did. Any trace of blood that was left in your skin drained away, leaving your appearance frighteningly corpse-like.

"Y/N.." he repeats, but you don't respond, he can see your breathing slowing; now barely able to catch the rise and fall of your chest.

"Y/N!" he tries again with a shake of your shoulders.

Nothing.

Fear stabs at his chest. "Y/N, c'mon!"

Jack raises his head from the front of the carriage where he sits with Tris playing a game of eye spy, Uncle Arthur's yells alert him that something serious was happening. He was young but he had sensed that something was wrong with you and so he did what he could to keep Tris entertained. When he hears his uncle's worried yells become more frantic he grabs Tris's hand, dragging her, tripping and falling behind him through the door, hoping to warn his dad to hurry up.

"Let's go see what Dad's doing." He lies, hoping he can keep her from getting scared over whatever was happening to you.

"But I was winning!" she whines, oblivious to her mother slipping away less than six feet from her.

"Well, then you won. C'mon, I'm bored, and dad might let us drive the train."

"Shit!" Abigail yells, carefully placing down Alfred in John's bundled jacket. "Shit Arthur wake her up!" she becomes hysterical, fearing it may already be too late for you.