His Cure

A Fork in the Road

"Arthur?" I asked as I turned back to face him. "I'm... fine..." he wheezed out through coughs. "No you ain't. Sit down." I insisted as I took his arm and walked towards his tent before sitting him down on the bed.
He continued to wheeze as he struggled for oxygen and a horrible feeling came over me... like this was the start of something really, really bad.
"Shit, are you okay?" I asked as I knelt down in front of him, worry filling my body. My heart jumped as he continued to cough but this time, with a lot of blood.
"Shit..." I muttered as I pulled my bandana out of my pocket and handed it to him to use. "Im... fine..." he wheezed out but I didn't believe him for a second. "No you ain't, Morgan. You need to see a doctor." I insisted as the coughing began to subside. "I am. Really." He replied but I could tell he was lying. "For gods sake, Morgan. Would you quit it with the denial? Somethings clearly wrong!" I exclaimed as I looked at him. "It won't help." He replied as he wiped the blood from around his mouth. "Yes it will, Morgan. I know that you don't thi—" I began but he cut me off. "No, Liz. It won't help cause... I've already seen a doctor..." "You have...?" I asked, confused. "What did he say?" I asked as I went to put my hand on his cheek but he quickly pulled away which surprised me. He never did that.
"Don't... get too close." He replied as he stood up and took a step away from me. "What? Why?" I asked as the intense dread I was feeling began to fill my entire body. "I don't want you to catch it..." he replied with a sad look. "What is it, Arthur?" I questioned as I went to take a step towards him but he took another step back. "I don't want to worry you." "Well, you ARE worrying me, Arthur. What is it?" I repeated. "It ain't nothing good." He said with a sigh which caused me to roll my eyes. "Stop avoiding the question and tell me, Morgan." I instructed. "I don't want to worry you... I know you've had... experience with it..." he replied which made my heart drop down into my stomach as my mind flickered back to my mother. It couldn't be...
"Tell me..." I muttered as I stared him dead in the eyes. "Liz... listen..." he began but I quickly cut him off. "Now, Morgan!" I exclaimed, getting sick of asking.
"I... I got... I got TB." He hesitantly replied as he looked at the ground.
TB or it's full name, Tuberculosis, was a name I knew all too well. When I was younger, many people in my tribe came down with it, including my mother, and not one of them survived. It was a word that always sent chills down my spine when I heard it. If someone gets TB... they don't survive. I watched what it did to my mother over the months she had it and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. It changes you... seeing someone you care about so much dying... slowly. Watching helplessly as their health slowly declines, leaving them a shell of their former self. Being forced to be a useless onlooker as the relentless disease steals every single part of them you know. Wishing for a miracle as the ones you love are tortured from the inside out, condition worsening with each passing day as they slowly reach their agonising demise. Forcing themselves into isolation and alienating themselves from society at the trepidation that they may corrupt the ones around them with their monstrous illness. While the people they love most are yearning for some sort of supernatural occurrence to heal them or finally put them out of their misery, leaving friends and family grief-stricken both before and after they perish.
My heart instantly began to race at an alarming pace as I stared back at the man in front of me, in complete disbelief. "W... what...?" I finally stammered out after a long period of silence. "Tuberculosis." He added as he continued to make eye contact with the ground. I felt my body begin to shake as my hands dropped to my sides. There was no way... No. "No..." I croaked out. "I'm sorry." He replied hoarsely and I felt my heart break further. HE was apologising to ME...?
My breathing sped up to compensate for my extremely fast heart rate as I felt a single tear drip down my cheek. No. This couldn't be happening! Not again!
"Liz..." he began as he took a step forward, as if he was going to hug me but then decided against it, desperately trying to keep me from becoming infected. I just shook my head as I continued to stare at him in disbelief. "Say something." He added after I'd been silent for a substantial amount of time. "I..." I began, not exactly sure what TO say. As no words came out, I just closed my eyes and shook my head before quickly walking towards him and kissing him as another tear dripped down my cheek.
"Elizabeth! Don't do that, you idiot! You'll catch it." He stated in shock but I didn't listen. "I won't." I croaked out as I kissed him again.
"Please, Liz. I wouldn't forgive myself if I gave it to you." "You won't. I promise." I whispered as I continued to kiss him, savouring every moment I had with him. By this point, tears began streaming down my face. "Liz! You ain't invincible. Cut it out!" He exclaimed as he pushed me back. I knew he was just trying to protect me but... it still hurt. The truth was, no, I wasn't invincible but I knew for a fact that there was no chance of me catching it off of him.
I sobbed slightly as I looked at the ground. "Don't cry..." he tried to comfort me as he began to get emotional but nothing that he could say was going to help. "Please... I can't comfort you... I can't come near you." He added as I continued to cry. "I can't get it, Arthur!" I shouted as my emotions took over. "What are you talking about...?" He asked, clearly confused. "I'm immune..." I sobbed as I took a step towards him, wishing he would hug me. "What...?" He questioned as he continued to stare at me. "I... you... I..." I stuttered out as I wasn't sure what to say.
"Fuck it. Come here." He said as he stepped forwards and pulled me into a tight hug.
[Arthur's thoughts: She'd already kissed me, if she was gonna get it then she already had it. I couldn't just leave her standing there crying.]
***
As we laid on his bed, my head on his chest after I had calmed down, my thoughts raced. I saw what my mother had gone through and I refused to believe that the same was going to happen to him... please don't let the same thing happen to him.
We sat in silence for an extremely long time, just being with each other. He stroked my hair as my head was against his chest and the sound of his heart beat was weirdly calming.
How did everything go so wrong? It feels like only yesterday I was waking up in that tent with my hands tied behind my back as Dutch ordered me to give him my name...
Sean... Kieran... Hosea... Lenny... Molly.... When was it going to stop? Would it stop? Or will this pattern of violence ending in death continue until every single one of us are underneath a headstone?
I thought back to the night after Micah came back. The party. Sean and Karen flirting, me and Lenny dancing, Hosea cracking jokes, Dutch and Molly dancing... Arthur and me sat by the river throwing stones and creating ripples... It all seemed so far away now. We had no idea what was coming. I had no idea what was coming.
How the hell did I end up here? In the arms of an extremely dangerous outlaw? How different would my life have been if Charles hadn't found me that day in the forest? Would I still be alone? Would I be with a different gang? There was no use reminiscing on what life could have been. It doesn't change here and now... but, what now? Dutch says he has a plan but all of his plans have ended in demise so far. He says to have faith but it's hard to have faith in a man who has clearly lost himself to madness. It seems as if he's becoming the very thing he swore to destroy. They say that blood is thicker than water but gold is thicker than both of those things... Greed, it really is an American virtue, but virtue unearned is not virtue. It always comes with a sacrifice although in Dutch's case the sacrifice comes from the expense of others and rarely himself.
My father always taught me not to trust everything you see, even salt looks like sugar. Maybe the Van Der Lindes were the salt we all saw as sugar. We only ever really seem to see the things we want to, it's like our mind blacks out the parts that would cause too much suffering as a way of protecting us, but if you open your eyes and see everything in front of you, you'll find the dark, morbid truth. The deep, honest, truth. Most will try and pretend. Pretend they don't see it. They'll look away from the truth, I know that I myself am guilty of that crime. It takes the most heartbreaking, life ruining, most harrowing experience for us to finally open our eyes and see the disturbing truth. The truth that we aren't living. We're surviving. But you should never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to stay alive. There's no such thing as 'innocent'. We're all guilty of something, but for some, they carry more guilt than most.
Dutch continued to make an abhorrent amount of mistakes but we still blindly followed him. He's hurt so many people but we continue to stay loyal to him, but... how many scars have we justified because we loved the one holding the knife?
My mind flickered back to Molly. She was the reason Hosea and Lenny were dead but... I wasn't angry. I wasn't happy she was dead but I also wasn't sad. Love did that to her. I don't blame Molly. I blame Dutch. He drove her into the arms of the Pinkertons. In the past, when I'd been laying in my tent trying to fall asleep, I could sometimes hear them arguing. I could hear the abuse Dutch spurted at her as she tried to retaliate. You could tell that she truly loved him but, for Dutch, it seemed he was more interested in controlling her, having power over her just like he did with everything else. And sadly all those years of manipulation and toxicity drove her into a crazed state. She snapped. All because of love. If that's what it does to a person then I hope I never fall in love... but, as I fell asleep with my arms wrapped around Arthur, I developed a worrisome feeling that I already had...