Aaliyah's Redemption: Bound by Fate ***DISCONTINUED, READ DESCRIPTION***

Chapter XIV

The moon casted a pale light over Horseshoe Overlook, illuminating the damp ground from the earlier storm. Aaliyah stirred in Arthur's tent, her sleep relentless, her mind drifting back to thoughts of him. She was worried, though she wouldn't admit it. The number of O'Driscoll's compared to the Van der Linde gang weighed on her thoughts. The O'Driscoll's were known for their numbers, while Dutch's gang valued individual strength.

The sound of horses approaching pulled her from her slumber. She sat up quickly, her heart racing as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. In the distance, two figures emerged—Charles and Sean, returning from whatever business they'd been on. Aaliyah hadn't met them personally yet, but she'd heard of them. After they dismounted, she spotted John riding up, and finally, just behind him, Arthur.

Relief washed over her.

Arthur dismounted Maverick slowly, noticeably favouring one side, his posture hunched. It was clear he was hurt. Aaliyah threw the blanket off her legs and stood, feeling the cool night air against her skin as she watched him walk towards her.

"I'm sorry, Miss Grimshaw said you wouldn't be back until morning," she whispered softly.

Arthur waved her concern off. "Came home earlier, it's fine. Don't apologise," he said, his voice low to avoid waking the camp.

As he lowered himself onto his bed with a grunt, Aaliyah moved closer, her eyes scanning him, worry etched on her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, sitting beside him.

Arthur winced as he shifted, clutching his abdomen. "Think a bullet got me," he muttered, his voice tight with pain. "Too dark to tell."

Without hesitation, Aaliyah reached out. "Let me take a look."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. "You even know what you're doing?"

She shot him a sharp look. "Do you want my help or not?"

Arthur chuckled softly, but the movement made him grimace. "Alright, alright." He fumbled with his shirt, but Aaliyah stopped him, her hands more deft than his in this state. She unbuttoned his shirt halfway, her fingers brushing over his skin as she worked. His sharp intake of breath was more from the pain than anything else.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice gentle as her fingertips found the bullet wound. Her other hand pressed lightly around it, searching for an exit hole. Arthur tensed but didn't pull away.

"Ran into some men," he said vaguely, though his tone was enough to let her know it had been bad.

She reached into his satchel for the bottle of whiskey she knew would be there. "Always so vague, Mr Morgan," she muttered, her voice tinged with sarcasm as she poured the whiskey over the wound. Arthur hissed through clenched teeth, his hand tightening into a fist.

"You enjoyin' this, Miss Stephens?" he rasped, trying to hide a smirk even through the pain.

Aaliyah shot him a playful look. "I'd never enjoy hurting you." She worked quickly, her fingers steady as she cleaned the wound. The needle and thread she'd found nearby by were heated with a match, and she began to sew him up with surprising care and precision .

Arthur tensed under her touch but remained quiet, his body rigid as she finished stitching him up. "There," she said softly, patting the area dry with what was left of a cloth. "Does it feel better?"

Arthur leaned back, exhaling through the pain. "Feels like you had fun there," he joked, his voice rough but light.

Aaliyah couldn't help but smirk. "You're going to need a new shirt." Her eyes drifted don to the torn blood-stained fabric clinging to his body.

Arthur glanced at the damage and shrugged. "By the time the girls wash it and sew it, it'll be fine."

"In order for the wound to not get infected, it needs to be covered," she corrected, moving to the chest at the foot of his bed. She rummaged through it, pulling out a black shirt. "And you need a shirt that doesn't have a hole in it."

He watched her, confused, as she returned with the clean shirt. "You know, resting helps with healing," she said, her tone tinged with mock chastisement as she began unbuttoning the rest of his ruined shirt.

Arthur grunted in response. "And why don't you rest?" His gaze was steady, curious, as he watched her work.

"I don't need rest," she murmured, focused on her task. She slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and carefully pulled the blood-soaked shirt from his body. Her eyes traced the lines of his chest and shoulders before she quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming. She didn't realise she'd been staring until Arthur let out a low chuckle.

"My shoulder's just fine, darlin'," he teased, clearly amused by her flustered state. His smirk grew as he watched her face turn bright red.

Aaliyah quickly busied herself with helping him into the fresh shirt, avoiding his gaze. "I-I should go," she stammered, embarrassment flooding her as she fumbled with the buttons. Arthur's smirk didn't fade, but he said nothing, simply watching her.

With her task done, she stood abruptly, her eyes darting to the horizon where the sky was beginning to lighten with the pink hues of dawn. "I'll check on you later," she mumbled, quickly retreating from the tent.

Arthur watched her leave, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. The pain still throbbed, but for the first time that night, it wasn't the only thing on his mind.