LAST CHANCE → sean macguire ✔

two , one

The pair crested the hill side-by-side. They immediately noticed that something was off-- so eerily silent. It wasn't exactly early, probably a few hours from noon, so the quietness of the homestead was... Off.

Willa pulled Horaz short, scanning the place where she had grown up. She winced as the stitches in her side pulled.

"It's so... Quiet." She breathed.

"Is it... Is it supposed to be?" Sean looked around, a tight frown on his lips. Willa shook her head, which was barely perceptible as motion. Her lips parted and tore apart every detail before her. Something bright caught her eye this time and she slipped off of Horaz, narrowing her eyes at the bright object.

When she got closer to this stark contrasting object, she noticed that it was her mother's laundry basket and the bright colours were the clothes, now strewn across the dirt like discarded flags. Willa's breath caught and she closed her eyes.

The only ever time that her mother had dropped the laundry basket was when her father was leaving. The rain had been the picking up that night, so Willa and her mother went to get the clothes off of the line before they got soaked.

He came riding in when the first raindrops hit Willa's nose. She remembered the way she shivered as the raindrops soaked her hair and clothes, sparking her hatred of rain.

Her father caught her mother's arms. They were talking quietly so the rain would drown them out, but Willa wasn't dumb. Young, but not yet dumb.

Her mother was crying, or maybe it was the rain. Whatever the case, Willa's father crouched down in front of her, smiling like he always did. He was a good man then, but he was going to do very bad things. He wouldn't come back, "... to protect you." Then he settled his hat atop her head. It was too big, but Willa would grow into it.

"I want you to follow your heart, my little gunslinger. If you're lost, just look up and know that I believe in you, wherever we are," He was crying, too, "You're so much more than I ever imagined possible... Take care of your mother."

Willa didn't quite get it, so she said the first thing that popped into her mind, "Shoot the bad guys, daddy." And he shattered, pulling her close to him and sobbing. Willa hugged him back.

"Shoot the bad guys, my little gunslinger."

Will fingered the leather strap on her hat, sniffling. Sean put his hand on her arm.

"The Pinkertons--" he sighed, failing to find the right words. Instead of continuing, though, he handed a piece of paper to her. Fine printing was scrawled across the curled thing.

"Dear Miss Grant. We've never met, but I did meet your father once. Interesting fellow. An outlaw, though, so a cursed man by default. I killed him a long time ago, hoping to end that line of outlaws right there, but then you come and pop out of the ground like a weed and I'm quite tired of chasing outlaws all over West Elizabeth, So I have bait. Your mother and sister are safe, of course, but that comes at a small price. I want Van der Linde-"

Willa closed her fist, crumpling the note. Red hot anger settled in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm sorry. I really am, Willa. I got ya into all t'his shit-- shit." Sean kicked at something, running his hands through his hair. And just like that, Willa's anger dissipated and she hugged him from behind, looping her arms around him like a protective shell.

"We'll get them back, even if it's just you and me against all the Pinkertons they have. Then I'll get them safe, then we're going to Tahiti with the others." She whispered.

"As long as I'm with you, love, I'd go to the end of the world."