LAST CHANCE → sean macguire ✔

three , two

They arrived at the first holding place just before sundown. Willa couldn't look around without spotting a guard. They weren't that important, were they? Just two outlaws-- It wasn't like they had the infamous Dutch Van der Linde in their clutches. Yet.

A loud clap made Willa jump, and the snake-like voice laughed.

"A little jumpy are we, Miss Grant? No need to fret-- there's an army here." Milton leaned close to her, picking at the edges of her mind. He wanted her to snap so he could label her as unstable, like the rest of the crazies.

"I've never been a fan of the dark, but you're right... I feel much better with an army between me and the darkness." She smiled, though there was no feeling in it. Just straight broken glass, sure to cut if you got too close. Milton's smile curled even more.

"You're an interesting one, Miss Grant. Still so headstrong after watching the only one you love get shot down like nothing. How does it feel?" He touched the side of her head, where the cut from Ross's gun was, and she jerked away from the him, "Stings, doesn't it? Unfortunate." He shoved his glove back on, not breaking eye contact with her for a minute.

"Drop dead." She hissed. Milton pursed his lips, glancing between her and John.

Then he turned on his heel, "Lock them up. Ride out at dawn and get them off my soil. Let's see how your little friends get you out of this one." He waved as he went and Willa was shoved towards the small building.

"What a dick." John mumbled and Willa snorted.

"Don't talk." One of the guards grumbled. He looked and sounded too young for this job. Maybe sixteen? Willa watched him for a long time, picking out every detail of his face. He was definitely around Libbie's age, and his skin looked soft and unmarked. He caught her staring and his cheeks flushed a bright red colour.

"Murphy, you guard the cells. Don't let them talk. We'll be right outside, setting up camp. Ya got that?" A bigger man stood in front of them. His voice was deep and rough, and a long beard sprouted from his cheeks.

"Y-yes, sir. I'll keep them in check." The kid answered.

"Good. Maybe you're not a waste..." The older man left and Murphy placed his hand on his holstered revolver.

"Get inside." Willa pretended like she didn't hear his voice crack and nodded to John. This was a surprise to Murphy-- he had entirely believed that they would take one look at him and laugh. No one listened to him, so why would they? But he was left to stare after them as they marched up the stairs and into the small holding jail. Willa pressed her back against the door, holding it open.

"Ya comin'?"

They were put in cells across from each other and Willa could tell that the kid was shocked... And maybe even intrigued. If they played their cards right, they might just make it out.

"How old are you?" Her voice was soft. Murphy glanced at her, frowning slightly.

"I was told to keep you silent. I've heard about your gang's silver-tongues."

Willa almost laughed, "Dutch has the silver tongue. He's like a snake and could talk his way outta anythin'." She sat back against the wall, looking to John. Murphy hesitated, then sighed.

"I'm sixteen." He admitted. Genuine surprise passed over Willa's features and something seemed to shift in the boy's eyes.

"How long have you been a... Soldier?" Willa leaned forward. Murphy shrugged.

"A couple months? I, uh... My father is a Sergeant and he made me join. I didn't really want to-- i-i... I don't like fighting." He sighed again, averting his gaze. Something akin to shame passed over his features. John closed his eyes and pressed his head to the wall.

"Heh... My son could learn a thing or two from you." His voice sounded distant and Willa guessed that Jack and Abigail were all he was thinking about. Murphy's eyes were wide with surprise.

"You people have families in those gangs?" He gasped. Willa couldn't help but smile.

"Well, yeah. We aren't monsters, ya know. Well... Mostly. We have families, we love," John paused and glanced at Willa when he said that, "We're just like anyone else, but we still want to be free."

Willa pursed her lips, fighting back the lump in her throat. A sudden onslaught of memories had painted themselves in her head and she was fighting against the urge to burst open right there.

"But... You kill people. Innocent people." Murphy's voice was quiet now. He seemed to have dropped all his rules and was letting himself get to know them.

"We don't kill innocent people. We kill people who deserve it. Sometimes innocent people get caught up in the mess, but we try to spare anyone who is innocent. Women and children, the men who don't fight back... Everyone we kill has a family, and it just takes knowing that to humanize you and put you in their shoes." Willa spoke up. Murphy sat cross-legged on the floor.

"If you're an outlaw, why do you want your son to not fight? Isn't that what comes with the life of an outlaw?" Murphy inquired, looking at John. This kid was full of questions.

John opened his eyes, "I don't want him to be an outlaw. I want him to grow up like any other kid, with friends and school and just... Be a kid. I want him to have the chance I didn't get."

"Most of us didn't choose this life. We were forced into it. Family was a big influence, others were on the run because of oppression or revenge. Everyone has a story, and they aren't always what you've been taught."

Murphy looked between each outlaw. Maybe they were just sweet talking him, but he didn't really care. He knew they would be hung soon. Their families would miss them. Everyone we kill has a family.

"How'd you become an outlaw." He asked the girl. She smiled sadly, picking at her pants.

"I, uh... I met this guy at the saloon in Valentine. You ever been there?" She looked up for a split second, and he could see her eyes were glazed with tears, "It's a shitty town full of shitty people, but we ran into one of the shittiest. He always challenged me-- always wanted to best me. I probably scared him, since I'm a girl who can beat him in basically anything. Well, this guy I met... His name was..." She closed her eyes.

"Go on." Murphy urged her. She didn't look up, just sniffled.

"His name was Sean. Some cocky Irish bastard who drank with me for a bit, but then the shitty-man started a fight with me. Sean had my back and it was us against three guys. Completely unfair. We kicked their asses... But, uh... One guy got me down and my only options was the knife beside me. I... I killed him, then I was a wanted woman for murder." She sighed.

Willa swiped her hands across her cheeks, whisking her tears away as quickly as possible.

"What happened to... Sean?"

Willa's stomach flipped in a complete circle. The image of his blood, fountaining out behind him, and his body crumpling to the ground replayed in her mind. She closed her eyes and sucked in a quick breath as hot tears slipped down her cheeks.

"We were robbing a bank earlier. It's how we got caught, but, uh... Me and another gang member got caught and used against the gang, who were hiding out in the bank. Milton killed the other person and he was going to kill me, but... Sean stopped him. He shot Sean instead, then took me here," She was barely holding back her breakdown, "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Murphy knew they had to be tricking him. They were outlaws and talking their way out of death was one of their best skills, next to fighting their way out of death.

He knew he shouldn't care, but there wasn't a monster in front of him right now. There were two human beings, scarred and pained with their pasts. They hadn't chose this life.

Willa looked up when the kid sighed loudly, then something jingled. The jingle was familiar and her stomach seized.

"Let's get you home."