Red Dead Redemption II [ one shots ]

At Last - A.M

I was washing my hands at the kitchen sink, gaze unfocused out the window, when I noticed the approaching rider slowly meandering up the long, dusty track. I squinted, my hand automatically reaching for my gun, I couldn't tell who it was.

I lived alone– save for the cattle, the horses, and my dog– far from town on a ranch. Left to me by my parents after their death, I'd been living here since I could remember. It was a lonely life, so far from anybody else- and thieves could be a nuisance. But I had a regular visitor that made up for it all.

Arthur Morgan, the handsome, cantankerous, wanted outlaw himself.

We'd met by chance one day, a bit of bad luck had left me stranded on the road back from town. He'd offered me a ride home, and from there it was history.
We've been together a full year, and he made it a point to visit me at least twice a month. Those stolen moments had come to mean everything to me– the days were filled with companionable conversations, that grew into long nights of passion- but there was always a steady ache in my heart when he left, the yearn for something more.
Nobody in his gang knew about us, for he feared for my safety. Arthur often said men in his line of work didn't get to love without cost, and he didn't want any of his enemies coming after me.

Pinkertons, O'Driscoll's-- you name 'em, Y/N, and I can bet they're looking to kill me. I smiled slightly, thinking of my lover's drawling speech, his accent was thick as sorghum.

Truthfully, I didn't mind his lifestyle one bit. I found the idea of that nomadic, dangerous life exciting, and the sight of Arthur in his bandana always thrilled me. He often teased me, saying I was hopeless for romanticizing the situation.

I frowned, thinking about it. The situation. Lately, his visits have been few and far between– Arthur was sick, and struggling to keep the gang out of trouble. Ever since he'd gotten ill, I'd hoped he'd leave it all behind, and just stay with me and get well again. The man was working himself into the grave trying to keep it all together, and I loved him too much to let that happen.

I tried not to nag him, only offering the advice when he asked– but I couldn't change how I felt inside every time he rode off.
I'd finally expressed all my worries about a month ago, and it had erupted into a miserable fight. Arthur had be angry, defensive– already stressed about all the problems and saying my incessant talking was making it worse. He'd stormed out in a bad temper, impatient with my weeping, and I'd been left upset.

I sighed, hand on my rifle. Since then, I'd kept a weather eye, hoping and praying to see his tall figure darkening my door again. I hope that won't be where it ends for us, I want to see him again, if only to apologize.
My gaze still trained on my unexpected visitor, I narrowed my eyes, trying to see as they came closer. There's something familiar about that hat, I thought, before gasping as I watched the figure slump, almost falling off the saddle. Arthur.

I dropped my gun, running headlong for the front door. I burst outside, kicking up dust as I ran down the path to meet him. Arthur was coughing, weakly holding onto the reins and half collapsed with exhaustion.

"Arthur!" I yelled, as I neared him, "Oh Arthur, I'm so sorry!" My eyes were filling up with tears– he looked so thin, so dirty. Not well at all.

"It's all over, Y/N, it's all done now." He gasped out between coughs, trying to swing a leg over his horse. I reached up, trying to support him as he slid off.

"I'm sorry about what I said! I'm so sorry. Come inside," I said, voice wavering. "I'll get you cleaned up–"

"I can't stay Y/N, I'm sick, I think I'm dying." His blue eyes met mine, the sorrow within them caused my tears to overflow. "I came to say goodbye, maybe hold you one more time."