Bad Blood // Micah Bell (Red Dead Redemption 2 Story)

23 - Drowned

A/N Bit of a long one but i hope u enjoy nonetheless. Warning, it is slightly dark and grim so read on with caution.

Also, if you enjoy this story please comment and vote, give me some predictions that u think might happen and blah blah blah. also, sorry if there's an spelling mistakes. I wrote this at 4.44am and i am very tired. Thanks!

Micah woke up the next morning, his head pounding tremendously as the hangover took over his body. He opened his eyes weakly and lifted himself up, resting on his elbows as he stared out of his tent.

Suddenly, last nights events hit him like horse and groaned in frustration, collapsing back down in his cot and rubbing his face in his hands. He was very drunk and very stupid.

He sat up, fully this time and slung his shirt on, pulling on his boots before stepping out of his tent. His eyes automatically landed on Natasha's tent and he made his way over without even hesitating. However, as he expected, she wasn't there.

He leaned against the beam, his eyes just staring into the tent until they landed on his jacket. In all honesty, he had forgotten she still had it but it was folded neatly on the chair by her bed. He stared at it before turning his back and grabbing a bowl of stew and devouring it in a matter of seconds. Throwing the bowl onto the floor, knowing one of the girls will clean up after him, he surveyed the camp, noticing most people were still asleep and he was up surprisingly early. He hardly remembers getting up off the floor and dragging himself to bed after she had kicked him which made him grimace at the pain once more.

He glanced towards the horses and noticed Caprice was gone who usually stood by his own horses, Baylock.

He was a man of few regrets but he regretted upsetting and offending Natasha. He didn't know what came over him or what even possessed him to grab her and blurt out the truth about the letter. Angry at himself, he made his way back to his tent, grabbed his gun belt before mounting up on Baylock.

A part of him wishes he would stumble across her, just peacefully camping or inside a store of some kind but another part of him wishes they would never cross paths again. He didn't know if he could face her and deal with the abuse from camp when word gets out about what he did. He had a tough shell and could insult anybody no matter the age, gender or race. However, he couldn't take the insults himself.

He rode out of camp quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to himself and he immediately ended up riding along the shore, finding it appropriate to clear his mind and possibly seeing a tent with her in it, just so he knew she was alright.

He hated the fact he cared about her. He cared about nobody until he started speaking to her. She was different from any other woman, she was kind, calm (most of the time) and humble, something he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't any of them.

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Natasha walked down by a stream, deciding that fishing would take her mind off yesterday's events. She was furious and beyond that. She felt betrayed from a man, who she found herself starting to trust from her own stupid judgement and was betrayed by him. It wasn't even that deep about what he did but it was her private letter. Her Auntie was the only possible family she had left and he had lied to her for weeks. She pieced together when he took the letter and that made her even more sick knowing it was the night they camped together and she had pretty much looked after him after she herself got shot.

She reeled in a blue gill, inspecting the size before throwing it back seeing as it could barely even feed a child let alone a hungry camp.

She placed her fishing rod away on Caprice's saddle and grabbed the brush before starting to groom his mane, cooing softly in his ear as he gets slightly spooked by some birds flying out of a large tree.