Here's a little excerpt (unrelated to this story) about how I like to think things went after Arthur's final scene on the mountain.. :,(
❦
Arthur steps up upon the train platform, his spurs clicking with every step on the shiny pearl floor of the station. It occurs to him, as he glances around, that everything he sees is a blinding, alabaster, white. The platform, the tracks, the sky and ground, and a bench, just a few metres ahead of him.
On the bench, a man sits, wearing an all white suit, contrasting against his weathered skin and dark grey hair.
"H-Hosea.." Arthur walks forward.
"Arthur, my boy." The man greets him with a calm, all too familiar, smile that nearly brings Arthur to his knees.
Arthur had missed that smile. He missed the very nature of order the older man had brought to their wild lifestyle.
"No need for sorrow anymore, Arthur," Hosea pats the bench next to himself, gesturing for the younger man to sit.
"I—I'm dead, ain't I?" Arthur tentatively sits next to the man he had always loved as a father.
"Yes, son. They sent me to pick you up." Hosea continues to smile calmly, although there is a hint of sadness to his eyes.
"They?"
"Well everyone else of course," Hosea chuckles, "Rest of the gangs waiting for us."
Arthur turns away and stares out to the white pearl ground. His soul still feeling troubled and guilty.
"Arthur, you did right you know.. in the end." Hosea senses the other mans weariness.
"I'm not so sure." Arthur sighs.
He tried to make things right in the end, knowing he didn't have much time left to do so.
But he still can't shake the heaviness of all the wrongs he had done, despite doing everything he possibly could in his final days to right them.
Leave it to Arthur Morgan, a man, even as a spirit on the way to heaven, who still can't see himself as a good one.
"I tried.."
"You saved John and his family," Hosea smiles, "You may also have been the only man I ever knew to distribute what little you had left to those in need, without expecting as much as a look of gratitude."
"I was dyin' anyway" Arthur shrugs, still staring at his boots.
"You did right, Arthur." Hosea insists, "and you know you did. Give yourself some credit for once."
Arthur stays silent for a moment thinking about Hosea's words. He really did everything he possibly could to make things right. He saved John, out of love, he helped the Indians, Brother Dorkins, Sister Calderón, Charlotte, and a few others, out of respect. But one he was having trouble with..
"Mrs. Downes.." Arthur whispers the name, seeing the woman and her son in his mind.
Another silence follows.
"Son, forgiveness is very important in finding inner peace." Hosea speaks up, "I know in my heart and soul, that Mrs. Downes will forgive you and your memory, quite honestly I think the boy already has.. they will find peace.."
Arthur frowns, although, finds himself nodding his head at Hosea's words. Hosea was always able to talk sense into the most stubborn of men.
"Everyone else has and will.. it's your turn, now, to forgive yourself, son."
Arthur closes his eyes tight. Taking a deep, shaky, breath as a tear falls down his cheek.
Can you forgive yourself?
The question whirls in his mind until he takes a second deep breath, nodding his head subconsciously.
A faint whistle blows in the distance as a massive, ivory steam engine approaches the platform. As it finally nears the station, it stops in front of the bench with a hiss.
"I'm so very proud of you, you know?" Hosea smiles as he stands up to greet the train. "It's time for us to watch.. look over those who need it.. Come on, now, lets go home."
The day is done, the time has come You battled hard, the war is won You did your worst You tried your best Now it's time to rest
❦
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
