Wait. {Arthur Morgan x Reader}

Bittersweet

Grief.

It's a curious thing it is. You know that our time on this lump of rocks is limited, and eventually all of us will end up underneath it, never to wake again. And yet it still doesn't feel real when it happens to someone you know.

This world is indeed full of peril and anguish, and in it are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair and beautiful. And maybe that anguish merged with such a beauty can create something even more extraordinary.

I do not mean that it is easy or assured; there are stubborn stumps of shame and self-loathing that will remain just as it is for years to come.

And because of that; simplicity, patience and compassion will be your three greatest treasures in this lifetime, not any form of rock or paper growing on this earth that has somehow gained some sort of value to us.

It had been three days since William was killed in his own home.

Watching the sun fall and rise at the edge of the dock had become some form of hobby to you. Maybe staring at the clouds for long enough would give you a sign that William had not left this earth for good. You were still waiting for a sign.

Anything would've been acceptable; a ripple in the water, a sudden gleam of a single ray of sunlight, or just a distinctive gust of wind. But there was nothing.

"(Y/N)?" Micah chirps at the start of the dock, leaning against one of the wooden poles.

You turn your head every so slightly over your shoulder to look at him from your peripheral vision. You couldn't stomach to look the man in the face.

"Is there something that you want?" You say sharply and he lets out a blow of air.

"I'm sorry, Miss." he says and walks slowly to your side. The scent of pine and whiskey quickly invade your nostrils, you turn your head in the opposite direction. "He pulled his gun on us, what was I to do?"

"Perhaps pull your gun as well, and perhaps don't let your itchy trigger finger get the better of you." You scold, finally whipping your head towards him. "I may not have been in love with William, but he was with me. And you took the chance of me ever making up my selfishness towards him away." You could hear the baritone of your own voice falter and your eyesight quickly became blinded with forming tears. To not give Mr. Bell the satisfaction of seeing you fall at his desperate and impulsive actions, you walk off of the dock in the process of speaking. "To think Dutch speaks so highly of you."

Micah follows suit, close behind you. "He speaks so highly of me because I get things done." He seemed to have dropped the 'let's just get along' act. His voice was now covered in a thick layer of pungent embitterment. "I didn't think it would matter so much to you now that you're sweet on Arthur again."

You turn to face him again, taking a few steps closer to him but he stands his ground. You press your index finger to the middle of his chest, "You are a murderer Micah Bell. One day you will be seen as such, and not just to me."

Johns hand suddenly lays on your shoulder, "(Y/N), you've made your point." He says quietly but you pull your shoulder away from him scornfully.

"I don't think I have," you say without looking at John. "Think and say whatever you damn well please about my relationship with Arthur, but if you keep testing my limits I will shoot you square between the eyes before you even get a chance to blink, boy."

"Is that so?" He tests, you could see his hand was already hovering above his knife. "Keep hissing at me and see where that gets you, princess."

Every time he opened his mouth you became angrier, you should've just swallowed your pride and listened to John but part of you refused to allow him to have any sort of empowerment in his actions. Your teeth gritted in an effort to remain silent but they slipped open, "Come near me and I will slice you up," you warn but Micah grabs onto the varnish of his blade. Without giving him the opportunity to pull it on you, you jerk your elbow into his nose, pushing him back a few steps as you pull the knife from him, pointing the tip of the blade at his throat.

John grabs onto your waist securely and pulls you back from Micah, "Drop the damn knife (Y/N)! The hell are you doin'?"

You try kicking out at John to break free but he holds you tightly, "I'm doing the same thing he did to my husband!" William pulled a gun on Dutch, Micah shot him. Micah almost pulled his knife on you, it was your turn to stab him.

His nose was a bloody mess, smashed right into his face yet he stood before you, smiling smugly. "I shot your husband, didn't stab him." He sneers as he wipes at his nose.

You lunged forward but John still kept his grip, "You shut your goddamn mouth!" You continue to kick at John like a cornered coyote, "Ain't you sick of his shit too? Just let me-"

"No!" He tells, "This is not the way we handle things, you know that." He gets more tense while you continue to swing at Micah, desperate to get another shot at him.

"She's got a little temper to her," Micah laughs as he gazes at John, "I like that in a woman." He pulls at the front of his trousers and John glares at him, turning his back to Micah and keeping you in front of him.

"Shut the hell up and get outta here, Micah. You done enough," he demands and Micah continues to hold his smug grin across his face.

"See ya later, sweetheart." He taunts and walks towards camp and away from the shoreline.

"You gotta keep your head, (Y/N). Aint we lost enough?" John asks as he lets go of you, trying his best to keep you level headed.

You cross your arms, "What kind of loss would Micah Bell be?"

"She's got a point," Arthur chimes in as he walks over, "You shoulda let her stab him."

You look at Arthur as he stands beside you. It was shocking to hear that he was on your side on this one. Micah clearly was not loved among the gang like some of the other members. "Thank you." You mutter.

"We got bigger issues to worry about," John says and looks between the pair of you. "When you're feeling up to it, we could use your help with them Grays (Y/N)." He adds and walks towards a tree stump nearby with a few logs and an axe beside it.

"I'm sorry about Micah, I'd like to say he ain't usually like this but you know I never been a good liar." Arthur jests and leads you to a log near the water, sitting on it with a grunt.

You sit beside him, "What does Dutch keep him around for?" You ask, it wasn't to be snarky, it was a genuine question. You'd been back all but ten minutes and the man had already ruined so much of your life.

Arthur reared back in laughter, "I ask myself that every day, Miss."

"Arthur?"

"Hm?"

You looked solemnly into his blue orbs, only to be enchanted by them yet again. "It's my fault aint it? That William's dead. It was my decision to go there and he-" you couldn't finish that sentence. "I got the only man that ever loved me killed."

He seemed taken aback at your words but he put his hand on your knee, "We don't always get to make choices. We just do what we do. Sometimes people die, and it's not our fault." He recognizes a look of anguish on your face at his touch and he pulls his hand away, but you already miss the heat of his palm. "I'm sorry, for hurting you in any way that I did before. But it's impossible to live life without causing some sorta pain. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if I coulda caused a little less."

He couldn't possibly be blaming himself, could he?

"Whatever it is that I still can't fix, you have to hear that I'm sorry." He finishes and without letting you react or speak, he cups his hand around the back of your head and pulls your temple to his lips.