#he gets there while im at work i left the lockbox out

[ungratefulbeyotchhotline]

writing stories in my head

[askjaaryl]

Episode #11: A Day Off

The boys have a day off before the expansion for Javier’s group begins.

Uh...warnings for a little bit of smoking and a little bit of sexy times (not at the same time).

Paul tensed up when he heard a noise, loud enough to wake him up. He immediately lunged over Aaron, going for his knife in a sleepy haze, but Aaron wrapped his arm around his waist to stop him.

“It’s Daryl,” Aaron breathed out against his his ear to calm down, “Deep breath, it’s just Daryl, he’s having a nightmare.”

Paul took a shaky breath and pulled away from him, turning to Daryl, who had his face smushed into a pillow, whimpers escaping his lips. Paul gently shook his shoulder, “Daryl...it’s okay...wake up,” he whispered.

Daryl woke up with a gasp, his hand grabbing Paul’s wrist for a moment before immediately letting him go when he realized who it was, “Sorry,” he breathed out immediately.

“It’s okay,” Paul said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You okay?”

“Sorry I woke ya,” Daryl said quietly.

“No, I’m glad you did,” Aaron agreed, “You wanna talk now?”

Daryl went silent for moment, looking at the two of them, before sighing, scrubbing his hand through his messy hair, “Fucked me up,” he groaned, “I...I knew he was out there now, knew it...but seein’ ‘im jus’ walkin’ in with Rick of all people,” he choked out, “My own damn brother.”

“Daryl, I’m going to hug you, okay?” Aaron asked, “Stop me if you need to.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, so Aaron moved forward, putting his arm around his chest, pulling him back. Daryl quickly whipped around, cuddling into Aaron’s chest and putting his face against his good shoulder. Aaron ran a hand through his tangled hair.

“It’s okay,” Paul told him quietly, rubbing Daryl’s back, wincing when he tensed slightly before he relaxed.

Daryl took a shaky breath and pulled away from Aaron, “Gonna have a fuckin’ panic attack, need some air,” he said, getting up from the bed and grabbing Paul’s lockbox from under the bed, “Paul, come with me,” he said before stalking out.

Paul watched after him in shock before looking back to Aaron.

“Keep an eye on him,” Aaron sighed, “He probably wants to smoke or something, he never does that around me.”

“Okay,” Paul said, leaning up to peck him on the lips before grabbing his dark red hoodie, “We won’t do anything too stupid.”

“Mhmm,” Aaron snorted, “Just watch him, okay?”

“Gotcha,” Paul said before hurrying after Daryl. He tripped a little, trying to put his shoes on as he went out the front door to where Daryl was sitting on the porch steps.

“Daryl, c’mon…” he huffed, sitting down, seeing Daryl already lighting up one of his joints, “I don’t have a lot of those and it’s not the answer to your problems.”

“Ain’t got no medication or counselors,” Daryl said simply, “S’medicinal, ain’t actually like I’m doin’ the hard stuff.”

Paul sighed and sat down beside him, looking out at the Hilltop. All the fires were out for the night, only a few torches for light for anyone who left their houses for whatever reason and so the guards could keep an eye on the place. Kal and Eduardo were leaning on the fence, on the night shift, talking to each other quietly, but that was the only movement Paul sense.

He put his head on Daryl’s shoulder when the joint was offered to him, taking it in his hands and inhaling deeply.

“We still need to talk more,” Paul said quietly, “With Aaron,” he added, “You can’t just...ignore your feelings by smoking a bunch of pot...trust me, I’ve tried,” he said, exhaling as he did, cuddling a little closer to shield himself from the bitter spring air.

Daryl put his arm around him, “Ain’t much left ta say,” he mumbled around the joint in his mouth, “Jus’ was weird seein’ ‘im with Rick was all,” he said, tightening his arm around him, “Seein’ ‘im here...with you an’ Aaron an’ Gracie...just breathin’ the same air,” he took a shaky inhale again, “He’s out there, Paul...jus’ livin’ ‘is life, despite everything...despite Abe...half blindin’ Glenn...almost killin’ Sasha,” he swallowed, burying his face in his shoulder, “I think about it all the time...drivin’ me insane, even when he ain’t tryin’,” he sighed and then sniffled, “Jus’ this once...don’t wanna be thinkin’ about everyone who’s out there, wantin’ to kill us, deep down. Just wanna…” he trailed off, shaking his head and taking another long drag.

Paul stared at him a moment before nodding, “Okay...we can talk about whatever you want...or not at all.”

Daryl just grunted, still smoking and staring out at the Hilltop, his free arm securely around Paul.

They sat like that for a while, Paul didn’t know how long. But eventually two of his joints were gone from his box and the sky was slightly lighter.

“Should go in, you’re gonna catch somethin’,” Daryl said, packing all Paul’s stuff back in the box before getting up, offering him a hand, “I wanna snack an’ go ta sleep anyways.”

“We have granola,” Paul said simply and sighed in frustration, “I miss chips.”

“Pizza was always me’ an Merle’s thing when we smoked,” Daryl laughed quietly, “I make a hell of a quesadilla too.”

“You’re making me miss one a.m. Taco Bell, knock it off,” Paul said, playfully shoving him as they walked back into the warm trailer.

Daryl just hummed, keeping an arm lazily around him as he raided the cabinets, finally settling one some homemade deer jerkey, pulling him towards the bedroom.

Aaron was asleep already, but there were two bottles of water set on the bedside table with a heart drawn on them both in marker.

Paul crawled into the bed first, immediately snuggling up to Aaron’s chest, moving him a little in the process and it must have woken up him.

“Hey, there,” Aaron said, wrapping his arm around him, “Didn’t think you were coming back.”

Daryl crawled in after him, wrapping his arms around Paul’s waist and cuddling up close to his back.

“Feeling better?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah,” Daryl mumbled against Paul’s shirt, already drifting off.

“He okay?” Aaron mouthed.

Paul just nodded, closing his eyes as well.

Aaron stared at the two for a moment before sighing, letting himself drift off as well for another couple of hours before Gracie would be up for school.

When he did wake up a few hours later, it was because the sun from the blinds being slightly open hit his eyes. He moved a little, looking down at the two lying beside him. The more golden color in Paul’s hair was showing because of the amount of light on it, the blond undertones more obvious; he had his face buried between the pillow and Aaron’s shoulder, sleeping peacefully. Daryl was doing the same, but he had somehow fallen off all their pillows during the night and now had his entire head hidden under it, his arms tightly around Paul’s midsection.

Aaron smiled, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to Paul’s cheek before climbing over the two, then going and gently helping Daryl out from under the pillows, being sure not to wake him as he did.

The two quickly settled, Daryl huffing out a breath against Paul’s back before settling down again, snoring slightly.

Aaron just continued to smile, grabbing his prosthetic arm from where he’d tossed it on the couch and sat down, easily putting the straps on and bent his arm, making sure everything felt right before grabbing a t-shirt from the floor of their messy room...it might have been his or Daryl’s, definitely not Paul’s though. As much as they all enjoyed stealing clothes from each other, they usually ended up stretching out Paul’s stuff, resulting in complaints from the other man (“this is why we need another closet,” “this is why I only loan my clothes to Sasha, Enid, and Maggie!” and so on).

Aaron slowly walked out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. He went to work, opening the door slightly so Dog could come in and back out before starting on breakfast.

He’d gotten pretty good at using his new arm since the war with the Whisperers, though it had been a slow process at the beginning. With the help of Siddiq and Earl, they found the right fit for him that would be good for fighting but also good for raising an energetic little girl.

Aaron started the eggs on the pan, grabbing a few plates from the cabinet as he waited for the stove to completely heat up, leaning back on the counter after he put them out. He watched as Dog came back inside, carrying what looked like a dead rabbit.

Aaron winced, grabbing it from him before he could leave blood stains on the floor, “Thanks,” he said awkwardly, opting to put it out on the porch to see if Daryl wanted to use it for something. Daryl had gotten to the point where he had managed to teach Dog how to check his traps outside the walls.

Aaron walked back in and patted Dog’s head, “Breakfast time?” he asked him, already going to the storage closet where they kept his dog food and put some in his bowl before going to start on the eggs.

Just as he was about to finish the eggs and put them on the plate, he heard Gracie’s door open and close, before the bathroom door open and closed again. He glanced over to where Dog was lying on the couch, looking pretty pleased with himself.

A few moments later, Gracie wandered out, still in her pajamas, a baggy pink t-shirt and pajama pants that had been made by one of the clothing makers in the Kingdom.

“Morning, daddy,” Gracie said tiredly, walking over and hugging his leg.

Aaron smiled, putting the spatula down and putting his hand on her hair, “Morning, honey,” he said, fixing her hair, “I’m just about done with breakfast.”

Gracie didn’t say anything, just walked over to the couch and flopped down beside Dog, putting her head on his side and closing her eyes again.

Aaron smiled slightly and went back to cooking, finishing up the eggs and putting them on separate plates, putting them onto the table, “Here you go, I’m going to go wake up Daryl and Paul.”

“I can do it!” Gracie went to go to the door.

“Uh...no, your eggs will get cold and I need someone to watch Dog doesn’t get them,” Aaron said quickly before heading to the door once Gracie sat down.

He was really, really glad Gracie hadn’t ran in, because Paul was in Daryl’s lap. The sheets and blankets were pooled around his lower back, but Aaron could tell by their movements what was going on.

Aaron shut the door loudly, startling the two.

“Mornin’,” Daryl said, still not letting go of Paul, attacking his lips to his shoulder again.

“Was coming to tell you breakfast is done and Gracie’s awake,” Aaron said, moving behind Paul on the bed, “Dog can only distract her for so long...she almost walked in.”

“Sorry,” Paul said, but he didn’t look very sorry as he tilted his head back to lay it on Aaron’s shoulder, “Morning, dear.”

“Mmm,” Aaron just hummed, leaning down and pressing his lips against his, “Hurry up, okay?”

“Wanna join in?” Paul asked against his lips.

“Someone has to play responsible adult,” Aaron laughed breathlessly, though he felt the arousal pool in his stomach when he saw that Daryl’s dick was buried inside of Paul, his tight grip on Paul’s hips keeping them together.

“Not this early,” Paul mumbled against the side of his neck, “C’mon.”

Aaron quickly thought of the walkers outside of the gate...some of the grossest ones he’d seen over the years, to make himself not join in. He got up, causing Paul to fall back on the bed.

“Just hurry up,” Aaron laughed, watching Daryl climb on top of Paul, “Your eggs are getting cold.”

“Mmm...will do,” Paul said, turning back to Daryl as the door shut, “You heard the man...don’t want cold eggs.”

Daryl huffed out a laugh, thrusting a little harder but slower at the same time, making his movements deep.

“Fuck,” Paul gasped out, throwing his head back against the mattress, “How do you expect me to be quiet when you’re so…” he trailed off.

“M’so…?” Daryl prompted, looking amused.

“Fucking hot,” Paul groaned, running his hand through Daryl’s hair, grabbing on the back in a tight grip, “Daryl,” he gasped out when his boyfriend brushed over the bundle of nerves inside of him again, “Daryl, please.”

“Please what?” Daryl asked against his neck, “C’mon,” he said, starting to thrust faster and harder now, grabbing Paul’s free hand that wasn’t in his hair and pinning it down to the bed, using his other hand to get some leverage to move harder, “Cum for me, baby.”

Paul let out a moan, turning his head and quickly muffling it with the blanket on the bed. He spread his legs a little wider to accommodate Daryl, then wrapped them around his hips, meeting every thrust. He ended up biting down on the blanket when he felt Daryl cum inside of him, finding his own release not a moment later.

Paul released his grip on his hair, running his hand through it again to fix the mess. He laughed breathlessly, flopping back on the bed, “Fucking hell, Daryl.”

Daryl just hummed, grabbing a few tissues and starting to clean them up, “Want breakfast in bed?”

“Nah,” Paul sighed, “Gracie will get grumpy if I don’t do her hair for school...though we should sneak into the shower first, I think.”

“I’m thinking I want another tattoo,” Paul said around a mouthful of his  breakfast, sitting beside Daryl, across from Gracie.

“You literally just got two,” Aaron laughed, “Do you want to be covered in permanent flowers?”

“You know me so well,” Paul smiled at him before grabbing his coffee and taking a long drink.

“Can I get a tattoo?” Gracie asked suddenly.

“No,” Aaron said immediately.

“Later,” Paul said at the same time.

Daryl snorted into his coffee, not saying anything.

“But you all have tattoos, I want one,” Gracie whined.

“When you’re older,” Aaron said, wiping his mouth on a napkin, “Like...thirty.”

“I got my first tattoo at sixteen,” Paul shrugged, “I’d say eighteen would be good, honestly. That’s when it used to be legal in most places...or younger, with parental consent.”

“But somehow ya got one at sixteen,” Daryl snorted.

“I’m very good at forging signatures, dear,” Paul smirked at him.

“But Uncle Carl has one,” Gracie whined.

“Carl has a tattoo he got to impress Enid...which she wasn’t even impressed by and they’re not together now,” Paul said simply, “Prime example of why you should think tattoos through at an age where you’re levelheaded...and most of the time, don’t get names.”

“Ya literally just got our names,” Daryl deadpanned.

“Yes, but I plan on being with you both for a long, long time,” Paul said, leaning over and kissing him.

“Gross,” Gracie whined.

Aaron rolled his eyes, “Gracie, how about you go get ready for school?”

“Noooo,” Gracie continued to whine, “You’re gonna be there.”

Paul snickered around his drink. Aaron was speaking in Gracie’s class today on self-defense, despite past injuries or disabilities...Gracie wasn’t too pleased about her dad playing teacher for the day.

“I promise to not embarrass you...much,” Aaron said, “I could do some of my impressions!”

Gracie just groaned, stalking back to her room.

“You better not embarrass her,” Paul laughed quietly, “I don’t want to hear the door slamming by my office every time she goes in there.”

“I won’t actually do it,” Aaron laughed, starting to clear the plates, “Plans for the day?”

“Our last day off before it’s time to start getting into the Frontier project,” Paul said simply, “So that means spring cleaning, weeding the garden, catching up on laundry, weapon inventory-”

Daryl groaned, putting his head against the table, similar to how Gracie had before.

“And Daryl agreed to spend the day with me,” Paul chirped.

“Oh, however did you get him to agree to that?” Aaron snorted, starting to wash the dishes.

“I’ll show you tonight,” Paul said, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist, kissing the back of his neck, “Or now, since you didn’t join us earlier.”

“Dry this,” Aaron said, handing him a plate and nodding to the rag on the counter.

Paul huffed, “You’re no fun,” he pouted, grabbing the dish from him.

“Says the guy spending the day off doin’ chores,” Daryl grumbled from the table, searching his pockets for a cigarette.

“Outside,” Paul said immediately, seeing what he was doing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daryl grumbled, heading outside, Dog following him.

“He okay?” Aaron asked, “You two didn’t say much when you came back last night.”

“He’s fine,” Paul nodded, “It just effected him, I think...and he needed a moment. It’s not like we exactly have a Xanax a doctor can prescribe him,” he sighed, putting the dishes away.

“I know,” Aaron said, “I still think we need to look into medicinal herbs for anxiety and stuff...and look into getting a counselor trained. There’s so many cases of PTSD…” he trailed off.

“One big job at a time,” Paul said, kissing his cheek, “But I’ll bring it up to Maggie...it’s something we should think about.”

“Counseling worked well for me after I moved out of my mother’s house...my college counselor was paid with my tuition...it really helped me a lot,” Aaron nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Counseling ever work for you?”

“Never went,” Paul gave him a half shrug, “I just learned to deal with things...but it’s something I’m willing to try, given the chance,” he smiled weakly, “I’m going to go get dressed. Tell Gracie to have a good day at school...and good luck,” he said, going back to the bedroom quickly, “And don’t embarrass her!” he called again.

[imladris-soldier]

Lashes (pt 8)

Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those… the first two, anyway.

Bill Williamson x OC

The pair kept the change in their relationship mostly to themselves, but the signs were there, and the gang started to notice. It certainly wasn't all at once, but over the next couple weeks, both Bill and Star began getting comments.

As Bill had predicted, Mary-Beth was the most ecstatic, and, in fact, the first to notice at all. One afternoon, she grabbed Star by the hand and pulled her behind one of the wagons, flushed and giggly. “Now, how you gonna hide a thing like that from me?” she whispered, playfully accusatory.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don't you start. I saw you holdin' Bill's hand 'round the fire last night.” She laughed when Star blushed. “Ain't nothin' to be ashamed of! You've gotta tell me everything.”

From there, it was just a matter of time. Star spied across the camp as Charles pulled Bill aside and spoke in hushed, serious tones. The conversation ended with a handshake though, so she assumed all was well and didn't pry.

Dutch caught sight of the pair standing together under the big tree, just slightly too close to pass it off as anything else. Star was the one who met that gaze, and she was rewarded with a knowing wink and a chuckle as the older man turned back into his tent.

Of course, as soon as Sean and Karen found out, the rest of the camp followed soon after. Bill would get claps on the shoulder, usually accompanied by congratulations of some sort, depending on the man. Micah thought, for some reason, that it would go over well if he made a comment about how fucking a native girl wasn't going to earn Bill forgiveness for the things he'd done. It took Charles, Grimshaw, and Bill to pull Star off of him, and the marks she'd left would undoubtedly scar. If his gaze had seemed dangerous before, it was literally the gates of Hell now.

For the most part, the two were met with approval and occasional confusion. Arthur embodied the latter, though as soon as he realized that they were both happy, he just shrugged it off and moved on.

As for Bill and Star themselves, they had their own confusions to work through. Neither were exceptionally experienced in romantic relationships, so they didn't really know what steps to take or when to take them. For a long time, the extent of their physical affection was simply being joined at the hands whenever it seemed appropriate. They sat next to each other a lot, usually about as close together as was physically possible without sitting on top of one another. Which made sitting on top of one another the next logical step.

Bill was sitting at the fire one night with Sean, Uncle, John, and Karen. Star was grabbing herself some coffee, then she made her way over to join them. As she passed in front of Bill, intending to take the seat next to him, he hooked her around the waist and guided her onto his lap. She let him, but once she was sitting, she gave him a questioning look, expecting him to follow up the action with words of explanation. He gave none. In fact, he didn't even seem to realize that she was looking for one. He'd gone right back to the conversation he'd been having. Like it was nothing. And she thought her heart would explode.

Of course, no matter how caught up in each other they were, life around them continued on, sometimes requiring their attention. One hot afternoon, Star was tending to a couple of the horses when she saw Uncle, Arthur, Bill, and Charles headed her way.

“It's a supply wagon,” Uncle was saying. “Full of payroll. But very briefly unguarded, apparently, as it passes through a crossroads near here on its way to join up with the rest of the wagon train.”

“As long as we get paid, or you get shot, I'm happy,” Arthur replied.

“You are a sick man, Arthur Morgan.”

Star handed the reins of Brown Jack to Bill, then looked between them all. “Can I come?”

A brief silence fell before Arthur shrugged. “I don't see why not.”

“Do we really need five?” Bill asked.

“Why? You don't want me to come?” Star replied, climbing onto Rhiannon.

Bill hunched a bit and grumbled, “Well... I...”

Uncle chortled. “Look at 'im! Boy's too embarrassed to admit he's worried 'bout ya.”

“Shut up, you old coot!”

Star chuckled, leaning on her mare's withers. “So, I'm coming?”

“Yeah,” Arthur answered. “Let's go before we miss the damn thing.”

The group rode out of camp, falling in line behind Uncle as he led them to the location. After a moment of silence, Bill, still obviously bitter about Uncle's comment, called up, “How'd you even get wind of this, old man? We only been down here all of five minutes.”

“Well, while you lot been fishin' or playin' lawmen, or whatever the hell you been doin', I been gettin' down to business.”

“Findin' the nearest grog house.”

“Hey, if you don't want in on this Williamson, that's fine by me. Do us a favor: head home and leave us with your obviously better half.”

Arthur sighed loudly. “Give it a rest, you two.”

“Just have a little faith for once, will ya? I've been scopin' jobs like this since you all was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

“Once a decade, maybe.”

“What exactly have you scoped this time?” Star cut in. “I never asked.”

“Wagon with a lockbox passes through here every week. They switch outriders just north of here, but the front wagon's by itself for a stretch before the last run into Rhodes.” He led the crew to a spot just south of the crossroad, then slowed to a stop. “Should be passin' through right up there.”

“When?” Bill complained.

“Soon, Williamson. Chrissakes. It should be due anytime now.”

“We should cover our faces,” Charles said.

Star pulled a black handkerchief from her pocket, tying it around her face the way she'd seen them do it in the past. A part of her felt somewhat giddy at being along for her first holdup, but she knew it could go sideways all too easily, so her excitement was tempered by wariness.

For a moment, her eyes slid to Bill, and she allowed herself a second to feel the emotions stirred up by his worry. It was nice to be worried over, but one thing that was going to have to be clear was her independence. She was not the sort to be left behind just because of a little danger.

“There!” Uncle cried, pointing. “Ya see, gentlemen? Just like I said.”

“What do you want me to do?” Star asked quickly, realizing that she didn't know what role to play.

“We'll keep our guns on 'em, you take their stuff,” Uncle decided simply. “Now come on!”

They rode out, kicking their mounts into a brief gallop to pull up evenly with the stagecoach. “Stop the wagon!” Bill roared. When they showed no signs of doing so, he yelled again. “I said stop the damn wagon!” The coach lumbered to a stop. “Now. Don't do anything stupid, and we won't do anything unkind.”

As the boys held up the driver and his partner, Star jumped off her horse and jogged to the back of the wagon to begin gathering the goods. As she pried into the lockbox, the driver spoke. “Look, I... I don't want to get shot. But this is a mistake. I work for Cornwall Kerosene & Tar... Mr. Leviticus Cornwall.”

“Oh, great,” Arthur sighed while Star froze half way through what she was doing.

“So you know him?”

“Who doesn't?” Charles spat.

Bill laughed. “I hear he's rich enough to share the wealth around and not miss it too much.”

“Oh, he'll miss it,” the driver insisted, voice quivering slightly.

“Get to it,” Arthur said, gesturing at Star.

She went back to work breaking into the box. “Not bad,” she reported once she was in. “At least a thousand here.”

“Is... is that a woman?” the driver asked, meekly surprised.

“Ain't your damn business what she is!” Bill snapped.

Star looked up to assure him she was alright and found his eyes on her. Just as she opened her mouth, his eyes went past her and went wide. “Shit! I see somethin'!”

Somehow, with even more weary resignation, Arthur let out another, “Ohhh great.”

“Let's go!” Charles bellowed as the first of the riders rounded the hill.

Star leaped down from the wagon, shoving the money into her satchel. Rhiannon was already taking steps to follow the others, but slowed her gait just enough for Star to vault into the saddle, and then they raced off.

Bullets whizzed past Star's head, so she practically buried her face in her mare's mane trying to avoid them. Every once in a while, she stole a glance behind to see how much their pursuers had gained. For the most part, they were keeping ahead.

“Nice goin', Uncle!” Bill spat. “Most guarded wagon in god damn history!”

“How was I to know?” the old man cried.

“We got seven or eight of them on us!” Star warned.

As they rode, Arthur pulled out his pistols and started trying to eliminate some of the threat, but the bullets that hissed through the air didn't seem to grow any less numerous. Finally, as the group left the road and took to the woods, they began to shake the riders.

Uncle urge, “Let's get 'em off us and get back to camp!”

“No!” Arthur replied. “We need to find a place to lie low. We can't risk leadin' Cornwall's men to camp!”

“Alright, fine.”

In a fortuitous turn of events, the woods broke onto a small farm with a barn on the edge of the property. “Let's hide here,” Charles called.

They all slammed to a stop, jumping from their horses and sending the animals running. Rhiannon was not quick to leave her rider, looking back in confusion when Star urged her on. “Yé, yeyá.” Please, go. With a mournful whinny, the mare sped off, following Brown Jack into the woods. The outlaws hurried into the barn and out of sight.

“We'll stay here until dark,” Arthur decided. “Then sneak outta here. Charles, keep watch for now. The rest of ya, get some rest.”

Star checked on Charles first, making sure that none of the stray bullets had found a mark. He assured her he was fine and told her he was proud of her. Her hand slipped to make sure her satchel was still at her side, and the money still inside. “Glad to help. I want to do my part.”

“You do your part and then some, Star,” he replied, lips turning into the slightest of smiles. “Go take a minute.”

“That was not the first time I've been shot at, Charles Smith.”

“I know. Me either.”

She smiled and pat his arm before turning and making her way to where Bill had plopped down. She slid down the barn wall to the floor next to him, letting out a sigh as she did so. “Still here then?” she asked, eyes flitting over to him.

“More or less,” he grumbled. After another grumpy moment, he asked, “You?”

“As far as I can tell.”

“See why I didn't want you to come now?”

“I knew why when you said it. Didn't change anything.” She turned her head fully to look at him. “You can't ask me to live this life, then try to protect me from it. I can handle myself. Besides, you don't have a monopoly on worry. You expect me to just hang behind in camp while you ride out here getting shot at? I feel better being in the thick of it with you. That way, I've got your back and you've got mine.”

Some of the anger and tension left Bill's body, and he turned his head to meet her gaze. “Guess yer right.” He paused. “I just don't fancy watchin' you die bloody is all. Don't need no more nightmares.”

“I know,” she murmured, slipping her hand in his.

….

As afternoon faded into evening and evening into twilight, the crew kept it quiet, only exchanging a few whispered words every now and again. Star slept briefly, her head leaned against Bill's shoulder, as the adrenaline of the chase wore off, but mostly the pair just sat in comfortable silence, hands latched between them.

As the night birds and bugs began their song, Arthur stood and looked around. “Alright,” he murmured. “Let's get outta here.”

“Absolutely,” Uncle agreed.

“Shut up, old man.”

“Hey, I was just tryin'...”

“Shut up!” Charles hissed from his spot by the door. “There's a light by the house.”

“Damn!” Arthur breathed. “Al-alright, just keep this calm. See what happens.”

They immediately went silent and crouched behind whatever cover they could find, watching as a lantern approached the door. Someone knocked, then the door creaked open slowly. “Don't shoot!” the person behind the door cried.

“Is this your place?” the man bearing the lantern demanded.

“K-kinda.”

“You didn't hear nothin'?”

“I-I...”

“Go ahead and tell me what you heard, partner. Now.”

The person at the door stammered some more, then admitted, “I heard some noise out by the barn a while ago. Whoever you lookin' for... it ain't me.”

“Better not be. Cooperforth, Lowe, go check out the barn.”

The air in the barn seemed to go solid with tension as two more lanterns began to approach. Star shrunk back into a corner, watching between the wood slats as the murky light crept closer. Had it been only her and Charles, they might have had a decent chance of blending into the darkness, but the others... they practically glowed in the moonlight.

As the lights reached the barn, one of them entered slowly as the other made his way around the back. “Place looks empty enough,” the first said.

“Yeah,” the other replied. “I don't think they're here. Don't see any horses.”

The one coming around the back was passing a little too close for Star's comfort, and she reached out, grabbing the back of Bill's shirt and pulling him further into the shadows. Being the man that he was, he managed to find and step on the only tin can on the floor of the barn. The metal crunched loudly, he yelled an expletive, and everything immediately went to shit.

Charles shot the man at the door, and as soon as the man in the back passed in front of one of the wide windows, Star vaulted over the wall and tackled him to the ground. He struggled for a moment, but her hands around his throat did their work.

Gunfire started up again, and Bill cried, “GET BACK IN HERE!”

She dodged a bullet or two, then clambered back over the wall with significantly less grace than she'd exited. The men around her were aiming out of the barn in every direction, and the wood around them would splinter with a whistle and a crack. The situation was not good.

“Can't you keep your fat feet still for five fuckin' seconds?” Uncle admonished loudly.

“You got us into this!” Bill retorted. “This feller sure don't like gettin' robbed!”

Star pulled her pistols from her belt and began firing into the darkness, aiming for the smoke of other guns. Every once in a while, she heard a cry as her shot landed, but mostly she felt as though she were just wasting bullets shooting at ghosts.

It went on like this for some time, and then one of the lanterns that had been dropped was struck by a stray shot, immediately causing the barn to catch fire. Arthur glanced at it, then called, “Ain't you glad I insisted you come along, Uncle?”

“That's it! I am officially retired!”

Star stood up, unloading one gun into a man who fancied himself brave. “If we don't get out of here, we're charcoal! Anybody got any bright ideas?”

“Well, we could...”

“NOT YOU, UNCLE.”

Bill laughed as he ducked behind a support beam. “Now she's gettin' it!”

He was answered by part of the roof of the barn collapsing in, so he ran to the back wall and kicked a hole in a weak spot. “Let's go!”

They ran for the hole, slipped out, then started high-tailing it to the woods. Shots followed them as they ran, smacking into trees and kicking up clods of dirt. Star was naturally light-footed, so she sprang between the trees easily, but her companions were all a bit more lumbering and lagged behind. She didn't realize how far behind until she abruptly realized she couldn't hear them behind her anymore. The gunshots had stopped as well, so she slid to a stop and listened.

The fog that drifted through the forest made for good cover, but it also meant she could no longer see her friends. She could hear them, however, once she focused, and they seemed to have split up. Unsure of what to do, she jogged off in the direction of one pair, but aimed ahead of them. When she saw lanterns in the distance, she scurried up one of the trees with lower hanging branches and waited.

Before long, Bill and Charles passed beneath her, pursued by the lights. She let them go, waiting for their pursuers to cross her path. As the two unwitting men entered her range, she hurled her tomahawk into one's skull, then jumped down onto the other, feeling bones crunch as he shouted. She yanked her ax from the head of the other, then used it to finish off the one beneath her, all while Bill and Charles gaped.

Blood spattered her face and front, and she climbed back to her feet, wiping her weapon down her pant leg. “Where did you go?” she chided. “Where's Arthur and Uncle?”

“Where did you go?” Charles replied. “We looked up and you'd disappeared into the fog.”

They were interrupted by distant gunshots, then a lingering silence. They waited, on edge, as footsteps approached them from the woods. Finally, Arthur and Uncle staggered into view. “Everyone still alive?” Arthur called.

“Just about,” Bill huffed.

“Alright, let's get the hell outta here. Now we got Cornwall on our backs again.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Uncle defended.

“Leave it! Go on, get outta here. All of ya, split up. Stay quiet and move.”

Star held out her satchel to Arthur. “Here's the take.”

“Naw, you hold onto it. Probably safer with you anyways. We'll catch up back at camp and get it split up. Go on. Get.”

As she turned to go, he added, “You did good today, Star. Real good.”

She turned back, warming from head to toe. “Thanks, Arthur.” He nodded and shooed her away before running off in the other direction.

When she spun back to run, she found Bill still standing there. “What are you doing?”

“Waitin' for you!”

“But Arthur said...”

“Ain't nobody on the road gonna suspect us of nothin', long as we keep our heads down. Come on.”

She shrugged and fell into step with him, however, he caught her shoulder and stopped her to pass a discerning gaze up and down her body. “Well, they might if they see all that blood on ya.” He began unbuttoning his blue plaid shirt, revealing the white undershirt he usually wore with it. Once it was off, he held it out to her. “Here. Change into that.”

She took it gingerly, noting the differences in body language from the last time they'd exchanged that particular shirt. They stood much closer together, and their fingers brushed against one another as it changed hands. It made her smile.

She started shedding her shirt, only to find him turning beet red and staring at literally anything but her. Another notable difference from the last time. She used her soiled shirt to wipe off her face and hands, then she swung Bill's shirt on and buttoned it up. It was still much too large, but it was comfortable that way, especially after the stress of the day.

“Good?” she asked. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, then walked on. She hung her shirt on her satchel, between the two sides of the strap and jogged a couple steps to catch up.

The first part of the journey was spent in silence, but Star could feel an anticipation from Bill, like he had something sitting on the tip of his tongue to say. It didn't come out for a long time, but she was content to wait until it did.

The moon was setting by the time he spoke, and they were maybe halfway back to camp. “You... you did do good. Real good.”

“So... does that mean you'll bring me along on more jobs?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

She let that sit for a moment, then gently pressed, “You can't hide me away now, just because we're... whatever we are. I'm still my own person, and I get to choose the level of danger I put myself in. Ok?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Alright.”

She stepped in front of him, hands on his chest. “But. It does mean something to me that you want to protect me.”

He looked down at her, and for the first time, she realized that something was deeply bothering him. Far more than she had initially understood. Her hands fell back to her sides, and her expression lost all of its playfulness, replaced by concern. “What aren't you telling me?”

“Nothin'.”

“No. Not nothing. What is it?” She thought back over the last few hours, and her memory landed on something: his face when she'd killed those two men. At the time, she'd simply read it as surprise, but looking back... he was horrified. She'd been taught the trick of hiding in trees by her father, and she'd seen the tactic used against animals and army alike. It was a key ambush strategy. “Tell me.”

He sagged slightly, apparently unable to deny her despite not wanting to talk about it at all. “It was dark. We was marchin' through the woods – last stretch before camping. They... they came from everywhere. Trees, rocks, the damn clouds. Rainin' Indians, and them Indians had knives and hatchets – quiet, deadly, and near invisible. Couldn't see 'em comin' for ya. All you could hear was the screams.”

Star stood there, allowing her imagination to run with his words and her regret at calling forth this memory to run through her veins. “I... I'm sorry. I didn't...”

He shrugged her off and walked around her. It felt like another diversion so he wouldn't have to complete the story, so she called out, “Tell me the rest!” He didn't respond, so she snapped, “Bill Williamson, you tell me the rest!!”

He froze, tensed up, then spun around and came back shouting. “You wanna know the rest? You wanna know 'bout the feller that... well... you wanna know how it felt to watch him crumple under the body of some big brave with a knife and see his blood spray everywhere? How it felt tryin' to choke the life back into his damn neck?”

She stared at him, missing an essential detail amid the horror. He seemed to realize this because he slowed down, took a deep breath and revealed, “I ain't never felt 'bout no one the way I felt about him. Not... not 'til you.”

Understanding smacked Star like a stampede, and her heart squeezed in pain. “Oh,” she breathed, feeling tears of sympathy well up.

“They kicked me out 'cuz of him. Well. That, and that time I tried to kill someone for speakin' ill of 'im. Coulda court martialled me. Just... dishonorably discharged me instead. Didn't want to deal with it. I shoulda been shot by firin' squad.”

“For loving someone?”

Several expressions crossed Bill's face. One was a scoffing scorn, then shocked confusion, and then just pain. Unadulterated pain. “Why ain't you tellin' me off? Tellin' me I'm some sorta freak?”

She blinked in confusion. “For... for loving someone?”

“A man! A man, damn you.”

“Among my people, we are free to love whom we will. At least... we were before the white Christians came. But my father always tried to teach me the old ways. Your love for this man was no less valid than... than whatever it is you feel for me.”

Bill looked like he wanted to fly apart at the seams as well as melt and disappear into the earth. He was a bundle of nervous energy combined with the crushing weight of grief and guilt and fear that he had been hiding for years. Star just stood at a distance, waiting to see what would happen.

His hands rubbed down his face, accompanied by a shaky sigh, then hung limply at his sides. “Why can't you just be like everyone else?” he murmured, shrugging sadly. “Why couldn't you just hate me like I wanted you to?”

“You didn't do a convincing enough job,” she replied.

He let out a small laugh. “Right. Nevermind bein' hateful and mean and ornery without reason. Wasn't enough.”

“But... it wasn't without reason. That's what I saw in you. That's why I couldn't hate you. You're just... not as mysterious as you seem to think you are.”

Bill laughed again before wiping away an errant tear. “Oh.”

Star held out her hand, and after a moment, he stepped closer and took it. “I'm sorry for your lost love. And I know I'll never be him, but...”

Bill shook his head and cut her off. “I-I don't want you to be. I just want... I just want you to be you.”

“Ok. I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her and lifting her into the air slightly. She put hers around his shoulders and leaned her head against his. Absolutely nothing had gone as she expected that day, but sometimes that was the only way things should go.

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