The Ties That Bind Us
Arthur Morgan x fem OC
1.7k words
Summary: Arthur is back to camp way earlier than expected. His wife wonders what possibly could have him back so soon... and in such a bad mood.
Angst + Fluff
Tw child death, tw death
Credit for the header goes to @raevennsge
It had been a long day, and Kris was exhausted when she rode into camp at sundown. She lugged her heavy body straight towards the campfire, where she noticed the silhouette of her husband sitting around it.
‘Is he back already? That’s weird’ the woman thought, perplexed. Arthur usually stayed out for days, even weeks at a time, but now he was back after just a mere day. Something was off.
As she approached from behind, he leaned forward, head bowed, hands conjoined together as if in prayer. There was a dark aura to him that made Kris nervous. She could tell he was upset even before seeing his face.
“Hey,” she cautiously greeted him before laying her hands on his shoulders. Arthur didn’t move.
“Hi.” His tone was tired, forlorn.
“Are you okay, honey?”
No response. Instead, Arthur sighed and sniffled, picking up a pebble and throwing it into the fire. Kris waited patiently, rubbing his broad, tense shoulders.
“I need to be alone” was his lapidary answer. His wife nodded.
“Alright. I’ll be in our tent when you’re ready” she murmured, exhaustion getting the best of her.
While Kris got undressed and laid down to get some rest, Arthur remained perfectly still, sitting on the log alone. The fire was burning into his clear eyes, broadcasting his internal turmoil. He observed it like he wanted to part it and walk through it, to disappear forever. He desperately kept the pain inside his chest, and it jabbed at him mercilessly, slicing his breath short. He refused to let it out at the risk of breaking down, losing his composure. He couldn’t afford it: his composure was all he had now; he was the solid rock upon which everyone in the gang could count on. There simply is no time for weakness, when dozens of people depend on you to survive.
But he wanted to talk. Desperately. He wanted to tell Kris how much he was hurting. But his mind bounced back and forth between doing it and thinking it was stupid. After all, he had no reason to be that upset. It had been long enough now, hadn’t it? He was just being a big baby.
The outlaw had lost count of how long he’d been staring into the crackling flames, inhaling their smoke. The full moon peeked through the naked trees, stars glistening like tiny gemstones on a black evening gown. Everyone else had already turned in.
He should’ve gone to bed, but his eyes were wide open, his chest and shoulders too heavy. He missed Kris.
Arthur poked his head in their shared tent. His wife laid on the cot, sleeping peacefully. She looked like an angel: an halo of dark, wavy hair circling her head on the candid pillow. His chest temporarily felt a bit lighter in front of such a peaceful sight.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, Arthur undressed and climbed into bed next to Kris. He cuddled up to her, nuzzling his face into her shoulder and inhaling deeply. She smelled like home, like his safe place. It was so comforting, he almost forgot all about-
“Arthur…” she protested, making him curse under his breath.
“Sorry, dear,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake ya”. His grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her into a hug. Kris exhaled, melting into his embrace and stroking his forearm. She has missed him, too.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” she asked, sleep still heavy and low in her voice.
Silence. Just rhythmical breathing, Arthur’s heavier and more disjointed. He exhaled, burying his face into Kris’s hair.
“Something happened yesterday…” he began. Nervous, he fidgeted with the stitching on Kris’s underwear, pulling at it and twirling it around his fingers.
“Wanna tell me about it?” Kris encouraged him softly.
“Not really…” His mind at fought a dire war between the effort of bringing up something painful and the temporary comfort of burying it down with the rest of his past.
“Okay,” she took his restless hand in hers, squeezing it lovingly. “But I think you should, honey. You’ll feel better after”.
She moved her head so she could look at him in the eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
The blond nodded. He knew.
Kris smiled and kissed him on the cheek, cupping it and rubbing the coarse stubble with her thumb in a circular motion.
Arthur now felt reassured enough to open up, but he still hid his face in Kris’s thick hair.
“I was passing through this small village…” Arthur gulped, doing his best to spit the words out, where they wouldn’t rot him from the inside out. He paused to recount the scene.
Arthur rode in from the west side of the village, passing right in front of the tiny graveyard. He noticed a bunch of people gathering around an open grave, mourning the loss of a fellow citizen. What struck him the most was the utter silence and reverence in such a big crow: must’ve been someone important. He felt compelled to stop and watch from afar, like pulled into place by an invisible thread. The priest was the only one speaking, sending the poor soul off to their final rest.
As the clergy man droned and read from the Sacred Scriptures, Arthur got off his horse and approached, keeping at a safe distance from the funeral. Curiosity got the best of him, so he leaned out to have a look at the dug up hole in front of the tombstone.
His heart sank down into his stomach. That was too small of a grave.
“Today we lay our dear Ishmael to rest. His life was taken from us too soon, but when the Lord calls, we shall answer, and so now he sits next to His throne, in Heaven, forever safe from earthly suffering.”
Arthur felt all blood drain from his face. He desperately wanted to run, but he couldn’t bring himself to just turn around and leave. He felt like he deserved to sit through this. Like he had to.
Once the priest finished his speech, the undertaker began shoveling dirt on the casket, and it wasn’t long before the tiny body was hidden from mournful eyes forever, six feet deep.
A young woman, who had to have been the little boy’s mom, threw a red rose on the coffin, her face a veritable mask of pain. Two other women had their arms linked to hers, the only force holding her up and preventing her from falling on her knees, wracked by grief. And fall she did; she began to wail desperately, a sound which pierced right through Arthur’s chest and sent a wave of white hot pain straight to his head. Before he even noticed people were staring at him, he was bolting back to his horse and taking off at full speed.
“Oh, Arthur…” Kris sighed, the picture he painted way too real and raw.
Arthur swallowed the knot in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak again, but nothing came out.
“I…” he paused, feeling his eyes sting unbearably.
“I miss him. Every day” he closed his eyes, tears that had been locked away for too long wetting his face.
Kris held him closer, squeezing him into a hug that she wished could’ve healed all his pain. Arthur wept in his wife’s arms for the first time ever, his deep sadness spreading to her. He never talked about Isaac, ever. It left Kris feeling so shocked that this was even happening. She froze, unable to come up with anything to comfort her grieving husband. She silently embraced him as tight as she could, caressing his hair and waiting for his sobs to settle down. With each one of them erupting from his chest, Kris felt a sharp knife stabbing her heart. Oh, there’s nothing worse of the sound of your beloved crying.
As Arthur calmed down they laid there for a while, entangled in each other’s arms, without speaking a word.
“Y’know,” he broke the silence, voice still broken. “I think this was punishment. I couldn’t save ‘em, and now I’m paying for it.”
“No, Arthur, this wasn’t your fault. Please, don’t blame yourself.”
He insisted, pain permeating his every word. “If I was there, I could’ve protected them.” Kris had never heard a sentence spoken with so much regret. She listened, heartbroken by all the guilt he carried, and felt so utterly powerless in the face of it.
“And now I’m scared I’ll ruin things again” he confessed, pressing his palms against his eyes to erase that poor mother’s face from his memory. “I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“Arthur.” Kris removed his hands away from his face. “Look at me.” She intertwined their fingers together.
“You do deserve a second chance. And you won’t ruin it. Because we are in this together, and I’m not backing down. Ever.”
Arthur looked up at her, unconvinced. “You should be with someone better.” he whispered, breathing it out with all the melancholy left in his lungs.
Kris laughed softly and shook her head. “I probably should, but I won’t” she brought his hand to her lips, “because I wanna be with you.”
Arthur smiled, eyes filled with unshaken love. Here stood his wife, his family, the finest woman he ever met, his second chance at life, at love. A day hadn’t passed where he didn’t feel grateful to be with her, even if guilt and conflict sometimes clouded his judgment. He wouldn’t let his past ruin the precious thing they had together, in the present.
He leaned forward, meeting her lips and rubbing his nose against hers gently.
“Afraid you’re stuck with me, Morgan” Kris joked, actually making him laugh for the first time in who knows how many days.
He cuddled into her shoulder. “I think it’s the other way around, Mrs. Morgan.”
“Mh. We shall see” she snarked, closing her eyes. “Goodnight, dear. Try to get some sleep.”
Arthur obliged, finally feeling lighter. What do you know, Kris was right. Again. He closed his eyes and Morpheus’s gentle embrace lifted him off the Earth, giving him some respite.
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