#i made this for the porkchop gang but you can view it too

[marvelousmawn]

this one goes out to all the other harborside hotel roomies on day saturday of katsucon

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 50)

Beaver Hollow

On the move once again. Dude... 50 chapters!! 😮 Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with me!

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Much to my disdain, I was bedridden. The burns on my leg were placed as such that bending my leg and doing any more than hobbling outside to pee (a nightmare task) was out of the question. They were also extremely painful, but I tried not to go on about it, I did my best to ignore it and pretend it wasn't the case. Susan was on at me constantly to rest it, telling me I would only make the healing process worse if I kept bursting blisters and tearing fragile skin as it tried to heal back. She was right, obviously, but I hated not doing anything. 

There were only so many chores I could do from the bed, mostly sewing, and after two days of that, nobody had anything that needed repairing. I'd started taking commissions of sorts; in other words, I made people bring me things to draw for them. They'd get a drawing, and I'd get half an hour or so of entertainment, it was a pretty good deal. I drew Javier's hat, Strauss' spare spectacles, Arthur's boots, a ladle that Pearson gave to me and then later apparently went mad trying to find, and a flower that Tilly picked. 

Jack was my most eager customer, though. He kept on bringing me things, cool looking rocks, a 'snake' he'd made out of compacted mud on a plate (I had to ask him what I was looking at, momentarily concerned he'd brought me a gift from Cain), and a small wooden horse that apparently Sean had carved for him once upon a time. I drew them all, even the more questionable items, because he smiled like a little angel every time I handed him a finished drawing. It was definitely a welcome distraction from the discomfort I was near-constantly in.

I was finishing up a drawing of a character from one of his books when Abigail came in. 

"I thought I'd find him in here," she smiled when she entered, "he ain't bothering you, is he?" 

"Of course not! I love having him around," I grinned, "he's a good boy, ain't you?" 

Jack gave me a toothy smile and nodded. 

"As long as he's behaving himself," Abigail chuckled, then took a seat on the edge of the bed by my feet. "But I, uh, I'd like a word, if that's okay?"

"With me?" My brows raised a little, and she nodded. "Sure, I ain't going anywhere soon," I snorted.

"Alright Jack, why don't you go see if Susan can find you a little job to help her with, hm?"

"I don't like doing jobs," he sulked, fiddling with the corner of the page of the sketchbook on my lap. 

"Nobody does, but I need you to keep on being a good boy, come on," she breathed, putting her hand on the top of his head and directing him towards the door. "You can come back later, okay?" 

"Okay," he grumbled, though did as he was told. 

"I love you," Abigail called after him with a certain look in her eye. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she watched him leave.

"Everything okay?" I asked. It took her a moment to look at me again. 

"Sure. Arthur and Sadie are looking into how they can break John out today."

My heart thudded. "They are?"

"He never told you?"

"He said he had things to do today, didn't go into much detail. What're they doing?" I asked, mildly concerned. 

"I ain't sure. They promised me they'd get him back, Sadie said she had an idea to check things out over at Sisika. They ain't breaking him out just yet, but they're doing a hell of a lot more than Dutch is," she released a sigh and shook her head. 

"John will be back soon. You ain't gotta worry with Sadie and Arthur working on it," I reassured her. 

"I know, just feels like so long since..." she trailed off a little glumly, her head bowed and her eyes landed on my bandaged leg. "I'm sorry, how're you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Susan changed the dressing this morning and so far so good. Now that it's had a little time to calm down it don't look too bad," I explained and she nodded slowly. "Still hurts, but not like the first night."

"That was real scary," she closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them to look at me with a crinkled brow. "We have to move soon. Everyone's started packing up, we just gotta sort a new camp. That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming with us? I heard Dutch saying something about sending you off to someplace else while your leg heals."

"He was talking out'a where the sun don't shine. It was discussed, but I ain't leaving unless Arthur's coming with me. I don't think Dutch'd be too happy about that, though."

"Well I thought you should know Micah's been whispering in his ear," she muttered rolling his eyes, "he don't like to see weakness in the gang. Said we don't need to be carrying around another invalid." 

"Invalid? Soon as I'm out of this bed I'll be back to normal, I don't wanna be lying around on my ass all day!" 

"I told him where he can shove his opinion, and Arthur would never let the gang cut you loose. And like you said, Dutch don't wanna lose Arthur. You ain't going anywhere. Unless– what was Arthur going on about, you and him getting away together?" She cocked a brow a little.

"When?" I frowned.

"When you got burned, he was saying all these things–"

"You heard that? Right. I know he was," I cut her off, turning my eyes to the ceiling, I hadn't even realised that Abigail was around then, "he was just worried and stressed, we ain't leaving any time soon." 

"You don't sound very happy about that."

"Of course I ain't. I wanted to be long gone before Arthur even ended up in Guarma! But that don't mean I'm gonna make him leave. I know the timing ain't right." 

"But you do want to leave with him?"

"Yes," I breathed, closing my eyes. "Before I lose him." 

"You never mentioned this before," she noted. 

"It hurt to talk about, while he was gone," I admitted. 

"Well, I bet you're relieved, at least. Now you've got your boy back in your sight?" She mused. I nodded firmly.

"Real relieved. I'm so thankful… he was so lucky, I was lucky. I really was starting to lose it for a while."

"Well, maybe now the timing ain't right for you pair to go off and start a life together, but it will be one day. For now, I get it. Lord knows I don't wanna be here forever. Maybe when John gets out we can… I don't know. I just want us three to be a family."

"You will be, Abigail," I reached over and patted her knee. 

"If Arthur knows what's good for him," she looked up suddenly, "he'll leave all this behind too. There's been too many close calls and Dutch has been... well, he don't seem to care too much about John being behind bars, or marching towards the gallows. Once upon a time he'd be racing to do something about it."

"You think he's changed?"

"I don't know," she frowned deeply, "I love Dutch, I do, but I'm just frustrated. And a little scared, too. Hosea used to always be at his side and I trusted him to steer his judgement just enough to– sometimes Dutch's ideas are a little theatrical. I don't doubt they'd probably work but Hosea kept Dutch's feet on the ground. It was better for us all that way. I don't know how to say it, I guess."

"He provided wisdom and rationale while Dutch provided passion and charisma," I murmured, "that was always the impression I got."

"Yeah, I guess that's it," she sighed heavily. "Maybe if Hosea was still here, he'd be convincing Dutch to help with getting John back."

"I'm really sorry, Abigail. You must miss him."

"I don't like admitting it, but I do. Jack needs his father and I need–" she stopped, then realised something. "Oh, did you mean Hosea?"

"I did. But you can say whatever you need to."

"I'm just… I'm ready to have him back now. I don't like all this," she sighed, the corners of her mouth turning down and twitching. 

"No, I know. Ain't gonna be for long, I'm sure," I told her softly. 

"Hey, if you're lookin' for something else to draw in that book of yours, draw John's dumb face for me, won't you?" She smiled a little and I chuckled. 

"Sure, I'll try," I beamed at her. 

-

Arthur had come back from scoping out Sisika, full of reassurance for Abigail that they'd seen John and he was alive and well, working the fields. He hadn't mentioned it to Dutch, he told me, there was a strange air about him when he spoke about what he and Sadie had done. He never spoke at his regular volume, looked edgy, like a child plotting something he knew he shouldn't be doing. I couldn't quite believe that Dutch would have something negative to say about them going off to save one of our own. But then again, his behaviour had been particularly odd lately. 

Arthur had collapsed into sleep not long after telling me tales of hot air balloons and O'Driscolls, stories that sounded like they should be written in a story book and not coming from the experience of the man I loved. It terrified me. He'd scoped out the prison in a damn hot air balloon. He'd flown. I wanted to cry, even if Arthur acted like it was all in a day's work, and even if he spent more time describing the view of the world from miles up in the air, than he did the feeling of coming crashing back down. This was going to get him killed, I'd said, why aren't you telling Dutch and putting a team together? But he was sleeping. His head nestled into my chest and his body half laying on mine, on my good side, careful not to disturb my injured leg. I let him get his rest. 

It wasn't long before we were on the move again. It was the next afternoon that Arthur left with Charles to sort out our new home. Murfree Brood territory, up in Roanoke, apparently. I remembered the gang's hesitance to head up there after the bank job, it turned out we just needed to work up our nerve by dealing with the Night Folk in the bayou before moving onto the even sicker, even more brutal folk up on the Ridge. We'd only had one minor incident in the bayou. Lenny had encountered a couple of Night Folk skulking around a little way away from Lakay, right on the edge of our camp. They hadn't harmed him, hadn't even tried to. It seemed as though they were just checking the place out, but Lenny threatened them, we upped security, and we didn't see them again.

Miss Grimshaw came into the room I'd resided in since the night of the shoot out, flanked by Micah and Bill.

"How's that leg feelin'?" She asked as the men hung back. Bill stood awkwardly in the doorway while Micah strolled in, leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms, watching me from across the room. I was a little surprised to suddenly have them all there. 

"It's fine, I've been keeping still just like you told me to," I told her, glancing at the men before looking back at Susan. 

"Well, now I have to retract that order, we're moving. I roped these strapping fellers in to help you out onto the wagon we've got waiting for you outside," she said, glancing over her shoulder at them briefly, "you reckon you can move?"

"I don't have much of a choice," I laughed a little anxiously, "but I'll be glad to see something other than this room." 

"Alright then, you ready to move now? We don't got much time," Susan was a little short with me and sounded stressed. I didn't blame her. Moving was never a fun task. I nodded, and she nodded back, turning to leave briskly.

"Very well, be careful with her, boys. Make sure she doesn't bend that leg too much."

Micah and Bill approached me and I sat up, moving to scoot to the edge of the bed while keeping my bad leg outstretched. Micah let out an audible sigh and I kept my eyes firmly on the floor as they surrounded me, reaching for me a number of times without actually lifting me, trying to figure out how to approach it. 

"What if I lift her legs and you carry her by her arms?" Bill suggested. 

"Why don't we roll her up in a carpet while we're at it? She ain't a corpse just yet, Williamson," Micah hissed. 

"Well, I don't know! I never volunteered for this."

"Neither did I!"

"I'd walk if I could! I don't wanna be a burden, you know," I snapped at them.

"How do you want it, ma'am? Want me to carry you bridal style while Bill tosses rose petals?" Micah suggested, bending his knees to come down to my level condescendingly.

"Just lower me onto my stomach and I'll drag myself if it's too much of a hassle just to put my arms over your shoulders and walk me out there," I deadpanned. 

There was a pause, then Bill moved forward, taking my arm and hooking it around his shoulders. We both looked at Micah expectantly, and after making us wait for a few seconds, he did the same. They lifted me up and carried me out of the building, the camp was filled with people bustling about loading our things up onto the wagons, one wagon was waiting for me with a blanket draped on the bottom, a nice little spot to sit. I pressed my lips together as the blood rushed down my legs, the first time I'd stood upright since it happened, the area feeling full and tense and sore. I kept my foot lifted, trying my hardest not to move my leg too much and pull on the delicate, healing wounds.

We reached the wagon and Bill and Micah turned me, easing me up onto the back of it, sitting me down on the edge. I gasped as I bent my leg too far, and Bill caught it in his hands, lifting it up for me as I shuffled back with my arms and my good leg. By the time I was settled I was breathless, despite barely moving with my own strength.

"Thank you," I breathed, and Bill waved a hand dismissively.

"You alright?" He asked in that gruff voice of his.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I nodded. 

"You just take it easy there, don't want you straining yourself," Micah said, though the sneer with which he spoke told me he wasn't being kind. I hummed my acknowledgement but otherwise didn't respond. The two men turned and left me there, and I heard Micah muttering something about dumping me in a hotel somewhere instead of carting me around, to which Bill grumbled at him to give it a rest. 

It did make me wonder how the gang would behave if Micah found himself in a position of needing to be cared for. If he was put to bed rest for a week or two, and we had to wait on him until he was better. Would anyone complain as much as him about the weak links in the gang? I'd heard the way Micah spoke about the likes of Reverend Swanson or Uncle, and even the women, about how they didn't contribute enough and were dead weights. He didn't seem to hold much compassion, if any. But who would complain if it was him in need? Probably no one. Everyone else just got on with things, did what needed doing, helped who needed helping. I wondered how Micah would feel in that situation. Guilty? Unlikely. 

With a sigh I leaned my head back against the edge of the wagon and closed my eyes, waiting for everyone to finish packing away our things, feeling useless the entire time. I didn't enjoy being immobile. Sure, I could probably force myself to stand and do things, but I knew that it would hurt and Susan would be on my case quicker than vultures on a corpse.

It was times like these that I realised how much I needed work to ground me. How much I relied on it to give my life structure and purpose, to give me focus. Without it, or with the limited amount I was doing, the days dragged on and gave me too much time alone with my thoughts. And these days my thoughts weren't always friendly, especially when Arthur wasn't with me. When he was out working I had a constant seed of anxiety in the back of my mind, growing and sprouting into every corner of myself, building and building until he walked back into view, and the worry subsided. I'd felt it when he was out scoping Sisika. I felt it when he was clearing the new camp with Charles… worse, in fact.

My stomach churned steadily, heart thumping, just hanging around and waiting was making me feel nervous. I didn't really know what I was nervous for, I guess it was just the impatience to get on the road again, because the sooner we were on our way, the sooner I'd be with Arthur and I could see he was okay. 

-

The journey to Beaver Hollow, our new camp, was bumpy and warm and humid… and awful. My backside was numb from the hard wood of the wagon, every rut in the road jostled my leg; at first it was okay, but the longer it went on the more it began to hurt and soon the pain was intense and my discomfort manifested itself in my stomach as the worst nausea I'd felt in a long time. I laid back against the side of the wagon with my head tilted up to the sky, breathing slowly and deeply, trying so hard not to let my sickness get the better of me. 

"You okay there sweetheart? You're lookin' a little rough," Abigail, who was sitting up on the seat of the wagon above me, called down over her shoulder. I shook my head. "Is it your leg? How is it, Miss Grimshaw's been checking it, ain't she?"

"Don't make me talk, I'll be sick," I said as gingerly as I could. I heard some murmuring from above, then the wagon shook with a thump as someone jumped down from above. I opened my eyes to see Lenny rummaging in the storage next to me, the clatter of metal meeting my ears. Then I was presented with a bowl. One we prepared food in! I wrinkled my nose and kept all my focus on not puking into it.

"You want me to sit with you?" He asked me, and I gave him a look that I hoped he would read as me leaving the option up to him. He didn't have to sit with someone on the verge of purging their stomach contents, but I wouldn't mind the distraction some company would provide.

Lenny sat down next to me, leaning against the opposite side of the wagon so we faced each other. 

"We're gonna be there soon, I promise, hang tight," he said to me, crossing his arms over his chest and watching me swallow thickly, the flood of excess saliva in my mouth. "You ever been up near Beaver Hollow?" He asked me.

I nodded minutely. 

"Sorry, right, I won't make you talk," he gave a small chuckle. "I heard some bad things about this place. But I think we'll be fine. A bunch like us? No one'll come poking around." 

I swallowed again, took a shaky, slow breath. 

"Hey, did Arthur ever tell you about the time he and I went drinking together?" He began, a toothy smile appearing on his face. I shook my head. "Let me tell you. Maybe it'll make you feel better," he said.

Lenny chuckled quietly, then glanced out the back of the wagon at the one following us, with Micah and Dutch on it. 

"Was when Micah went and got himself locked up in Strawberry. Arthur took me into Valentine for a few drinks, just to ease up a little, you know? All the worst nights start out with a quiet drink," he laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I don't remember a whole lot, we just kept on doing shots. One after the other. God knows how much we drank…"

I quirked a brow at him, trying to imagine him and Arthur drinking themselves half to death. I just couldn't picture it, especially not Lenny. He seemed like such a good kid! Perhaps Arthur had just been a bad influence… 

"I remember doin' the can-can in the middle of the saloon. I remember slapping Arthur in the face over and over, and that's about it… we woke up in a jail cell! I don't really know what we did to get there," he snorted. "Probably just being a pair of complete morons."

"How'd you get out?" I asked.

"They just let us go, I guess the sheriff saw the funny side," he grinned. "I ain't ever thrown up quite as much as I did in the aftermath of that, though– sorry, maybe I won't mention that."

I laughed just a little, careful not to jostle my stomach too much.

"We ain't been out drinking since, feel like I'm still getting over it," he snorted. I smiled, it was easier not to lose my breakfast while he was talking to me. 

"Tell me another story," I pleaded.

"Hmm, let me think for a second," he murmured. "I know. This was when we was out west, before Blackwater–"

Lenny talked the whole way, distracting me from my sickness. He told me stories about the gang from before I joined, and before everything started going so spectacularly wrong. It was nice, even if it did make me sad to think of all those the gang had lost since then, some I knew, others I didn't. He seemed particularly distant when he mentioned a girl called Jenny, who'd passed during the ferry job. I still didn't quite know what went on that day, but it seemed to be one major hit in a series of many the gang had taken in recent times. 

-

Charles met up with us on the way, leading us the rest of the way to Beaver Hollow. The caravan rolled into the new area, a clearing between the trees and the large cave that had apparently been used by the Murfree Brood before us. Arthur and Charles had cleared it for us, and it terrified me to think that Arthur had been up against that sick, deranged group of bastards. They seemed to have managed it though, and the place was cleared and ready for us to set up. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, however, but Charles approached me before I could get myself too twisted in a knot with concern. 

"There was a girl locked up in the cave. Arthur's taking her back home, he'll be back later," he told me, offering his arm out, hinting for me to scoot forwards towards the open edge of the wagon. I gingerly did just that, keeping my leg straight. 

"A girl? Is she okay?" I queried, and Charles frowned a little as he took my hand, guided it around his shoulders and lifted me onto my good foot. 

"Physically, I think so. She was real shook up, though. That place was a mess down there, in the cave," he told me quietly, depositing me down on a chair he'd retrieved for me. I thanked him for his assistance as he let me go. "How're you feeling?"

"Sick," I said truthfully. "Was all I could do not to hurl on the way up here," I chuckled weakly. His frown deepened. 

"Have your wounds been checked recently?" He asked me, looking to me for permission before pressing the back of his hand to my forehead.

"This morning," I nodded, "there's no sign of infection. I think it was just the journey, it hurt from all of the bumps in the road."

"Okay. I'll see if I can find something to help you once we're all set up," he patted me on the shoulder. 

"Thanks, Charles," I smiled. He went off to help everyone unload the wagons. 

I had to sit and watch everyone buzzing around setting up tents, making the place into something that resembled a home. As much as I wished to be able to help, I was glad that everyone was too busy to pay attention to me when I – as quietly as I could – finally lost my battle with nausea on the ground beside my chair on the outskirts of the camp. I almost immediately felt better, though it wasn't fun having to sit next to it until someone could come and help me move away. At least I didn't do it in the wagon, I thought. 

[readasyouwant-blog]

Barcelona - Lisbon

Been slacking on writing the blog again because i am really enjoying this epic european vacation so far. I am currently writing this blog sitting inside a Candyland (nick name for my friend, olavo’s apartment in Lisbon). We just had a nice breakfast of bread, butter, scramble egg, strawberries and some traditional portugues pastry. The sound of an old turntable is the only entertainment that matters in this hipster apartment!! We are the generation that doesn’t own television and doesn’t want it!! My friend Olavo has the sort of same sense of eccentricness to his character and his style you can see it through his clothing style and of course how he made his candyland a home. We would listen to lots of unidentified independent or old artist that i have no idea existed but all those sounded magnificent. 

Last time i wrote, was when i was still in the yellow hostel in Rome. Since then i have flown to Barcelona and spend some time in that quirky city. Barcelona is unique in a sense that it is a metropolitan but also beautifully designed and clean. One thing for sure is to get a 48 hours Barcelona pass that allows you to travel to every corner in the city. It has one of the most extensive subway system in the world i think. The city has a very good restaurants scene or groups with their unique concept, it also has the most touristic market place called La Boqueria which is a feast for your eyes. The modernist churches has a very distinct design and decorations compared to the more luxurious counterpart in Rome. The city has a hill, coastline, and surrounded by volcanoes!! It has everything and also house to one of the most famouse soccer club in the world!! FCB Barcelona Football Club in Camp Nou which i am really grateful that i went!! The hostel i was in is called TOC it is a very hipster hostel with a nice bed but one thing they are lacking is a convenient toilet!! they don’t have any hangger at all!! Also one thing they do differently then the other one i have been is they use finger print as an access code to your room which if it works is nice but when it doesn’t it sucks!!

Olot

Saying yes to everything could be a good thing and it could be scary too but taking risk is always very rewarding most of the times. I have made acquaintance with Chef Pere and Kendra from Spain that were doing an event together with us Locavore in Bangkok not long ago. It turns out that they are from Barcelona, one of the destination that i will be going!! So we keep in contact until the time came and Kendra took me to Olot on early saturday morning to meet with Chef Pere and the food tour begins. Olot is located about one and houlf hour drive from the city centre as you can imagine, I was very lucky to be able to experienced the real Catalunian culture and food with 2 micheline star chef as my guide!!! Kendra took me to meet the chef inside a local radio station where the chef is broadcasting live!! After that we would go down to the Olot Mercado where the shop owner is also the one who produce and really own the products!!! We would taste and talk to the shop owner and one of them is called Jordi whom is very generous. He gave me lots of home made Buttifara as a gifts. We would then sit down with the rest of the gang and had a porkchop for breakfast!! I am really grateful for this experience!!

Renfe Barcelon-Madrid-Lisbon

I left Barcelona early sunday morning to took a 9am train from Barcelona to Madrid and the expected arriving time in Madrid is 6pm!! Then i would wait for another 3 hours for a train from Madrid 9.45pm that will arrive in Lisbon at 7.30am!! In total my trip from coast to coast would take 22 hours!! The longest train ride ever and i don’t think i will ever take a train that long again!!

Candyland Lisbon

For this particular destination i did not spend any money on accomodation because i am living with my friend Olavo (the only Portugues guy that do stage in Locavore one year ago!!) It helps that he lives in the centre of Lisboa and the apartment has a very nice view overlooking the river and quarter of the city. It so happens that he is off on monday and tueday so we would walk the city neighbourhood and eat in amazing local places!! The most important of all is a seafood place that Anthony Bourdain went too a long time ago called Ramirez and once you had a meal there you will understand why they are famous and still doing very well until today!! We went there with a group of Olavo’s friend Paulo(Portuguese Chinese that is funny and he happens to had a meal in Locavore last year), Jerome(Olavo’s housemate which is the youngest among us and a very nice guy), Elise ( a nice big man from Angola with his wife Tania). That night i had the Perceps or Barnacle the one I wanted for so long, The first spider crab in my life and the main course would be the most amazing sea creature of all time called Carabineiro a Huge red colored shrimp, I don’t know how they cook it but it was amazing!! Basically, what we had that night was the first ever i had in my life and they are all amazing!! One thing that is funny is how fast the waiter would serve you another beer even before you really finish your first glass of beer and they will continue doing that without being ask!!

Music Discoveries

Benjamin Clementine - Condolence

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 52)

Just a Social Call

I very nearly didn’t post today. I hated this chapter and the one that comes after it, but after speaking to a couple of friends and sitting my ass down to rework them, I feel much better :) I hope you guys like this chapter even though it’s not too eventful. I do often worry about these kinds of chapters... But anyway, it includes some wound treatment, and lots of conversation with Charles, Micah and John, because hey, conversation is just what I do :’)

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I was reliving it. The screaming and yelling and the gunfire, the searing pain; ice cold, burning hot, ice cold. The blind panic, the total belief that I was going to die, that Arthur was too, and the rest of the gang. That everything was going up in smoke, literally, all around me. And it hurt. Physically and mentally, and my heart was thudding so hard in my chest it ached and soon I jolted awake, my eyes flashing open. 

My mouth was dry and I swallowed a couple of times, looking around the tent as my pulse began to return to normal, and my surroundings brought me out of the terrifying landscape my mind had painted in my sleep. I lifted my head and spotted a cup of water that Arthur must've left for me, since he wasn't around; already gone from his bedroll on the floor next to the bed I'd temporarily stolen from him. I reached for the cup and quenched my dry mouth, exhaling loudly as I put the cup back down and slumped back against the bed.

I stared up at the top of the tent and thought about my dream, about how real it had felt, just like the night it happened. I didn't know why I'd dreamt about it. I didn't like that I had. But it was only a dream, and I took comfort in the knowledge that I'd made it out alive and now here I was; safe and recovering.

The fabric of the tent was pinned back just a little to allow a breeze into the space, the sun was beating down and it was stuffy and humid, so the cooler air seeping in from the gap was appreciated. I shifted, peering through the gap into the camp; I spotted John, Arthur and Karen all sitting around the campfire, just being joined by Abigail. I sighed and slumped back down onto my back, resenting my injury from keeping me held back, away from everyone else. 

My eyes went out of focus where I gazed at the split in the canvas, from my position I saw trees and sky, though it all blurred into a mix of pale blue and brown as I lost myself for a while in the murmurs of the camp. I heard Abigail laughing, followed by Arthur and Karen, and wondered if John had said something funny. I sighed sadly, then jumped when a mass blocked out the sky through the gap. 

My eyes refocused; the mass appeared to be Charles, standing outside the tent. 

"Hello?" I called out when he didn't immediately do anything. 

"Oh, hey," he responded, "I was trying to listen to see if you were asleep."

"Come in," I invited, and he lifted the canvas and hesitantly peered inside, like he was expecting to find me in my undergarments or something. "Would you open it up fully, please? I feel lonely," I chuckled.

"Of course," he nodded, then set to work pulling back the majority of the canvas that was closing me off from the rest of the camp. "How're you feeling?"

"Pretty good. The burn behind my knee is giving me some trouble, though," I admitted.

"Yeah? That's why I'm here," he began, picking something up from the floor just outside the tent. It was a mortar and pestle, filled with purple flowers. "I went hunting yesterday, brought back some meat this morning, but I came across some lavender."

"Lavender," I repeated curiously. As he approached and moved a crate to sit down on, I caught the scent of the purple flowers inside the mortar, a lovely soft, fresh, soothing scent.

"Yeah, I thought I could mash it up, make a paste. If you want, we could put it on your wounds, it should help with the inflammation, and help keep at bay any infection," he told me. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course,” I nodded.

"I'll be as gentle as I can. Has anyone checked your wounds today?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, I'll take a look soon," he said, then placed the mortar on his lap, taking the pestle and beginning to grind the flowers down. 

The scent became stronger as he crushed the flowers, releasing the oils and fragrance into the air. I breathed in deeply, glancing out towards the sky as I laid back and waited. It smelled incredible. 

"How've you been sleeping?" Charles asked me after a moment, over the repetitive sound of the pestle rubbing along the bottom of the mortar. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, watching him add more lavender from a pouch he wore on his gun belt. I hesitated for a few moments before responding.

"Okay. Arthur was in here with me. I sleep better with him around," I told him, and Charles hummed in acknowledgement. "How're you doing? What do you think of the new camp?"

"It's not my favourite place," he admitted. "This whole area feels… dark. I don't like it. I prefer being further south-west. The trees out here; there's a lot of forest. Makes it hard to keep track of your surroundings. When I was hunting, I kept making myself paranoid, always looking over my shoulder. Like there's people everywhere, but they're good at hiding." 

"Oh, don't tell me that. You'll freak me out," I chuckled. Charles smirked.

"The girl who grew up in the swamp, getting freaked out so easily?" He teased. 

"I guess I got used to the swamp, and all the spooky things you hear at night."

"Swanson seemed to think the swamp was haunted," he pointed out.

"It could very well be. I always wondered. There were stories when I was growing up, 'bout a woman who haunts Bluewater Marsh, telling passing cowboys that she loves them." 

"Yeah? Maybe she just weren't interested in me," he snorted. I laughed, shaking my head at him. 

"I never heard anything that couldn't be explained away somehow," I told him. "It's probably just overactive imaginations. But it's understandable, it's creepy. You don't know what's out there in the fog, and some of the sounds the wildlife makes, you'd think it was a lonely spirit, crying out."

"Well, a spirit won't hurt you. People, though. The Night Folk? You didn't seem worried about them, so you shouldn't worry too much about the Murfree Brood, as long as you stick around camp or go out with a partner."

I chuckled, "sticking 'round camp should be easy, not sure I'll be going out for a while," I said. Charles hummed quietly, a little guiltily, but I smiled at him to show him I wasn't put out by the comment.

"You'll heal fast if you keep doing what you're doing; lots of rest and regular check ups."

I nodded in understanding. 

"I've spent time out here before," I changed the subject, "a little further south. After my parents passed I was looking for work, I came to Van Horn to see if there was anything going. I didn't have much luck, but I liked the place. I used to go up the lighthouse and look at the view, even slept up there a couple times after we lost the house. Never strayed into the forests too much, though."

"Van Horn. That's just a little place, right?" He asked. I nodded my head.

"Ain't much to it, and I wouldn't call it pretty. But it's near the water, and it's usually quiet."

"You like being near the water?" 

"Yeah. I always liked that about growing up in the swamps, only in Van Horn, or 'round Flat Iron lake at Clemens Point, there ain't no alligators," I chuckled. "I don't know. The sound of the water lapping up against the shore has always been nice to me. What sort of place do you like?"

"Anywhere that's open," he told me. "I don't like cities. Or even really towns. I liked being out west, before Blackwater. That's the freest place I've been; only it's so damn hot out there. The sun doesn't pull any punches. So uh, I guess The Heartlands, near our camp at Horseshoe Overlook. That was my kind of place. Minus all the O'Driscolls and Cornwall's henchmen."

"Yeah, I liked that place too," I nodded, letting out a soft sigh. 

"May I?" Charles nodded to my leg as he put the mortar aside.

"Of course, thank you," I said hitching my skirt up enough to expose my bandaged leg.

"My hands are clean. I washed them before I came in and started working with the flowers," he assured me as he scooted forwards, and delicately began unwinding the bandage. 

I glanced over at the mortar, seeing a pulpy, thick paste inside. I pressed my lips together as he peeled the dressing's final layer away from my skin. I didn't look as he inspected it. Each time someone came to check my wounds, I was nervous, half expecting them to discover puss and all sorts, dooming me. 

"It looks like it's healing well," he told me, and I released a relieved breath. "I'm going to have to touch it to apply this, you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," I nodded. 

"How's the patient, doc?" Arthur's voice made me jump a little. I glanced towards the foot of the bed to where he was leaning up against the side of the wagon with his coffee in his hand. 

"She's okay. She's letting me apply some lavender to her burns. It should help soothe them, and lessen any pain."

"They don't look too bad," Arthur commented. "Still hurting?" He glanced at me. 

"A little," I nodded. 

"When she says a little, I'm concerned she means a lot, and she's just putting on a brave face," Charles mused quietly in a monotone.

"I might be inclined to share that concern, Mr. Smith," Arthur nodded, his eyes on mine. 

"It's… moderate. Hurts worse in the evening, for some reason."

Charles hummed thoughtfully. "The blistered parts don't look as bad, they're going down. I'll avoid those, don't want to risk bursting them," he told me, and I watched him as he scooped some of the lavender pulp onto his fingers, and gingerly packed it against my leg, sticking to the less severe of my burns. He was careful enough that it only hurt a little more than it did anyway.

"You think it'll scar?" I asked. 

"I… I'd be surprised if it didn't. But I can't imagine it'll be too bad. Probably only on the worst parts, like here; on the outer part of your calf," he explained, and I nodded in understanding. 

Charles was very gentle as he applied the paste, pressing carefully and only enough to make sure it stuck. It caused discomfort, of course, but not a lot. Arthur was quiet, staring down at my leg with a slightly pursed mouth and a look of deep thought on his face, his brow furrowed a bit. I knew him well enough by then that I could tell he was feeling guilty, just like he had the night it happened. Just like he had when my neck was wounded by the O'Driscoll.

"Scars don't really bother me. Just a reminder of how lucky we all are to be alive, right?" I said, and they both glanced at me. 

"I guess that's one way of looking at it," Charles said, and I looked at the scar across his cheek, wondering if it bothered him. It shouldn't, I thought, it was interesting, as far as scars went. It framed his face in a way that gave him something extra, rather than take away. Similarly to John's. Perhaps I was odd, thinking that scars made a person more interesting to look at. 

I looked at Arthur, then, seeing him thumb the scar on his own chin, and I smiled at him. The smile he returned to me was small but affectionate.

"Okay, just gotta wrap this back up, alright? How was that?" Charles asked, sitting back and reaching for the tin of medical supplies that stayed on the table by the bed while I was recovering. He opened it up and retrieved some fresh dressing. 

"It was fine. Thank you, Charles," I nodded, nibbling on my bottom lip for a moment as he began to wrap my leg back up. "Actually, thank you for everything. I never said this, but when it happened, I know I clung to you like a baby; thank you for being there."

"Don't thank me. I just happened to be next to you, I didn't do anything special," he replied, his voice a little quiet and uncomfortable. He stole a glance at Arthur, then added, "I know I wouldn't've been your first choice," he released a laugh. 

I wasn't really sure why he said that, or what he meant by it exactly. Arthur was staring at him too, looking about as clueless as me. 

"Well, I appreciated your support in that moment. It was scary, I wasn't really sure what had happened but you kept me grounded," I continued, meeting Charles' eyes again. He simply nodded, his lips sealed. 

Arthur took a drink of his coffee, screwing his face up. "I think I'll have to bar Mr. Duffy from making the coffee. This is so bitter, it's barely drinkable," he murmured, "you folks want any coffee? Think I'll make a fresh batch." 

"Oh, that'd be nice," I nodded, "thanks."

"I'm good, thanks," Charles said, and then Arthur headed off with a nod. Charles finished bandaging my leg, and was closing up the tin when he spoke again, "sorry for the odd response earlier. I know Arthur's been feeling guilty over all this and not being able to keep you safe. I didn't want to make him feel like I was somehow– I don't know. I know he would've liked to have been there for you that night, instead."

I looked at him for a moment, considering. "You didn't want to make him feel worse. Or… inadequate," I murmured. 

"Yeah. Didn't take me long to figure out what kind of person he is. I don't think he's the jealous type, I think he's more likely to just feel bad about himself," he said, and I glanced over at Arthur where he was making the coffee across the camp. 

"You hit the nail on the head. I weren't thanking you to rub his face in it or nothing–"

"No, I know."

"Did he say something to you?" I questioned. He took a breath as he wiped his hands on his pants, ridding himself of bits of crushed lavender.

"When we were heading up here together, it was a long ride. We talked about a lot of things, about Guarma. About what happened while he was away. About the gang, and of course, you came up," he explained. He paused for a while before elaborating, and I was beginning to worry that Arthur would return before he could finish. "He's scared for you. He's never had a woman he loves in the gang before, he didn't realise how much it was going to worry him. Apparently he invited Mary to run with the gang a couple times, back when they were together. I think he's starting to realise how naive he used to be, now he's being stared in the face by just how fragile life can be."

"Seeing so many people he cares about die in the space of a few months will do that to a person, I suppose," I sighed. 

"Exactly," he nodded. 

I'd realised by then that Arthur was a nurturing person at heart, but he didn't realise it himself. He took on so much responsibility for the gang, and after I came into his life and we fell for each other, he felt responsible for keeping me safe too. I could see that he felt like somewhat of a failure when for whatever reason, he couldn't.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Whenever I've spoken to him, he seems torn. He keeps saying he wants us to leave, find a safer life together. But he cares for this gang so much– I know it ain't gonna happen until he knows everyone else has a future. And I understand that." 

"There comes a point though…" Charles began under his breath, looking over his shoulder briefly, "where he has to realise that all of us? The gang? We've got each other. We'll figure a way with or without him, it ain't hanging on his shoulders alone. But you two? I, uh… I don't know. Maybe he needs to think about what he's putting first. Who really needs him the most. What he needs."

I stared at Charles with slightly parted lips, my mind reeling, buzzing. I didn't know what to say. He had a point and his words forced me to wonder and really question; did Arthur actually want to leave with me?

Arthur returned a few moments later, handing me a cup of fresh, hot coffee once I'd shifted to sit upright. I thanked him, and blew across the top of the cup, waiting for it to cool enough to sip. 

"I need to get something to eat, then I'm heading out again," Charles announced, smacking his palms against his thighs before pushing up to his feet. 

"Where you going? Anything you need a second gun for?" Arthur asked. 

"Oh, it's not always a job for guns, Arthur," Charles told him, a playful sternness in his tone at Arthur's automatic assumptions. "I'm going to the reservation. Bringing them some supplies; food, mostly. I'll manage alone. I thought you had somewhere to be today, anyway."

"Ahh, I don't know if I'm goin'," Arthur waved a hand dismissively. 

"Going where?" I asked curiously. 

"Got a letter from that Braithwaite girl," Arthur replied.

"Excuse me," Charles said quietly, ducking out of the tent and leaving us to talk. 

"Thanks again, Charles. Take care of yourself," I said before he left, and he nodded. 

"See you later," Arthur added.

"Penelope?" I asked Arthur, sipping my coffee as he took Charles' place by the bed. He hummed with a nod. "What did she say?"

"She's requested my help. After I helped out with that march of hers I guess she figured I wouldn't mind helping her again, but it's an awful long way away now. Not sure if I wanna head back down south just yet," he breathed, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. 

"Is it too dangerous?" I frowned. 

He sighed quietly. "No," he admitted a little glumly, "I lost that excuse when I busted John from the state penitentiary. Sneaking into the Braithwaite's place is a little less dangerous than that."

"But you don't wanna go," I noted. 

"She wants me to get her out of there, bring her to meet what's-his-face at the train station," he explained, "It's a long way away from here," he reiterated. 

"I remember you telling me we'd help them, if we could," I said softly. Arthur laughed through his nose, smirking.

"I thought you might remember that," he murmured. 

"I ain't gonna force you, not since I can't come along with you or do it myself," I shrugged, drinking more coffee, glancing out towards the main campfire. Arthur was quiet for a few moments.

"No, I'll go. Who knows, might make us a bit of money," he eventually said under his breath. 

"Yeah? Not 'cause you're a hopeless romantic at heart?" I teased. Arthur rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, an eye roll, you've been a real rogue these days. Disobeying orders, showing a little attitude," I smirked at him as I teased, and he huffed a laugh.

"Should I apologise for my transgressions?" He queried, cocking a brow.

"No. Not if this is you realising you're perfectly capable of thinking for yourself," I replied, thinking back to our conversation in his room at Shady Belle, when he admitted that he'd never had to think for himself, he just did as he was told.

"Mm. Maybe it is."

"You seen Dutch this morning?"

"Not really, I think he's still pissed off at me."

"Well then, he's a fool."

"I see Jack playing with his pa and it don't matter much to me what Dutch thinks. A boy should have his daddy around, if it can be helped," he mumbled, staring down into his coffee cup. My lips parted, but I drew a blank; I knew what he was thinking about. I reached a hand to his knee, giving it a squeeze.

"Arthur, I want you to know I'm proud of you. You're harder on yourself than anybody else is, but you have a lot of good in you. It always prevails," I told him, not minding that he kept his eyes down rather than meeting mine. "It's why I love you. One of the many reasons."

"It's when you say things like that, I just picture packing up all our stuff onto this wagon and just getting the hell out of here before Dutch can even tell me what he thinks of the idea," he murmured. I withdrew my hand, cupped my coffee with both hands as I stared at him for a while. Eventually, he looked up at me to analyse my silence. 

“I won’t hold my breath, but you know I’d never protest,” I sighed. Arthur looked sad for a moment, but I smiled at him, not wanting to go there. He smiled back and took a breath.

"Alright, princess. I got a love story to meddle in, haven't I?" He smirked.

"You go meddle in it, cross that off your list. One thing at a time," I smiled at him, "I'll be here when you get back, ain't going anywhere," I gestured to my leg with a sigh. 

Arthur retrieved his coffee, downed the remainder, then stood up. He cupped the back of my skull and kissed my forehead, then smoothed his palm over my hair a few times before straightening up. 

"I'll see you later, sweetheart. Can I get you anything before I go?" He queried, and I shook my head. 

"I'm all good, thank you."

"What about a kiss, can I tempt you with one o' those?" He asked. I chuckled at the unexpected offer, and nodded. 

"Go on then," I said, then he leaned down again, a finger under my chin to lift my lips to his. The kiss was tame and sweet, just enough for me to taste him and leave me greedily wanting more. Then he smiled at me one last time, and left.

-

I was excited to hear that Micah needed a button reattached to a pair of trousers. Not that I particularly enjoyed doing chores for him, he always seemed to get some sort of weird, gloating enjoyment from it, like he felt that me doing him a favour somehow gave him validation that he was above me. But I was just bored. Tired of feeling like a useless layabout, wanting to contribute to something, I was restless without productivity. I understood all too well how Arthur had felt during his recovery after his return from the O'Driscolls. 

So, I sat on the bed with my sewing kit, doing an especially good job of repairing the garment, making sure that the button wasn't going anywhere any time soon. The monotonous task of looping the thread through the button, pulling it flush to the trousers, securing, fixing, maintaining, was nice to absorb myself in and killed some time. When it was repaired, I did a good scan of the beige fabric, pulling seams, inspecting stitching, searching for anything that might need my attention. I found a row of loose stitching on the inner seam, and so I spent a few minutes more taking some preventative measures in reinforcing it. 

By the time I was done they were as good as new. I folded them neatly and handed them back to him when he came over to me in the afternoon.

"Thanks, doll, you ain't left no pins in there to stab me in the nutsack, have you?" He asked when he tucked them under his arm, crumpling them. 

"I'm low on pins, ain't worth wasting one on your nutsack," I murmured in response. 

"Right. Anyway, whenever Morgan gets back from whatever he's out doing, you let him know Dutch and I are in Annesburg, won't you? Need him to join us, soon as possible," he told me, his tone all serious and authoritative.

"Annesburg. What're you doing out there? I can tell you right now there ain't much worth robbing over there, ain't exactly a rich town."

"Business, my dear. Ain't nothing you gotta worry your pretty head about," he cooed, and I frowned in confusion. 

"What business you got? I'll worry my pretty head all I like, when you and Dutch are pulling Arthur out to some middle-of-nowhere mining town for business, when not twenty-four hours ago you was looking at him like he was the spawn of Satan for going out and damning us all," I spat, cocking my head.

"As much as I'm sure he'd love to spend all day hiding under your skirt, we've got wind of Cornwall stopping through there, Dutch wants to go pay him a visit to talk things out like men, try and stop him sending the Pinkertons after us like foxes to a coop," Micah explained, idly picking up the photograph of me standing up on one of the crates along with all of Arthur's other keepsakes. His moustache curled snidely at the sight of it, then he put it back down. "Don't worry. We ain't going out there to bump off old Sparkly Blues Morgan."

I snorted at Micah's attempt at a derogatory name for him, taking it only as proof that even he had noticed how lovely Arthur's eyes were. 

I smiled tightly. "Alright. I'll let him know." 

"Good girl," he grinned, nodded courteously, and spun on his heel to leave. My gut churned at his tone and his praise. It astounded me how different those words felt whenever Arthur whispered them to me.

“What was all that about?” A gravelly voice startled me and I gasped when John rounded the corner from behind the wagon. 

“Jesus, John,” I breathed, and he smirked at me.

“Sorry,” he laughed.

“It weren’t nothing. He just wanted me to pass a message on to Arthur,” I told him with a casual shrug. I looked him up and down, pleased to see him cleaned up and looking slightly less like a delinquent. “How’re you settling in?”

“Good as I could hope, considering daddy didn't want me back,” he said drily, coming and sitting up on the table next to the bed, putting his feet up on the chair. I smiled in amusement at his choice of seat. 

“I’m glad you’re back, I hope that counts for something,” I told him quietly and he looked at me from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, it does, actually,” he exhaled, then looked at me fully. “I uh… I wanted to ask you somethin’,” he began.

“Okay,” I nodded, cocking my head.

“Since you’re a woman, I guess I feel like you’d be the best for this,” he said, and I raised my brows a little, curiosity piqued, “do you… really think Abigail and I got a chance?”

“I’m sorry,” I balked, completely astounded as to why he’d think I was qualified to answer such a question.

“Well, she’s been different since I been back, I can't explain it. She’s nicer. I feel like maybe things are looking up, but I don’t quite know where I stand,” he sighed, gesticulating anxiously, “I’m sure you know by now what a shitty man I’ve been to her. I guess I wanna know, do you reckon a woman could ever forgive a man like me?”

“I really ain’t the one to ask this, and I think you know that,” I said, and he sighed heavily, though he nodded.

“At least give me some… reassurance,” he pleaded and I chuckled.

“You want reassurance,” I repeated drily, glancing out over the camp, considering.

“I know I ought to be speaking to her about this. And we have, a little, but somehow I feel like she ain’t being as open with me as she could be. Or maybe I’m not. I don't know, I ain’t ever been good at this,” he grumbled, clearly frustrated with himself. I met his eyes and offered him a comforting smile.

“John, just tell her how you feel. If you want to make things really work with her then she’s gotta know your heart’s in it, and not that you’re just going through the motions because it’s what everyone expects of you,” I told him, leaning closer to him, “is it what you want?”

He was quiet for a few long seconds, his eyes dropping down to his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon it is,” he said under his breath.

“Then tell her. She’ll appreciate that. Transparency is the most important–” I caught myself, realising I was sounding far more knowledgeable than I really had any right pretending I was, “if being with Arthur has taught me anything, it’s that being honest and transparent is a lot easier than holding things back.”

“You two seem to have it figured out. Relationships, I mean, you seem to just work,” John mused, and it put a smile on my face.

“Arthur and I… we’ve got our own stuff,” I told him softly, “but we talk, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if talkin’s gonna solve all me and Abigail's problems, talking usually turns into shouting,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, maybe not, but it’s a start. Just… try not to let it get to the shouting stage,” I smiled sheepishly. 

“That ain’t usually my call.”

“Hey, that’s the kind of flippant attitude that’ll get you yelled at,” I snorted, smacking his knee lightly.

“Alright!” He snickered, crossing his arms over his chest. I exhaled loudly and smiled at him.

“You and Abigail can work if you try, that's my official response; as a woman,” I smirked. “You just need to speak to each other. She loves you, and so does Jack. Don’t squander what you’ve got. You’ll need each other when this all falls apart.”

“You sound pretty confident that this-” he gestured to our surroundings- “ain’t being held together by much.”

“Well, do you disagree?” I queried.

“No. Guess I’m just surprised to hear you validate it,” he breathed.

We both fell into silence for a few moments, each staring off into space and letting the conversation sink in.

“John?” I started, softly and timidly.

“Mm?” He looked at me.

“Work things out with Abigail. Get out of here, both of you, with Jack,” I whispered. His dark eyes widened a bit as he stared, then he blinked and looked away, his lips parting but nothing coming out. “I think everybody knows that it’d be best for you.”

“I…” He tried, shaking his head, fiddling with his hands. “I don't know what’ll happen. We’re all just… doing our best, right?” He met my eyes again, his expression soft, brows arched.

“Yeah,” I nodded, words hushed and coming out with an exhale, “we are.”

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 4)

Blackwater

The first night reader and Arthur met :) Contains suggestive conversation, violence and heavy drinking.

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I could barely keep my eyes open but I could still hear. The piano had stopped playing and people were shouting, my brother being one of those voices. Who knew what they were saying? I didn't particularly care. I'd come here to let go, to drink and to forget everything for the rest of the evening, and that's exactly what I was doing. The barman had kept sliding shots across the bar and I had kept knocking them back, my hands still managing to find the coins for more despite being completely wasted.

Someone on my right was speaking to me, I’d told them to leave me alone but they persisted.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Leave me be,” I grumbled back to him, holding my head up with both hands, elbows on the bar as I stared down into my shot glass.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but-”

“What’chu want? You see a drunk woman at the bar and think she’ll be an easy lay?” I snorted, shaking my head before necking my shot.

“No, it ain’t like that. I’m trying to-” he cut himself off, and I heard his tone change. “You better back off, boy, or you’ll lose some more of those goddamn teeth, you hear?”

I slumped over to one side and tilted my head, catching a glimpse at the back of the guy’s head. There was most definitely a fight breaking out, but I couldn’t care less. I just wanted to enjoy my evening.

“Ma'am, you might want to move. Those men are getting a little rowdy and you're too close for my liking,” the man returned to me and warned, touching my elbow.

I pressed my hand against the bar and pushed myself up so I could look at him properly; I felt like I had the weight of the ocean keeping my head down, either that or the world was tilting and I was fighting against gravity to keep myself upright. I blinked until my eyes focused, and a handsome gentleman with pretty blue eyes and hair the colour of chestnuts came into view. Lots of movement behind him, my brother throwing a fist at someone he didn't like. Again.

“He'll tire himself out,” I told him with lazy lips. “'s my brother.”

There was a clatter and a series of smashes as someone got pushed into a table and I groaned in annoyance, wondering how much the barkeep would want for repairs.

“That's your brother? What's he doin’ getting into fights, shouldn't he be lookin’ after you?” The handsome man said irritably, looking over his shoulder and edging closer to me, arm outstretched as if to shield me as a glass came flying past us.

“He don't look after me, I look after me,” I told him.

The yelling got louder, messier, there were more people getting involved. The barkeep was the closest person to me who was yelling and the only raised voice I could understand. He was telling everyone to stop, take it outside, you'll pay for every broken glass or else.

“I paid for another drink five minutes ago, where is it?” I asked him, being completely ignored. “Hey! Gimme my goddamn drink!” Now I was raising my voice.

“Miss, I think we should leave now,” the man beside me urged, the hand on my elbow tightening into a grasp as the gang of men beating the crap out of each other grew.

“I ain't leaving here with you, I don't even know your name,” I slurred, I was getting annoyed, that bastard behind the bar had stolen my money!

“It's Arthur. I'm sorry, ma'am but I have t-” his body collided with mine roughly and I went tumbling over. I landed on my ass, falling backwards into someone else's legs and sending them flying too, we were like dominoes.

“You pushed me!” I whined up at Arthur, not even registering the cacophony of swear words being thrown at me from behind.

“My apologies, I was pushed,” he held his hand out to me and in the moment I didn't know what he wanted me to do with it. His lovely eyes flashed up over my head and he growled; “don't you start with her, I'm tryin'a get her out of here!”

He made an irritable sound and then I was being pulled up by my arms and pressed up against his side.

“Hey!” I called out, trying to organise my feet in such a way so that they weren't dragging on the floor. Somehow, I ended up outside; I could see my breath. The cool air sobered me up just enough that when Arthur let go of me, I stayed on my feet.

“You alright?” He asked.

“What'chu think you're doing?” I stumbled backwards, straightening out my skirt and blouse.

“Saving your hide, woman!” He snapped.

“I was having a drink!”

“I can damn well see that!” He gestured at me with both hands then shook his head and took a breath. “Never mind, I'm sorry. It was getting ugly in there and I can see you ain't in the best of conditions.”

“‘s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you've clearly had a skinful, you weren't getting out of that place goin’ in a straight line,” he said and I cracked up. He shook his head in bewilderment as I laughed. “You want me to go get your brother?”

“Nah, he pulls this crap all the damn time, he'll be fine,” I waved my hand back and forth and leaned backwards. Luckily there was a post of some description behind me.

“What am I gonna do with you? I ain't just leaving you here. How far's your home?”

“Uhh, what town are we in again?” I slurred and he looked at me, slack jawed and vacant eyed.

“I’m just gonna put you in the hotel,” he decided.

“I ain't got the money for that!”

“My treat,” he tutted at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and walking me away from the saloon. His body was hot and solid against mine, I could tell he was strong. I giggled and wrapped a hand around one of his arms.

“Look at this big, strong man, takin’ care of me,” I commented, looking up at his face to see his cheeks redden. “Mama would approve.”

“Oh, I don't think she would,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Why's that? Don't be hard on yourself, sir, you're a handsome one,” I told him, patting his cheek. His jaw was a little coarse with stubble.

“And you're drunk,” he laughed, looking down at me.

“I can still use my eyes!” I exclaimed, tripping over my feet but staying upright thanks to the arm around me.

“Careful, now,” he warned.

He led me into the hotel and deposited me onto a chair, holding onto me for a moment to make sure I wasn't going to fall off of it. I was too far gone to be embarrassed about my behaviour and simply grinned up at him. He turned to the man at the desk and requested a room.

“A room for two?” The man questioned, eyeing me up and looking between us. I giggled.

“Yeah!”

“No,” both Arthur and I spoke at the same time.

“I'm jus’ kidding, he ain't getting into these britches that easy,” I laughed, noting the way Arthur looked back at me and cocked a brow in amusement.

“Just a single room for the lady,” he continued, turning back. “Thank you.”

Arthur made his way back to me and helped me up again, which required a lot of effort on his part. I rather liked being lifted around by such a nice man, I might've played up how off balance I was just to feel his arms tighten. I hummed in appreciation as his large hands settled firmly on my waist, feeling something stirring in me.

“I've never been held like this before, you know,” I told him. He frowned and seemed upset by this.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, I fear if I let go you'll hurt yourself,” he explained, taking my hand and putting it on the handrail of the stairs so he could better lead me up them.

“I weren't saying you should let go,” I said, and Arthur looked at me. His face was so close, he was so handsome, I beamed at him. He cleared his throat and looked down at my feet as he continued to help me up the stairs.

“Can you send some water up to the room, please?” He called back to the clerk.

“Of course, sir.”

“Come on, stand up straight, let's just get you into bed,” he muttered, hastening me.

“At least buy me dinner first,” I snickered. Arthur sighed and shook his head.

When we made it to the room he sat me down on the bed, prying my hand from where I'd wrapped it around him for support.

“Now, I'm gonna leave and you're gonna go to sleep and sober up, ya’ hear?”

“Ooh, so demanding,” I purred and snickered, laying back onto the mattress and peering up at him. Arthur flushed again and shook his head. A lady knocked on the door before she came into the room carrying a tray with some glasses and a container of water. She apologised for the intrusion and left it on the dresser before leaving again.

Arthur turned and filled a glass. “Sit up, get some fluids in ya’ that ain't booze.”

“I know what kinda fluids you could put in me.”

“Please. I'm tryin'a be nice,” he complained, holding the glass out to me. I simpered and did as he asked, drinking down the whole glass; he sighed with ease. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I responded, surprising him. “This is all very gentlemanly of you.”

“Yeah well, if I'd have left you there you'd've been on my conscience and I already got enough on that,” he told me, taking a seat on the chair by the door. He sat for a moment, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall.

“Looks like you need this bed more than I do,” I laughed.

“No, I'm fine. I best be gettin’ on. You take care of yourself, alright? Get some sleep, and don't try going back for your brother tonight.”

“Don't worry, I weren't planning to. He is one heck of an idiot,” I rolled my eyes and laid down on my side, sighing pleasantly at the cushion of a comfy bed.

“You tell him to start lookin’ out for you. Family comes in many forms but it's important, you gotta stick together.”

“I will,” I assured him. He rose to his feet and made for the door. Before he left, I called out to him, telling him my name. “In case I see you around again.”

Arthur chuckled. “That's a lovely name, but, I don't think you will,” he tipped his hat at me before letting himself out. I sighed when the door clicked shut behind him and I rolled onto my back.

The booze in my system pulled me into slumber real quick, that and the comfortable bed and the lack of my brother's snoring through the wall. Arthur made his way into my dreams; the handsome cowboy filling my head with images and sounds that mama would definitely not approve of, and that would turn my face pink with shame once I was sober enough.  

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 8)

Daisy Chains

Not much to say about this one besides some quiet little conversation around the campfire!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

All was quiet for a while around the campfire, though we could hear laughter and chit chat from the other side of the camp. I looked at Arthur who was away with the fairies, staring at the fire, his beer bottle pressed to his bottom lip, whistling quietly with his breath.

“You okay, Arthur?” I asked and he blinked, snapping out of it and looking at me.

“Oh I'm fine, jus’ lost in thought,” he told me, eyes ghosting over me, taking in my appearance. “You look real nice, with the new clothes and the hair, I saw Mary-Beth did that for you.”

“Thanks,” I grinned. “She's good with hair, ain't she? Said maybe she'd teach me sometime.”

“That's nice of her. I'm glad you're getting along well with the others.”

“Yeah, you folk have all been very kind, I hope I can make it up somehow,” I said. He nodded, keeping his eyes on me for a long while before letting out a breath.

“Can I ask you something?” He said, his voice going up a bit with curiosity.

“Sure.”

“That letter… the one you and John picked up for me today. That was from someone that, uhh, that meant a lot to me, at one point. Still does, I suppose. But I ain't seen them in so long I was starting to feel okay with that, about them being all a part of my past,” he explained to me, his brow creased a little.

“But now they wanna see me again, and I ain't sure that's a good idea,” he continued, glancing away. “You ever loved somebody? I mean that ain't your kin.”

“Me?” I balked, not being prepared for such a question. “No, I uh, can't say I have.”

“No, I suppose you're too young for that,” he mumbled.

“I wouldn't say it's that. My family kept to ourselves, I never got the chance to meet anyone and become familiar enough to fall in love. Then of course, it's been the last thing on my mind in more recent years,” I said, frowning to myself. I wasn't sure Arthur really knew how old I was. “But anyway, is that all you wanted to ask me?”

“I guess I was just gonna ask you what you'd do," he met my eyes again.

“Would I go and meet this person?” I wondered aloud, and Arthur nodded. “I'm guessing you're afraid of being hurt, that's understandable. I'm not the best at advice but, I think it depends. Do you care about them enough to risk it?”

“I think I do. I feel maybe I owe it to her, not to ignore her letter. But I just don't… I don't wanna get sucked into anything, 'cause that's when I turn into a fool.”

“Maybe you should go then, even if it's just to tell her what you just told me; that you don't think keeping in contact like this is a good idea,” I suggested. Arthur nodded and sat quietly in thought for a while.

The whole time I'd been speaking to him my heart had been in my mouth. I didn't know anything about his situation and I could only do my best in advising him, I just didn't want him to get hurt over something I'd suggested. But he was a grown man at the end of the day, he could make his own choices.

“How about you come with me?”

“What?” My eyes widened.

“I think if I had someone there, I might be able to keep my head. I have a tendency to drop everything for this person and I know I can't do that right now, not with all that's happened to the gang recently.”

“I understand, but me? Why me? Wouldn't that look bad?”

“I ain't about to bring one of the boys with me, they'd give me no end of crap! Bunch o’ children. Not only that, everyone here has some sort of opinion on her. But you ain't met Mary before, you ain't got any ideas about her and you won't be whispering in my ear, tellin’ me what you think of her. That's why I asked you about this in the first place.”

“Alright. I guess I see your point. I'm just thinking of how it's gonna look if you turn up with some other woman she ain't met before on the back of your horse,” I said awkwardly, averting my gaze. I could feel Arthur's eyes on me as he considered my words. In the end he sat forward, adjusting his hat and taking a swig of beer.

“If she makes assumptions then maybe that wouldn't be so bad,” he admitted quietly. “Might even make it easier.”

I opened my mouth, but didn't know what to say, so I closed it again and fidgeted in my seat.

“That is of course, if you can stand for anyone to think you've settled for someone like me,” he added.

“Settled?” I spat with a little too much disbelief. I reined myself in. “I'm sorry, Arthur. You shouldn't think that of yourself, settling ain't what someone would do for you. You're a fine man.”

“Ya’ barely know me,” he chuckled.

“What I do know is all good; you’re a gentleman. You're kind, polite, helpful, not to mention extremely handsome,” I said without thinking, stopping abruptly and drinking some beer so that I had a reason to shut up. My thoughts turned back to the conversation I had with the girls earlier that evening and I felt incredibly embarrassed. If they'd heard that…

A glance from the corner of my eye showed Arthur with his head tilted down, unmistakable amusement on his face; badly hidden. I cleared my throat and made to stand up.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, getting out of there as quickly as I could.

He was laughing at me. What a fool I'd been to say something like that – again, and mostly sober! – no wonder he found it funny, coming from me. Just a silly girl too young to have ever loved, can't even make herself look pretty; has to ask someone else to do it for her, always getting saved by men because she can't look after herself. Of course he didn't want to hear that from me.

I walked to the edge of camp and sat myself down on the cliff, feet hanging down off the edge. I took a breath and looked out over the view; it was dark now, just the moon providing a little light. I thought back to the first night I'd meet Arthur, and the fact that he'd been in my dreams. He'd held me, kissed me, made me a woman, made me feel desirable and loved. It'd all been a figment of my imagination, my intimacy starved subconscious, and as I thought about it I felt ashamed. Who was I to think of him in such a way, even if it was beyond my control in my dreams?

And here we were, crossing paths again; and I was still acting just as foolish as I had that night. How humiliating.

I finished my beer, the last one of the night; I'd already loosened up more than enough. I heard footsteps in the grass behind me, but didn't look back, half hoping that whoever it was would just leave me alone. I'd been surrounded by far too many people and I felt exhausted from it.

“You should be careful, what if you fall off the edge?” The voice that came was the absolute last I expected to hear. I turned around and saw little Jack standing there with a half eaten chocolate bar in his hand.

I scooted back, bringing my legs up and sitting further away from the edge.

“Thanks, Jack. You're right,” I smiled at him and he came closer to me, staying further back from the edge than I was.

“Mama warned me about going too close,” he told me.

“Well she's a clever woman, you should listen to her,” I nodded. He bit into his chocolate and was quiet for a while as he ate.

“Do your eyes hurt?” He asked after swallowing and I chuckled a little.

“They did, but they aren't so bad anymore,” I said, then gestured to him. “Your daddy helped me after I got hurt, you know that?”

Jack nodded, looking back over his shoulder towards camp. John was with Abigail, and though I couldn't hear them I could tell they were arguing.

“Hey,” I said, distracting him from his parents. “You ever made a daisy chain?”

“Sure! I know how to make those,” he gave me a big smile and sat down, crossing his legs. I twisted around to face him, plucking a flower from the grass.

“You wanna help me make one?” I asked. He nodded eagerly.

“Who's it for?” He asked. I thought for a moment, not really having anyone in mind, only suggesting it to stop him from seeing his parents fight.

“Mary-Beth, as a thank you for doing my hair tonight,” I decided, smiling at him as he gathered flowers from around the spot he sat in.

I watched him as he made the chain, and my job became handing him the flowers one by one for him to link onto the rest. It was sweet, just watching him have fun and be creative, and I wondered what sort of games he played with no other kids around, and without even a fixed home.

“Do you like it here, Jack?” I asked him, handing him another flower.

“Sure. It's okay, sometimes I miss the old place, though,” he shrugged, as unfazed as any kid could be, his world was small and I suspected as long as he had his parents and the other familiar faces around him, he'd be okay. “Do you like it here?” He asked.

His question took me by surprise. He was just a child, I was under no pressure to give him a well thought-out answer, a simple yes would've satisfied him. But it made me think. I was on the fence about it, I liked the security I felt when I was here but I couldn't fight the feeling of not quite belonging, of intruding and outstaying my welcome. It was why I was trying to be as helpful as possible.

“Sure, you folk are all very kind,” I told him in the end. “I want to make sure I thank you all properly.”

“You need me to help make more daisy chains?” He asked and I laughed, his purity endearing.

“No, you're alright. You're doing a great job with this one, I couldn't possibly expect you to do any more for me,” I assured him. He held up the completed daisy chain, grinning. “That looks beautiful, Jack.”

“Will Mary-Beth like it?”

“I'm certain she will, shall we go give it to her?” I asked and he hopped up to his feet before I could blink. I stood up too, about to follow him back into camp when Abigail appeared in front of us.

“There you are, Jack. It's bedtime, come on,” she waved him over.

“We made this for Mary-Beth!” He ran over to her, showing her the chain.

“Well that's lovely, you can give it to her in the morning, say goodnight to your new friend,” she gestured to me and placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face me.

“You can give it to her,” he said to me, offering me the daisy chain. I smiled and took it from him.

“Thanks for your help, Jack.”

“You're welcome, it was fun! Goodnight,” he said letting his mother guide him away from me. Abigail addressed me with a polite nod, but she didn't return the smile I gave her. My stomach knotted. If Karen had gotten ideas about John and I, I dreaded to think what Abigail thought.

I let out a quiet groan, looking down at the daisy chain in my hand. I wanted to leave, I didn't want to stay any longer and cause any problems, I didn't want to make myself look any sillier in front of Arthur, I didn't want to take up any more of the camps resources. If I could, I'd have walked right out of camp there and then, but I knew that it'd be suicide going out there without any weapons, food, or shelter. I was trapped.

I swallowed thickly and walked back into camp, sitting down in the spot I'd been sleeping the last few nights next to Mary-Beth. Her book was sitting there and I slipped the daisy chain under the front cover and left it there, not feeling like finding her and handing it over. I curled up on my side and tried to sleep.

It was odd. Despite the camp being alive with noise from the party, I still slept more soundly than I ever did out there in my tent alone.