multifandom imagines

Last Chance | Arthur Morgan AU

• song recommendation: paralyzed by NF

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Blackwater, 1904

5 years.

5 years since your entire world fell apart. 5 years since the love of your life died in your arms, all you could do was watch as he took his last breath and the light faded from his eyes. You were, what John considered, lucky enough to have been there when he went. It certainly didn't feel like it at the time, but you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be than holding him as he passed. He had lived a long life, one of pain and sorrow and loss. One where he was orphaned at a younger age and was taken in by a certain charismatic man who taught him the ways of being an outlaw. But over time it seemed Dutch had lost himself, he had lost the way to keep the group safe, he had grown to be reckless and take unnecessary risks. Robbing banks that didn't really need robbing, trying to steal from the rich and think that he could talk himself out of trouble, the ferry job in Blackwater all those years ago. It had gotten worse when he decided to trust Micah, to favor his word and his council over Hosea. You had thought tirelessly about leaving, finding that you didn't care about Dutch's opinion about you not being loyal to him. You had been loyal long enough.

But ultimately, Arthur Morgan was too good of a man to get out when the time was right.

You had begged and pleaded with him for days, trying to tell the stubborn man that he was sick and only getting worse the longer he stayed. You had tried to tell him that Dutch had no intention of making things better, that it was too late and that the rot had already set in (the rot being Micah). But of course he didn't listen, coming up with excuse after excuse not to just give up and leave yet. 'It'll get better,' he had claimed, 'he's just going through a rough patch, it'll all work out.' But it didn't. He had finally seen the light when he and Sadie had rescued John, watching the look on Dutch's face and seeing plainly in his eyes he had no intention of rescuing John Marston from Sisika. And in his last few days of life, Arthur made it his sole purpose in life to make sure you, John, and his family would be alright. You had split off from the duo momentarily when your horse decided to buck you off, leaving you to run the rest of the way up the mountain to see Arthur laying up against a rock and watching the sun rise. You had held him and held him, trying to make him feel comfortable and loved in his last moments on this god forsaken earth. And when he took his last breath, when you couldn't feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, that was when you knew.

Dutch Van Der Linde would pay for what he had done.

You had spent the last few years with John and his family, finding Beecher's Hope and helping to turn it into a home had been the best thing to happen to you in a while. He even gave you a room all for yourself, a small space that you could go to with a desk plastered with papers containing information about Dutch's whereabouts. Some had said he had went back west, farther out than Blackwater, and others said he had retreated into the mountains once more. But it didn't matter where he went or how hard he tried to hide, you would find him.

"Y/N!" The gravelly yet somehow squeaky voice of Sadie Adler snapped you back to reality, turning around from where you were standing hunched over your desk to see the blonde woman in the doorway of your room. "You won't believe this." All wide eyed, she beckoned you to follow her out onto the porch, finding John leaning his back against the railing with his hands propped up on either side of him. A cool breeze brushed across the land and gave some form of relief from the blazing sun above, finding that the porch was much cooler than inside. "We think we found him." John started as soon as you had leaned your shoulder against a column and crossed your arms, studying your reaction as your eyes went wide and your mouth opened and closed. "Where?" You replied calmer than how you really felt, in reality your blood was boiling and your fingers were itching to pull the trigger and put a bullet in his head. "Colter." John hesitated after a moment, afraid you would blow a gasket or worse. But all you could do was nod curtly, before gathering yourself together and turning to march down the stairs towards your awaiting horse.