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Chapter Text

Hosea and Dutch, despite all their faults, were intelligent men. They were good at what they did, good at getting out of whatever mess they’d gotten into with quick wit or quick guns if the need arose. But still, despite all their strengths and resourcefulness, they had absolutely no idea of what to do as they looked at Arthur by the campfire, staring vacantly into the flames, and the small, almost catatonic boy pressed into his side. 

It had been a few days since Arthur came riding back to camp, white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf with a four year old Isaac in front of him. Isaac was staring straight ahead, but looking at nothing. He was covered in filth, grime and blood. The mood had shifted in the small camp, everyone’s eyes falling on the pair. Still shaking, Arthur had handed the boy over Susan who, without questioning, took him down to the lake they’d camped by and cleaned him up, drying him up and confirming that none of the blood was actually his. 

Meanwhile, Arthur had been ushered into Dutch’s tent and now shaking even more, teeth chattering, despite the warm and pleasant air that surrounded them. Hosea pressed a cup of coffee into his boy’s hand, but Arthur was shaking so violently that he almost spilled the bitter liquid. He managed a few sips before he found his voice. Hosea and Dutch listened in horror as Arthur described how he had ridden up to the homestead, saddlebags filled with money and gifts he had acquired during the few weeks he’d been away from his small family. He described how he’d found the dog dead outside, having been shot. He described the state of the cabin, completely ransacked. He described how he’d found Eliza’s body. That was when the tears started falling. Finally, he got to where he had frantically searched the homestead for his boy. He found Isaac in a closet, arms wrapped around himself and when Arthur opened the door, he had screamed. When he finally realised that it was his Pa and not anyone else, he had cried and cried and cried until he fell silent during the ride back to camp. 

Susan had gotten the boy cleaned up, had even managed to find some clothes that she could quickly turn into something that even remotely fitted the small boy. He had barely acknowledged Susan wrestling him into the clothes once he had dried. Uncertain of what else she could do for the poor boy, she wrapped him in a blanket and sat with him by the fire. She didn’t yet know exactly what had happened, but she realised that it was nothing good and if it was how she guessed, her heart broke, both for Arthur and for little Isaac. 

Word spread around camp quickly and everyone had been giving Arthur the space he seemed to need. And no one had any idea how to handle Isaac. The way he didn’t respond, how he just stared into nothing, but still refused to be left alone, following Arthur around like a shadow. Dutch had asked Hosea if there was anything they could do, but Hosea’s answer hadn’t really been reassuring. I don’t know , he had admitted. 

Hosea and Dutch looked at each other and the worry was clear on both of their faces. But before any of them could approach the pair by the fire, another figure approached. 

“I, uh…” John, all of 14 years old, held out a cup to Arthur. “You want some?”

John had been with them for almost three years now. Neither Hosea or Dutch had siblings, but if they had, they imagined it would be something like how it was between Arthur and John. A fierce and unwavering love for each other, but it was mostly hidden behind snark, jabs, insults and the occasional tussle. 

“Thank you.” Arthur took the cup without looking up from the flames. 

“You want anything?” John looked at Isaac and then proceeded to slink away before the boy would have had time to respond. But no response came. 

Arthur started recovering faster than Isaac. Though Hosea didn’t like the Arthur that was emerging. While Arthur had always had a certain coldness and wariness about him, something that came from his rough childhood no doubt, this was something new. There was a callousness, a hardness Hosea had never seen in the man before. Arthur hadn’t become mean, per say, just reserved, shielded, hardened. And Hosea didn’t like it at all. 

Now, he watched as Arthur chopped wood for the fire, bringing the axe down with an unnecessary force and by the look on his face, Hosea was certain he was imagining something entirely different on the chopping block. It wasn’t until every last log had been split that Arthur seemed to snap out of it. He leaned the axe against the stump and wiped a hand across his forehead.

“Arthur, my dear boy.” Hosea decided to pounce before Arthur went to attack some other chore in camp with unnecessary fury. The horses didn’t need to have hay almost thrown at them. “How ‘bout we go catch some fish? Just you and me? Get you away from here a bit.”

“I don’t know…” Arthur looked around the camp, eyes falling on Isaac where he was being tended to by Bessie, who’d come to join the group sooner than planned when Hosea wrote to explain what had happened. 

“We won’t be gone long.” Hosea assured. “Just ride for a bit, catch some fish and then come back.”

There was a pause as Arthur wiped his forehead again. 

“Okay.” 

While Hosea didn’t like how resigned and tired Arthur sounded, he decided to take it as a good sign that he actually was willing to leave for a while. It would do the young man some good to clear his head for a bit. 

Bessie closed the book she had been reading for Isaac as she finished the chapter. The boy was pulling at the grass, ripping it from the ground. Her heart hurt for him. 

She hadn’t intended to join up with the group so soon. While she loved her Hosea, she had opinions on the life they led and the company he kept. She knew that she couldn’t change him, knew that this was who he was. And she accepted that. When she was younger, she’d even loved it. She loved Arthur and John as her own children, and she loved Dutch too, in some strange way. Even though they often disagreed. 

When she had gotten the letter from Hosea, explaining what had happened, how he felt completely lost in how to handle this, how badly Arthur was doing and how even worse Isaac was doing, Bessie had left her home to join up with the group. Hosea hadn’t explicitly asked her to come, but when they met up at the train station, he thanked her and cried a few tears into her shawl. She cried with him. 

“Do you want to hear another story, sweetheart?” She asked, though she wasn’t expecting a reply. She hoped that her approach was the right one, talking to Isaac as if everything was normal. Maybe it was completely wrong and she was just making everything worse. She had never felt this lost before. 

“Mama ain’t coming back.” The voice was so quiet Bessie almost missed it at first. “They shot her.”

“Oh, my darling boy.” Bessie pulled him close as he started to shake with sobs. He cried into her dress, he cried and cried. 

They had hoped that once Isaac found his voice again, everything would be alright. They soon realised that it had been a horrible naive assumption and there was no quick and easy solution to the trauma the two Morgans had faced. But, it was something. 

Isaac slowly started getting better, recovering. The process was slow, but when they moved camp a few months later, with Isaac in front of Arthur in his saddle, the young boy had suddenly pointed at a bird, pointing out that it was a woodpecker and that Uncle Hosea had taught him that. It was the first thing the boy had said that wasn’t laced with pain and trauma. 

And Arthur smiled at that, praising his son on his bird-watching skills. 

Maybe time did heal all wounds. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t wanna!” Isaac pushed the book away from him, hopped up and stomped off from the table he’d been sitting at.

Hosea didn’t even flinch at the seven year old’s sudden outburst. It wasn’t the first time, and it sure wouldn’t be the last. The first time it happened, it had been so out of character for Isaac that Hosea had just stared in shock as the boy went on to kick at a tree with all the strength his little body could muster. However, the tantrums were becoming quite common, happening more and more often. And they always happened when Arthur wasn’t in camp.

They hadn’t really connected the dots at first. Rather soon after Isaac started recovering from the immense trauma of seeing his mother’s murder, Arthur had taken up his old habit of roaming. At first, he was only away for a day or two, but as time passed, he more or less resumed his old habits of staying away for several days or even weeks at the time. And Isaac had adapted well. He was a sweet boy. Or, well, he had been. 

The group had drifted quite far east, changing cacti, sand and shrubs for lush fields and forests. They’d been here for quite a while now, their lives comfortable and stable. And this was where Arthur had met Mary. 

Mary Gillis, a pretty brunette with a gentle demeanour and an attractive southern drawl. And Arthur had fallen head over heels for her, despite her being so unlike him. It was like something straight out of one of those romance novels. A sheltered and beautiful maiden meeting and falling for a roaming rogue with a rough exterior but a heart of gold. 

Hosea wasn’t really sure what he thought of ms. Gillis. She seemed decent enough and Arthur seemed to think she was absolutely wonderful. But still, Hosea worried about him. He had voiced his concerns to Bessie and she had laughed, telling him that it just came with being a parent. 

However, someone who absolutely didn’t like Mary Gillis was Isaac. Mary had met him a few times and had done her absolute best to get into his good graces. But Isaac was not interested at all. He begrudgingly accepted the gifts she brought with a quiet “thanks” after they told him that it was rude to turn down gifts. And Hosea got the impression that it wasn’t actually Mary that Isaac disliked, but rather the implication of her arriving in their lives. But Isaac, being only seven years old, probably couldn’t really understand his own feelings completely and as a result, he reacted with misguided anger. 

With a heavy sigh, Hosea closed the book he had been using to teach Isaac to read. It had been going well, before his acting out started. Now he could barely get through a few sentences before Isaac loudly announced that he was not interested. But Hosea wasn’t going to give up, the boy needed to learn how to read and he needed the routine of his lessons. And, if Mary Gillis was there to stay, he’d have to learn how to deal with that. 

John looked as Isaac stormed off from where he’d been sitting with Hosea and he couldn’t help but laugh. Partly because it was pretty funny to see the blond little rascal power walk across the camp to assault a tree and partly because John could remember his own reading lessons, reacting in a similar way whenever he got overwhelmed by the letters and words. But that was so long ago, John just having turned 17 and he was practically an adult now. He was getting pretty good at shooting and he was still annoyed Dutch wouldn’t let him come on the better jobs.  

Getting up from where he’d been sitting, he brushed off his trousers and headed over to where the little gremlin was still kicking the tree. 

“Hey there kid.” John gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “What did that tree do you?”

“Stupid tree.” Isaac muttered. “Stupid books, stupid words, stupid Hosea, stupid-”

“Alright, I get it. Jeez.” John rolled his eyes. 

“Stupid Pa, stupid Mary -” Isaac continued as if John hadn’t said anything. 

Ah, so that was what the problem was. John couldn’t help but agree, though. Arthur was so damn besotted with that Gillis lady. John didn’t understand what Arthur saw in her or why she was worth just ditching them all to frolic through a field of flowers or whatever you did when you courted someone from high society. 

“Hey, kid.” John crouched down. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Isaac perked up, distracted from abusing the oak. He was rarely allowed to leave the camp and the mere suggestion of getting to do so without his pa was obviously very exciting.

“Yeah!” He said, demeanour completely changed. 

After saying a quick goodbye to Hosea, announcing where they were going and yes, they weren’t going to go far, no they weren’t going to get into trouble, yes they’d be back soon, John and Isaac set off on John’s reliable mare.

Arthur touched his cheek where Mary had kissed him goodbye and he grinned to himself, happy that it was only he and his horse on the trail. That woman did things to him that no one else had. Not even… Not even Eliza. 

He had loved Eliza, he had even considered leaving the gang for her and Isaac. Or asking them to join them, because he wanted to be with her. He had loved her. But… It was different with Mary. It had made him distressed first, wondering why it was different. Hadn’t he loved Eliza? He had asked Hosea about it and the older man had patiently explained that all love was different. How Arthur’s love for Hosea and Dutch was different from his love for Isaac and that was different from his love for John. He had gone on to explain that maybe Arthur’s love for Eliza had been more domestic, a safe haven where he could pretend that he wasn’t an outlaw, that he had a proper family, while the romance with Mary was exciting, thrilling, something new, something forbidden. It made a lot of sense and as always, talking with Hosea made everything a bit easier to handle.

As Arthur drew closer to camp, the butterflies in his chest died down and he drifted back into reality. Once again, he had lost track of time with Mary. He promised himself he’d only be away for a few hours, but they always somehow managed to find more to talk about, more to do and every time, Arthur found himself returning to camp way later than he had intended. 

While his father figures seemed rather indifferent about Mary as a person, they weren’t too excited about how little time he spent in camp. For Dutch, he was annoyed with how Arthur wasn’t pulling in as much as he usually did. Time he before had spent making money, he now spent with Mary. And a lot of the money he managed to make (more than he would ever admit to Dutch) went to gifts and an attempt to make sure he didn’t look like a complete slob whenever he met with Mary. But Hosea, he had another complaint. A complaint that was a lot harder to shrug off. 

Isaac wasn’t taking this whole thing well. And Arthur wasn’t really sure why. Mary was kind to his boy, yet Isaac looked at her like she was something nasty he’d found on the ground. He tried to reassure Mary that he just needed time, the boy had been through a lot. But Arthur wasn’t sure. Once again, he had turned to Hosea for advice but this time and he was told, rather harshly, that no matter how in love Arthur was, he had to remember he had a boy to look after. That Isaac wasn’t old enough to be reasoned with, that Arthur couldn’t just reassure him with his words, but also with his actions. 

Arthur sighed to himself. He could see the camp through the trees and he was prepared to have to apologise for staying away for so long, for neglecting the gang and to have to deal with Isaac’s glares for a few hours. 

“Ah, the prodigal son returns!” Dutch proclaimed loudly as Arthur rode in, earning a few laughs from the other outlaws. 

“Yeah yeah.” Arthur grumbled as he dismounted. He set to caring for his stallion, removing his tack, brushing him down and generally pampering his friend. 

The sound of hoofbeats and John’s holler about riding made him look up. The silly boy had probably been out hunting or robbing, riding back with something pitiful to offer up to Dutch as if it was the most valuable treasure. But as Arthur looked up to see exactly what John was dragging in, he did a double take. Isaac was sitting in front of John in his saddle, holding onto the mane of the mare. 

“What the hell is this?” Arthur exclaimed, gesturing towards the pair. 

“Oh, you’re back.” John drawled as he plopped Isaac down on the ground before dismounting himself. “What an honour to see-”

“Shut up.” Arthur walked towards John, getting right in his face. “ Why did you ride off with my boy?”

“Why do you care?” The teen bristled. “You ain’t ever here!”

“That don’t give you the right to bring Isaac along on whatever stupid escaped you gonna go on!”

“We just went for a ride is all! What, we gonna get eaten by bunnies?”

“Don’t get smart with me, you greasy little shit.” Arthur growled and John’s cheeks flushed and his eyes darkened.

“Enough! Both of you!” Hosea interrupted before John could turn the verbal spat into a proper fight. He put his hands on either man's chest and pushed them apart. 

“Why did you let John ride off with Isaac? You know what the kind of trouble he manages to find himself in all the time.” Arthur turned away from John, now completely ignoring the younger man. John had been even more annoying than usual the last few weeks. 

“John has a point, Arthur.” Hosea said, letting his hands drop. “What do you expect? That Isaac is just gonna sit around and wait for you to be done with whatever you’re doin’?” 

“Hah!” John said, reaching out to give Arthur a shove.

“ Enough , John.” Hosea warned. 

Throwing his hands into the air, John marched off, muttering something about not being appreciated enough and just trying to be helpful. 

Arthur’s shoulders sagged and he let out a sigh. 

“What do you want from me, Hosea?” Arthur muttered.

“Dear boy, I know that you love that lady friend of yours.” Hosea said gently. “But, remember that you have people here who rely on you too. If not me, Dutch and the others, think of Isaac. He deserves his father.”

“I know.”

“Well, knowin’ is all well and good, but you gotta do something too.” Hosea pointed out before giving Arthur’s shoulder a pat and walking off. 

“Hey there kid.” Arthur sat down next to his boy by the fire, pulling out a cigarette. 

“Hi.” Isaac didn’t look up at him, instead just staring into the fire. 

“You and John do anything fun today?” 

“Not really.” 

Arthur kept himself from rolling his eyes. He had to be patient. Isaac was just a child and he kept forgetting that, even though he’d been with him full time for almost three years. 

“Well, maybe you and me should go out sometime? Maybe fish a bit? Or go look at the sheep in town? Would that be fun?”

“Sure.” 

Arthur suppressed a sigh. I’m trying, son. He thought. Goddammit, I’m trying . 

For the umpteenth time in three years, he wished that Eliza was here. Goddammit, he needed her here. 

“You gonna see Mary tomorrow too?” Isaac’s voice was laced with jealousy and bitterness. 

Arthur had promised that he’d see Mary tomorrow again, he had promised Jamie to continue their horse riding lessons. But he thought about what Hosea said. You have people here who rely on you too. 

“Nah kid, tomorrow, you and I are gonna do something fun. Just you and me.” He wrapped an arm around his boy’s shoulders. 

“Promise?” Isaac looked up at him. According to Hosea and Dutch, the boy was looking more and more like Arthur every day, but Arthur could only see features of Eliza in Isaac’s face. He hugged him tighter. 

“I promise.” 

Chapter Text

The mood in camp was… Despondent. Tense. It had been for the last few months. The year had started off badly, with Bessie passing away and Hosea falling straight into the bottle. They all mourned Bessie, but Hosea was absolutely broken. Arthur genuinely worried the older man would never properly recover. 

And Arthur suspected that it was because Hosea was out of commission that the thing with Colm O’Driscoll had blown over in the way it did. Without Hosea’s calm demeanour to talk Dutch (and Arthur) down from their rash decisions, tension had risen between the two gangs until Dutch rather gruesomely executed Colm’s brother. Arthur had never seen Dutch do something so unhinged. Not that he disagreed, Colm’s brother was an awful person and Arthur had hated both the brothers from the moment he lay eyes on them. 

But Dutch’s actions caused the fragile understanding between the two gangs to shatter completely. The Van Der Linde gang had been chased away, but not before Annabelle had been killed. Now both of their leaders were consumed by grief. Dutch’s grief was different from Hosea’s. While Hosea sat quietly under a tree, downing bottle after bottle, Dutch raged around the camp, looking to find something to get upset at someone about. 

Everything was out of balance. Never before had Arthur been filled with anxiety when he rode into camp. But he was now. When the trees parted to reveal the hitching posts, Arthur got an intense feeling of I don’t want to , which he had got every time lately. But as usual, he powered through it. He had carcasses that he needed to hand to Pearson, valuables to put in the box, check up if Susan needed anything, make sure Isaac wasn’t getting into trouble… 

“You did real good, girl.” Arthur said to Boadicea, a young mare he had erm, acquired , as he dismounted. His boots had barely touched the ground before a little figure in a large hat came up to him. 

“Teach me how to shoot.”  Eleven year old Isaac declared without even as much as a greeting. 

“Howdy to you too.” Arthur said as he removed the deer from the back of his horse and slung it over his shoulder, completely ignoring the demand. 

“Teach me how to shoot!” Isaac repeated, moving to stand in Arthur’s path. 

“No.” 

“Yes.”

“ No . End of discussion.” He marched past the boy. 

For months, they’d been having this back and forth. Arthur understood where the kid was coming from, he was sure he himself would have had the same reaction if he was eleven and the camp had been invaded. But that didn’t mean Arthur was going to teach the boy to shoot. He didn’t even want to think about all the things that could go wrong by giving a child a gun. 

“Please!” Isaac followed in Arthur’s footsteps. “Please, please, please-”

“Isaac, enough!” Arthur barked, perhaps a bit too harshly. Isaac didn’t seem phased, only glaring at him. “I ain’t gonna teach you how to shoot. End of discussion. ”

“Well, I’m gonna have to learn some day.” Isaac crossed his arms. “And if I know how to shoot, if someone comes back, I can-”

Arthur slammed the deer down on Pearson’s table and started walking back to his horse to remove the two rabbits he’d brought back as well. All the while, Isaac was spouting off reasons why he should learn how to shoot. 

“Tell you what.” Arthur handed a carcass to the boy. “When you learn your numbers and how to ride properly, I’ll teach you.”

“But that will take ages!” Isaac protested, cradling the dead animal in a way that made Arthur very uncomfortable. It’s not a pet, kid, it’s dead. Carry it like a carcass. 

“Better start practicin’ then.” 

Hopefully, that would shut the kid up for a while. Arthur just didn’t have the energy to deal with Isaac’s stupid ideas with everything else going on. 

“Squeeze your legs! Otherwise you’ll just come flyin’ off!” 

“I am !” Isaac gritted his teeth, holding on for dear life as the pony trotted under him. 

John couldn’t help but grin from where he was leaning against the tree. Isaac had explained Arthur’s promise and had asked John to help with his riding lessons. Normally, John would turn it down right away. He wasn’t a teacher like Hosea, Dutch, or even Arthur. But honestly, he jumped on anything that got him away from the bad energy in camp. It didn’t help that Abigail had been acting real strange lately. It was all just a bit too much. 

At least he could escape thinking about it for an hour or two while helping Isaac. 

“Your ass is gonna be so sore after all that bouncin’ around.” John took a drag from his cigarette. Had he been this bad when he started out? He had vivid memories of Arthur barking the similar things to him all those years ago. 

“I’m-” Something spooked the pony then, causing him to make a little jump. Isaac, who had already barely been holding on, tumbled off and landed on the ground with a thud. 

Though it had looked quite comical, John felt a wave of panic wash over him. He had seen fellers break their necks from seemingly harmless falls from a horse and when Isaac wasn’t moving, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. If Isaac died, Arthur would murder him. Not only murder him, torture him first. 

“Kid?” John threw the cigarette and approached the little lump in the grass. “You okay?”

He came to stand over Isaac and felt a rush of relief when he saw the small chest rise and fall. John crouched down next to him and reached out to touch him, but Isaac rolled away from him, facing away from him. Before John could ask more about if he was okay, he heard small, quiet sobs coming from the boy. 

Goddamnit, where was a sober Hosea when you needed him? 

“I ain’t ever gonna learn.” Isaac sobbed. “I ain’t ever gonna learn anything.”

“Hey now.” John had absolutely no idea what to do right now. “That ain’t true. You-you just gotta keep practicin’.”

Isaac sniffled, back still turned to John. 

“Now, come on, you gotta get back in the saddle.” 

“Don’t wanna.”

“Well, you gotta. Otherwise you’ll just be scared the next time. And you sure as shit ain’t gonna learn anything by just cryin’ in the grass.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. It was probably not what the kid needed to hear now. John thought about apologising, but before he did, Isaac stood up, wiping his face on his sleeve. 

“Where’s that darn horse?” He muttered, dusting himself off. 

“That’s the spirit!” John laughed. 

Susan made an exasperated noise as John and Isaac returned to camp after their riding lesson. She had reservations about John taking over the kid’s lessons and as she saw a very disheveled Isaac leading a pony that looked very much done and a sheepish John, she knew that her reservations were well-founded. 

“What happened?!” She exclaimed. 

“Y’know how it is.” John shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Gonna fall off a few times before you become a proper rider.”

“Well, just how many times did you fall off?” Susan grabbed Isaac’s shoulders, searching for any obvious injuries. John took the opportunity to make a hasty retreat, taking the annoyed pony with him. 

“Only a few times.” Isaac said and attempted to wriggle out of her grasp, but she held firm. 

“You’re a mess.” Susan shook her head. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Does anything hurt?”

“I’m fine. John said-”

“Don’t listen too much to what John says.” She steered Isaac towards the wash bin and removed his hat. Even through his mop of hair, she could see a large bump develop on the back of his head. Oh, she was gonna give John a hiding he would not forget anytime soon…

Luckily, Isaac didn’t seem to be injured anywhere else and Susan left the kid to undress and clean himself up, with instructions to leave his muddy clothes in the pile of clothes for washing. Dutifully, Isaac did as he was told and then sat himself by the campfire with a bowl of stew to warm himself up after the wash in the cold water. He was a good boy. Susan wished life had been kinder to him and that he had been allowed to grow up as a normal child. 

Isaac didn’t want to be in camp. He tried to do everything right. He was helping as much as he could, but he wasn’t really allowed to do much. The axe was too heavy for him to chop wood (not that his pa would let him), he couldn’t carry the hay bales, he was too short to groom the horses, Pearson said he just got in the way when he tried to help with the cooking. He was allowed to help the girls with the washing and sowing, and he actually liked it. The girls were nice to him and always asked how he was doing. He liked them better than the others in camp. Especially since everything happened. 

He knew he wasn’t allowed to go too far from camp, but he was allowed to wander nearby. He didn’t understand why they treated him like a child still. They could at least let him go out into the forest. Instead he had to just stay in camp all the time. It sucked. They wouldn’t even bring him on shopping runs. 

Wandering aimlessly with Copper by his side, Isaac eventually came to sit on a fallen tree. He picked up a small stick and threw it, Copper chasing after it and quickly coming back, tail wagging. Sometimes Isaac wished he was a dog. Or a bird. Birds and dogs didn’t have to worry about the things he did. It must be so nice. Copper could just chase a stick and be happy. 

After a while, the seat of his trousers started to get damp after sitting on the log for so long. Feeling the cold seep in, he stood up and called for Copper. He didn’t come right away and it wasn’t that odd. Copper often got distracted, but he always came back. 

“Copper!” Isaac called, making his voice harder, trying to sound like his pa did whenever he got tired of Copper’s shit. “Copper, come here!”

But no brown hound came and Isaac kicked at the log in frustration. Dumb dog. 

Despite his anger at Copper, he didn’t want to leave his friend out in the forest alone. What if he got hurt? What if he was stuck in a bear trap and that was why he didn’t come when called? What if a cougar got him? Or a bear?

With horrible images filling his head, Isaac started walking around, calling Copper every now and again, but with no answer. 

Isaac suddenly realised that while he had been looking for Copper, it had started to get dark. He should get back. They could look for Copper in the morning. And then another realisation hit him. 

He had absolutely no idea where he was. 

Arthur, Bill and John came back to a camp in disarray. They had just hit a stagecoach and were eager to show off their haul. Perhaps it would even calm Dutch’s ire for a while. But that eagerness and hope was crushed as they rode in to see a flurry of activity. Mornings were normally rather lethargic, people lounging around before getting ready for the day. 

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked no one in particular as he swiftly dismounted. 

“Hell if I know.” John wiped his forehead. 

They looked around, bewildered. Susan was yelling at Dutch who was yelling right back, the Callanders were tacking up their horses, Copper was playing with what looked like an elk horn and Hosea… Hosea was passed out in his bedroll, oblivious to everything. 

“Arthur! Arthur.” Karen came running over. “Isaac’s missing.”

“ What ?” Arthur said through gritted teeth, feeling as if he had just been submerged in cold water.

“We ain’t sure for how long, but he left with Copper and Copper came back alone… We ain’t seen him in a while.”

“Dammit.” Arthur mounted again, tugging at the reins a big too hard. “Mac, Davey.”

“I’m coming too.” John announced.

“Fine, let’s spread out. He can’t have gotten too far on foot. Copper!” Arthur barked out as the others disappeared into the trees. The hound came running over to him and Arthur glared down at him. “Where did you leave our boy?”

Copper, for all his faults, was apparently good at tracking lost boys. With his nose to the ground, he led Arthur through the forest. If you’re leading me wrong, I’ll put a bullet in you. He knew he would never be able to do that, but he was angry and scared. He knew Isaac had taken everything hard and what if he had just decided to leave. To try and get away. Stupid boy. 

When Copper suddenly came to a stop and sat down in the mud, Arthur nearly rode right into him but managed to pull his horse to a stop just in time. 

“Why we stoppin’, boy?” He demanded. Copper didn’t budge. Annoyed, Arthur dismounted. If it turned out the hound had just managed to sniff out a half rotten beast, he’d have a fit. He glared at the tree they’d stopped by and used his foot to move some of the underbrush away. 

Arthur didn’t see him at first, almost turning away before spotting the blue of Isaac’s coat in the mud. The boy lay curled up, probably in an attempt to ward off the cold of the night. How long had he been out there? 

“Isaac.” Arthur gently shook the boy’s shoulder and he stirred, looking up with glassy eyes. 

“Pa?”

“Yes, it’s me. It’s okay.” He pressed his hand to Isaac’s forehead and his stomach dropped at the heat radiating from the skin. “It’s gonna be okay, let’s get you home.” 

“I got lost.” Isaac mumbled as he allowed Arthur to pick him up. “I lost Copper. I couldn’t find him.”

“It’s okay.” Arthur assured. “Copper is okay, you’re okay.”

During the ride back to camp, Isaac kept nodding off only to jerk awake. Even though the ride was probably only ten or fifteen minutes away at canter speed, it felt like it was years away. Arthur’s heart was hammering in his chest. He could almost hear Eliza scolding him for letting their boy get lost in the forest, for letting him get sick. But eventually the trees opened up and he arrived at camp. 

As he dismounted carefully, making sure Isaac didn’t fall and then taking him in his arms, he called out the first name that came to mind. 

“Hosea!” Because whenever someone was ill, you called for Hosea. And that was the name that had automatically come to mind. He didn’t even consider the fact that Hosea had been pretty useless the last months. 

To Arthur’s relief, Hosea arrived at his side as he placed the feverish boy on Arthur’s cot. While Hosea looked disheveled, he seemed to be somewhat sober. He examined Isaac, feeling his forehead and asking him some questions, which he only got mumbled and barely understandable answers to. 

“I-” Arthur gestured towards Isaac, trying to get the proper words out. “What do we do?”

“I’ll make him something to bring his fever down.” Hosea said and ran a hand through his greying hair. “Then we just keep him warm and try to get him to eat and drink something. He should be fine soon enough.”

I hope you’re right. Arthur thought as Hosea made his exit. God, I hope you’re right.

“Remember, guns are dangerous.” Arthur said, holding the revolver in his hands. “So, what do we think about when using one?”

“Always assume it’s loaded, keep your finger off the trigger until you gonna shoot, and never point at anything you don’t want dead.” Isaac answered.

“Good!” Arthur smiled. “Now we’re gonna go through the parts of the gun, ‘kay?”

Isaac nodded from where he was sitting, propped up on pillows and wrapped in a blanket. 

Hosea had been right, Isaac had improved massively in a few days of rest and care. They’d taken turns sitting with him and Hosea had even managed to stay sober during the days until they were sure Isaac was going to be alright. 

Arthur had relented about the gun lessons, since he felt extremely guilty about leaving Isaac and not returning to look for him until he had been out in the forest for an entire night. He was also angry at the gang for just letting his boy wander off, but he could deal with them later. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon teaching Isaac about guns and gun safety. He wasn’t going to let the boy actually fire a gun for a long while, but this seemed harmless enough.

Chapter Text

Isaac wasn’t sure he liked Horseshoe Overlook because it was a good spot for a camp, or if he liked it simply because it wasn’t Colter. In the end, it didn’t really matter. They had survived the mountains and the snow. Well… Most of them had. And something had changed in all of them. Isaac couldn’t put the finger on what exactly, but everything felt different now. Maybe it was just grief. 

“Did you hear what happened in Valentine?” Mary-Beth sat down next to him with her cup of coffee. 

“What, about the guy from Blackwater?” Isaac before shovelling a spoon of porridge into his mouth. 

“No, about the barfight!” Mary-Beth sounded way too excited. “Apparently some of the boys got into a real brawl, Arthur got into a real fist fight after being thrown through a window. Nearly killed the man, apparently.”

Isaac hummed and took another mouthful of porridge. Had he been normal and living a normal life, he should probably have been distressed at hearing about his pa being thrown out a window and almost killing a man, but this wasn’t exactly new. He had heard all kinds of stories about his pa and the others, this just seemed like the regular outing for the boys. In all his years with the gang, he couldn’t think of a single instance of them staying in a town and not getting into a fight at some point.

“Anyone else get hurt?” He asked and should probably sound more interested. 

“I don’t think so, but apparently they heard about Sean and he’s alive.”

That caught Isaac’s attention. He and Sean had always gotten along well, even though he often got annoyed with Sean’s bullshit. They were brothers and friends. Porridge forgotten, he turned to Mary-Beth. 

“You sure?” 

“Well, it’s just what Bill said.” Mary-Beth shrugged and sipped her coffee. “I hope they’re right. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but Karen is really worried. She likes to say how awful and annoying Sean is, but she loves him really.”

“If you say so.” He returned to his breakfast. He wasn’t interested in discussing anyone’s lovelife. 

“Oh, don’t be like that!” She laughed and playfully swatted at his arm. “There ain’t nothing wrong with romance.”

“No, ain’t nothing wrong with romance. Just ain’t interested in my friends’ romances, y’know?”

“Fair enough.” She placed a hand on his arm and gave him a small smile before pulling out her book. 

“I swear, if I find you two lazying about one more time!” 

Both of them jumped as Ms. Grimshaw marched over. 

“I’m having breakfast!” Isaac gestured at his nearly empty bowl. 

“Mhm, and how long have you been having breakfast for?” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at him. Mary-Beth had already made her exit. “There are things that need to be done around here, Mr. Morgan. Wood needs to be chopped, horses need to be fed, Pearson needs help butchering the-”

“I will. Just, let me finish my breakfast.” Isaac gave her his best puppy-dog look, but he suspected that with his teenage acne and patchy “beard”, it wasn’t as effective as when he was a little kid. And by the look on Susan’s face, it wasn’t working either. 

“Fine.” She gave in. “But if I see you sitting here in ten minutes, I will give you a hiding you won’t forget.”

“Yes, Ms. Grimshaw.” 

With Susan’s threat hanging over his head, Isaac finished his food, dropped it off by the washbin and turned to the horses. It was his favourite chore in camp, scattering hay, cleaning up, brushing them down, making sure that all the tack was in order. Of course, now he had to share it with the O’Driscoll boy they’d picked up. 

Kieran wasn’t as bad as the others wanted to make him out to be. But this wasn’t just about Kieran. If Kieran hadn’t been a former O’Driscoll, Isaac thought they would probably have been good friends. But there was a hate that coursed through the Van Der Linde gang about the O’Driscolls. Most of them had joined up afterwards and had only heard about it, but Isaac still had nightmares about Annabelle’s mangled corpse, more than five years later. It took him a good long while to fully feel safe in camp after what had happened back then. 

“Good morning” Kieran greeted before slinking away. 

“‘Morning.” Isaac replied, but he wasn’t sure if Kieran had heard him. 

Not letting his thoughts linger on the O’Driscolls and old times, Isaac set to working. Nothing clears the mind like good, honest work , Ms. Grimshaw would say. 

The morning passed as Isaac worked, making sure to take his time to tend to all the camp horses. The outlaws were eager to pamper their own horses, but the other horses rarely got the love they deserved. At around lunchtime, he’d made sure everything was in order, made sure all the horses had eaten as they should. He ran the back of his hand against his forehead, wiping away sweat. 

“Hey, Isaac!” 

He looked up to see Arthur walking towards him, having just dismounted his beautiful new horse, a dapple black thoroughbred mare that he allegedly got for free. 

“Howdy.” Isaac put his hat back on and took a swig of his canteen. 

“You busy?”

“Just, looking after the horses.” Isaac gestured to the animals.

“Do you have a moment? I wanna show you something.” Arthur looked suspiciously excited and Isaac couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“Sure, I think I can escape for a few moments before Ms. Grimshaw gets on my case again.”

Arthur laughed and clapped his shoulder. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Isaac followed his pa out of the camp and out into the small collection of trees just outside. A few meters into it, Isaac saw the stallion they had taken from the Adler ranch. It was tethered to a tree and happily munching on the grass. 

“What do you think?” Arthur gestured towards the horse. 

“Uhm.” Isaac shrugged, not really sure why Arthur dragged him away from camp to look at a horse. “It seems to be a good horse.”

“You want him?”

“What?” Isaac looked at Arthur with wide eyes.

“Well, all young men need a horse. I asked Mrs. Adler, she don’t want it back. And as you said, he’s a good horse. Would be a shame to just sell him or leave in the stable.”

“Are you serious?” Isaac felt his face split into a wide smile. “He’s really mine?”

“If you want him.”

Feeling a bit shocked, Isaac walked up and gently ran his hand over the stallion’s neck. He barely looked up before continuing to graze. Isaac suddenly felt strangely emotional. It was just a horse, he told himself, so why did he feel like crying? 

“Thank you.” He said, not daring to turn back to Arthur. He didn’t want his pa to see him all misty-eyed over something as simple as this. “Really, thank you so much.”

“Well, I just remembered you didn’t have your own horse. Can’t have you using the camp horses all the time when you go out hunting or run errands.”

“Thank you.” Isaac said again, voice thick with emotion. He was glad his father didn’t mention it. 

Camp was in disarray and since he was one of the few who wasn’t completely out of it, Isaac was left cleaning up. He didn’t mind. Last night had been a lot of fun. Sean was back, there had been happiness and a pleasant mood in camp for the first time in what felt like forever. Isaac had been up, singing and chatting until he had nearly fallen asleep on his feet. Hosea and Arthur wouldn’t let him drink more than a beer or two, so he was feeling fine, while most others acted like they were on death’s door. 

“Not so loud.” Karen groaned as Isaac put some more empty bottles into a wooden crate. 

Rolling his eyes, Isaac picked up the crate to move to a place in camp where he hopefully wouldn’t bother some still drunk idiot. 

“Isaac, my boy.” Hosea intercepted him. “How are you?”

“Fine, a bit tired.” Isaac put the crate down. “You didn’t drink?”

“I’m too old for nights of drinking.” The older man laughed. “I doubt anything is going to happen around here anytime soon. Do you want to get out for a bit, go fishing?”

“Sounds good, I need to get away for a bit.”

They tacked up their horses in silence and almost tripped over Bill who had passed out in a bush just outside camp. The last thing they heard before riding off was John shouting something about Sean owing him a new bed. 

“I heard Arthur gave you that horse.” Hosea said when they’d gotten a bit from camp. “And his old saddle.”

“Yeah, I was real surprised.” Isaac matched his speed with Silver Dollar, pleased that Hosea was keeping a pace that allowed his slower horse to keep up. “I named him Cedar.”

“That’s a nice name. Your first own horse. Gonna have to get you a proper saddle too, not your pa’s old.”

Isaac hummed and looked around him. He hadn’t really explored down towards the river. He had headed up to the Heartlands a few times to bag a pronghorn or two and had made a mail run into Valentine, but nothing more than that. It really was a beautiful part of the country they’d found themselves in. He preferred this to Great Plains and New Austin. 

“Here, this should be a good spot.” Hosea said after they’d been riding in silence for a while. “Probably won’t be able to catch anything too big, but some bluegill and pickerel, maybe even some bass.”

“You’re the expert.”

They dismounted and went to stand by the water’s edge. It was a small stream and Isaac could see small fish swimming around beneath the surface. He put a piece of worm on his rod and cast out. It was a bad throw, but it didn’t matter really. It was just nice to get away from camp and to spend some time with Hosea. 

“So, how are you feeling about this?” The older man asked. 

“Y’know, it’s been rough.” Isaac shrugged. “I didn’t always get along with Mac and Davey, but they was family, y’know. And I didn’t really know Jenny too well, but she was a real nice one... At least we got Sean back.”

“That we did.”

The silence once again fell and they fished in silence for a few minutes, Hosea bagging a few fish while Isaac’s bag remained empty. 

“What are your thoughts for the future? Your future, I mean.”

The question completely caught Isaac off guard and he looked over at Hosea with a frown

“What you mean?”

“I just think you should start thinkin’ about what you want to do.”

“What do you mean, Hosea?” Isaac demanded, completely ignoring that he now had a fish on the hook. 

“This thing, it ain’t gonna go on forever. If anything Blackwater showed us that, well, it’s real easy for everything to fall apart. Most of us, we’re in deep. Your pa, me, most of the others. But you, you ain’t got a bounty on you, you could get out.”

“I can’t just leave. Loyalty, and all that.” Isaac turned away from Hosea. 

“I know.” Hosea looked down. “Just… Think about what I said.”

“Sure.”

They continued to fish, conversation drifting onto more pleasant topics. But Hosea’s words kept spinning in Isaac’s head. 

You could get out.

Isaac worked on patching the hole in the sock without really thinking about what he was doing. His conversation with Hosea kept replaying. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, leaving the gang. He wasn’t really thrilled about living the outlaw life. There had already been offers for him joining an easier job, trying it out. But he had always declined. He was pulling in more than enough with his hunting and fishing. He’d sell pelts for some extra cash, which he always donated a bit of to the camp. But maybe he should stop doing that, maybe he should start keeping the money, saving up to leave. To get out. 

But where would he go? He didn’t have anyone or anything apart from the gang. The homestead his mother had owned had most likely been sold or torn down in the last twelve years and even if he wanted to go back, he had no idea where it was. 

“Hey there, kid.” John sat down opposite him, pulling Isaac out of his gloomy thoughts. 

“Hey.” Isaac hadn’t really talked to John much lately. His feelings about the man were still complicated. He wasn’t as angry and openly hostile as Arthur was, but Isaac was still annoyed at John. Not so much about him disappearing, but rather at how he treated Abigail and little Jack. Jack deserved better. He didn’t ask to be brought into this world, he deserved a father that cared for him. 

When Jack was born, Isaac had promised that he’d do all in his power to look after that boy, to make sure that he was okay. Jack was his brother and he happily offered to watch the little tyke whenever Abigail needed a break. Isaac just wanted Jack to be happy. As happy as possible in this awful world. 

“You sure you wanna do sowing?” John asked. “Don’t the girls usually do that?”

“What, you think your manhood falls off from doin’ house chores?” Isaac bit back without looking up. 

“Jeez, it was a joke! You’re as grumpy as your old man.”

“If you say so.” Isaac muttered and winced as he pricked his finger. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to bug you.” John reached up to touch the stitches on his cheek. “I just wanted to chat. We ain’t talked in a while.”

“We’ve all been busy.” Done with the sock, Isaac put it in the small pile of the whole ones and picked up another one that needed patching.

“You wanna play a round of dominoes?”

“Dominoes?” Isaac laughed. “Do you even know how to play dominoes?”

“Of course I do!”

“I didn’t know you knew your numbers.”

John glared at him, but there was no menace in his eyes. Isaac put this sowing down and reached to pull out the dominoes. Maybe they could get a round or two done before Ms. Grimshaw decided to get on their case about slacking off.

Chapter Text

“Look at this!” Jack tugged at Isaac’s coat and held up the eagle feather he’d found. 

“Wow!” Isaac feigned interest and crouched down to examine it further. “Where’d you find it?”

“Over by the road.” Jack pointed towards the outskirts of the camp and Isaac frowned. 

“You know you ain’t supposed to leave camp, Jackie.” He scolded gently as he stood up. “It ain’t safe.”

“I didn’t go far, just wanted to look at the squirrels.”

“Jack…”

“Okay.” The young boy hung his head. “I’m sorry. You won’t tell mama?”

“I won’t tell your mama if you promise me you’ll stay in camp.”

“I promise.”

“Good boy.” Isaac ruffled Jack’s hair. Jack smiled up at him and gave him a little wave before disappearing off into camp again. 

Isaac let out a long sigh and looked out towards the road. A few weeks ago, Jack walking a bit away from camp had perhaps earned him a light scolding from his mother, but other than that, not much would come of it. Now, though… With the Pinkertons hot on their heels, camping in Murfree Brood country, and a gang that was descending further and further into madness, Isaac didn’t want Jack to wander anywhere he couldn’t see him. 

This whole thing was a mess and Isaac should be scared, sad, angry, anything. Instead he just felt… Numb. It felt like after the last few months, he had gotten drained of emotions. After Blackwater, he had been mourning and scared, but there had been a spark of hope in his chest, hope that they’d be okay. Then Rhodes happened and Isaac’s fear was replaced with anger, anger at the situation and at the people who got them into it. After Saint Denis, he had been terrified and broken, he didn’t think the boys that managed to get away would ever come back. And when they came back, they came back wrong .

Dutch had lost his mind, Micah was more disgusting than ever and wasn’t even hiding his attempt to fill the spot left by Hosea, and his pa… His pa was dying. 

Arthur hadn’t said anything about it and no one else seemed to care, but Isaac wasn’t an idiot. His father was wasting away, looking sicker and sicker everytime Isaac saw him. He had tried to get his father’s attention, to talk to him about what the hell was going on and what they were going to do. But ever since they came back, Arthur had been brushing Isaac off. Though Arthur wasn’t the best of fathers, Isaac had never felt ignored before.

Not knowing what else to do, Isaac kept his head down. He hunted and fished, being probably the only one to bring in any food. But he’d only leave camp for short trips, not wanting to leave in case something happened. And knowing their luck and how unsubtle they were being, it was only a matter of time before someone unwelcome rode into camp. 

He had considered leaving. Having taken Hosea’s advice all those weeks ago, he had started saving up some money. Back then, it had been purely hypothetical, but now he was actively planning an escape. He had managed to gather a little over fifty dollars, he had a strong horse, he was a good hunter, he could leave. But he couldn’t leave his family. Though he couldn’t care less about what happened to Dutch, Bill or the other men and he knew that Charles would be just fine and didn’t need Isaac. But he cared about the others. Karen, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Abigail, Jack… He was going to help them in whatever way he could. Even if it just was to make sure there was meat for the stew. 

“Isaac, my boy!” He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he heard Micah call his name. 

“Micah.” Isaac said through gritted teeth, not turning around to look at the man. 

“You know, we’re planning on hitting a train soon.” Micah wrapped his arms around his shoulders and Isaac had to suppress a shudder. “And with so many guns down and with Arthur sick, we could use all the help we can get. Cleet and Joe are coming, of course, but still… And, well, you ain’t no Landon Ricketts, but you know how to hold a gun. So, what do you say, you wanna rob a train?”

“No, I ain’t interested.”

“Here’s the thing though.” Micah withdrew his arm. “Everyone needs to pull their weight. And those that don’t, well, those that don’t gotta go.”

“I am pulling my weight, Micah. I’m huntin’, fishin’-”

“That ain’t enough. We need money. If you can’t bring in money, you gotta go.”

“Fine.” Isaac pushed Micah away from him. “Then I’ll go.” 

It was obviously not the answer Micah had expected, or maybe it was because Isaac had shoved him, but Micah looked genuinely annoyed. 

“Well, maybe that is for the best. But imagine how disappointed Arthur will be, betrayed by his own son just before his death-”

“Shut the hell up you piece of shit!” Isaac shoved Micah again, harder this time. The man stumbled, nearly falling.

“Put your hands on me again boy, and I’ll kill you.” He snarled as he found his balance. 

“Shoot me then. Because surely being dead is better than being stuck in this hellhole with all you lunatics.”

Isaac’s heart was thundering in his chest, so loud that he was sure it could be heard throughout the camp. For a moment, he was sure that those would be his last words. That he had pushed an already unhinged man who had shown time and time again that he didn’t really have any morals too far. Hopefully, if Micah did end up shooting him, it would wake the others up from whatever insanity they had fallen into. 

“What the hell is going on?” John’s raspy voice cut into the tension and Isaac let out a breath he’d been holdning. 

“None of your business.” Micah sneered and turned to leave. 

Isaac was shaking and for the first time since Lagras, he actually felt something. He was angry and he felt absolutely heartbroken. 

“You okay?” John moved to stand in front of him. “What was that about?”

“It’s nothing.” Isaac turned away. “I, I gotta go. Just, clear my head.”

John called after him, but Isaac didn’t listen as he mounted Cedar who was already tacked up. No one came for him as he rode away from camp, hands shaking.

Arthur wasn’t sure if he wanted to find Isaac or not. When he came back from rescuing Eagle Flies, Isaac had been nowhere to be seen and John had been quick to inform him that something had happened between Isaac and Micah, and that it had ended with Isaac storming out of camp. He hadn’t been back in a few hours. In some way, Arthur would prefer it if Isaac had just left. That he had gotten himself out and away before this whole thing came crashing down. But selfishly, Arthur wanted to see Isaac again, to be able to say a proper goodbye, to tell him just how proud he was of his son. 

But Arthur didn’t have to think things over for too long as he found Isaac just above Brandywine Drop, sitting by a small campfire and having his arms wrapped around himself. He looked so small, like that boy he had brought back to camp all those years ago, instead of the teenager he was. 

As he dismounted, Isaac looked up with tired and red-rimmed eyes. 

“I worried you’d left.” Arthur sat down next to his son by the fire. “I’m happy I found you.”

“I almost did. I was at O’Creagh’s Run before I changed my mind. But I couldn’t.”

“I understand.” They sat in silence for a while, staring into the flames. “You okay?”

“Sure.” 

“Isaac-”

“Well, what do you want me to say?!” Isaac jumped onto his feet, scaring both Arthur and the horses. “What the hell do you want me to say? Everyone’s dead, you’re dying, Dutch has gone goddamn mad. I am terrified about what’s gonna happen to all of us. I don’t want anyone else to-”

Isaac hid his face in his hands and turned away from the fire. Arthur felt a tightness in his chest that wasn’t from his tuberculosis. He was ashamed of how he had neglected Isaac, or, well neglected everyone since his diagnosis and the move to Beaver Hollow. He just couldn’t stand being in camp. He trusted John and Sadie to keep the others safe and he also didn’t want to risk getting anyone else sick. To himself, he had managed to justify staying away. 

“Isaac.” He said gently as he reached out to put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I wish I could say that everything’s gonna be okay, but-”

Whatever he was going to say was cut short by another coughing fit. They were more and more frequent, he really wasn’t doing well at all. Over the last few days, he had really started feeling like he had one foot in the grave. He felt the familiar taste of iron on his tongue and he felt his legs grow weak. Leaning heavily against Isaac, the younger Morgan guided him back towards the fire and helped him to the ground. 

The fit eventually subsided, leaving Arthur sweaty and winded. He spat out a mouthful of mucus and blood onto the ground. Isaac was looking at him, his eyes filled with worry. 

“I’m sorry, son.” Arthur said quietly. He didn’t know what else to say. “I’m so sorry. About all of this.”

“They came and took Abigail!” Tilly said as soon as she and Isaac spotted the gang riding towards them. “We saved Jack, we hid, but they came and took Abigail!”

As Tilly explained the situation, holding onto little Jack in front of him, Isaac looked at the group in front of them. They sure looked like they’d been through it. Their clothes were sooty, their horses were covered in sweat and - and where was John? 

Isaac had thought that when everything went to hell, he would be a mess. Instead, he felt strangely calm. Even when Micah heartlessly revealed that John had been killed, but when Dutch announced that they weren’t going to go for Abigail, Isaac felt as if his whole world collapsed. He had known Dutch was losing his mind, but this, this , was too far. It was so far from the Dutch Isaac had grown up with. 

He was still reeling as Arthur threw the sack of money onto the back of Tilly’s horse and told her to go to Copperhead Landing to wait for Sadie and Abigail. Isaac scrambled off his horse and walked up to his father. 

“I’m coming with you.” He announced to Arthur.

“No.” His father shook his head. “No, you’re gonna go to Copperhead Landing and wait for Mrs. Adler and Abigail.”

Before Isaac could start protesting, he was pulled into a hug. 

“My precious boy.” Arthur’s voice was thick with emotion. “My brave boy. I’m so proud of you. I’m so sorry ‘bout all this, but now you gotta go. Go and live a good life.”

Tears started running down Isaac’s cheeks and he wrapped his arms around Arthur, hugging him back. For a good while, he had known his father was dying, but now it suddenly got very real. He wasn’t going to see his pa again. 

“Now go.” Arthur released him and gave him a final smile. 

There was so much left unsaid, but there was no time to say it. Furiously wiping his eyes, Isaac mounted his horse again and turned towards Copperhead Landing. He forced himself to not look back as he heard Arthur and Sadie ride off. 

The repeater rested in Isaac’s lap and he stared unseeingly into the darkness. Their first plan had been to leave as soon as Sadie and Abigail came, but they soon realised that it was both too dangerous to travel the roads right now and that neither Sadie, Abigail or Sadie’s horse was in any state to travel right now. They were hidden well enough in the rotting shack and it was far enough from the road that no one would see them in the dark. They’d even dared to light a lantern when they realised they couldn’t bandage wounds in the pitch black. 

Isaac had offered to take up watch, mainly because he just needed to be alone. He was in an absolute state of shock. They all were. Jack had been a mess when they rode away from camp, Tilly and Isaac had done their best to reassure him, to calm him, but since they were both complete wrecks themselves, it hadn’t really been successful. He hadn’t settled down until Abigail and Sadie came back, with tears in their eyes and wounds that needed tending to. He had loudly suggested that someone should keep watch and had volunteered in the same breath. No one had complained.

He did his best to not try to think about the future. They just needed to get through the night. When they got through this, they could start thinking about their next steps. But his mind still wandered. What the hell were they going to do? If there actually was money in that sack Arthur had given them, they could keep their small group going for quite some time. As long as no one asked any questions. And they couldn’t stay in these states- Isaac forced a stop to the train of thought. Just focus on getting through the night . 

After a while, the silent conversation died down inside the collapsed shack and the lantern was snuffed. He hoped they would be able to catch some sleep, he himself felt like he would never be able to sleep again, he was so full of nerves. 

He was unsure of how long it had been since the light was killed when he heard the sound of hoofs approaching. Isaac tensed, his running thoughts interrupted by fear and false bravado running through his veins. He hoped that the hoofbeats would just go by, but as they grew closer, he stood up and gripped the repeater. 

“Who’s there?” He said loudly. 

There was no reply as the silhouette of the horse and its rider appearing out of the dark. It was a horse Isaac didn’t recognise and it was walking in the way a horse that had been pushed to its absolute limit was moving. The rider dismounted with a grunt and nearly stumbled.

“I said, who’s there?” Isaac said through gritted teeth, readying the gun. 

“It’s me, kid. John.”

“John?” Isaac wheezed, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. If this goddamn night had any more twists to bring, he doubted his heart could take it. “You’re alive?”

When John came close enough for Isaac to see his face, Isaac couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his friend into a hug. It was weakly returned before John extracted himself from the embrace. 

“Where’s Abigail and Jack?” He asked, looking around.

Isaac gestured towards the shack but stayed behind. He didn’t want to get in the way of the reunion and he couldn’t stand being around the intense emotion that would come from it. He took up his vigil again, and the sounds of happiness coming from behind him did warm his heart. The light turned on again and a few moments passed before John called out his name. Not leaving his gun behind, Isaac went into the shack. John was sitting on a bench, shirtless and Tilly was tending to a nasty looking wound on his shoulder. But as he saw Isaac, he stood up and grabbed the hat that sat next to him. 

Arthur’s hat. 

“Arthur… He stayed behind.” John ran his thumb over the brim of the hat. “He stayed behind to help me escape. To help all of us escape.”

Silence filled the shack as they all took in the news. Logically they had probably realised that Arthur wasn’t coming back, but it still hurt to hear it confirmed. Isaac was the one to break the silence. 

“It’s what he would have wanted.”

Chapter Text

John was sure that he was looking at a ghost. He was looking at goddamn Arthur Morgan , a man who was eight years gone. 

He had just stepped out of Blackwater’s generell store after going to replenish some of the supplies they’d used up while building. No one told him just how much coffee and whiskey was needed to build a house. He’d put the items in his satchel but when he looked up, he’d seen the ghost. Or maybe he’d just finally gone completely mad. 

But this wasn’t the Arthur Morgan John had last seen. This man wasn’t sick, tired and sad. This Arthur looked like how Arthur had looked when John first met him. Broad shoulders, a healthy tan, thick blond hair and neatly shaved.

John’s brain was working overtime as he tried to process what he was seeing. The man who looked like Arthur Morgan was rummaging through the back of a wagon pulled by a large black ardennes while holding a cigarette with his free hand. His brow was furrowed and he brought the cigarette to his lips to take a drag. Eventually, it clicked. 

“Isaac?” John said, still not entirely sure the man wasn’t just a hallucination brought on by exhaustion. 

The man looked up and John noticed the first difference from Arthur. Instead of a pair of blue eyes, a pair of brown eyes met John’s. Eliza’s eyes. 

“John?” Isaac’s face split into a wide, happy grin. “Holy shit!”

Jogging across the street John came to stand by the boy - no, man - he had always seen as a nephew. And as he drew closer to Isaac, he noticed more and more differences. Isaac was quite a bit taller than Arthur had been and his hair was a darker blond. As he came to stand before Isaac, he was pulled into a brief but rib-crushing hug. 

“What are you doing here?” Isaac was still grinning and John felt himself return the smile. 

“I’ve gone straight, bought myself some property. I’m building a house.”

Isaac let out a booming laugh, his voice deeper than when John had seen him last. The skinny, acne-covered beanpole he had left behind all those years ago had grown into a man. 

“Didn’t think you would ever want to settle down.”

“Well, it ain’t really for me. It’s for Abigail and Jack.” John shrugged before changing the subject. He did not want to get into all of that right now. “But what about you?”

“Managed to keep myself out of trouble.” Isaac leaned against the wagon and offered John a cigarette. “Got a small delivery business goin’.”

“Wasn’t you and Sadie gonna go at it together?” John lit his cigarette. 

“We did, for a while. But, about three or four years ago, I wanted to live another type of life. She wants to turn into the female equivalent of Landon Ricketts. Now, all the power to her, but it ain’t for me.”

“Fair enough.” John gestured at the revolver hanging from the holster on Isaac’s hip and the butt of the rifle poking out from under the seat of the wagon. “But, uhm…?”

“What kind of a delivery driver would I be if I didn’t carry some protection? Would anyone want to ship something worth more than a penny with a driver without some firepower?”

“I guess.” John snorted. “When was the last time you saw Sadie?”

“Er…” Isaac threw the cigarette and stomped it out with his boot. “A week or two ago? I can’t remember exactly, but we keep in touch. She’s been real kind to me.”

John felt a wave of annoyance briefly could the elation at meeting Isaac. Why hadn’t Sadie told him about Isaac? And why hadn’t Sadie told Isaac about him? John couldn’t help but feel slightly hurt. Isaac was family, just as much family Abigail and Jack. Just as much family as Arthur had been… 

“Hey, look, I gotta run.” Isaac closed the back of the wagon. “But, maybe I could come by your property some day? I’ve - I’ve missed you.”

“Of course.” John shook off the temporary annoyance as he watched Isaac climb into the seat of his wagon. “You’ll always be welcome at Beecher’s Hope.”

“You bought Beecher’s Hope?!” Isaac let out a laugh so loud that the ardennes in front of him turned its head towards the noise. “You daft fool!”

“You sound like Uncle.” 

“Uncle? He’s still alive?” Isaac pulled out his pocket watch and sighed. “I gotta go, but I’ll want to hear everything about it.”

Isaac gave John a little wave before flicking the reins and the large ardennes broke into a brisk walk. He looked after them even when the pair had disappeared out of view. Isaac Morgan. Of all the people John hadn’t expected to see, Isaac was pretty high up on that list. 

He looked good, it seemed like he had absolutely landed on his feet after everything that had happened. At least on the surface.

The temperature was finally beginning to drop as it approached evening. Grizzly, Isaac’s beloved ardennes, trotted underneath him as he rode out of Blackwater. It was thanks to her that he had managed to build up what he had. A good horse that he could both take on rides and use to pull wagons, she was great. And that she was the sweetest creature on Earth was only a pleasant bonus. 

He was proud of what he had achieved. In only a few years, he had gotten enough money to rent both a room for him to stay in and some stable space to store his wagon in. He had gotten the reputation of being reliable, fast and discreet. It wasn’t an extravagant lifestyle, but it was comfortable and for the most part, it was pretty boring. He occasionally had to dispatch some bandits on his transports, but his father had taught him well, he was a great shot. 

Blackwater opened up and he rode out onto Great Plains, shouting a greeting to a passing rider. He glanced over towards Beecher’s Hope, anxiety suddenly spiking. He still couldn’t really believe that it was John goddamn Marston he had seen yesterday. Sadie had been convinced that John had died, or been arrested by the Pinkertons. When Isaac had attempted to protest, she had just looked at him with this sad look in her eyes that made him feel like a little kid again. But he had been right! John was alive. And so was Uncle…

Isaac thought about his time in the gang often. You don’t just lose everyone and everything you hold dear and then forget about it. But it hurt less to think about as time went on. However, he hadn’t interacted with anyone from back then apart from Sadie and she wasn’t really a part of it, in the best way possible. Now though… He had tried so hard to move on and leave his past in the past, but it seemed like his past wasn’t interested in staying away. 

As he drew close enough to Beecher’s Hope to see the start of Tall Trees, he suddenly got an urge to turn around and head back to Blackwater. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Grizzly didn’t seem bothered about his sudden unease and just kept trotting on. 

Eventually, after what felt like both way too long and way too short, he arrived at the turn off to Beecher’s Hope. He could see the skeleton of a house. Shit, John actually was building a house! Isaac had expected to see the little dilapidated shack with just a fresh coat of paint. This was way more ambitious than he expected. He had actually started building a house for his family. It was almost nauseatingly romantic. But was he building it alone? 

As he drew closer to the house, he saw three horses hitched to a tree. A large brown thoroughbred, a beautiful little nokota with the most unique colouring Isaac had seen, and a horse with a - a mustache? Isaac dismounted Grizzly and didn’t bother hitching her. She was a good horse that had never run off on him. After giving her a sugar cube and telling her to be a good girl, Isaac started walking towards the building site. 

“For god’s sake, Uncle! Help or get out of the damn way!” 

“You know what, John Marston, if you knew -”

“We are not having this argument. Every. Single. Day!”

Isaac spotted the small campfire in time to see John throw a cup at Uncle who looked exactly like he had done eight years ago and - was that Charles Smith ? John spotted him and his face split into a wide smile. 

“Isaac!” John waved him over and Isaac waved back, walking more confidently towards the group. 

At John’s call, both Charles and Uncle whipped around. Isaac couldn’t help but smile at seeing them. He had worried that it would be rough, that it would bring back too many painful memories. But maybe it had been long enough now that the pain and sadness had dulled enough for the good memories to break through.

“Isaac?” Charles walked over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a once over before hugging him close. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

“See who’s talkin’!” Isaac hugged Charles back and laughed. “It’s so good to see you, Charles.”

“Well well, if it isn’t little Isaac Morgan.” Uncle had limped over by the time they got out of the hug. “Thought I’d seen a ghost for a moment, you’re the spittin’ image of your pa.”

“Nearly had a heart attack when I saw him in Blackwater yesterday.” John revealed. 

“What, you didn't tell us you’d met Isaac.” Charles frowned. 

“Thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“You really should have told us. When you get to be my age, surprises are really not-”

“Maybe I wanted the surprise to finally do you in.” John snarled. 

“ Enough !” Charles groaned and Isaac laughed. “Come, Isaac, we have some stew on the fire, why don’t we sit and talk for a bit? It’s been eight years.”

They sat by the fire for a long time, talking and catching up. Isaac felt as if he had been transported back in time, to when they’d sit around the campfire in camp, telling stories, talking and laughing. The memories weren’t as painful as they had been all those years ago.

As they talked, ate and shared a bottle of whiskey, the darkness had fallen. Isaac stretched himself out, his joints popping. 

“It’s late, I should probably head home. You all have probably had a long day too.” Isaac moved to stand. 

“You can stay, if you want to.” John gestured for him to sit back down. “We even have some spare bedrolls if you need one.”

“I got my own.” Isaac took the invitation and sank back down on his chair. “But I ain’t helping you build the house!”

“I wasn’t gonna ask!” John defended himself as he pulled out another whiskey bottle. 

Isaac accepted the whiskey bottle and took a long swig before passing it to Charles. He knew that it would end up with him helping with the house. In the morning, he would even offer. He had grieved enough. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you Isaac was in Blackwater?” John asked as he rode next to Sadie on their way to Painted Sky. It was something that had bothered him for a while. 

He had left Isaac, Charles and Uncle to build the barn and Isaac had even managed to get them a group of workers at an insane discount, something about favours being owed. The boy was extremely helpful and skilled. He was also a lot gentler than Arthur had been, Isaac had a kindness to him and John was so proud of him. 

“I didn’t think it was important.” Sadie deflected without looking over at him.

“Not important?” John furrowed his brow and glared at her. “That boy is like my nephew, I’ve seen him grow up. Don’t you think I’ve been worried about him?”

“Look, John.” Sadie sighed. “He took everything that happened real hard. The first year, he was a real mess, he even-”

Sadie cut herself off and John looked over at her, brow still furrowed. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead and she clenched her jaw.  “It took years for him to get to where he is now. He’s happy, he’s got a nice little business goin’, he’s doin’ real well. I wasn’t sure if it was good for him to see you, y’know? It ain’t anything against you personally, but I care about Isaac. He’s my friend and I don’t want to see him fall apart.”

“Alright, I can respect that.” John nodded.

“But he seems happy at Beecher’s Hope, seems happy to be helpin’ you.”

“It’s been real good to have him there. It feels a bit like Arthur’s with me too, y’know?”

Sadie looked over at him and smiled a gentle smile. 

“I think Arthur would be real proud of you, John.” 

I hope so . John thought and allowed the subject to drop. 

Jack couldn’t sleep. He had his own room, he had his own dog, his parents were engaged and were going to get married for real. This was everything he had always wanted, wasn’t it? A place to live, to settle down, to have a proper family. Still, he felt restless. 

Eventually, when it started to feel like the walls were closing in on him and the room was stuffy despite the open window, Jack rolled out of bed and grabbed his boots. Thanks to Great Plains’ nice weather, he didn’t have to put anything on over his union suit. 

The house was dark, snores could be heard from Uncle’s room and Rufus didn’t stir as Jack walked outside. It was a lovely night and he could feel a bit of his restlessness disappear as soon as he walked onto the porch. He first thought about just sitting there for a bit, he didn’t want to talk too far around the farm in the dark. He’d never admit it, but he was still a bit afraid of the dark. 

As he looked over their farm, he spotted a figure sitting by the campfire. Without knowing what else to do, Jack decided that he wanted some company and he started making his way towards the fire. At first, he thought it was Charles, but as he drew closer, the figure was revealed to be Isaac. 

Isaac wasn’t living with them like Charles was, but he stayed a few nights with them here and there, and last night they’d celebrated John and Abigail’s engagement and Isaac had said that he wanted to stay over. As per usual, they had offered for him to sleep in the house, but Isaac had instead wanted to sleep in his bedroll by the fire. 

“Hey there, Jack.” Isaac smiled up at him as he walked into the light of the campfire. “Can’t sleep?”

Jack nodded his head and sat down opposite Isaac. He didn’t have a lot of memories of his time in the camp, but he did have a few about Isaac. They were always good memories, small snippets about them reading together, looking at a hedgehog, things like that. Nothing overly exciting, just, nice memories. 

“Me neither.” Isaac held up a cup towards him. “You want some tea? It’s sleepy-time tea. Hosea used to make it for me. It’s actually just chamomile. If you’re real wealthy, you can put some honey in it, but I can’t afford that shit.”

Jack took the cup and took a small sip. It was pleasant, though a bit underwhelming. He looked into the flames as Isaac poured himself another cup. They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea and staring into the flames. 

“Isaac…” Jack looked up at him. When Isaac met his eyes, Jack took a deep breath and asked what he had wanted to ask for a long while. “What happened back then?”

“Your folks ain’t told you?” Isaac cradled the tea in his hands. “I ain’t sure it’s for me to tell you, Jackie. It’s not… It ain’t a good bedtime story.”

“I’m gonna find out sooner or later.” Jack defended himself. “I’m old enough to know what happened.”

“Does it really matter?” Isaac tilted his head and gave him a small smile. “You got all of this. Your parents, a house, a dog. Don’t live in the past. There ain’t anything for you there.”

“But-”

“Look, Jack.” Isaac leaned forward and looked at him. “What happened back then, it was bad . It broke me, and I don’t think I’m ever gonna properly heal. I know it must suck to hear us talk about life back then and not really know what or who we’re talking about, but believe me, it’s better.”

“Do you wish you never ended up in the gang?” Jack sipped his tea. 

“I don’t know, if I’m honest. There was a lot of love, a lot of good times. But livin’ like that, it ain’t good for you. Growin’ up in a place like that, it don’t make you a normal person. Believe me, I ain’t as well-adjusted as I seem. But… I don’t know.”

Isaac let out a long sigh. Jack knew that what had happened back then was bad. Whenever the subject came up with his parents, the energy shifted immediately. But he remembered when he went fishing with his pa, and he had started talking about how Arthur had taught him how to fish. And his pa’s voice had taken on a strange tone. He knew that Arthur, along with a lot others, had died. But he didn’t know how, he didn’t know what happened exactly for the gang to fall apart. 

But maybe Isaac was right. Maybe it didn’t matter. 

“I’m sorry.” Isaac let out a nervous laugh and tilted his head back, looking at the night sky. “I didn’t mean to get all mopey. You don’t need to listen to my shit.”

“Well, I asked.” Jack said and shrugged. 

“That you did.” Isaac slipped off his chair and lay down on the ground, hands behind his head. “Come on, I’ll show you some constellations.”

Isaac consulted his map, frowning. It should be here, he had found the little strange hill home and followed the directions. 

“Christ Charles, you couldn’t have chosen an easier spot to get to?” He grumbled and stuffed his map back into his saddlebags. “Well, let’s try over there then.”

He spurred Grizzly on and she obediently fell into a comfortable canter. When the road split, he turned instead of continuing straight. As he turned, he finally saw a spot where he could climb the hill. Dismounting his horse, not wanting to risk taking her up what looked like a relatively unstable slope, he made his way up. His breath came out in a cloud and his cheeks stung from the cold. But when he saw it, the cold didn’t bother him at all.

He had timed it perfectly. The sun was just starting to set, casting golden rays over the world, the array of wild flowers on the ground and the ornate cross. 

Arthur Morgan. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness

On the long ride from Blackwater to Baccus Station and then on towards the grave site, he had gone over what he wanted to say, he had been so full of words and thoughts. Now, it was like his head was completely empty. 

“Well…” Isaac cleared his throat. “I ain’t really sure what to say. What there is to say. I don’t even think you can hear me. I ain’t even sure if I believe in an afterlife.”

He sighed and took a seat on the ground, looking at his father’s grave. When Charles had given him the location for the grave, Isaac hadn’t even been sure he was going to go, he didn’t see the point. But now, sitting there, he felt that it had been the right choice. Like he finally got proper closure. 

“But, if you can see me, if there is some kind of afterlife, I hope you’re proud of me. Both you and mama. I’m tryin’ my best. And I’m okay. I’m happy. I just wish that I could share it with you. And I hope that you’ve found peace.”

Though he didn’t have anything more to say, Isaac stayed at the grave until the sun had properly set and then he only left because the cold was starting to really get to him. Before walking down the mountain, he walked over to gently touch the cross. 

He walked away, feeling a bit less troubled.