*Hi there. :) This is the third work in a series. While you can absolutely read it as is, it might make a little more sense if you read "Only Fools Hold onto Hope" and Part 2 of "Disaster Road" first. This works picks up after "Disaster Road" chronologically.*

**This work is also on Archive of Our Own (Ao3), another fan fiction site that allows for inclusion of pictures and links in chapters. Whenever there have been pictures in a chapter that I couldn't include here but did so on Ao3, I include the link to Ao3 here so you can see it. You just need to copy and paste the link and remove spaces, since does not allow me to share links.**

***While this work is not graphic, there will be one chapter that is very emotionally intense.***


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1894

the same year he lost Eliza & Isaac

.

"I'm a hummingbird

looking for sweet water

to ease you off my mind."

- Johnnyswim, "Hummingbird"

.

Late one evening, Arthur sat in the middle of camp slowly nursing a bottle of whiskey with his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. Most everybody had already gone to bed, save Dutch and a couple others. He forced himself to swallow, though every gulp was painful. And each sip from the bottle was making his chest heavier, not lighter.

Out of the darkness Abigail approached the table, but he didn't look up.

"One's too few company, I always say," she said sweetly.

He made no answer.

"Penny for your thoughts…"

Again, he made no attempt at an answer.

She sighed and looked up. "Sky's just full to the brim with stars tonight," she whispered.

He chuckled softly. "Only you ever notice 'em."

She looked at him. "Who's Eliza?"

He whipped his head up at her. "What?"

"You just called me Eliza. It's Abigail."

He slowly looked away again and brought the bottle up to his lips. "I know just who you are, Abigail."

She brought her other hand to the table and leaned forward with a smile. "Dutch's hardworkin' man… You put in a full day's work with the rest of 'em; seems to me you oughta be in bed by now. Do you ever sleep?" she chuckled.

"Do you?"

Her grin faltered for just a moment, but she passed over his words. "You're different tonight. Been watchin' you with that same bottle for the past hour. Way you treat it, must taste awful bad. Haven't managed to get a quarter of it down, have you?"

He sighed and rested his head in his hand again.

"You seem down, Arthur."

With a quiet comment on how late it was, he planted the bottle back on the table and stood. When she brought a hand to his forearm, he stopped.

"We all got ghosts a' some kind, don't we? Hardest part is figurin' out how to get on with life while they're hangin' over your shoulder." She gently rubbed his forearm and watched his shoulders slack. "You oughta try somethin' besides hooch every once in a while," she chuckled, watching as he began to turn his head back to her. "Wanna know what I got in mind?"

Arthur turned and saw someone else standing there, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Come away, love," Eliza whispered. "Come away."

His brows drew up. "What'd you just say?"

"I said come with me." She slid her hand down into his and found no resistance when she pulled him with her.

At the mouth of his tent in the center of camp, Dutch lifted his cigar as he watched the two of them duck into her tent.

Once she'd gotten Arthur inside, Abigail made sure the tent flap was pinned closed behind them. She immediately turned back and hastily kissed him on the mouth. He took her by the arms and pulled her away, standing her up straight and looking at her.

She looked up and saw a few things there that were foreign to her in the faces of those that looked back at her: confusion rather than focus, longing rather than lust, sorrow rather than excitement. But one thing she recognized plain as day was loneliness.

She looked down and began unbuttoning his shirt. She continued unbuttoning as she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him again, not as hastily this time. When she drew back and looked up into his eyes, she started with her own buttons. As she shed her blouse, she saw the cloud of confusion finally begin to slowly dissipate from his eyes. But the longing, sorrow, and loneliness were all still there.

She kissed him again and felt his big hands come to her bare back as she pulled at his suspenders and slipped his breeches off.

.

Later that evening Abigail smirked at him from her place beside him on the cot.

"I never woulda guessed it. You of all people…" she shook her head as he sat up and turned to sit on the edge of the cot. "You're the tenderest, gentlest lover of any man here, Arthur Morgan. About scared the livin' hell outta me." She giggled and rested a hand on his long-john clad back, watching him hunch over, put both elbows on his knees, and bring both hands to his head. "I know your secret now."

"You don't know my secret," he returned, glancing back at her. He reached for his breeches, pulled them on, and stepped into his boots.

"Where you goin'?"

He looked back at her. "You can't honestly try to tell me you're willin' to make a real go at this." He watched her smile slowly fade as she swallowed. "That's what I thought."

He stood and began dressing, pulling the sleeves of his shirt onto his arms. "Seventeen-year-old sleepin' with a goddamn thirty-one-year-old," he grumbled. "It's a goddamn sin. And I ain't even a religious man." Without looking at her, he began buttoning his shirt. "I know you're sweet on young John. Just ain't managed to bed 'im yet." He pulled his suspenders over his arms. "You're probably angry with him for somethin'."

She opened her mouth in protest.

"Thing is…" he said, looking down as he pressed his thumb into the palm of his other hand, "what I know is the stupid bastard don't know just how good he got it."

Abigail tried to get a blush going on her cheeks as she scrunched her shoulders up and leaned forward. "That's real nice a' you to say."

He looked back at her and slowly looked forward again as if startled from a dream. "It's very little to do with you." He turned and swung his jacket around his shoulders. "Don't come round me no more," he said as he started to leave the tent.

"I—"

"I said," he looked back at her as he ducked his head for the opening, "don't even look my way, woman."


"Pain is alive in a broken heart.

Past never does go away.

We were born to love,

and we're born to pay

the price for our mistakes.

.

Grace, she comes with a heavy load.

Memories, they can't be erased.

Like a pill I swallow—

it makes me well

and leaves an awful taste.

.

Oh, I know this song won't do

enough to prove my love to you.

In my heart, you'll always know

there is a place only Love can go.

There is a place only you can go."

- Needtobreathe, "A Place Only You Can Go"

you tu . be /Pj7dXa1pD-k