'He's got that fire, and he walks with it.
He's got that fire, and he talks with it.'

-

Valentine was subdued in the darkness, the usually bustling town was a ghost of it's daytime self in the very early hours of the morning.

Still slumped in the saddle, you were drifting in and out of consciousness. It felt like heavy waves, waves that seemed to lift you to the surface and then drag you right back down, drowning you out so as to help your body cope with the pain.

Arthur gently coaxed his horse, Phantom, to one of the hitching posts just outside of the small livestock town's only hotel, your mount Boxer also trotting behind. For a while, the outlaw had been musing whether to just ride you both back to Horseshoe Overlook, but if he returned with you in the state that you were in – there would be a lot of lecturing from Dutch, and Arthur was really not in the mood to deal with that right now.

"Good boy." He whispered gently as he tethered Phantom's reins tightly around to worn wooden hitching post, securing Boxer too and then he turned his attention back to you – still drooped against the saddle. You were trying to focus, pay attention – your (eye colour) eyes half lidded and thick with a drowsiness. Arthur could clearly see you fighting against the pain, shock and fatigue that controlled your body.

"We need to get y' fixed up proper." You heard his strong tones say, and your heart lifted a little in hope that soon this feeling would be gone, with Arthur looking after you. It was easy enough to let yourself slip into his hold as he lifted your doll-like body from the saddle of Phantom, who was stood quietly and patiently at the post – almost as if he was aware of the severity of the situation you found yourself in.

"Wait..." you croaked, a sudden cold and unforgiving gust of the bitter night wind stirred you that bit more. Arthur ground his heels into the muddy, wet floor beneath you both. "Let me try to walk..."

You got your answer in a form of a scoff, "No way, y' don't need to be doin' yourself anymore damage." Arthur said sternly, approaching the distressed and weathered front door of the hotel. Inside, the faintest lights glimmered softly away – a welcoming beacon of sanctuary after a night of hellishness.

The outlaw put his back to the doors, using it to open them considering you were bundled in his arms.

On the other side of the counter, the man working at the desk had been buried in a book of some kind – a look of exhaustion in his heavy lidded eyes. His glance suddenly shot up from behind his tiny round spectacles when he saw the pair of you. Clearly he didn't usually have visitors at this sort of time, and in such a state...

The both of you looked dishevelled – you, from the attack (obviously) – and Arthur's previously kempt look was now ruined from riding full speed in the wind. His ashy brown hair swept by the tangling windy breeze, coat smattered with mud that had been sprayed from Phantom's frantic galloping.

"Can... can I help?" the clerk asked, somewhat nervously, noting all the various guns on Arthur's person.

"We need a room," you heard Arthur's voice urge, and you forced your eyes open a little, greeted with the sight of the rather horrified looking member of staff behind the desk.

"With all due respect, sir, she looks as if she needs a doctor."

Your eyes fell shut again now, exhausted feeling again. All of the elements of the night were now combined: the shock, the cold, the fear – it was too much for your person to take.

"It ain't nothing I can't sort." Arthur pressed back to the clerk, jaw shifting a little out of irritability. "Please, you gotta help me – help her." He urged again. The clerk pushed his small specs further up his narrow, beak-like nose and let out a sigh.

"If you are sure, sir." He said with a level of impotent reluctance, and reached under the desk to get a key.

Leading the way, the little man wandered up the creaky stairs with Arthur and you following. A heavy sigh left Arthur's lungs as he looked down at you, you just reminded him of all his weakness' at this point... all he hadn't done to protect you properly.

"Here we are." The clerk uttered as you all reached the summit of the stairs, and went to the first door on your right, sliding the brass key in the lock with a series of noisy clicks indicating the room was now open.

"Thank you, mister." Arthur thanked, as the man opened the door. The first thing Arthur did was set you down on the edge of the bed, where you slumped drearily – groaning a little to yourself and shaking so obviously like an abused dog. Biting his lip and thinking of what was best to do, Arthur pressed the back of his hand gently to either side of your face, feeling just how frozen you were – that wasn't going to do you any good.

"I need to get some things from my horse," Arthur told the clerk, who was still dithering with a concerned look on his face in the doorway. "If y' wanted to help her, you could bring up on one of them tin baths and run one for her?" the suggestion was more of a command, and the clerk nodded quickly and scarpered off – he was not exactly going to argue with a man who had that many pistols on his belt.

Through fatigue fogged eyes, you focused on the wobbly vision of Arthur's tall figure making it's way out of the door.

"Where are you going?" you urged, voice cracking at each word you tried to force out.

The fearful plea in your voice forced Arthur to turn on his heels, the way your voice had got right through him and sent a pang straight through his chest.

Crossing the room, Arthur crouched beside the edge of the bed where you sat shaking from your combined traumas of the night.

"I'm just going to get some things to fix y' up, okay?" his voice the most gentle you had heard it yet, like he was afraid to be loud in case you shattered like a china cup. "I'll be right back, (name)." He urged, singularly squeezing your little hand in his large one, before once again making his way out of the room.

In Arthur's absence you felt your most fragile yet, he had been there looking after you throughout all of this – and in the back of your mind you panicked about something happening to you again whilst he wasn't here. You felt so stupidly and ridiculously futile without him at that moment.

There your mind remained in this state of feeling like a dependent child as the clerk wandered in and out of your room continuously, sorting you a bath. He was attempting to make some kind of small talk but you were too affected by everything to really give him an answer. You just wished he would finish filling up the bath and then leave you be.

Luckily it wasn't all too long before you got your wish, and in the new solitary situation of that room, you felt your previously numbed sense tuning onto something.

It was warm, wet and very welcome steam against your cheek, as if it was a handsome suitor pressing an inviting kiss. You turned your head to the right to see the tin bath placed strategically in front of the crackling hearth, your whole form instantly warmed just by the sight of the steam rising into the air, curling and winding effortlessly as it rose to the ceiling.

You struggled to your feet, legs feeling achy and as wobbly as a newly born lamb as you stood, frozen hands making difficulty of picking the buttons on your clothing open.

You eventually managed out of your clothing, leaving the cold and damp, dewy garments on the wood floor of the room as you hobbled in the direction of the bath. It was frustrating you how incapable you felt, as your hands grasped for the bed posts to support you from falling. The painful pang that seared through your leg scorched like a flame, and you audibly yelped to it's agonising onslaught.

"Get... on... with.... It..." you growled yourself impatiently, your bare body making those few last damned hobbles to the side of the bath. Close enough now to feel the beautiful warm steam against your gooseflesh, close enough to actually get in and submerge yourself in that perfect water.

Conscious that you didn't want to cause yourself anymore harm that evening, you lowered yourself feebly into that bath, the manner of a frail old woman. The first welcoming warmth of water that you subdued yourself into had you gasp out softly in nothing but pure ecstasy. Already you felt a million times better just for warming yourself up. You felt more awake, more capable to actually string a sentence together.

Carefully, you splashed the water gently onto the various areas of your body, minding the wound on your leg.

In the yellow oil-lamp light, for the first time, you had a clear look at exactly what the beast had done to your leg. There were two large puncture wounds on the outer side of your calve, and then a few deep gashes either side from the other teeth that had ripped through your flesh with ease. With watery fingertips, you gingerly went to touch the wound – but a sharp sting the moment you made the slightest contact forced you to recoil. That was incredibly painful, and now you were growingly nervous about exactly how Arthur might plan to help patch you up...

---

Under the ambient ticking of the wall clock, you enjoyed some further five minutes of peace in the water. Just relaxing, enjoying the fact you now didn't feel like an insect being dragged down the plug hole of consciousness.

Behind you, your ears tuned into the gentle clicks of the door knob twisting, and you gazed over your shoulder in some fear – worried that maybe the clerk had come back to try and take advantage of you whilst you were already down.

This however proved to be false, as quick as anything Arthur slipped through the door, arms bundled with all sorts of important looking things in his arms. You were barely just about registering this as you were dreading the fact he hadn't actually seen you yet... not that you wanted him to, in your current state.

His weary blue eyes immediately went to the bed, obviously thinking he would see you there.

"I got some things to-" he started, brow furrowing as he glanced across to where you were in the tin bath. Thankfully your back was to him, so atleast you didn't feel overly exposed in that moment.

"Oh! Shit-!" he exclaimed, and the rather bashful way he covered his eyes and turned his back was both amusing and adorable. How did this formidable, feared outlaw become this blushing, bumbling kid in the space of 3 seconds?

"I er... hadn't realised..." Arthur commented, clearing his throat in a poor attempt to masquerade nervousness in his voice.

"It's alright... the moment the bath was ready, I couldn't leave it." You replied, "Sorry... I perhaps should've locked the door." You apologised, splashing some of the water onto your face gently as you waited for Arthur's reply.

"No, I shoulda' knocked..." He then stepped in, his tone apologetic. "Guess I was keen to get your leg patched up." He chuckled in a withheld fashion, his back still to you as he looked down at his boots

You smiled silently to yourself, lifting yourself out of the water at last and going to the polished unit just beside the fire where the clerk had left you a soft, fluffy towel. Once your naked form had left the tin tub, you had a sneaky glance to see if Arthur would try to look – but he didn't even attempt to glance back. You thought it was rather sweet of him, most men were pigs and would leap at the chance to ogle.

"You can look now." Your still croaky voice announced once you had finished wrapping the towel around yourself, twisting your ( hair colour) hair on top of your head in a bun and fixing it with one of your pins.

Arthur cleared his throat, and even though you'd given him the greenlight – you could still sense the hesitation as he turned around. His eyes were still down for a moment in a respectful manner, before he carefully lifted his gaze to meet you own.

Already he could notice the wonders that bath had done, you looked a million times better and nowhere near as washed out. Not to mention the way the water had made your skin glisten a little in the low light.

"You, uh, feel a bit better after that?" Arthur asked, setting his various supplies down on the bed as you nodded to him in response.

"Much better... shaking the cold off has made a huge difference." You then added, watching as Arthur was fiddling about with some things, and then grabbed the nearest candlestick. Suddenly a lump formed in your throat.

"I'm sorry, but y' ain't gonna like this." Arthur's voice suddenly sounded in the otherwise quiet of the room, and your heart sank. Great, he was going to have to cauterize the wound to stop infection... it was the one thing you had really been dreading.

"Now," he started, placing himself on the very end of the bed, a look of concentration on his face. "I need y' to sit on the floor, just here." He pointed to the small rug on the floor right in front of him, and you frowned quickly.

"Why on earth do I have to sit on the floor?" you asked, not seeing any real reason for it. Arthur rolled his eyes in his signature grumpy manner.

"When I cauterize the wound, I don't want y' to lose no more blood," he explained, "So if y' sit, and lift your leg – that means the blood can't travel upwards, see?" he explained, sounding a little impatient as usual. He was always the man on a mission, wanting things done quickly. You had seen that clear enough around camp.

"Oh... okay." Was your small response, a little surprised that there was real reason for you to have sit on the floor. Your carefully set yourself down on the small rug, feeling a little rush of excitement and intimidation when you fully affirmed this rather odd position, sat on the floor in front of him made you feel very small.

"Your leg," Arthur then said after a few seconds, raising his brow – "Please?" His tone was coarse under the false pretence of patience - back to to Mr 'I know it all please hurry up and stop wasting my time'. You only assumed he was getting frustrated due to the urgency of the situation.

You were sure by now his front of austerity was all just a guard, because he didn't find it comfortable to let his himself be open with people too much. But tonight alone had obviously proved he cared, or at least cared a little. You had witnessed him the most jovial and carefree since you'd known him... not to mention his obvious protective and careful nature around getting you to safety after the wolf attack.

Grounding yourself to the present, you then quickly snapped out of your distant little trance, and lifted the injured leg in question. He quickly but carefully took hold of your ankle, and positioned your leg in his lap, to best get at the wound. However this entire situation was making you blush a little – why did this feel like more than just a quick-patch up and some medical attention? You felt like you could cut the tension in the air with a spoon, let alone a knife.

Watching carefully with tired (eye colour) eyes you studied the way Arthur was silently examining the ugly looking wound on your calve. Every now and again he would have to touch your leg, to turn it a little or examine the skin just around the wound. You watched rather too attentively at how good his large hands looked on your slender legs, glancing up secretively to examine the exhausted but oh-so determined look that was etched so deeply onto his handsome face, a few stray strands of his dark ashy brown hair falling perfectly out of their place.

For that moment, you shamefully didn't care if this took the rest of the night.

"Have you done this sort of thing before?" you dared to ask, tone semi-flirtatious. The smirk you were returned with just further encouraged you, or at least put you at ease he maybe didn't wholly hate you after the kiss earlier.

"Course I have, what do I look like, a kid?" he scoffed with a humoured little chuckle, "I got a lot of experience, ain't no need for you to worry." He urged, turning his head away for a moment to forage through his satchel for something. The quiet smirk you were wearing only grew as you studied his gorgeous side profile in that low lighting – you hated how much you were feeling things for him...

"I didn't doubt yourexperience." You remarked in a cheeky manner, feeling a sense of achievement when Arthur started to laugh, having grabbed a green bottle of something out of his satchel, pulling the cork out with his teeth. You didn't exactly see what it was, but it was some kind of alcohol.

"How you still got enough energy to keep yappin'?" Arthur teased you, but that was rather ironic – as when he poured a little of the alcohol over the wound on your leg, you let out the biggest yell since you'd been attacked.

"Jesus-! That stings like hell!" you cried in protest, face screwed up. You knew it was only going to get worse, you just had to try and distract yourself.

"I'm sorry, (name)" Arthur drawled apologetically, using a small damp cloth to clear up the excess alcohol that had trickled down your leg, "You ain't passed out yet though, that's good." His blue eyes were smirking as well as his lips when he made that comment, and you sarcastically pulled a face.

"Surely with such an expert looking after me, I shouldn't pass out at all?" you retorted in a fiery fashion, cocking your head triumphantly.

Arthur snickered, popping the cork back into the green bottle and slipping it back into his brown leather satchel.

"Twenty somethin' years... I hope I'd be some sorta' expert." He replied to humour you, but the statement just got you thinking. You often looked at him and wondered just how old he was actually was, he was evidently older than you – and he liked to make that clear by the way he acted around you and spoke to you most times you'd been at camp.

"Just how old are you, can I ask?" you queried, a sort of dangerous and forbidden feeling creeping in when Arthur shot you a look with those icy blue eyes that instilled a sense of danger in you... but it was exciting, and it didn't scare you that you had gotten such a scolding look off of him.

"Now why would you want to know something like that, kid?" he replied, and his newly addressed name for you just furthered that he obviously a fair bit older than you. If he clearly felt he was old enough to address you as a kid, then why had he been making you feel equal, so on the same wavelength earlier at the campfire?

"Because... well... after ... what happened..." you had barely started talking before a guilty look crossed Arthur's face for a flash second, but he masked it quicker than anything.

"Let's just say I'm old enough to know better." He interrupted you, going to grab the candlestick as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"To know better about what? Is this about me?" you asked, driving your gaze straight at him so he was forced to look at you. The worry from when you had gone to bed had been cemented in that very second, and you felt both extremely disheartened and frustrated.

"God... I just knew you'd end up being like this." You hissed with bitter disappointment. A burdened sigh left Arthur and you could clearly see the weight of his chest exhaling it. "I knew it when you brushed off my apology- I feel like such an idiot..."

He had paused a moment before speaking, "Now just exactly how old is you? Like, 20 or somethin'?" he queried, a pressing manner about his voice. You were quick to leap to your defence, even though it wasn't much of a juxtaposition.

"I'm actually 22." You replied, feeling like it was a rather paper defence compared to the solidity and condescending weight of Arthur's tone. The outlaw sat back a little, looking into the flame of the candle for a few moments, collecting his thoughts – you could see it on his face.

A composed yet stern expression remained on Arthur's face as he stared directly down at you, this feisty little miss wrapped up in her towel on the rug before him.

"Look, (name)," Arthur started suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck now rather awkwardly, "I ain't gonna lie... I like you, I mean... I find you... interesting." The bastard. He couldn't even say properly that he liked you. It was like too much compassion was a weakness to him... he was so hardened about affections. "But think about this logically... this ain't gonna work out how we would want it to."

Well, what did that cryptic statement mean? You were growingly increasing impatient with him, why couldn't he just say it in black and white instead of in riddles and tongues.

"Why? Because you'd be too scared to be seen with some dumb girl?" you snapped, your irritability showing. Arthur had just somewhat carried on with trying to mend your leg whilst the pair of you argued.

"Y' blowin' this way outta proportion..." he groaned, looking anywhere but at you. The outlaw sighed deeply and shook his head, "what happened, happened... there ain't gotta be no more to it."

You scowled at this statement, he was so throwaway towards the encounter and it angered you immensely. He was back to being abrupt and cold with you.

"But there is more to it, isn't there?" You pressed, catching his gaze which spelled more than his guts ever could. He looked at you with all the might and futility alike of a man who was struggled to hold his nonchalant stance on the situation.

"No-" he said in that stern low tone, determined on continuing with his headstrong and stubborn manner.

"But... so what if it was?" He was taking a hypothetical approach, or a bad masquerade at one, "it wouldn't be right. What would the others think?"he argued, edging the candle near to your wound. You were too distracted in your spat with him to even really realise.

"I think it would look good, the boys would be jealous... they'd all wish they could have a younger woman." You started to argue with a smug look, and that was all but short lived once that candle made contact with your skin and sent you yelping in pain again. Your fists balled tightly into the carpet below, and tears prickled at your eyes.

"Right... it's over now." Arthur said in a now stony tone, and you could tell he was pissed off that you'd gotten into the logistics of the night's events.

He let your leg slip gently from his lap as he got up to place the candle back in it's position on the night stand, rubbing the back of his neck again as he paced about the room.

"Why... are you so worried what everyone else thinks anyway?" you managed to question further once the pain had died down, leaving you once again in a clearer state of mind.

Arthur's glance now really did give you a telling off as he lashed around to look at you, a real look of impatience and frustration on his face.

"Why do you keep going on about this like it's real important to you?" He batted back, his stare lashing you like a cruel horseman.

Clearly Arthur expected you to back down, hide in your shell away from the question like he was.. but he was so very wrong. See, unlike him – you weren't afraid to put your heart on your sleeve and tell everyone just exactly what was on your mind.

"Oh, but it is real important to me!" you mocked him, "See, because I'm not shy in saying I actually do like you, and I won't go into details because I know well enough know that any sort of that stuff makes you repulse." You scorned, and you could see with every little fiery word that was leaving your lips you were pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He was going to snap at you, and properly.

"Because Arthur," you continued, "I'm not a million people in one day... what you see is what you get. And right now, I feel like I'm playing games with you. You're leading me round in circles."

Finally, it happened. His fuse had been lit by you and his exploded, lashing around quickly and he pushed you, knowing the bed was behind you to cushion your fall.

"I know I shouldn't of let myself goddamn lapse earlier, but I did, alright!?" he growled angrily, "Remember what I said? About folks like me not having someone? It's because it gets used against us!"

A look of pure hurt inked in now, and his glance fell in defeat of his rage.

"Now why would I want to go ahead and put a young girl like you at risk? For the sake of me being happy?" he questioned you. His tall posture lapsed in a little, and he slowly set himself down on the edge of the bed, beside where he had pushed you down.

"I won't do it... I can't be selfish again." His voice was filled with blinkered determination.

So that's where it stemmed from, all this anger and hostility... it was fear. Clearly he'd lost a lot in the past, and he was still hurting about that. You felt bad about acting like a child about it to him now... when really all this had been about was protecting you.

Gingerly and with the nervousness of a scolded child, you sat up  – and ever so softly moved yourself to sit yourself by his side. Your eyes trailed down to the floorboards beneath your feet, the fluffy towel still wrapped around you and the last droplets of water that rested on your skin began to chill.

Nothing felt right to say in that moment. Of course, you were sorry for the clear pain and trauma that had been permanently branded into Arthur's brain. You just weren't sure how or what you could say... after all that had happened, you felt a prize fool and didn't wish to make matters worse.

"I'm sorry... for all this craziness." You scolded yourself, "I should've never come here.... I should've died in that chair." You whispered to yourself now, not really wanting for him to hear it, but he did.

Arthur turned to face you then, his gaze looked deeply hurt by your statement, blue eyes creased and a frown present on his brows.

"Don't you dare say that, you goddamn idiot." He hissed... did he sound upset? "I care about you'. I don't like to hear you say stuff like that." His tone hard tone of voice softened, and he gently forced himself to look away.

"It's just... well... like I said.... it just... it wouldn't work out..." his voice sounded so small now, and the fact he couldn't even look at you said so much. Your heart felt like it had been stabbed several times by the physical ache in your chest.

"It's... it's fine." You lied, considering all the hurt he had just confessed about his past experience with this sort of thing. Your sigh exited into the room and you had decidedly given up with trying. You'd already pushed too far today - the confession, the kiss and now biting at his heels like some nagging desperate wench. You were so embarrassed and feeling stupid for essentially creating an awkward rift that further distanced yourself and the Outlaw.

"I'm truly sorry for the position I've put you in... after our close talk earlier I maybe thought..." you paused, drawing in a short breath as you looked away. You thought you'd both come to an emotional understanding, a closeness and a connection.

"Never mind." You then said a little bleakly, not at all nasty – but in a manner that would make him think different about what this whole experience had meant to you. You were young, of course that was clear, and your heart was too big right now. Filled with feelings that were puppeteered so easily by Arthur, he had total control and obviously didn't realise just how much his ways influenced your feelings.

---
Arthur had taken to getting himself a separate room for the remainder of the hours until sunrise, the final conversation you'd both had being a blunt and rather saddening one.

You hadn't been in bed for long, sleeping incredibly lightly when you heard the birds beginning to sing sweetly indicating the morning's imminent arrival. You laid there, eyes wide open and staring at the curtain covered window – your first thoughts after a short doze being that of self torture... remembering the way you had acted and the implications of that.

Hauling your weak figure to sit up straight, your exhausted gaze fell to the wall and you found yourself in a fixated stare of nothingness. You so wanted to work through this, even if the sweet and carefree Arthur you had been camping with had all but disappeared - you still didn't want there to be such a feeling of awkwardness between the pair of you.

But your brain was struggling to figure how you could move forwards when he knew your affections... yet was so guarded about his own.

Just why did you find yourself in falling for one of the most complicated men in the world?

------

A/N: Obviously I'm not really well so if there's any mistakes in this I'm sorry, I probably should've written when I was a little better but I needed a distraction.