─── ｡ﾟ☆: one , camp? :☆ﾟ. ───

ANGELICA'S EYES CRACKED OPEN, her blinks being slow and lethargic. Her head felt heavy as pale eyes studied the aged room around her. She proceeded to blink in order to get used to the lighting around her. When she did, she saw a person — a man actually — reclining in an old wooden chair at the foot of her bed.

     The man being Arthur Morgan — the last person she'd expect to be at her bedside.

     Arthur was leaning back in the chair, his arms folded while his chin rested on his chest. Light snores could be heard from him, and Angelica began to wonder just how long he had been sitting there. It probably wasn't long, and he was most likely only here under the orders of Grimshaw.

     Angelica blinked again and nearly let out a hiss of pain as she went to sit up, a flair of pain pulsing up her side. Her hand went to her hip and hovered the wound as if touching it would cause more pain. She had nearly forgotten about that — now that she thought about it, she began to question how she even got here.

     Her eyes swept around, before settling on an old busted pen that laid on the nightstand beside her. Her fingers encircled around the rusted object as she glanced over at Arthur, giving his sleeping form a wicked smirk before flinging the small pen in his direction.

     Arthur yelped a vulgar cry, nearly falling from his seat. He swore under his breath as he lifted his head and was met with the smug face of Angelica Conti. He massaged his cheek where the pen had hit him, his blue eyes narrowing at the twenty-seven-year-old who was now chuckling softly at the look on his face.

     "Glad to see that you're awake," He grumbled his cheek stinging still.

     Angelica ignored the man's annoyance, asking the first question that came to her mind. "Where is John? Is he okay?" She tried to remember what happened. But she couldn't. All she could remember was being attacked by a pack of wolves and losing her dear horse.

     Arthur leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as his hands hung toward the hardwood floor. "He fine — Abigail is with him now."

     "Where's Angel?" John had asked, his face flashing with pain as he tried to get up, only to have Abigail push him back down with Mary-beths' help. "I need to see if she's okay,"

     That was hours ago, and Arthur was quickly reminded how close the two adults were, seeing as they were the same age and did most heists together. They were quite the team when it came down to it and Arthur would be lying if he said he didn't envy the friendship they had.

     There was once a time when Arthur was just as close with the Conti woman — but that was nearly two years ago — a lot has changed since then.

     Angelica raised her hand to her hair, moving her fingers through the tangled mess. She had a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but didn't know where to start. Everything was a jumbled mess in her head. It made her stomach tighten and her head spin. Angelica wanted to know if the ferry heist was a success and if everyone made it out alive. She and John had fled Blackwater before they got word on the situation, so she had no clue on the state of the gang.

     Arthur could practically see the wheels turning in that pretty head of hers. His eyes dropped to her hands, where her fingers fiddled mindlessly — a habit she hand when her anxiety was spiked, or when she had questions she wanted to ask. The older male waited patiently for her to ask whatever was on her mind.

     "I don't remember much after I blacked out. . ." She finally admitted, "What happened?"

     For a moment, Arthur was relieved she didn't remember anything. That meant she didn't remember him staying at her side all night long, being sure she was still breathing and kept warm. It saved him the embarrassment of explaining — though he did get questioning glances from Grimshaw and the other women as they came to check up on their beloved gang member.

     He cleared his throat, his lips forming a straight line. "Me and Javier found y'all — Looked nearly dead by the time we got back to camp." He explained as memories of her bloodied form flashed in his mind.

     Angelica arched a brow, "Camp?" She tipped her head to the side, curious.

     "Yea, I found this place," He explained, waving his hand to move around the room. "Called Colter — a run down camp." His eyes watched her, taking in her expression which was unreadable at the moment.

     The younger woman let out a small 'hum' and allowed herself to relax as she glanced down at her folded fingers. Arthur was a good man when he wanted to be — though he rarely showed her any kindness — which is why she was shocked when he admitted to being one of the ones that helped save her. He was usually a pain in her ass and seemed to try his best to stay on her bad side.

     So why did he willingly help her?

     "Well thank you for saving me- us." Angelica stumbled over her words, mentally cringing at her small slip up.

     Arthur peered at her from under his gambler's hat, the corners of his mouth unintentionally curving up into a lopsided grin before he realized what he was doing — he instantly ran a hand over his face, wiping away the grin that began to form. Stop it. He scolded himself, hoping Angelica didn't notice.

     There was the light sound of footsteps that caught their attention, and they both snapped their gaze's over to the door as someone stepped inside the room.

     Dutch Van der Linde stood at the entrance, his dark gaze set on Arthur, not seeming to notice Angelica awake just yet. "Arthur, It's time, son." He stated.

     This sparked interest in the young woman and she sat up straighter, clearing her throat to get the older man's attention. When his gaze turned in her direction, she watched as his eyes brightened at the sight of her and a soft smile filled his lips. "Miss Conti, I'm pleased to see that you're awake." He spoke with the utmost sincerity in his voice, happy to see one of his strongest members looking lively again.

     Ignoring his claim, Angelica leaned forward a bit. "What did you mean by 'it's time' is there something going on, Dutch?"

     Angelica had always been one of the most curious women out of the gang. The young spitfire was a woman that always needed supervision, a burning fire that always wanted to unleash the raining fire in her soul. She was too curious and smart for her own good. Her father was the one that kept her in check, but he was gone now and her fiery soul took down anything in its path.

     Dutch knew she would be a valuable asset to this mission, Just like John Marston would. But with both of them being injured and in poor health, they would only slow the gang down. So this is why Dutch found himself shaking his head at the younger woman, "It's nothing you need to worry about. You should be resting, I'll send in Hosea so he can fill you in on everything you have missed—"

     "Wait," Angelica cut Dutch off with a raise of her hand, her brows now raised. "How much have I missed?"

     Dutch swung his gaze over to Arthur, a secret look in his coffee-colored eyes. She had definitely missed a lot, but it wasn't like they were going to tell her that. She'd lose her mind if she knew about all the action she missed out on.

     "Angelica, get some rest." Dutch firmly requested after a short pause, to which Angelica frowned at.

     The two men then left her alone. She laid back with a sigh, having a feeling today was going to be a long day.

━━━━━━━

     As promised, Hosea came in not long after Dutch and Arthur left, filling the young woman in on all the things she missed while being asleep.

     From what Hosea told her, Dutch found a woman who went by the name of Sadie Adler — being widowed thanks to Colm O'Driscoll's men — and speaking of O'Driscoll men. Arthur also managed to capture one and take him, prisoner.

     Angelica was also informed on the reason why Dutch needed Arthur — there was a train robbery that took place.

     And as expected, Angelica was greatly upset that she missed out on another heist. She was one of the best shooters in the gang, and she felt like her talents were being wasted away — all because of this stupid injury on her hip.

     Angelica was beginning to grow antsy the longer she was stuck in the old cabin. She despised being told what to do, and if weren't for the pain every time she moved, she would have been off bed rest the moment she woke up. Grimshaw was watching her like a hawk, knowing the younger woman would try to sneak out the first chance she got.

     Damn that woman.

     Angelica turned a page out of the book she had been reading. She was honestly rather good at reading, seeing that when she was younger, her father made sure it was a skill she picked up — along with many others — She was so good, she even gave young Jack lessons when she had time. A thing Abigal was very grateful for.

     "Angelica, are you awake, dear?" The nasally voice of Hosea called as he entered the aged room.

     Angelica closed the book and tossed it on the nightstand beside her. She raised a thin brow at the older man. "Yes, how can I be of assistance?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her tone, which earned an eye roll from Hosea as he smiled at her.

     He should have seen that coming, they had been keeping her on lockdown.

     "Dutch wants us to get a move on, we already got everything packed. So no need in worrying about helping with the wagons." He explained before a smirk slipped on his wrinkled visage, "Oh, and you're riding with Arthur and me, so come along."

     Angelica's eyes went blank for a moment. He was joking, right? Hosea knew of the outlaw's distaste for each other, yet the look in the older man's eyes screamed he had something to do with her riding arrangements.

     "No, I will not ride with him — you know we don't get along." She refused, turning her body so her legs were hanging off the side of the bed.

     Hosea only smiled and shook his head. It's been a while since the two outlaws had last gotten into an argument, so he wasn't really worried about that. He knew Arthur enough to know he wouldn't start anything today — not while Angelica was still recovering.

     Angelica bent over and reached for her boots, trying to keep a straight face as she felt the stitches in her skin tighten. Hosea stood by, just in case she needed help. He sent her a smile and shook his head at her stubbornness.

     "You have no choice, Dutch's orders."

     Angelica snapped her head towards him, her eyes flaring in distaste at his words. If looks could kill, the older man would have been six feet under. She let out a tiny huff, moving around Hosea as she limped out of the cabin.

     Just fucking dandy. She thought, pushing the aged door open. She paused as she was instantly met with a gust of wind and the blinding white snow outside. Her thin arms curled around the dress she was now wearing, seeing as it was the only spare clothes they could give her. She had on a small coat, and it was barely enough to keep her warm. Angelica couldn't wait to get off this damned mountain.

     Her eyes swept over the members of the gang before they stopped on Dutch. He caught her gaze, dipping his head in acknowledgment as a smug grin stretched under his well-kept mustache. Angelica simply scowled at him, setting her jaw into a firm clench as she made her way over to the wagon, joining Hosea who was currently climbing up.

     They had planned this.

     Angelica bit the inside of her cheek as she stared up at the wagon, wondering how she was going to climb up without hurting herself. Just as she was about to reach for the side, and pull her self up, a hand in her face caused her to pause.

     Angelica swallowed thickly as she looked up to see Arthur Morgan standing above her, his hand outstretched and waiting for her to take. For once, there was no resentment in his gaze as he stared back at her. Only impatience. He wagged his hand slightly, lifting a brow as he waited for her to take his hand. The woman said nothing and hesitantly wrapped her hand around his, ignoring the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach as he helped her up.

     Arthur's eyes were guarded, watching the younger woman take a seat on the wooden bench beside Hosea. The older man smiled softly at the sight of them — it was rare to see the two adults interact nowadays, and when they did, it was quite a show.

     "What you smilin' at old man?" Angelica jabbed, earning a nosey laugh from him.

     Hosea shook his head, shooting a fleeting glance at Arthur. "Nothing,"

     Angelica rolled her eyes and glanced away, her gaze focusing on the white scenery as she attempted to push Arthur Morgan from her thoughts. She remembered the past, the good times when she was fawning over the handsome man who was sitting directly behind her. She remembered the friendship they shared, the love she felt, the laughs they shared.

     But things changed and people drift apart.

     Little to her knowledge, Arthur was also remembering all those memories at that very moment. His eyes watching her side profile as she took everything in. A year ago, they had been the best of friends.

     Almost closer than her and Marston.

     A frown filled Arthur's lips and he glanced away from her, pushing away the old memories. What's done is done. He had ruined their friendship in one simple conversation — but that's the way things had to be.

     At least that's what Arthur thought.

words - 2503
edited - ★ (yes)