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Amongst the Flowers

Summary:

It started with a cough.

Hanahaki Disease Vandermatthews.

Notes:

Yeah, hi. Please don't hurt me too much, but this idea kept bothering me. I'm sorry.

Chapter 1: Petals

Chapter Text

It started with a cough.

Diseases like this always started with a cough. At first, Hosea brushed it off as a simple cough that one of his combinations of herbs could handle. But as the weeks dragged on by near Blackwater, in the mountains, and finally at Horseshoe Overlook, he could no longer deny it as a simple cough. Seeing a doctor did not help his already troubled mind, but the man was incapable of healing whatever had invaded him. His body, it seemed, had decided to fail in a crucial time where Dutch, and the gang, needed him most. His heart clenched at the idea of leaving behind his sons, Arthur and John, the gang, and his lifelong friend Dutch Van der Linde.

Leaning against the rock a few hours ride from Horseshoe, Hosea found himself focusing more on the relationship he had with Dutch. How he trusted him, kept faith in him, and loved him. How Dutch was one of his first few true loves — that even when he was married to Bessie — never truly died. Something she had caught onto during their marriage but never once commented on. She merely smiled at him whenever he spoke about Dutch. Tears pricked his eyes at the thought of her lovely face, and voice. God, how he missed her.

Slowly his thoughts swirled back to Dutch as they often did of late. He didn’t know when he first fell for the man, but he knew he had fallen hard. But at the time, Dutch had Annabelle, and he Bessie. However even if they did not have their respective lovers, he doubted that Dutch would love him romantically. Dutch showed no signs of such, and so Hosea buried the feelings deep inside him. There was, of course, the stigma surrounding such a relationship, which, even if Dutch returned his feelings, would had ended both of their lives if caught.

The sun of the Heartlands warmed his old bones as he hid away from everyone. Told Dutch he needed some time to find leads for them, and figure out how to sell the bonds they had stolen from Cornwall despite his protests. And it was true to some extent. He wasn’t just hiding away from the camp, away from Dutch, for a bit; he was looking for a lead. But mostly, he knew he was primarily hiding away from everyone. Having a few moments to himself to breathe, think, and mourn the future he may never get to see. A future without Dutch, the one who had stolen his heart so long ago.

He leant forward to rest his face into his palms only to have a coughing fit descend on him. Each breathe hurt more than it usually had lately, as if his lungs where being choked by something. That worried him. Had whatever disease he had progress faster than what the doctor thought? Was he even going to live long enough to make it to the next chapter of the gang? Would he just drop dead in the middle of a job and screw everyone else in the process? Would… would Dutch forgive him for dropping dead in the middle of a job? The coughing stopped, and Hosea felt something drop from his mouth and into his hand.

Pulling his hand away, he glanced down to see a singular purple petal there, and his heart sank. He knew what he was staring at, and that made everything worse. There was no true cure for Hanahaki Disease save for either his love, which he knew was Dutch, confessing (which he also knew probably wouldn’t happen), having surgery to remove it, and therefore his feelings for Dutch dying along with it (something he knew he wouldn’t do), and finally, succumbing to the disease and having roots grow in his lung till he suffocated and died. Lifting the purple petal to inspect it, Hosea found it ironic that he would be coughing up petals of a bellflower, which often symbolized affection, constancy, and everlasting love. He rubbed the petal in his hands not quite ready to throw it away just yet.

The sound of horse hooves made him glance up only to find himself staring at Arthur, his adopted son, gazing back at him. Something must be present in face since he can see honest concern on Arthur’s face instead of the man hiding it as he usually did. Slowly, his son slid from his mare and cautiously walking over to him. “Hosea?” Arthur questioned softly. “Is… is everything alright?” Exhaling, Hosea closed his eyes before motioning Arthur forward. Kneeling next to his father, Arthur placed a hand on his leg. One of Hosea’s grasped his, and the man finally opened his eyes to stare sadly at him. “Is it Dutch?”

Swallowing the cough, the older man nodded not wanting to lie to his son. He opened Arthur’s hand placing the petal delicately in his hand. “I coughed this up just now.” Hosea confessed, and Arthur inhaled sharply familiar with what it meant. “It seems my love for him will be the death of me, because we both know I won’t do the surgery. And,” His voice wavered a bit, “I doubt Dutch will… would love me back. He’s too caught up in Annabelle’s death. We both know that.” Arthur’s hand tightened around his.

“Pa.” His heart cracked when he heard the emotion in Arthur’s voice. “I… God.”

“I know, son, I know.” He watched Arthur lean against him slight tremors going through the younger man. He transferred Arthur’s hand to his other, and used the now free hand to pull Arthur close. His son snuggled to closer to his shoulder, and let out a choked sob. Hosea let his hand wrapped around Arthur move up, and softly stroke the blonde locks of hair just like he did to calm him down when Arthur had been a young scared teenager. “I’m proud of you, son. You are the son Bessie and I should of had.” Arthur borrowed closer into him sobs now openly rocking his body.

“Not… not like this, Pa.” Arthur spoke between sobs. “You shouldn’t have to die like this, Pa. It’s not fair.” Hosea sighed.

“No, it’s not, but what choice do we have really? Do you truly think he has feelings for me, Arthur? When he so clearly pines after Annebelle after all these years?”

“No. Hell, Molly is… is just…” Arthur trailed off unable to find the words. Pulling back, he wiped the tears from his face before leaning forward with his elbows on his legs.

“I know.” Hosea reached out and patted Arthur’s leg. “But enough of this deary talk. We still have a camp to tend to, and I have a lead. Come with me.” Standing up, he stretched out tired muscles before packing up the tiny camp he had made.

“What… what kind of lead is it?”

“Ah, a small one where we might be able to fence some coaches and wagons from time to time. Near Emerald Ranch.”

“Well, sure beats tracking a thousand pound grizzly.” Arthur teased earning a chuckle from him.

“That it does.”