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The sun was just beginning to rise from behind the horizon, bathing the solemn landscape in a cascade of colors. The air was slowly warming with each creeping inch the sun made, bringing life back to the world. An eagle's cry suddenly split the serene silence, its wings propelling it through a wall of thick fog that was lifting off the motionless lake surfaces. If one were to listen closely, they could hear the faint stirring of wildlife, rustling deep within the foliage. It was rejuvenating, life being awoken from its slumber and birds beginning to raise their voices in praise to the lightening sky. Everything seemed at peace for once.
It was a picturesque moment, truly, but at the time, one specific man just could not admire it like usual, for his attention was elsewhere.
Grave crunched and rolled beneath each trudging step, birds taking flight with each hesitant movement. There walked the intimidating frame of Charles Smith, who was struggling along the path as he carried with him a weight. His breath rose in thick, curling clouds that rose to the heavens as he pushed forward. His body trembled, shoulders aching as he moved the body of his dear friend, a former gang member, a man whom he would have wholeheartedly admitted to looking up to: Arthur Morgan. If it was just the weight of the other that made Charles tremble or the idea that Arthur was long dead, merely a rotting corpse at this point, he would never know.
He had sworn up and down to Sadie and John that he was fine doing this alone, that he wouldn't shatter, that he wouldn't curl up and wallow in pity, knowing that he could never see the familiar light in those blue eyes or ever turn to Arthur for guidance again. Charles's breathing hitched in his throat at the idea, quickly shaking his head to dry the stray tears bubbling at the corners of his eyes. His lip trembled faintly and he scowled weakly, turning his gaze towards the sky.
"C'mon Charles... Get yerself together, man. This is not the first time you've gone through shit like this." Charles pleaded, turning his solemn gaze back to the fading trail before him. He had left his horse at the foot of the mountain, reassuring himself he was able to carry Arthur up to the perfect spot for him to be at peace at. He swore he could do this and he was not going to let himself, Sadie, nor John down. His chest heaved as he let out a deep sigh, continuing his trek forward, knees shuddering with each heavy step he took.
It was almost too much. Not the weight of his now lifeless friend. No, not at all. It was the fact that Arthur was indeed lifeless. Arthur Morgan had not deserved the fate he had been handed, the fate he had met. No, it was not fair at all. Arthur deserved far better than the cruel cards he had been given and Charles cursed whoever had dealt them.
His breathing was starting to hitch again. Charles refused to stop this time, gritting his teeth as he progressed down the outcropping he had made note of on an earlier trip up this very trail. Waiting for them was a jutting section that overlooked the dew dotted horizon, facing the setting sun just like Arthur Morgan had once expressed his interest in. The words still rang in Charles's mind, the request still clear as day despite the troubles that they had gone through the following months.
-----
Tilly, Lenny, and Hosea had been settled at the table back at Horseshoe, chattering about as they suffered through each bland spoonful of Pearson's cooking. Tilly had made note of how she wished that when she went, she hoped they or whomever would cover her grave in delicate roses. Hosea and Lenny, on the other hand, spoke of how they wished to be buried with friends and family. When the sulking frame of Arthur Morgan advanced past the table, Lenny called out, asking the older gentleman where or how he wished to be buried, only for the other to exclaim nonsense.
When pressed further by Hosea, Arthur took a long pause before he let out a sigh. It had indeed been something he thought about but... sounded childish, something that the "blockhead" would have never said so wisely before. Arthur was not embarrassed by it, no, he just kept these things to himself, usually. Glancing upwards, he finally spoke when he recollected his thoughts, voice solemn yet hopeful at the same time, "Face me to the west... so I can watch the setting sun and... remember all the fine times we had that way."
Hosea had smiled to himself, turning his gaze to Tilly with an almost smug expression now, "See, Tilly, I told you Arthur had a soul."
-----
Charles exhaled through his nose, gritting his teeth harder as felt those bubbling tears return. He kept shuffling along before he finally stepped foot onto the patch of grass he had marked. By the edge laid the shovel he had dragged up a few days prior, prepared to be used to bury the lifeless form Charles held. Slowly, Charles eased Arthur's body down along the space he had planned to dig.
Straightening, Charles refused to look down at the other, knowing in his heart he would shatter right there. He stepped around to gather the handle of the shovel, reluctantly lifting it off the ground with a loud exhale through his nose. He dragged a rough, calloused hand down his face as he stared out over the edge for a moment, needing to recollect himself. Charles finally found himself admiring the landscape painted out before him in lavish colors and shapes. It was a pleasing sight through teary eyes.
"You would have loved this view." Charles spoke out, voice hollow. His words felt foreign to his ears, drifting off in rolling clouds of fog before him. Charles stood there for a long moment, slowly breathing in the still cool morning air, recollecting himself as he tried to blink away the brewing tears. Finally, when he did not feel the presence of the other man join his side, Charles bit his lip and turned, shaking his head. He rolled the handle of the shovel in his rough hands, almost reluctant in using it to break the dirt beneath him. Doing so would make it true that Arthur was dead, gone forever, mere a shell of what he used to be. Even though Charles knew that, he could not accept that.
He was not going to lie when he said he had seen this coming. Arthur had been growing sicker each passing day, coughing and hacking as he made his rounds around the camp. He tried to hide it, but Charles was no fool. He could see Arthur's dark circles under his eyes and his thinning cheeks from a mile away, it was almost a genuine surprise that Dutch nor the other van der Linde gang members had even took much notice, aside from that wretched rat Micah Bell.
God, Charles thought to himself, what I would do to just bash his pathetic skull in. Maybe then would Micah finally be appealing.
Breaking free from his thoughts, Charles finally found the courage to dig the edge of the shovel into the soft ground. It stood there, awaiting for his next move, awaiting for its job to be completed. Charles stood there, staring down with a tad bit of remorse, shoulders hunched. It was over now. With a deep inhale, he pressed his weight down to sink it in further, hoisting up a clump of dirt, debris sprinkling. It felt like a strike to the gut, because now... now it was official that Arthur really was gone forever.
With each shovel full of dirt, Charles felt his mask crumbling like the dirt debris that rained down. His hands were starting to shake. And, by God, it was getting hard for him to see through the blurry mess of tears that bubbled hot in his eyes. He gnashed his teeth, trembling as he drove the shovel into the next clump of dirt, hoisting it over his shoulder with so little of a glance, listening to it pour down the mountain side. The world was spinning, the tears pouring hot and thick down his cheeks, making it hard to see passed them. Charles couldn't stop it, no matter how hard he tried to bat his eyes or gritted his teeth as he tried to keep his mind on the goal at hand: dig the hole. He had to, no one else would. Dutch wouldn't. Javier wouldn't. Bill wouldn't. Sure, Sadie and John had made the offer to do it themselves, but Charles felt he had to protect them from the same fate he was facing right now, knowing damn well John would have started blubbering and crying way before.
But... here stood Charles, shovel in hand, the body of one of his only friends laid off to the side in wait for burial. He felt the rage erupt in his stomach before it burned his cheeks.
"Goddamn you, Dutch van der Linde." Charles snarled through his quivering lips, jabbing the shovel back into the partial hole he had dug. "Goddamn you, Micah Bell." He swung the shovel to pour the earth into his building pile. "Goddamn you, Herr Strauss." He dug it back in. "Goddamn you, Pinkertons." He dumped the dirt, hands shaking as he felt himself growing more fragile with each word he spewed out in his blubbering. "Goddamn you all!" Charles roared as he staggered back a moment.
He stood there a moment, dazed and quiet, running his hand down his face as he tried to calm himself. Looking over, Charles met the dull, lifeless eyes of the corpse. A mistake, for they seemed solemn, sad, lacking the warmth the other always looked upon Charles with. This only seemed to fuel his fire, feeling the last shred Charles held onto snap.
"Goddamn you, Arthur Morgan!" Charles suddenly cried, digging the shovel into the next heap. "How could you leave us? Them? The women? Jack? John? Abigail?" Charles fell to his knees, clutching the handle of the shovel to his chest as he felt the dam burst. "How could you leave me?" He suddenly sobbed, head dropping, forehead resting against the rough wooden handle. He sat there on his knees, sobbing hard as everything came in crashing waves that seemed to drown him, his breath coming out in gasping hiccups.
God, he was supposed to be the strong one. The one too cold and distant from the gang to feel anything towards him. But look at him, cradling the shovel, staining the dirt with his hot tears. Charles hiccuped, trembling as he finally let the pain out. His hiccups echoed, scaring off any wildlife that had been nestled in the foliage around them. Yet, despite the warming touch of the sun on his back, Charles pleaded for the touch of calloused hands on his shoulder and the raspy voice of the other to speak out, to comfort him there.
When Charles finally collected himself, some time had passed. The sun had climbed higher and he was running out of time, having barely enough of a dent in the ground to hide Arthur's calf. Running his hand over his eyes, Charles took a moment after rising to his feet to breath. A breeze had kicked up, licking at the back of his neck, playfully tugging at the long braid that rested between his shoulder blades. A half hearted smile curled his chapped lips as he felt, closing his eyes for a moment as he turned his face towards the sky. It was peaceful this morning, despite everything.
He may have felt a churning wave in his gut but standing there, overlooking the world with the wind tugging at his frame, Charles felt a little peace bud in his aching heart.
Reaching down, he regathered the shovel in his hands to continue his work. Charles spent another hour lifting dirt out, creating a hole big enough to fit the frame of his friend within. When Charles finally had laid the other within and fought himself to cover him up, it was nearly early into the evening. Slowly, Charles placed the final shovel of dirt over the grave, patting it down gently.
"May you rest in peace, Arthur Morgan, free from the chains of this world, on the back of your favorite steed." Charles murmured, settling down beside the mountain of dirt for a moment. He dragged a slow hand over his forehead, wiping off the sweat and grime that had built up. He planned to sit there until the early night when he had made his peace, tired and hungry despite the empty feeling in his body.
He rose to his feet after the sun had set, watching it dip below the horizon at Arthur's side. Charles was silent, gathering the shovel once more to return it to his camp whenever he had the chance to, for he had no idea where his feet would lead him now. He slowly turned, only to find the silhouette of a deer standing upon an outcropping a few mere feet above him. Branching antlers spiraled from its skull, its honey brown eyes locking with Charles before the massive buck darted back into the woods. Charles was stunned, a small smile breaking out as he watched the rustling foliage.
"It's nice to see you too, Arthur..."