Abigail's scream pierces through the tent and you shoot up, tugging painfully at your restraints.

"Please, Colm, no, no! HE HAS A SON, GOD NO!"

You hear her wail and your blood runs cold, what the hell was happening out there!?

It's then you hear the gunshot and everything falls silent, you're unsure which fills you more with dread as tears begin to well in your eyes. You try desperately to free yourself, beginning to feel like a caged animal waiting to be slaughtered.

"Round up the hostages but leave the brother."

Colm's voice breaks the silence, sending the camp back into a flurry of noise, the sounds of horses and yells filling the air. Tears spill from your already bloodshot eyes as you realize, they're leaving behind John's body, another life lost for yours, one of your best friends killed in this shit of a circus that was your life.

"My dear, you need to calm down, this isn't good for the baby." Colm enters the tent and rushing over to you when he sees you distraught and shaking.

"W-what did you do!?" you sob as he pets your hair, too fair in your turmoil to care.

"I gave us a chance."

"You didn't have to kill him." You whimper.

"I'm surprised you care so much after all he's done to you." He pulls your head to his chest and kisses your hair, you let it happen, too confused and grief-stricken to protest. "Dutch is another obstacle out of our way."

Relief and fear crash through your system at once. John wasn't dead, Dutch was, but what did Colm mean "another obstacle"? Did Colm consider Arthur one of those obstacles? Was tearing you from Arthur not enough that he intended to kill him too? Your mind spins and your stomach tightens as the overwhelming emotions surge through you, a sharp pain follows causing you to gasp and hiss through your teeth.

"ssssss! Oh my God, it hurts!" you scream doubling over and clutching your belly with your free hand.

"Now look what you've gone and done, you've got yourself all stressed out over nothing." His voice barely registers as you feel him unshackle your wrist and lift you from the bed. "You're not going to make this move easy, are you?" He supports you out the door and you're so lost in your pain you let him steer you easily, guiding you outside and half-carrying you to the back of a waiting wagon.

"NOOOOO! You can't leave him! JOHHHN!"

"DADDY!"

Abigail and Jack cry somewhere across the camp and you force yourself to focus, lifting your head in time to see the woman and child dragged away from the man in their life who was trying desperately to wrench his hands free. A sharp kick to his stomach causes him to double over gasping for breath and ceasing his struggles.

The pair are thrust into the wagon across from you, your wrists all being bound to makeshift shackles bolted to the wooden frame.

"A-Abigail. What's going on?" you wheeze, trying to breathe through the pain raging through your stomach and down your legs.

Abigail's attention zeros in on you instantly, seeing you doubled over and grimacing in pain her mind shifts focus, momentarily forgetting all about her husband being left behind.

"You're in labor!" She exclaims, her eyes widening in fear.

"No-I-ah!" The rest of your words are lost in a moan of pain that causes your eyes to roll back into your head.

"Colm! She can't move, she's in labor, she needs to be in a bed!" Abigail pleads frantically with Colm as he climbs up on his horse, signally for the convoy to move out.

"She'll be fine until we make it to the next stop." He spits, spurring his horse on as the wagon lurches forward. It was clear just how desperate he was to put some distance between himself and Arthur.

Thanks to Charles they'd covered some serious ground, the man's expert tracking skills allowing them to easily follow the subtle signs left by the O'Driscolls.

"We're getting close, they slowed their horses here," Charles concludes, standing and brushing the dirt from his knees. Mounting quickly, he turns down a trail, Charlotte's hands tightly gripping his waist.

"How long do you think?" Arthur pants, both he and Bodecia sweaty and drained from the brutal pace they'd set, desperate to close the gap on Colm.

"Less than an hour" Charles sets off again, eyes closely focused on the ground as he led the group further along the trail.

"We got a plan when we reach them?" Sadie asks, her hands anxiously fisting her reins as she begins to realize the gunfight, they're about to ride into.

Arthur hadn't thought that far ahead if he were honest, he'd been so consumed with his need to reach you, his desperation growing by the hour that he hadn't actually considered how he'd get you out safely. He stays quiet weighing up their options, but he couldn't miss the way Charlotte's hands tighten around Charles, her fear clearly evident. Whatever the plan, he'd have to be smart, with two women not used to large gunfights and a limited supply of ammunition their best choice was stealth.

"When they're in sight we take cover and try to pick off a few men on the outskirts. Even out the odds before we go in."

She nods, it's not a great plan but it's the best option they have. Sadie cared a great deal about y/n but she still had her own reasons for riding into such unpredictable danger. The O'Driscolls had taken her home, her love, and her life, and she was thirsty for revenge, not caring if she lost her life to avenge her losses.

Arthur recognizes the determined look in her eye as they thunder along the track, he'd worn that look so many times in his younger days.

"Don't get yerself killed for revenge, it ain't worth it."

Staring down the gristly outlaw she practically growls at him. "And what about you? You're telling me you won't die for revenge if it comes to it?"

He couldn't argue, instead of turning his attention to the winding path. If god forbid, he lost you, he'd hunt Colm to the ends of the Earth and happily lose his life in search of revenge.

"Keep it down, we're close," Charles whispers, dismounting and disappearing into the bush, guns at the ready.

Following suit, the others quietly load their guns before tracing his steps into the bush. A large rock provides the cover they need and allows them the perfect vantage point to plan their next move. Crouching quietly, Arthur and Charles pull their rifles from their backs, peering through the scopes at the seemingly abandoned temporary camp.

"They were here," Charles whispers, scanning across the debris.

"Someone's still here" Arthur stands his tone solemn as he realizes, he's staring at two bodies, one tied to a post and one a few meters away surrounded by blood on the ground.

Gingerly, he steps from the trees, rifle drawn ready. Holding his breathe in his throat as he approaches the figure.

"Arthur wait!" Charles hisses but is promptly ignored.

Drawing closer he realizes the body on the post belongs to his brother and he is unable to stop himself from breaking into a sprint, despite hearing the protests of the others that it wasn't safe and that they didn't know who was still around. But Arthur didn't care.

The sight of the other body stops him in his tracks, the waistcoat, and mustache instantly recognizable. Blood is congealed across the face, having poured from a hole where an eye should sit, but there was no denying the body belonged to Dutch. His once father, and caregiver, now turned enemy lay dead beside his brother. Gun in hand he steps closer, fingers shaking as he realizes what he has lost, he's alone again, standing among the debris of his enemy's camp.

Suddenly, the six-foot, thirty-something outlaw feels fourteen again, lost, alone, and chewed up by the world. Dutch had taken him in not long after he lost his biological father, and despite the recent betrayals Arthur couldn't help but feel a sense of despair at the loss of another questionable father figure.

"Arthur?"

He whips around, hearing John's raspy voice croak painfully behind him.

"You're alive you son of a bitch."

"Heh- good to see you too, got any water?"

Arthur severs John's bonds quickly and hands him his canteen which John chugs eagerly, letting it drip down his chin and neck.

"What happened to him?" He finds he can't take his eyes off Dutch's lifeless form, hundreds of memories flashing before him.

"Colm took him out right before he packed up and left. He betrayed us, Arthur, he's been working with that bastard all along, some fucked up plan to trade y/n to keep your loyalty."

"My loyalty? I gave him everything, what more could I give?"

"I don't know Arthur; I choose to believe that the man lying there is not the same man that raised us."

Arthur nods, agreeing, his mind drawing back to happier times he, John, Dutch, and Hosea had shared as a family.

"You're alive!" Charlotte exclaims, pulling John into a tight hug as Sadie and Charles bring up the horses, both sharing the same relieved expression that quickly turns shocked at the sight of Dutch's lifeless body.

"Just about. Glad to see you're safe too."

"You okay Arthur?" Charles asks, eyeing Dutch before turning to the outlaw, no matter the recent events, his death had to have hurt his friend.

"– 'M fine." He mutters but the pain in his eyes offers a different reply.

Charles is about to push but thinks better of it, choosing to let Arthur grieve in his own way.

"Arthur, we gotta move, they left hours ago, and y/n didn't look good."

Wasting no time, he swings himself into the saddle, pulling John up behind him.

"Let's go get our families back."

Your screams fill the air as another wave of pain rips through your body. Gasping for breath your head falls back against the bouncing wood of the wagon, exhausted and weak. Blood begins to trickly down your leg, seeping through the fabric of your dress and staining it scarlet.

Abigail's eyes widen in fear as she watches your sweaty face pale further, the blood confirming her fears that something was wrong.

"God damn it you bastard, you have to stop this wagon now!" she pleads with the driver, desperate to try and help you.

He turns, ready to tell her to be quiet for what feels like the hundredth time but one look at you and he freezes. No way was Colm going to let him live if you died on his watch.

"Er boss!? You might wanna take a look back here!" he hollers, causing Colm to pull back towards the wagon.

"We don't have time for- Shit." He stops dead, signaling for the group to halt after seeing your weakening state.

"Colm please, just let me help her," Abigail begs, desperate to try and help you through this any way she could.

"Make a single move and your son loses a hand." Colm points a knife threateningly at Jack as he begins to release you both, lifting you as gently as he could and carrying you under the shade of a nearby tree.

"Get some rest men but don't wander too far. Soon as this baby's out we're moving on!" he yells.

Turning his attention back to you he crouches beside you, wiping the hair back from your sweaty forehead. "What do you need?"

"Colm she's in a bad way, she needs a doctor!" Abigail is desperate to get you help, knowing your current state was far beyond her birthing expertise.

"You said you could help her so do it!"

"She's not going to survive this if we don't get her to a doctor." Her voice beginning to crack as the bloodstain on your dress continues to grow. Your skin turning paler by the second and your mind turning foggy.

"She survives this or else I'll be digging three graves, one for her, and one for you and your son, understand!?" his tone leaving no room for arguments.

"Then get me blankets, water, and whiskey." Rolling up her sleeves she releases a shaky breath as Colm leaves to gather her demands.

"Stay with me y/n, we gotta meet this baby Morgan now, okay?"

You can barely hear her, feeling your consciousness slip further away.