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telltalesketch · 1 year

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What Lies Beyond the Veil

A Red Dead Redemption 2 Supernatural AU

Master List

Archive Of Our Own

Chapter Five: Silver Lining

Warnings: Mentions of extreme pain, sexual undertones, and puns.

Word Count: 2,731

Dutch is pulled from his rest by blinding agony.

It tears through him like pulsing fire that scorches every muscle it passes. He wants to scream but his throat is so tense that all he can manage is a strangled cry. His mind is a flurry of questions and confusion as he sees that he’s been laid out in a cold, barely lit cabin with rotting walls. Where is everyone? Is John okay? Did they get away from that thing?

Dutch’s eyes screw shut as the searing ache pulses out into his limbs. One of his questions is answered as he hears his best friend’s voice. He feels Hosea’s hand grab his and he can’t help but squeeze as the spasms wrack through his body. “It hurts.” He winces as he hears his own voice. “Everything hurts.” Dutch groans again as another wave moves through his body. He hears Hosea speak, but the words don’t register.

He manages to open his eyes and sees Hosea standing beside him, his gaze focused off toward the foot of the bed. His eyes follow Hosea’s and he sees Arthur standing by the door. The way Arthur goes pale looking at him, how his green eyes go wide, makes Dutch worry for his own well being.

Then he’s gone out the door.

Another pulse of fire wracks through Dutch’s body and his eyes clamp shut again as he lets out an agonized groan. Hosea pulls his hand away when his grip loosens momentarily and instead elects to set his hands on his shoulders. Dutch hears him speak and does his best to focus on his words. “- hang on, Dutch. Arthur’s getting Swanson we’ll take care of the pain soon.” Hosea says calmly as he reassures him. Dutch tries to nod in acknowledgment.

The wait is agonizing and feels as if it's gone on for hours, especially as he starts to hear every clunk and creak of footsteps as people enter the cabin hurriedly. Then the pain rears up to a kind he is sure he’s never experienced. His throat loosens and he lets out a scream of agony. It feels like his body is trying to twist itself inside out. His bones scream, his organs burn, everything gets loud and every smell invades his senses. Every fiber of his being is overwhelmed and tortured. In the wake of the pain he begins thrashing, as though keeping his body moving would free him from this agony. Then he feels hands come down upon his shoulders and force him into the bed. Something crawls forth from the back of his mind at that, something that tells him to fight as he now tries to pull himself free from the grip.

There’s shouting as he tries to break free. A snarl lets loose from his throat between agonized screams as he thrashes against those restraining him. Though he doesn’t feel the needle as it enters the forearm that the Reverend tries desperately to hold down. Once the morphine enters his system, it works quickly. The searing burn begins to ebb away and he stops his spasms, though the lingering embers of the fire in his veins remain amid the wash of drugs. He feels the weight of people lift free from his shoulders as he sinks back down into the furs and blankets. A sigh of relief escapes his lips as an idle ache thrums beneath his skin. He draws ragged and deep breaths into his starved lungs. Slowly the exhaustion returns to his body and memories draw him into a deep sleep.

“Dutch?”

“Yes?” Dutch purred as he pulled himself closer to her, nestling his nose into the soft strawberry blonde waves of hair that laid upon their pillow. He felt like this would be the closest he’d ever get to what heaven was like. A warm hotel room with a lit fire, curled up with his savior beneath soft sheets, and lulled into a sense of peace hearing the muffled sound of revelry from the parlor below.

“Where do you plan on going next?” She asked.

Dutch took a moment, humming as he raked through his recent memories. “Well…Hosea and I were thinking about heading East. Probably into Virginia City, a town with that much silver has to have a few suckers.” With a smirk he nuzzles the spot behind her ear with his nose. “And I’m sure there’s monsters up in those hills you can hunt too.”

There was a long pause of silence just barely cut by the crackling of burning logs. “About that…”

Dutch tensed. “…Nora?”

“I have to go to Singapore.” The Gates of Heaven slammed shut in his face in that moment.

He sat up, propping himself up on his elbow, and looked down at her with genuine shock. “Sing-why?”

She rolled over onto her back to face him. “Assignment.”

“Monster hunters have assignments?”

Nora sighed. “They do when they work for the Vatican.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment as the realization hit him. “…..this supernatural business really is a problem isn’t it?” In the last two weeks he’d been with her that only just occurred to him. He was certainly more preoccupied with other things.

“Only when you look close enough….Or when they start burning down villages and eating townspeople.” She added, almost distantly.

Dutch looked down at her, his brows pulled into a look of confusion as a feeling he wasn’t familiar with crept into his chest. He was going to miss her, sorely. The thought of saying goodbye felt like a lead weight on his shoulders. “When are you leaving?” He asked softly, perhaps the softest he’d ever spoken to her.

Her stoic expression seemed to falter for a moment, but it was only a flicker. “I need to be on a boat across the Pacific by the end of the month.” She replied very matter of factly.

“Is there a chance that I’ll ever see you again?” He said without much thought, as if being given some sense of hope would stop the feeling of his heart sinking. He reached out his hand to cup her cheek tenderly.

After a long moment the answer he received was a side-to-side shake of the head.

He leaned in closer to her almost desperately as he touched his nose to her’s and lowered his voice. “Nora, my dear, there has to be a way?”

She smiled and reached up to rest her hand upon his wrist. “Dutch, it was fate we met in the first place. Well, fate if fate was you being perfect prey for a vampire… “ She added with a sly smile, though her jab was met with a rigid frown. “You’d have to stay in one place. Which isn’t you. Nor is it Hosea or that poor teenager you’ve both decided to drag into your schemes.”

“Oh we aren't dragging Arthur around.” Dutch retorted quickly.

Nora sighed. “You’re missing my point….be honest with me Dutch. Will you really remember me years from now?”

Without a moment of pause Dutch answered. “No woman will ever compare.”

Nora barked out a small laugh. “Mon loup, you will not fool me with that flattery.” She started, letting go of his hand to push on his chest. She pushed hard, but he fell back off of her without any contest. “I am sure many more women will cross your path, and you’ll rope them in or catch their interest just as you have mine.” His back hit the mattress and with one fluid motion she was on top of him, straddling his lap. “And I am sure that one of them can afford the risk of leaving whatever life you find them in to be with you. After that I will be a passing memory.” She said with a small smirk, resting her hands on his chest.

Dutch would be lying if he said that he wasn’t entranced by her for a moment. “That could all happen, yes.” He sat up against her hands, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “But I know that I will never forget my savior so long as I walk this earth.” He punctuated his statement with a kiss. She returned it, and let him relish in the tender moment.

Nora pulled away from the kiss after a long while. Her hazel eyes half lidded as she stared into his brown ones. There’s another pause before she smiled at him softly. “We’ll see if fate should ever bring us together again then, hmm?”

Dutch grinned at her response and pulled her back in again. This time the kiss far more passionate as Nora tangled her fingers in his curly black hair and pulled. He let out an approving groan, though his mind wandered to an idea for a moment. He pulls away, breathing heavy. “Or…what if we follow you to Singapore?” He asked cheekily, a sly grin on his face.

“Dutch Van Der Linde, you are the King of Fools.” Nora huffed as she pushed him down into the mattress. He stared up at her with that same grin and dreamy stare.

“And you are my Queen, Nora Dupont.”

Arthur looks over Dutch as he stops writhing, still holding him down as he drifts off into unconsciousness. He only lifts his hands from his shoulders when he’s sure that Dutch won’t wake up. The others seem to follow his lead. Arthur looks up from Dutch to see an expression of horror on Swanson’s face as he stands beside Dutch with the needle still in his hand. Hosea stands at the head of Dutch’s bed beside him and Arthur can clearly see the worry written on his worn features.

“What the hell…?” Swanson stutters out.

Arthur looks over Dutch as he sleeps deeply, his brows knit together in an expression of concern. "He's-"

"We don't know." Hosea interrupts him. "I'm sure we'll find out, for now, the two of you should get back to the schoolhouse. Give Dutch some space and keep warm."

Swanson looks as though he wants to say something further but instead he abides by Hosea's orders without a word. He leaves the cabin while Hosea returns to his seat beside his best friend. There is a long moment of silence as he and Arthur both watch the rise and fall of Dutch’s chest anxiously.

“Did you-“

“Yes, Arthur…I saw his eyes.” Hosea says with a sigh.

The acknowledgement is all it takes for that once lingering sense of dread to permeate the air completely. Both are silent, the weight of the situation dawning on them as the implications set in. Frederick’s words play on loop in Arthur’s head.

Your friend has a month.

All the fears of Dutch becoming a monster, of John being right, make it harder for Arthur to stay standing. He slowly grabs an empty chair and drags it to sit beside Hosea. He sits down wordlessly, eyes trained on Dutch’s bandaged shoulder. It feels like a crushing force is coming down on him. Images of Dutch as that beast, covered from head to toe in black fur and looking at everyone with those hungry amber eyes. The idea of having to stop Dutch to save everyone. To need to put down the man that brought him up like a son. He closes his eyes as if to stop the images and ideas from running through his head, but they keep playing. Blood, gore, and the screams of the gang over the horrendous snarling of a man made beast. A silver bullet glimmering in the barrel of his gun as he level’s it at the monster’s chest and-

“Do you think we’re gonna need to treat him for fleas?” Hosea asks, interrupting Arthur’s spiraling worry like a wrench being thrown into moving gears. He immediately snaps his head to look at him, initially confused until he sees Hosea’s face. He’s wearing a wicked smile across his lips and a childlike mirth in his eyes. To which Arthur simply glares as his worry is replaced with annoyance.

“That’s not funny, Hosea.”

Hosea lets loose the laugh he was holding in at his own joke. “Can’t blame me for trying to find the silver lined humor in this, Arthur.”

“Hosea.” He almost growls out the name, very done with his jokes at the expense of the man lying unconscious and wounded in front of them.

After a few moments his laughter subsides and he looks at Arthur, his grin falling to a bittersweet smile. “We’ll get through this, Arthur.” He says softly with a conviction that Arthur wants to believe is enough. He opens his mouth to retort but elects to close it and go back to looking at Dutch while Hosea gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He desperately wants to believe.

The two fall into silence. Despite his irritation Hosea’s joke did relieve Arthur of the horrendous flurry of anxiety, but the dread still rattles about in his chest.

“What are we gonna do, Hosea?” The weight of worry on Arthur’s words is clear in how quietly he asks that question.

Hosea stays silent for a few long moments, eyes trained on Dutch as he shakes his head slowly.

Arthur begins to wonder if Hosea will say anything when the older man finally speaks. “Best we can do is make our way out of the mountains first chance we get.”

“Where do we go from there? We can’t keep Dutch in a wagon like this for too long.” Arthur quickly asks back.

“If I remember right there’s a cattle town called Valentine just out of the mountains East of here.” Hosea adds, leaning back in his chair and grasping his arms closer to himself as the biting cold whistles in through the ramshackle windows. “We’ll head out once the wagons thaw enough for us to dig 'em free.”

Arthur bites down a shiver at the cold and turns his head to look at Hosea. “What do we do until then?”

Hosea huffs. "Survive....Like we always do.” He looks to Arthur and nods his head toward the door with a reassuring smile. “Get some sleep, Arthur. You’ve had a hell of a day dealing with werewolves.” Hosea says that last word with a bit of mockery, letting out a quick chuckle to emphasize it.

Arthur rolls his eyes in response. “I’m fine, Hosea.” He says, leaning back in the chair. However, he grimaces as his shoulders move, the muscles tight and aching from the falls he’d taken earlier. He isn’t young enough to just shrug those off without it coming back to haunt him anymore. He spares a glance at Hosea as the pain settles and the man is giving him a knowing look. He’d definitely seen that.

With a frown and a frustrated huff Arthur stands from his chair and rolls his shoulders, wincing again at the pain that shoots through his back. “Fine.” Arthur says curtly as he walks toward the door, he hovers in the threshold for a moment to glance back at Dutch. He moves slightly in his drug induced slumber, but it seems like the pain is gone. A small reassurance.

He tries not to think about those amber eyes as he leaves for his room.

The boards creak beneath his footfalls and the wind howls outside, rattling around in his bones as he sits upon the even creakier bed. He’s almost hesitant to lean back on it for fear that the entire frame would give out under his weight and add just another reason for his back to hate him. The whistling of the howling wind through the boarded and broken windows doesn’t help the idea of sleep too much either.

Though the wind carries the tune of Javier’s guitar and Uncle’s halfway decent singing with it. He smiles, taking a small comfort in the fact that spirits aren’t quite dead up in this frozen hellscape. They’ll be out soon enough; this frost can’t last forever. With a small huff Arthur lays back on the cot, grimacing at the horrid creaking of the wood as it takes his full weight. Once he’s laid down and is sure the bed won’t give out on him, he tips his hat down over his eyes and crosses his arms while he waits for sleep to take him.

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