The rest of the day passed slowly, as you sauntered from job to job trying to stay busy. Finally, as the sunset sets, and there was still no sign of Arthur, you collapse, exhausted by Abigail and Jack by the fire.

"How're you holding up?" she asks, handing you a warm bowl of stew.

"Like shit. You?" She nods. You were glad to have a friend like her in camp, someone to talk to, and right now someone who was feeling exactly like you was.

"Does it ever get easier, them being away?"

She snorts out a laugh. "God no, you just get really good at drinking." She holds the beer bottle up to solidify her point before raising it to her lips and taking a long drink. "I thought it might get easier after John left us when I first gave birth, but nope, turns out I still loved the bastard and worry about him."

When you don't respond she glances at you realizing what she had said. "Shit, Y/N. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

You smile and silence her with a wave of your hand, she was clearly a few bottles into the beer, and you envied that you couldn't join her.

"Abigail, do you mind if I put Jack to bed tonight?" She lowers her bottle as she eyes you.

She knew how you were feeling, the uncertainty, the fear. She'd felt the same way when she'd found out she was pregnant. When John found out he'd instantly denied that Jack was his and left for a good year. She was certain though that you wouldn't go through that, she knew Arthur would never do that to you. When John left, Arthur had immediately stepped in to help, and trust be told, on those cold nights with Jack in her arms she'd dreamed of being with him.

When Arthur had made his feelings for you clear, she was ashamed to admit she'd been jealous. Sure, she and John were making it work but there was something about Arthur that was so effortless. When you'd befriended her, she quickly swallowed those feelings, realizing how silly she'd been.

"Sure thing. Hey Jack, Auntie Y/N is gonna put you to bed now 'kay?"

"Okay mama!" he hugs her tightly as she presses a kiss to his cheek before grabbing your hand and pulling you to his tent.

With Jack curled up on his cot, you pull the blanket up and tuck him in tight, smoothing the hair on his head lovingly. You'd really grown to care for him over the last year as if he were your own, spending many hours playing with him and reading to him.

"How'd you like living with the gang Jack?" you ask him as you sit on the bed smoothing his covers.

"It's fun, I have lots of friends to play with. Uncle Arthur's my favorite though he makes up the best games, and when he reads, he does all the voices." The end of his sentence mumbled as he begins to yawn, his eyes growing heavy.

Arthur really was great with Jack, and you had no doubt he'd be a great Father, your main concern was bringing a child into this life. Jack didn't understand the dangers of the gang so to him, it was just one big adventure.

You whisper good night as you turn to leave, taking one last look at the sleeping boy, you wonder if this is what your future looked like.

Abigail is waiting for you outside the tent, her face soft and smiling. She doesn't give you a chance to speak before wordlessly drawing you into a tight hug. You were so thankful to have a friend like her right now, someone who understood your feelings and shared in your concerns for the safety of your men.

"Ladies quick the men are back!" Susan rushes over, her arms ushering you both to the entrance of the camp. With her black dress and dark eyes, she resembled a territorial crow, flapping its wings in a warning. You'd have laughed if not for the fact that Arthur was back. Grabbing Abigail's hand, you tug her along behind Susan, eager to see Arthur home safe.

The men's horses slowly saunter back into camp, their coats gleaming with sweat and caked in mud, their riders not looking much better. You both quickly scanned the returns, your eyes seeking your men and trying to gauge the success of the mission. Judging by the grim faces and bloodied shirts, it didn't go easy. You spot Arthur at the back, breaking loose of Abigail you sprint to him, reaching him before he can even dismount.

His face is dark, and his brow set low. There's a cut across his cheek and a bruise forming on his chin, as your eyes rake over the rest of him you notice how he favors his right side as he dismounts, he winces as he lands.

Drawing him in you bury your face in his chest, thankful to have him back alive. You feel his arms wrap tightly around you and as you squeeze, he sucks in a breath, groaning in pain.

"Easy sweetheart." he exhales and moves you to his right side.

Your fingers follow the blood trail, finding a puncture in the fabric of his shirt.

"Arthur, you're hurt!"

"You should see the other guy." He chuckles but it quickly turns to a whine as the movement aggravates the wound.

"I have to get you cleaned up, c'mon."

Before he can protest you drag him to your tent, pulling out a chair you instruct him to take a seat as you gather supplies. Gingerly he removes his gear and shirt, wincing at each movement that aggravates his injuries. Satisfied with your kit you turn and face him.

"Oh my God." You freeze, almost dropping your kit. He was a mess.

Dried sweat and blood cake his left side from a small puncture wound, his chest and arms are covered in scrapes and bruises, and his left arm holds a deep gash where a bullet has clearly grazed him.

You begin to tear up, your free hand covering your mouth as your hold in a sob.

"Sweetheart... shhh, c'mere. I'm okay" he holds his right arm out to you, beckoning you close.

He seats you gently on his knee as his right arm smooths up your back, your medical kit forgotten on your lap.

"W-What...What happened?"

"Colm knew a fight was coming and had gathered his men. I didn't even realise there were that many O'Driscolls. We were outnumbered three to one, but luckily, we had the element of surprise on our side. Charles and I took out a few stragglers on the edge of their camp which helped even the numbers out a bit, but they soon caught on to the ambush."

You begin to clean his wounds as he continues, trying hard not to tug on the skin.

"John got in a tangle with a couple of them and while I was helping him one of the bastards jumped me, stuck his knife right in my side and took me down. He- ouch!"

You pull your hand away quickly, eyeing the puncture.

"Arthur I'm going to have to stitch this up."

He nods at you to begin as he continues to recount the story.

"Anyway, John shot the bastard that jumped me, and we went to find Colm."

You stop at the mention of his name, your eyes meeting Arthur's, holding your breath as you wait for him to continue.

"I'm sorry Y/N, he got away, him and about ten of his men." His head falls in shame, he felt like he'd failed you. Like he had failed at his promise to keep you safe. "He's still out there." He says quietly, more to himself than to you.

Tipping his chin, you force him to look you in the eyes. "We'll find him." He doesn't respond, just looks away as he falls deep into his thoughts.

You finish up quickly, helping him to bed and handing him a bottle of whiskey to help him sleep and to numb the pain.

"Come to bed. Please." The last part is a plea, he needs you safely by his side.

"I will, I just have to clean this up." you hold up the bloodied medical supplies.

Outside the tent you draw in the cool air, you and Arthur couldn't take much more of this life, it was killing you both. Crossing over to the water buckets you see Abigail is there already, a bloodied kit in her hand mirroring yours.

"How's John?" you ask kneeling beside her and dunking the kit into the cool water.

"He's seen worse. Had to switch up his face, that's about it. How's Arthur?"

She looks over when you don't answer, seeing tears fall down your face.

"Y/N?"

You let out a gasp as more tears begin to fall. "I can't do this Abigail."

Abandoning her kit, she takes your hands. "Y/N we're getting out, this won't be much longer, just a few more weeks and we'll be free."

"Not this Abigail. This!" your hands clutch your stomach. "I can't bring a baby into this life. I won't bring a baby into this life."

"What're you saying Y/N?" Her eyebrows draw into a low frown.

"Tomorrow I'm going into town, Karen said there's a man who helps the prostitutes end their pregnancies."

Abigail snatches her hands away, her eyes drawing wide in horror. "You can't, Y/N. Please!"

Wiping the tears from your eyes you stand and turn back to your tent, leaving Abigail to stare after you. Horrified and worried for her best friend. Of course, she knew there were such men, she'd been a prostitute herself, but of the women, she knew that used them three had died from either the procedure itself or of infection after.

Composing yourself you step inside your tent to find Arthur snoring lightly. The booze has done its work and helping him drift off to sleep. As you crawl in next to him you lay staring at the canvas above, your hands flat on your belly.

"I'm sorry" you whisper, to Arthur and your unborn child.