Glitter ♡

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

"It's okay to be tired," Ruth assured as she sat up. She gave a sad smile as her heart thudded strangely in her chest. Taking care of him made her feel like a mother and she liked it. "Just relax. I'll go get you food." She left to bring the water first, making sure to leave him a full glass as well as a pitcher of water if he wanted more. She then returned to the kitchen, heating up some of the left over soup and adding extra chicken and noodles to it. Ruth knew eating heavy food would only make him worse, but he was a man and ate a lot, so she wanted to give him a little more substance besides broth. Bringing him a large bowl, she handed it to him gently.

"Here. I can get you another too if you want. Just say the word." She wanted to stay, but wasn't sure if John wanted to be alone. So she left for a little longer, feeding Dinner and cleaning up before poking her head in again. She didn't want to bother him, but she definitely wanted to be around him.

"Everything okay?"

Summary: While investigating a string of fairy tale-inspired attacks, you become the next victim of the curse. Dean refuses to accept there's nothing he can do about it. Pairing: Dean x F.Reader (Hunter) / (Established relationship) Warnings: Fairy tale stuff, magical sleep/unconsciousness, (really)soft Dean, hurt, comfort, light mention of Dean's deal, softness, too much softness, takes place during Season 3 Episode 5. Notes: I am watching spn again, bedtime stories gave me this idea and why not do this with my favorite Disney princess? Word count: 4.3k

“All right, maybe it is fairy tales,” Dean said, staring at the frog sitting in the grass. He still looked unconvinced. “Totally messed-up fairy tales,” he added, pointing at it with two fingers, “but I’ll tell you one thing. There’s no way I’m kissing a damn frog.” You couldn't help smiling.

“The stories follow a script, right?” you said, glancing toward Sam. “You probably don't have to kiss one unless something forces you to.”

“That’s usually how fairy tales work.” Sam nodded toward a house across the street. “Check that out.” He looked toward one of the houses across the street, a lone pumpkin sat on the front porch steps.

“Yeah, it's close to Halloween,” Dean said with a shrug, like that explained everything. Maybe, but still, it felt a little early.

“You remember Cinderella? The pumpkin that turns into a coach? The mice that become horses?” at this point, you were pretty sure he was talking mostly to you. Dean looked like he'd rather wrestle the frog than discuss fairy tales.

“Dude, could you be more gay?” Dean scoffed.

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

Boaz frowned. He'd been trying to be sincere, but the man was making it very hard. "Now hold on," he huffed. "I ain't a fool. No one just happens to handle a gun the way you do. Not even lawmen." He stared at John. "I've been looking through the wanted posters. When I find you, then I'll be sure. You don't want to cross me." The threat was half hearted. Boaz was an easily angered man and he was jealous. Jealous that this drifter got to spend every waking minute with the girl he'd hoped to marry. He'd be reacting much worsely if he knew that Ruth asked the man to stay with her each night.

Boaz was about to get angry again, when a voice called out from behind the house. "John?" Ruth was calling for him, not knowing Boaz was there. She had heard noises in the house and it spooked her. It was almost instinct for her to search for John in times of trouble now.

Glaring, the deputy sauntered off, muttering angrily.

Ruth waited by the door, her fingers tapping the wood to keep her mind occupied. She'd eaten a little, and her feet had warmed up to a normal temperature. She couldn't wait to curl up in his bed again. The thought of the warm sheets, her safe little nest, his smell, it all made her feel a bit better. She wondered about the man who had attacked her... It was hard to think about, to remember, but John had been right. It couldn't define her. Nothing had hardly even happened... It made her a little embarrassed that she was close to clueless in those kinds of matters. She thought for a brief minute about asking John for advice... to maybe expalin... or show– She pushed the thought down as he appeared.

"Well I think specially lawmen should know how to shoot. But you're a bunch of cowards. That damn gang for months robbing and terrorizing the county and you did nothing to solve it. You're a bunch of old ladies wearing a star and a damn uniform, that's what you are. I've seen school girls more intimidating than you." John was getting furious. The more Boaz talked, the more Marston wanted to shoot him in the face.

The man was threatening him.

"I ain't afraid of you. And you're the one crossing me. It seems like you decided to grow a pair of balls but they grew in the place of your damn brains instead, asshole." John was snarling at the other man, his stare, his glare, like Jim Milton was gone.

"I came to this town, searched for a damn job, no one offered a hand. Then I do your bounty hinting, finish off Esposo's gang, and you treat me like some criminal? Do you want me to be? You want that?" He was ready to draw his gun and shoot Boaz in the head. "You came here to ask about someone you couldn't even protect, and you spit shit right at me just cause I can shoot better than you? And you all these months letting a gang grow and spread like sickness near the town she sleeps in!? You're sick in the head, you son of a—"

John.

The moment he heard Ruth's sweet voice, his right arm stopped tensing. He quit to draw and shoot. And when Boaz turned to leave, the temptation of shooting him through his back was big. But he knew that would ruin everything. He knew Boaz had warned others he was visiting, and he knew that if the man suspected that, others also probably did.

So that was it? The sheriff and friends were already searching for old wanted posters? Investigating him? If that was true and they found something, John knew he'd be doomed. Boaz accusing him like that, the man must have known he'd have support if he ordered an arrest.

John's heart was beating so fast. His hair even got a bit spiky, his forehead frowning like crazy, gritting his teeth, eyes teary of anger and revolt. He took a deep breath, watched Boaz leave, stare, John's eyes full of rage, his eyes telling clearly, I would have killed you right now if it wasn't for her. And he didn't say a word.

John returned home to look at Ruth. "It's Jim. James Milton." She had said John unaware Boaz was there. "Boaz was here. He wanted to know if you was alright. I told him to come in but...." He went silent, looked down, serious. Worried. If the police wanted him him behind bars, if they were planning that and needed just a tiny bit of evidence, then he was screwed.

"Stop calling me by my name, alright? It's James Milton. Jim if you must." He didn't seen mad at her, he wasn't, but he looked dead serious. "You don't need to praise me, miss. Smart? It's just...life experience I guess. I've lived through a lot of bad things." He held back tears, bit his lips. "Once your father comes back, I'm leaving this town." He said, sitting down. "I shouldn't have told you or your father who I was. I shouldn't have stayed here. He thinks I'm a criminal. And he ain't wrong. He said he'll search for evidence. He finds anything...I'm doomed."

For the first time, John looked defeated, sitting there, with his hands on his thighs, feet spread supporting his weight.

"I could go talk to the sheriff myself. Tell him about what Boaz said, how he threatened me, how he's accusing me without any proof, but it's damn obvious the sheriff would rather stay by his deputy side, even if he's wrong. Probably that sheriff also thinks I'm some gunslinger with a past of crimes. Maybe everyone thinks. Maybe I should disappear before they find something." His voice cracked. He had called too much attention, ending that gang. Looking down, a tear fell down, rolled down his cheek. Now that he was starting to feel like he was home. He kept looking down, taking deep breaths, facepalming from time to time. "Fuck...the hell I do? The fuck I should do?" He muttered to himself, thin legs and arms, tense due to cold and worry.

If he escaped again, he'd make sure to be more careful, tell no one about who he was, don't use his skills at all. Maybe it was too late though. Once they found who he was, it would come to light John Marston was alive and then....then he'd be wanted in every town all over the state, again. What life would he be able to live?

He tried to smile but failed.

"Actually I'm pretty stupid."

"Leaving?" She almost cried in shock. Her heart sank to her toes. The thought was terrible. It reminded her of when she was little, when Eli had walked out on her and her mother. She remembered pulling at his arm and watching him disappear. "You can't leave–" she worried, not thinking as her hands reached out to grab his arm. "I'll talk to the deputy... Father won't let them hurt you. You can't–"

Sitting next to him, Ruth knew she couldn't let him give up. Or go. She wanted him to stay... maybe she needed it. Needed him. After all, without him, she'd be dead or worse.

Besides that, Ruth had truly come to see John as a friend. She cared about him like she cared about all her friends. Him leaving would make him lonely again. He could clearly handle himself, but it was dangerous. He deserved rest... peace... Ruth couldn't stand the idea of him wandering alone, trying to settle in a place that wouldn't have him when her little world so desperately wanted to keep him. She resolved to speak with Boaz when she went to get Eli from the station the next day. Ruth had to find a way to get John to stay. It might be a futile fight, but she would fight it anyway.

"Why does he hate me that much? The first time we met, I tried to be friendly. Why the hell everyone hates me so much? Is it my face? The scars? Do people assume I'm bad because of them? Or was it my shooting skills? If the deputies are incompetent it ain't my fault, they seem to hate me for doing them a favor. I literally did they job and...they..." He sighed even more, his voice cracking a little, eyes starting to pool tears that wanted to roll down.

"I know what I am. I know the things I've done. But I did nothing wrong here. It's like...those people didn't even give me a chance and....they're trying to ruin everything the people who actually gave me a chance did." He was clearly hurt. Deeply hurt. Like the town he helped was spitting on his face. "I don't know what I would do if that asshole came to arrest me. I don't know if I should just let them or kill everyone in front of me in this damn town." His voice was bitter, acid, raspy, like a growl. He was angry, upset. Not with Ruth, but with the whole situation.

"I really hope all this shit is just Boaz. Cause if it's the whole police force, then I'm screwed. If they're after me, waiting just for some evidence, I doubt they'd let me leave town either. I bet the moment I step outside the county that bastard would try putting a bullet in my back." He took his gloves off, setting thme aside, his eyes sweetening and looking at Ruth. She was....such a baby girl. So nice and so scared. He really wished she wasn't so afraid of everything.

John gave her a soft smile.

"Alright. I'll stay. But if things get ugly, I'll have to run away. If they come after me, I...I can't let them hang me. I'll....I'll have to try and run away. I don't wanna die. I want to have a good life. An honest one." Eli...Fred...Ruth....maybe they could help. But if it turned out Boaz was the only one against John, if it turned out the deputy was the only one who found evidence against Marston, if the others didn't know, then he knew the safest actiong would be to kill Boaz.

One of the deputies was highly suspicious of John too, but for a different reason. Deputy Andrew was investigating Kramer's death. Andrew was a calm old man, his wife worked at the orphanage, she was a woman of old age, had been there for a long time, and turns out the day John showed up to help with the donations, she recognized him. Even without the long hair and the scars on his face, the old lady, Martha, she remembered John, the feral aura, the determined graysh eyes, even the way he walked, a bit weird like he simply moved differently, ready to tense up and have some quick reflex to protect himself, like a cat. His fangies, his dark hair, the eyebrows and eyelashes, John was actually handsome, and even as a kid, excluding the messy long hair, the dirt and the anger on his face, those features had remained the same.

Martha used to like John, always had treated him well. She remembered the sneaky smart kid he was, how he was ready to just vanish from a room if he felt any threat— and she remembered how sweet he was too, how he's sleep against her leg when he was afraid to be alone or when she brought him food. She remembered how little John was rabid like a wild cat when he joined the orphanage, how he was starting to get sweet and docile under hee care and how he changed completely after....Kramer. She suspected the man had been hitting him, but it was hard to convince anyone. She remembered talking to her husband about it, worried, so maybe the deputies could do something, but again, all Andrew could ever do was to feel bad for the kid.

The old couple didn't mean John any harm. None of them had shared the secret, none of them had told anyone about the new guy Jim Milton looking like little John so much. She was surprised Fred didn't remember John as well, maybe because both were kids back then. She had tried to catch any hints out from conversations, but apparently, only she and her husband knew who James was. They became sure the day she saw Jim working with Fred, his sleeves pulled, she saw the scar John had on his right arm, a big one that looked like a straight like. She remembered the day Kramer tried to threaten John with a knife, and John had moved and struggled and ended up cutting himself by accident because Kramer held him. That day he showed up with his arm bleeding and half his hair cut. She remembered combing his hair gently, parting the hair from left to right to hide the chunck had that been cut, almost ripped by the man, and apparently, John had never changed that, even now after 20 years. He was such a special boy to her. Capable of so much sweetness but so hurt, so aggressive like an abused animal, afraid of everything.

She had talked about Andrew about adopting him, taking him away from Kramer, but her husband said no. Said they already had two kids to raise. And now with Kramer's deth, and the deputy who seemed to have been bribed to try and have the man escape showing up killed just by his side, Andrew was afraid, thinking it could have been John out of revenge.

Andrew had asked Martha many times is she was sure if John was James, and she always said she was. Because of the way John looked at her that day during charity delivery, and then the day he saw her on the street when he was buying new clothes...and when he was working with Fred. That soft, guilty, nostalgic gaze John always gave her. Always the same, like a puppy that runs to you with shinning eyes, all left was for John to smile to her, and she knew she would cry.

Andrew was afraid. He hoped Marston wouldn't be a threat to that town. His wife defended the man at all costs in every conversation they had. Yet now Kramer was dead, and Andrew started to question if John had done it, if he was a threat.

Meanwhile, in that hotel room Eli had paid for the brothers and their sister to stay, Cain was smiling holding his hunting knife, just like he was the night he killed Kramer. That small family also had been victim of that demonic old man, and seeing Kramer from the hotel room trying to escape the prison that night, it was the perfect opportunity, and Cain had taken it.

Glad to hear him say that he would stay, she breathed a little easier, but still worried of what would happen if he was driven out of town. She'd never be able to look at people the same again. He almost looked like a child, saying he didn't want to die. That he wanted a good and honest life. Ruth wished she could give those things to him.

She cared for the man. He was her friend. She was starting to realize that she must learn to fight for the things she wants, the things she knows are right, and herself as well.

"You're safe as long as you're here," she promised gently. "I know that doesn't sound like much coming from me of all people, but I won't let them hurt you." She gave a small smile. "Come... you need food too. And more rest. You've been so helpful." She nodded toward the kitchen. "You've taken care of me, and father too. Let us care for you as well."

John got quieter and quieter as Ruth soothed him. He didn't know what to think honestly. He didn't know how bad it was. Why did he always had to feel like that? Like someone as almost everyone just didn't want him.

"Why? Why don't they want me? They don't even know the things I've done. Why they don't want me? Why doesn't anyone..." His voice cracked a bit. "I always feel like some stranger, the way people look at me, like I shouldn't be there." His tears were pooled in his eyes and he was struggling to keep them from escaping. "No one ever wanted me. I really wanted to know why. People just wanted me when I served some utility for them. I know I did awful things but...they don't know, and when I was a kid I hadn't done anything wrong to be treated like that." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well look at me babbling.

"You keep talking about your father, but you had to see how the way he treats me changed since I told him the truth." He was shaking because of the cold and feeling hungry after feeding the animals. Ruth's words soothed him though. Her little smile, he couldn't help but give her a soft sad one. "Don't underestimate yourself like that. You're strong." He was looking at her, feeling embraced by her protectiveness and surprised by her will to keep him safe. That was new and it felt so good.

Ruth didn't know why no one wanted John. Meanness and violence had never made sense to her. It just seemed to hinder any progress of any kind. "I don't know," she said in a quiet honesty. She paused, making sure to stay close. The lonely feeling he felt was something she'd felt when Eli left when she was a kid, and when her mother had died. It wasn't a good feeling. Even though she was a nice girl, she always felt sort of strange too. With her father being a preacher, it was clear people tried to act better around her because they thought of her a certain way. It wasn't a one-to-one parallel, but she understood a little. "I want you," she offered.

Realizing how that could be taken the wrong way, Ruth's cheeks flushed pink and she looked away quickly. "I mean... I like having you around. I don't want you to go. I know father is... well, he's a complicated man. But I know he cares even if he's not good at showing it. But he does. And even if he doesn't. I do."

She wiggled a little in her spot. "And I'm plenty warm now. Thank you." Standing after him, Ruth paused, not wanting to follow him right away. For a minute she'd forgotten all about her own troubles. John had helped her, and she intended to help him. Making sure all the food was put away quickly, she moved slowly to his room to not spook him. He looked sad and still a little cold laying on his bed all alone. Oh, how she wanted to just invade his space and keep him safe in her arms. His sniffs made her heart tense in worry. Making enough noise to let him know she was there, she moved further in. "Joh- er, James?" The name didn't feel right. She was holding clean warm clothes, soft ones for him to sleep in. "If you want to change..." She left again, leaving him in peace. After giving Dinner a snack she returned to his room, unable to bear the thought of him being alone. Moving close, she wondered if she should ask permission first... but then again, maybe just doing something would help.

That single phrase hit hard. So many emotions reacted to it, mixing with all the grief he was feeling about the chances of losing that new life. The urge to cry was big, and he swallowed it hard, his eyes and lips were clearly sad, surprised, worried and relieved at the same time. It was like the little boy inside him had been adopted. Finally someone who actually wanted him to be close, after so many years of people just using him or trying to make him go away.

"I...I understood— I get what you mean." His eyes were so teary, his heart so lost, not knowing if it should beat fast or slow. "Your father...he...he wants you safe." He looked down, looking so emotionally drained. Then, he smiled a little. "I'm glad you're warm. Good. You're strong."

When he hit the bed, his senses just vanished from his body. He felt heavy like a rock, arm hanging off the bed, chest against the mattress, he blacked out. Some time later, Ruth's voice made him wake up, opening his eyes wide, ready to aid her but she was alright. He sat on the bed slowly, rubbed his eyes. "Thanks. You're the best." And slowly, he changed, feeling so cold, still feeling so heavy, feeling sick. His chest was aching, his body was shivering like he was feverish. He crumbled back to bed, eyes closing fast, getting asleep so fast, like his body was fighting so many things— the cold, the shock of resting on the snow, the humid freezing air outside, the pressure he felt, the anger, the sadness, the fear and grief of losing all that.

While sleeping, he noticed her steps, he could even feel her hesitant gaze on him, and then she joined the bed, hugged him, started to caress his back, and suddenly, the world felt like a safer place. John pretty much curled against her chest, allowing himself to enjoy that shelter. Waking up to her embrace had to be one of the best sensations he had ever felt.

He shyly nuzzled against her, slowly finding comfort. "I just need...just stay like this for now." He muttered. John knew he was guilty of all his crimes. He just didn't know how things could have been different. He wished he could erase the past, and he wished he wasn't so stupid to raise attendion like he had. He wished so many things were different. Instead of hugging her tight or protectivelly, he just curled against her, seeking her shelter, as if he could hide there. He felt so loved. And he was so tired. He coughed a feel times, getting feverish, struggling against whatever disease was trying to hit him. Her caresses on his back made him feel calmer. He fell asleep just like that, melting against her, accepting every touch, accepting her and feeling so grateful.

"Well, I guess I'm yours then. I have no one else...nowhere else....and you want me."

He muttered in his sleep, words he truly meant it, and just like she hadn't meant "I want you" in any lusty way, he also didn't mean it like that— that sense of belonging was way deeper, something he had always searched for— he just wanted to be loved or at least accepted, and now finally he had found someone who did.

"Sleep well, John Marston."

Boaz hadn't looked up, he was still sluking. Andrew made sense. A lot of sense... but he didn't really want to listen. The very idea of him proving Millton was some horrible criminal and Ruth defending him.....he despised the idea. 'Ain't askin' him to be a saint,' Boaz muttered. 'But if he's a criminal, then I gotta do my job. If he ain't been pardoned, then it's unlawful if we let him walk around this town.' The man felt another surge of jealousy. 'There's somethin' off about him. I can feel it.'

John fell asleep so deeply now he felt like he was floating, couldn't feel his body, just the warmth and safety. Even if it made no sense, he felt Ruth could protect him from the whole world.

He even dreamed about her. He was a little kid again, and he was running around the orphanage corridors, people staring him with ugly eyes, judging him, and finally by the door there was sunlight and Ruth, and she opened her arms to hug him, calling him, and he would run so fast and jump right into her hug. And then she'd hold his hand and take him home. He didn't know where, it didn't matter, because anywhere with her could be good.

John cried in his sleep because of that dream, his hands gripped the fabric of her clothing, lips parted in a painful and happy expression. That could be heaven. He could be dead right there and it would be fine. Hours later, he woke up with the scent of food and tea— half awake, he dreamed he could see his kid self standing from the bed and running to the kitchen, not to eat but to hug her so tight, because he was awake, because he could, because she was right there. He didn't know what hit him, but he just remained still resting on his bed just like that and started to cry silently with one of his eyes open, looking through where the light from the kitchen illuminated the corridor, hugging Dinner, who had snuggled against his chest, napping for a while before moving from there.

After the silent burst of emotions, he coughed again, and then sat up, drinking a lot of water from his glass, walking to the kitchen to meet her.

She moved close, rubbing his arm a minute. "Please, sit. Or you can even eat in bed. Whatever you want." Ruth found that he was unusually warm, maybe even beginning to run a fever. She frowned, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'll also make you a warm bath. Your normal clothes are all washed and are about dry, but you can stay in." She even nodded at his coat, the one she'd been wearing for some days, his new one which really looked very good on him but now was starting to smell like her. "You should wear your coat too if you need to keep warm."

Leaving John with the food, she went to begin heating up a bath before heading upstairs to change. She wore simple but warm clothes before heading back down. She started to put on her coat and gloves. "Everything should be ready for you when you need. I have to go pick up father from the train station." She moved close to John again with a soft smile, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Please don't worry about me. I'll be okay. And please rest."

The scent of the food and tea attracted him. He walked silently to the corridor, and when she gestured calling him, he quickly went to her like a puppy given permission to enter the kitchen. His eyes looked heavy, he looked anxious and a bit scared, vulnerable, like the whole world he had been building was about to crumble.

John listened to her, sipped the tea right away, enjoying the scent, and then the soap, it seemed so nutricious ans smelled so good. He could have all of it? Since despite drinking a lot of water he still felt thirsty and now hungry, he drank the soup like it was milk, his throat making little noises, eyes closed, tongue guiding in all the bits of meat and potatoes, he finished his bowl quickly and started to refil it. Seeing more water on the table, he drank all of it, the whole thing, panting, shivering, he also drank the whole tea, which wasn't as hot anymore.

It didn't take long for him to empty another bowl of soup, drinking it the way he was, licking his lips, like the meal was giving him life again. "A hot bath seems nice." And it seemed bad as soon as she mentioned she was going out. "No...I...I should go with you..." He felt worried about she going on her own. What if she got attacked again? Just the thought of seeing her traumatized and scared broke his heart. "You sure you don't want me to tag along? At least take my gun with you then." He offered his holster to her.

John hummed a little when she planted a kiss on his forehead, closing his eyes and melting. Oh if only he was a decent man, younger, she could have been such a good wife. Or just....family. She appreciated him...cared for him in ways people maybe never had. She didn't seem to be using him and she really didn't have to be nice the way she was. "Mnm."

He felt all warm inside, full of soup and love.

"Well...if you ain't back in half an hour...I'll go search for you." He took his pocket watch, which he had left by the counter. "I'll bathe then. Take care...and..if anyone attacks you, shoot or stab the damn bastard." He couldn't lie, the kiss on his forehead, the soup, all that sweetness, if made him feel so happy, even if he felt his world was starting to fall apart.

He felt his heart tight, about not going with her. But he was weak. He felt he couldn't really run a few meters without losing his breath. Even going up the stairs seemed tiring. Damn, even stripping down seemed tiring. The water felt even hotter than it was because of his fever, and that made it even more relaxing. The sigh of relieve he let out. Scrubbing himself was a bit painful and got him tired. He almost took a nap in the tub. Relaxed and happy, he felt it between his legs, but he was too tired to do anything. He just dried himself and got dressed. The man tried to take the bowls and pan to the sink, they felt so damn heavy, even empty. Once he was done, he dragged himself back to bed, taking his fur coat, wearing it and curling under it on the bed, also under the sheets. His nose was so red and he was coughing, like his lungs were trying to fight some illness off. He felt so cold, shivering.

'Miss Ruth?' Boaz emerged from a small office, his eyes almost wide and very wary. She stood a little straighter. "May I speak with you a minute... Alone?" Boaz's eyes darted to the pile of posters then at Andrew. His stomach did a flip but he nodded, following the girl out back. 'Everything okay?' He asked. 'I heard about the incident. You alright? That Milton fella isn't–'

"I'm alright," she interjected. Sucking in a deep breath, Ruth stared into his eyes. "Stop looking into him," she stated. The command gave the young man pause. 'What?' "Mr. Milton. I don't know how far you've looked, Boaz. But I'm asking you. Just stop... please." Even in her attempt at being defensive, Ruth was trying to be nice. "My father and I... we know he's not the best of men. But he is trying to be."

Bkaz blinked at her in surprise. 'But he's dangerous!'

"And so is Eli," Ruth stated. "You know how he was. What he's capable of. But he's changed. And I believe Mr. Milton can to. If you run him off, then how could he?" Boaz frowned. 'Men like that don't change.' Ruth frowned back. "Then you underestimate him. And me." Boaz opened his mouth. 'I didn't mean–' "I trust him," Ruth insisted. "So trust me. Please." She stared at him expectantly. Boaz didn't like it one bit. He hated it. But he knew Ruth's word was good. And he resolved to keep poking around in silence, even if he didn't tell anyone. 'Alright,' he conceeded.

Nodding in satisfaction, Ruth left, heading straight for the train station. She passed Fred and his son outside their store. 'Miss Ruth!' Moses waved. She waved back and smiled at Fred. 'Is Milton alright? I ain't seen him in a bit... Thought he mighta run off.' Ruth shook her head. "No, he's still here. Caught sick from overworking himself. I've got him on bedrest." Fred laughed. 'You always were quite the mother hen, Ruth.'

She made sure to stop in the doctors too, to pick up extra medicinces before heading to the station where a train was pulling in. When Eli stepped off, Ruth felt herself sigh in relief. She always missed him. "Father!" She wrapped her arms around him in a big hug, senting his wobbling backwards a little.

"Ah- Ruthie?" Eli gave a small chuckle, patting her hair. "What's this for?"

"Just missed you," Ruth said, pulling back. Eli eyed her in suspicion but didn't say anything. The two climbed into the wagon and started back. The Reverend looked around.

"No Milton?" He asked curiously.

"He's sick," Ruth explained. "Did some chores out in the cold for too long. Please... be gentle to him, father."

Eli nodded, giving a long sigh. "Yes, dear. I fear I have been a bit of a fool as of late. He deserves more trust than I have given him."

Andrew waved politely as she left, with so many thoughts to process. Ruth was acting protective against Milton, Boaz was jealous and well, the remaining piece was how James was feeling, but the answer came very easilly with some logic. Andrew sighed as he grabbed a cigarette to smoke while making Boaz company. 'Afraid and hesitant. That's how you made him feel, Boaz. Never forget a cornered animal is one of the most dangerous shit in nature. Never underestimate them. When a creature things it has nothing to lose, it's when things get ugly. It's unwise to corner Milton. Specially if he had a dark past indeed. There's no winning for you, if the man is clean and innocent, you'll be harming someone who did nothing wrong, and if you're right and he was a killer of sorts, then the next victim might be you. Ever thought if he was truly bad he could just have taken your beloved Ruth hostage to get out of here? Even if you investigate him deeply, you need to play your cards silently, boy.' He took another deep breath.

John's body felt cold and heavy, his sight starting to darken, his eyes wanting to close to sleep when he finally saw the wagon. Eli.....his eyes seemed so sweet. That made John freeze and actually let out a shy smile, eyes half closed, so tired. "I told you I'd come search for you if you took more than thirty minutes." John pouted a little, knowing that what he had done was a bit reckless, but above all he was so loyal to her. "Don't worry, I'm alright. But...mnm...sitting by you two on the wagon seems warmer and better than...shaking on the back of a horse until home."

Home.

"You look terrible," she said, bringing another cup of tea to him. "You poor thing." She covered him with his blankets before standing to grab more for him just in case he needed them. Feeling his forehead again, she sat by his side for a while. She'd seen many men die of sickness and feared that if this got worse, she could lose him. After making sure he wsd resting, Ruth left for a bit to make Eli some food and feed the fire. Dinner had found his way back to John again, curling close and gentle as if it knew he wasn't feeling well.

Eli had been outside, putting the horses away and carting supplies inside for Ruth. On his trip, he had done a lot of thinking about her... about what to do with her. He wasn't a young man and feared of all the bad things that could happen to her if he passed. He thought for a moment that maybe James Milton would look after he, but he didn't know if a man like that would settle for someone like Ruth, no matter how sweet she was. Still, he respected John and knew he was a good and protective man... after all, he'd proven that when he had helped to defend the church.

When he walked in, Ruth was making up food. "Is he alright?" Eli asked. "He didn't look very well."

Ruth handed her father a hot coffee. "I hope so. He got sick because of me... he... well it's a long story and I'll tell you later. But he's been a blessing father."

Eli raised an eyebrow, slightly confused but accepting his daughter's word. "I understand," he said gently, accepting the drink and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You care for him a lot. You are a kind and good girl, Ruthie. Just be sure you understand a man like him before you try to tame him."

By the time they arrived, he followed Ruth to the room, letting her guide him, her touch was always gentle. "I look terrible, Well those ain't news, are they?" He joked, chuckling a little in his own weird way, climbing and curling on the bed as soon as he could. He was feeling bad, sick, tiree, cold, he was shaking, yet, he seemed oddly...happy. Happy she was there. As soon as she brought tea, he slowly moved to drink it, and then he nuzzled against her like a thank you before lying down again. When she called him 'poor thing', he actually gave her such a cute gaze, curling under his coat and under the covers.

Empathy and mercy were rare things to him and receiving some warmed his heart. He looked happy despite looking all fucked up. When she helped covered him and then touched his forehead, he felt so loved, and when she sat on the bed, he rested his face against her. After Ruth left, he felt the little hops on the bed, and didn't take long for him to cuddle dinner, feeling so grateful for the company. He had never imagined the bunny actually cared, being so close also made him happy. Didn't take long for him to fall asleep, his body trying to fight that illness, feverish.

In town, the man saw Boaz. "Ah, deputy," he greeted with a smile. "How are things?" Bkaz stiffened. 'They're well. I hope your daughter is okay... after the incident.' The Reverend looked at him with a confused expression. When Boaz had explained what happened, a dark expression crossed the man's face. "Thank God, Milton was there," he said lowly. He would have to remember to ask Ruth about that when he got home. As he helped around the town, he also learned of Kramer's death. He thought he must have a conversation with John as well...

As he walked, he noticed the group of siblings he had helped that one night. "Ah, hello, folks," he smiled. "I hope everything is going well. You must stop by the church again for dinner sometime if you plan on staying in town!"

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

Boaz frowned. He'd been trying to be sincere, but the man was making it very hard. "Now hold on," he huffed. "I ain't a fool. No one just happens to handle a gun the way you do. Not even lawmen." He stared at John. "I've been looking through the wanted posters. When I find you, then I'll be sure. You don't want to cross me." The threat was half hearted. Boaz was an easily angered man and he was jealous. Jealous that this drifter got to spend every waking minute with the girl he'd hoped to marry. He'd be reacting much worsely if he knew that Ruth asked the man to stay with her each night.

Boaz was about to get angry again, when a voice called out from behind the house. "John?" Ruth was calling for him, not knowing Boaz was there. She had heard noises in the house and it spooked her. It was almost instinct for her to search for John in times of trouble now.

Glaring, the deputy sauntered off, muttering angrily.

Ruth waited by the door, her fingers tapping the wood to keep her mind occupied. She'd eaten a little, and her feet had warmed up to a normal temperature. She couldn't wait to curl up in his bed again. The thought of the warm sheets, her safe little nest, his smell, it all made her feel a bit better. She wondered about the man who had attacked her... It was hard to think about, to remember, but John had been right. It couldn't define her. Nothing had hardly even happened... It made her a little embarrassed that she was close to clueless in those kinds of matters. She thought for a brief minute about asking John for advice... to maybe expalin... or show– She pushed the thought down as he appeared.

"Well I think specially lawmen should know how to shoot. But you're a bunch of cowards. That damn gang for months robbing and terrorizing the county and you did nothing to solve it. You're a bunch of old ladies wearing a star and a damn uniform, that's what you are. I've seen school girls more intimidating than you." John was getting furious. The more Boaz talked, the more Marston wanted to shoot him in the face.

The man was threatening him.

"I ain't afraid of you. And you're the one crossing me. It seems like you decided to grow a pair of balls but they grew in the place of your damn brains instead, asshole." John was snarling at the other man, his stare, his glare, like Jim Milton was gone.

"I came to this town, searched for a damn job, no one offered a hand. Then I do your bounty hinting, finish off Esposo's gang, and you treat me like some criminal? Do you want me to be? You want that?" He was ready to draw his gun and shoot Boaz in the head. "You came here to ask about someone you couldn't even protect, and you spit shit right at me just cause I can shoot better than you? And you all these months letting a gang grow and spread like sickness near the town she sleeps in!? You're sick in the head, you son of a—"

John.

The moment he heard Ruth's sweet voice, his right arm stopped tensing. He quit to draw and shoot. And when Boaz turned to leave, the temptation of shooting him through his back was big. But he knew that would ruin everything. He knew Boaz had warned others he was visiting, and he knew that if the man suspected that, others also probably did.

So that was it? The sheriff and friends were already searching for old wanted posters? Investigating him? If that was true and they found something, John knew he'd be doomed. Boaz accusing him like that, the man must have known he'd have support if he ordered an arrest.

John's heart was beating so fast. His hair even got a bit spiky, his forehead frowning like crazy, gritting his teeth, eyes teary of anger and revolt. He took a deep breath, watched Boaz leave, stare, John's eyes full of rage, his eyes telling clearly, I would have killed you right now if it wasn't for her. And he didn't say a word.

John returned home to look at Ruth. "It's Jim. James Milton." She had said John unaware Boaz was there. "Boaz was here. He wanted to know if you was alright. I told him to come in but...." He went silent, looked down, serious. Worried. If the police wanted him him behind bars, if they were planning that and needed just a tiny bit of evidence, then he was screwed.

"Stop calling me by my name, alright? It's James Milton. Jim if you must." He didn't seen mad at her, he wasn't, but he looked dead serious. "You don't need to praise me, miss. Smart? It's just...life experience I guess. I've lived through a lot of bad things." He held back tears, bit his lips. "Once your father comes back, I'm leaving this town." He said, sitting down. "I shouldn't have told you or your father who I was. I shouldn't have stayed here. He thinks I'm a criminal. And he ain't wrong. He said he'll search for evidence. He finds anything...I'm doomed."

For the first time, John looked defeated, sitting there, with his hands on his thighs, feet spread supporting his weight.

"I could go talk to the sheriff myself. Tell him about what Boaz said, how he threatened me, how he's accusing me without any proof, but it's damn obvious the sheriff would rather stay by his deputy side, even if he's wrong. Probably that sheriff also thinks I'm some gunslinger with a past of crimes. Maybe everyone thinks. Maybe I should disappear before they find something." His voice cracked. He had called too much attention, ending that gang. Looking down, a tear fell down, rolled down his cheek. Now that he was starting to feel like he was home. He kept looking down, taking deep breaths, facepalming from time to time. "Fuck...the hell I do? The fuck I should do?" He muttered to himself, thin legs and arms, tense due to cold and worry.

If he escaped again, he'd make sure to be more careful, tell no one about who he was, don't use his skills at all. Maybe it was too late though. Once they found who he was, it would come to light John Marston was alive and then....then he'd be wanted in every town all over the state, again. What life would he be able to live?

He tried to smile but failed.

"Actually I'm pretty stupid."

"Leaving?" She almost cried in shock. Her heart sank to her toes. The thought was terrible. It reminded her of when she was little, when Eli had walked out on her and her mother. She remembered pulling at his arm and watching him disappear. "You can't leave–" she worried, not thinking as her hands reached out to grab his arm. "I'll talk to the deputy... Father won't let them hurt you. You can't–"

Sitting next to him, Ruth knew she couldn't let him give up. Or go. She wanted him to stay... maybe she needed it. Needed him. After all, without him, she'd be dead or worse.

Besides that, Ruth had truly come to see John as a friend. She cared about him like she cared about all her friends. Him leaving would make him lonely again. He could clearly handle himself, but it was dangerous. He deserved rest... peace... Ruth couldn't stand the idea of him wandering alone, trying to settle in a place that wouldn't have him when her little world so desperately wanted to keep him. She resolved to speak with Boaz when she went to get Eli from the station the next day. Ruth had to find a way to get John to stay. It might be a futile fight, but she would fight it anyway.

"Why does he hate me that much? The first time we met, I tried to be friendly. Why the hell everyone hates me so much? Is it my face? The scars? Do people assume I'm bad because of them? Or was it my shooting skills? If the deputies are incompetent it ain't my fault, they seem to hate me for doing them a favor. I literally did they job and...they..." He sighed even more, his voice cracking a little, eyes starting to pool tears that wanted to roll down.

"I know what I am. I know the things I've done. But I did nothing wrong here. It's like...those people didn't even give me a chance and....they're trying to ruin everything the people who actually gave me a chance did." He was clearly hurt. Deeply hurt. Like the town he helped was spitting on his face. "I don't know what I would do if that asshole came to arrest me. I don't know if I should just let them or kill everyone in front of me in this damn town." His voice was bitter, acid, raspy, like a growl. He was angry, upset. Not with Ruth, but with the whole situation.

"I really hope all this shit is just Boaz. Cause if it's the whole police force, then I'm screwed. If they're after me, waiting just for some evidence, I doubt they'd let me leave town either. I bet the moment I step outside the county that bastard would try putting a bullet in my back." He took his gloves off, setting thme aside, his eyes sweetening and looking at Ruth. She was....such a baby girl. So nice and so scared. He really wished she wasn't so afraid of everything.

John gave her a soft smile.

"Alright. I'll stay. But if things get ugly, I'll have to run away. If they come after me, I...I can't let them hang me. I'll....I'll have to try and run away. I don't wanna die. I want to have a good life. An honest one." Eli...Fred...Ruth....maybe they could help. But if it turned out Boaz was the only one against John, if it turned out the deputy was the only one who found evidence against Marston, if the others didn't know, then he knew the safest actiong would be to kill Boaz.

One of the deputies was highly suspicious of John too, but for a different reason. Deputy Andrew was investigating Kramer's death. Andrew was a calm old man, his wife worked at the orphanage, she was a woman of old age, had been there for a long time, and turns out the day John showed up to help with the donations, she recognized him. Even without the long hair and the scars on his face, the old lady, Martha, she remembered John, the feral aura, the determined graysh eyes, even the way he walked, a bit weird like he simply moved differently, ready to tense up and have some quick reflex to protect himself, like a cat. His fangies, his dark hair, the eyebrows and eyelashes, John was actually handsome, and even as a kid, excluding the messy long hair, the dirt and the anger on his face, those features had remained the same.

Martha used to like John, always had treated him well. She remembered the sneaky smart kid he was, how he was ready to just vanish from a room if he felt any threat— and she remembered how sweet he was too, how he's sleep against her leg when he was afraid to be alone or when she brought him food. She remembered how little John was rabid like a wild cat when he joined the orphanage, how he was starting to get sweet and docile under hee care and how he changed completely after....Kramer. She suspected the man had been hitting him, but it was hard to convince anyone. She remembered talking to her husband about it, worried, so maybe the deputies could do something, but again, all Andrew could ever do was to feel bad for the kid.

The old couple didn't mean John any harm. None of them had shared the secret, none of them had told anyone about the new guy Jim Milton looking like little John so much. She was surprised Fred didn't remember John as well, maybe because both were kids back then. She had tried to catch any hints out from conversations, but apparently, only she and her husband knew who James was. They became sure the day she saw Jim working with Fred, his sleeves pulled, she saw the scar John had on his right arm, a big one that looked like a straight like. She remembered the day Kramer tried to threaten John with a knife, and John had moved and struggled and ended up cutting himself by accident because Kramer held him. That day he showed up with his arm bleeding and half his hair cut. She remembered combing his hair gently, parting the hair from left to right to hide the chunck had that been cut, almost ripped by the man, and apparently, John had never changed that, even now after 20 years. He was such a special boy to her. Capable of so much sweetness but so hurt, so aggressive like an abused animal, afraid of everything.

She had talked about Andrew about adopting him, taking him away from Kramer, but her husband said no. Said they already had two kids to raise. And now with Kramer's deth, and the deputy who seemed to have been bribed to try and have the man escape showing up killed just by his side, Andrew was afraid, thinking it could have been John out of revenge.

Andrew had asked Martha many times is she was sure if John was James, and she always said she was. Because of the way John looked at her that day during charity delivery, and then the day he saw her on the street when he was buying new clothes...and when he was working with Fred. That soft, guilty, nostalgic gaze John always gave her. Always the same, like a puppy that runs to you with shinning eyes, all left was for John to smile to her, and she knew she would cry.

Andrew was afraid. He hoped Marston wouldn't be a threat to that town. His wife defended the man at all costs in every conversation they had. Yet now Kramer was dead, and Andrew started to question if John had done it, if he was a threat.

Meanwhile, in that hotel room Eli had paid for the brothers and their sister to stay, Cain was smiling holding his hunting knife, just like he was the night he killed Kramer. That small family also had been victim of that demonic old man, and seeing Kramer from the hotel room trying to escape the prison that night, it was the perfect opportunity, and Cain had taken it.

Glad to hear him say that he would stay, she breathed a little easier, but still worried of what would happen if he was driven out of town. She'd never be able to look at people the same again. He almost looked like a child, saying he didn't want to die. That he wanted a good and honest life. Ruth wished she could give those things to him.

She cared for the man. He was her friend. She was starting to realize that she must learn to fight for the things she wants, the things she knows are right, and herself as well.

"You're safe as long as you're here," she promised gently. "I know that doesn't sound like much coming from me of all people, but I won't let them hurt you." She gave a small smile. "Come... you need food too. And more rest. You've been so helpful." She nodded toward the kitchen. "You've taken care of me, and father too. Let us care for you as well."

John got quieter and quieter as Ruth soothed him. He didn't know what to think honestly. He didn't know how bad it was. Why did he always had to feel like that? Like someone as almost everyone just didn't want him.

"Why? Why don't they want me? They don't even know the things I've done. Why they don't want me? Why doesn't anyone..." His voice cracked a bit. "I always feel like some stranger, the way people look at me, like I shouldn't be there." His tears were pooled in his eyes and he was struggling to keep them from escaping. "No one ever wanted me. I really wanted to know why. People just wanted me when I served some utility for them. I know I did awful things but...they don't know, and when I was a kid I hadn't done anything wrong to be treated like that." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well look at me babbling.

"You keep talking about your father, but you had to see how the way he treats me changed since I told him the truth." He was shaking because of the cold and feeling hungry after feeding the animals. Ruth's words soothed him though. Her little smile, he couldn't help but give her a soft sad one. "Don't underestimate yourself like that. You're strong." He was looking at her, feeling embraced by her protectiveness and surprised by her will to keep him safe. That was new and it felt so good.

Ruth didn't know why no one wanted John. Meanness and violence had never made sense to her. It just seemed to hinder any progress of any kind. "I don't know," she said in a quiet honesty. She paused, making sure to stay close. The lonely feeling he felt was something she'd felt when Eli left when she was a kid, and when her mother had died. It wasn't a good feeling. Even though she was a nice girl, she always felt sort of strange too. With her father being a preacher, it was clear people tried to act better around her because they thought of her a certain way. It wasn't a one-to-one parallel, but she understood a little. "I want you," she offered.

Realizing how that could be taken the wrong way, Ruth's cheeks flushed pink and she looked away quickly. "I mean... I like having you around. I don't want you to go. I know father is... well, he's a complicated man. But I know he cares even if he's not good at showing it. But he does. And even if he doesn't. I do."

She wiggled a little in her spot. "And I'm plenty warm now. Thank you." Standing after him, Ruth paused, not wanting to follow him right away. For a minute she'd forgotten all about her own troubles. John had helped her, and she intended to help him. Making sure all the food was put away quickly, she moved slowly to his room to not spook him. He looked sad and still a little cold laying on his bed all alone. Oh, how she wanted to just invade his space and keep him safe in her arms. His sniffs made her heart tense in worry. Making enough noise to let him know she was there, she moved further in. "Joh- er, James?" The name didn't feel right. She was holding clean warm clothes, soft ones for him to sleep in. "If you want to change..." She left again, leaving him in peace. After giving Dinner a snack she returned to his room, unable to bear the thought of him being alone. Moving close, she wondered if she should ask permission first... but then again, maybe just doing something would help.

That single phrase hit hard. So many emotions reacted to it, mixing with all the grief he was feeling about the chances of losing that new life. The urge to cry was big, and he swallowed it hard, his eyes and lips were clearly sad, surprised, worried and relieved at the same time. It was like the little boy inside him had been adopted. Finally someone who actually wanted him to be close, after so many years of people just using him or trying to make him go away.

"I...I understood— I get what you mean." His eyes were so teary, his heart so lost, not knowing if it should beat fast or slow. "Your father...he...he wants you safe." He looked down, looking so emotionally drained. Then, he smiled a little. "I'm glad you're warm. Good. You're strong."

When he hit the bed, his senses just vanished from his body. He felt heavy like a rock, arm hanging off the bed, chest against the mattress, he blacked out. Some time later, Ruth's voice made him wake up, opening his eyes wide, ready to aid her but she was alright. He sat on the bed slowly, rubbed his eyes. "Thanks. You're the best." And slowly, he changed, feeling so cold, still feeling so heavy, feeling sick. His chest was aching, his body was shivering like he was feverish. He crumbled back to bed, eyes closing fast, getting asleep so fast, like his body was fighting so many things— the cold, the shock of resting on the snow, the humid freezing air outside, the pressure he felt, the anger, the sadness, the fear and grief of losing all that.

While sleeping, he noticed her steps, he could even feel her hesitant gaze on him, and then she joined the bed, hugged him, started to caress his back, and suddenly, the world felt like a safer place. John pretty much curled against her chest, allowing himself to enjoy that shelter. Waking up to her embrace had to be one of the best sensations he had ever felt.

He shyly nuzzled against her, slowly finding comfort. "I just need...just stay like this for now." He muttered. John knew he was guilty of all his crimes. He just didn't know how things could have been different. He wished he could erase the past, and he wished he wasn't so stupid to raise attendion like he had. He wished so many things were different. Instead of hugging her tight or protectivelly, he just curled against her, seeking her shelter, as if he could hide there. He felt so loved. And he was so tired. He coughed a feel times, getting feverish, struggling against whatever disease was trying to hit him. Her caresses on his back made him feel calmer. He fell asleep just like that, melting against her, accepting every touch, accepting her and feeling so grateful.

"Well, I guess I'm yours then. I have no one else...nowhere else....and you want me."

He muttered in his sleep, words he truly meant it, and just like she hadn't meant "I want you" in any lusty way, he also didn't mean it like that— that sense of belonging was way deeper, something he had always searched for— he just wanted to be loved or at least accepted, and now finally he had found someone who did.

"Sleep well, John Marston."

Boaz hadn't looked up, he was still sluking. Andrew made sense. A lot of sense... but he didn't really want to listen. The very idea of him proving Millton was some horrible criminal and Ruth defending him.....he despised the idea. 'Ain't askin' him to be a saint,' Boaz muttered. 'But if he's a criminal, then I gotta do my job. If he ain't been pardoned, then it's unlawful if we let him walk around this town.' The man felt another surge of jealousy. 'There's somethin' off about him. I can feel it.'

John fell asleep so deeply now he felt like he was floating, couldn't feel his body, just the warmth and safety. Even if it made no sense, he felt Ruth could protect him from the whole world.

He even dreamed about her. He was a little kid again, and he was running around the orphanage corridors, people staring him with ugly eyes, judging him, and finally by the door there was sunlight and Ruth, and she opened her arms to hug him, calling him, and he would run so fast and jump right into her hug. And then she'd hold his hand and take him home. He didn't know where, it didn't matter, because anywhere with her could be good.

John cried in his sleep because of that dream, his hands gripped the fabric of her clothing, lips parted in a painful and happy expression. That could be heaven. He could be dead right there and it would be fine. Hours later, he woke up with the scent of food and tea— half awake, he dreamed he could see his kid self standing from the bed and running to the kitchen, not to eat but to hug her so tight, because he was awake, because he could, because she was right there. He didn't know what hit him, but he just remained still resting on his bed just like that and started to cry silently with one of his eyes open, looking through where the light from the kitchen illuminated the corridor, hugging Dinner, who had snuggled against his chest, napping for a while before moving from there.

After the silent burst of emotions, he coughed again, and then sat up, drinking a lot of water from his glass, walking to the kitchen to meet her.

She moved close, rubbing his arm a minute. "Please, sit. Or you can even eat in bed. Whatever you want." Ruth found that he was unusually warm, maybe even beginning to run a fever. She frowned, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'll also make you a warm bath. Your normal clothes are all washed and are about dry, but you can stay in." She even nodded at his coat, the one she'd been wearing for some days, his new one which really looked very good on him but now was starting to smell like her. "You should wear your coat too if you need to keep warm."

Leaving John with the food, she went to begin heating up a bath before heading upstairs to change. She wore simple but warm clothes before heading back down. She started to put on her coat and gloves. "Everything should be ready for you when you need. I have to go pick up father from the train station." She moved close to John again with a soft smile, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Please don't worry about me. I'll be okay. And please rest."

The scent of the food and tea attracted him. He walked silently to the corridor, and when she gestured calling him, he quickly went to her like a puppy given permission to enter the kitchen. His eyes looked heavy, he looked anxious and a bit scared, vulnerable, like the whole world he had been building was about to crumble.

John listened to her, sipped the tea right away, enjoying the scent, and then the soap, it seemed so nutricious ans smelled so good. He could have all of it? Since despite drinking a lot of water he still felt thirsty and now hungry, he drank the soup like it was milk, his throat making little noises, eyes closed, tongue guiding in all the bits of meat and potatoes, he finished his bowl quickly and started to refil it. Seeing more water on the table, he drank all of it, the whole thing, panting, shivering, he also drank the whole tea, which wasn't as hot anymore.

It didn't take long for him to empty another bowl of soup, drinking it the way he was, licking his lips, like the meal was giving him life again. "A hot bath seems nice." And it seemed bad as soon as she mentioned she was going out. "No...I...I should go with you..." He felt worried about she going on her own. What if she got attacked again? Just the thought of seeing her traumatized and scared broke his heart. "You sure you don't want me to tag along? At least take my gun with you then." He offered his holster to her.

John hummed a little when she planted a kiss on his forehead, closing his eyes and melting. Oh if only he was a decent man, younger, she could have been such a good wife. Or just....family. She appreciated him...cared for him in ways people maybe never had. She didn't seem to be using him and she really didn't have to be nice the way she was. "Mnm."

He felt all warm inside, full of soup and love.

"Well...if you ain't back in half an hour...I'll go search for you." He took his pocket watch, which he had left by the counter. "I'll bathe then. Take care...and..if anyone attacks you, shoot or stab the damn bastard." He couldn't lie, the kiss on his forehead, the soup, all that sweetness, if made him feel so happy, even if he felt his world was starting to fall apart.

He felt his heart tight, about not going with her. But he was weak. He felt he couldn't really run a few meters without losing his breath. Even going up the stairs seemed tiring. Damn, even stripping down seemed tiring. The water felt even hotter than it was because of his fever, and that made it even more relaxing. The sigh of relieve he let out. Scrubbing himself was a bit painful and got him tired. He almost took a nap in the tub. Relaxed and happy, he felt it between his legs, but he was too tired to do anything. He just dried himself and got dressed. The man tried to take the bowls and pan to the sink, they felt so damn heavy, even empty. Once he was done, he dragged himself back to bed, taking his fur coat, wearing it and curling under it on the bed, also under the sheets. His nose was so red and he was coughing, like his lungs were trying to fight some illness off. He felt so cold, shivering.

'Miss Ruth?' Boaz emerged from a small office, his eyes almost wide and very wary. She stood a little straighter. "May I speak with you a minute... Alone?" Boaz's eyes darted to the pile of posters then at Andrew. His stomach did a flip but he nodded, following the girl out back. 'Everything okay?' He asked. 'I heard about the incident. You alright? That Milton fella isn't–'

"I'm alright," she interjected. Sucking in a deep breath, Ruth stared into his eyes. "Stop looking into him," she stated. The command gave the young man pause. 'What?' "Mr. Milton. I don't know how far you've looked, Boaz. But I'm asking you. Just stop... please." Even in her attempt at being defensive, Ruth was trying to be nice. "My father and I... we know he's not the best of men. But he is trying to be."

Bkaz blinked at her in surprise. 'But he's dangerous!'

"And so is Eli," Ruth stated. "You know how he was. What he's capable of. But he's changed. And I believe Mr. Milton can to. If you run him off, then how could he?" Boaz frowned. 'Men like that don't change.' Ruth frowned back. "Then you underestimate him. And me." Boaz opened his mouth. 'I didn't mean–' "I trust him," Ruth insisted. "So trust me. Please." She stared at him expectantly. Boaz didn't like it one bit. He hated it. But he knew Ruth's word was good. And he resolved to keep poking around in silence, even if he didn't tell anyone. 'Alright,' he conceeded.

Nodding in satisfaction, Ruth left, heading straight for the train station. She passed Fred and his son outside their store. 'Miss Ruth!' Moses waved. She waved back and smiled at Fred. 'Is Milton alright? I ain't seen him in a bit... Thought he mighta run off.' Ruth shook her head. "No, he's still here. Caught sick from overworking himself. I've got him on bedrest." Fred laughed. 'You always were quite the mother hen, Ruth.'

She made sure to stop in the doctors too, to pick up extra medicinces before heading to the station where a train was pulling in. When Eli stepped off, Ruth felt herself sigh in relief. She always missed him. "Father!" She wrapped her arms around him in a big hug, senting his wobbling backwards a little.

"Ah- Ruthie?" Eli gave a small chuckle, patting her hair. "What's this for?"

"Just missed you," Ruth said, pulling back. Eli eyed her in suspicion but didn't say anything. The two climbed into the wagon and started back. The Reverend looked around.

"No Milton?" He asked curiously.

"He's sick," Ruth explained. "Did some chores out in the cold for too long. Please... be gentle to him, father."

Eli nodded, giving a long sigh. "Yes, dear. I fear I have been a bit of a fool as of late. He deserves more trust than I have given him."

Andrew waved politely as she left, with so many thoughts to process. Ruth was acting protective against Milton, Boaz was jealous and well, the remaining piece was how James was feeling, but the answer came very easilly with some logic. Andrew sighed as he grabbed a cigarette to smoke while making Boaz company. 'Afraid and hesitant. That's how you made him feel, Boaz. Never forget a cornered animal is one of the most dangerous shit in nature. Never underestimate them. When a creature things it has nothing to lose, it's when things get ugly. It's unwise to corner Milton. Specially if he had a dark past indeed. There's no winning for you, if the man is clean and innocent, you'll be harming someone who did nothing wrong, and if you're right and he was a killer of sorts, then the next victim might be you. Ever thought if he was truly bad he could just have taken your beloved Ruth hostage to get out of here? Even if you investigate him deeply, you need to play your cards silently, boy.' He took another deep breath.

John's body felt cold and heavy, his sight starting to darken, his eyes wanting to close to sleep when he finally saw the wagon. Eli.....his eyes seemed so sweet. That made John freeze and actually let out a shy smile, eyes half closed, so tired. "I told you I'd come search for you if you took more than thirty minutes." John pouted a little, knowing that what he had done was a bit reckless, but above all he was so loyal to her. "Don't worry, I'm alright. But...mnm...sitting by you two on the wagon seems warmer and better than...shaking on the back of a horse until home."

Home.

"You look terrible," she said, bringing another cup of tea to him. "You poor thing." She covered him with his blankets before standing to grab more for him just in case he needed them. Feeling his forehead again, she sat by his side for a while. She'd seen many men die of sickness and feared that if this got worse, she could lose him. After making sure he wsd resting, Ruth left for a bit to make Eli some food and feed the fire. Dinner had found his way back to John again, curling close and gentle as if it knew he wasn't feeling well.

Eli had been outside, putting the horses away and carting supplies inside for Ruth. On his trip, he had done a lot of thinking about her... about what to do with her. He wasn't a young man and feared of all the bad things that could happen to her if he passed. He thought for a moment that maybe James Milton would look after he, but he didn't know if a man like that would settle for someone like Ruth, no matter how sweet she was. Still, he respected John and knew he was a good and protective man... after all, he'd proven that when he had helped to defend the church.

When he walked in, Ruth was making up food. "Is he alright?" Eli asked. "He didn't look very well."

Ruth handed her father a hot coffee. "I hope so. He got sick because of me... he... well it's a long story and I'll tell you later. But he's been a blessing father."

Eli raised an eyebrow, slightly confused but accepting his daughter's word. "I understand," he said gently, accepting the drink and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You care for him a lot. You are a kind and good girl, Ruthie. Just be sure you understand a man like him before you try to tame him."

Pervy! LUKE SKYWALKER could practically feel the shame crawling up the back of his neck. It happened so quickly. One moment, everything had been routine and the next, his thoughts had betrayed him so easily. 

The air aboard the Millennium Falcon was tense, though that was hardly unusual. Somewhere beyond the durasteel hull, the cold, endless vacuum of space stretched in every direction, while inside, the ship rattled and groaned beneath the strain of another daring escape. In the cockpit, the pilot and first mate of the Millennium Falcon were testing their luck yet again.

A typical day, really.

Evading Imperial ships had become almost second nature by now. Ducking through hyperspace routes, weaving through patrol zones, and shaking off TIE fighters before making their way back to one of the Rebellion's hidden bases was practically routine.

Dangerous and stressful routine but routine all the same and Luke had grown accustomed to it. What broke the fragile predictability of the situation was you.

You had joined the supply run for one simple reason: extra hands. Another person to help carry cargo, organize supplies, and make the entire process run more smoothly. It was simple, practical to a fault and completely harmless; at least, that was what it should have been.

Easy was hardly the word Luke would use for any situation involving you these days.

The Falcon lurched violently and somewhere in the ship, a loose panel rattled in protest. The freighter shook with the stubborn resilience it always seemed to possess, refusing to fall apart through sheer force of will alone much like its captain, now that Luke thought about it.

Not that any of that was the problem. The problem was that Han Solo was currently occupied with keeping everyone alive. Which meant that when he needed to pass along instructions, somebody else had to do it and that somebody happened to be you.

Luke watched from his position near the ship's armament systems as you navigated the corridor toward him and you looked less like someone delivering a message and more like someone actively fighting the Falcon itself.

The ship bucked again. Your hand shoots out to steady yourself against the nearest wall. Luke caught the brief glance you threw over your shoulder toward the cockpit and the expression alone suggested you were contemplating several crimes. Judging by the look on your face, you were resisting the urge to march back to the cockpit and tell him exactly what you thought of his flying. Before you could relay whatever message Han had sent you to deliver, the Falcon lurched once more.

Hard. The movement caught you completely off guard even with your palm pressed firmly against the durasteel wall, your grip slipped.

And then—well…then you landed directly in Luke Skywalker's lap.

The entire galaxy seemed to stop at least from Luke's perspective. For you, it was mortifying and embarrassment flashed across your features immediately. 

It took you a moment to recover from the unexpected collision, shifting awkwardly as you gathered your bearings and rediscovered the use of your legs. Luke, meanwhile, forgot how breathing worked. Eventually, you managed to push yourself upright, completely unaware of the crisis unfolding inside the young Jedi's head.

You delivered Han's message in one simple, straightforward go as though you hadn't just accidentally turned Luke's brain into static.

He offered you a smile. The one that was soft, endlessly patient and understanding, the kind of smile that came naturally whenever he looked at you. Then he nodded, acknowledged the information, and redirected his attention toward the task at hand, at least outwardly.

You smiled back and you thought the interaction was sweet. Nothing more than that. A mildly embarrassing accident followed by Luke being kind about it. Now with the message delivered, you departed the area, still a little unsteady but far more confident in your footing than before and that was the end of it, for you. 

But it wasn’t as simple for Luke, not all, not even in the slightest. 

———

Because while you continued on with your day entirely unaffected, Luke remained exactly where he was. Frozen in his seat, staring very intently at absolutely nothing. The memory replayed itself against his will again and again and again.

You had sat in his lap for less than a handful of seconds. It was an accident, entirely circumstantial and maybe even innocent and somehow his brain had decided this was information worth preserving forever.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut in the quiet of his quarters back at base, where he gets to have a modicum of privacy but he has to remember that he can’t get carried away. Because the shame of it already burns his skin and it flushes him that lovely color against his tanned skin, it shouldn’t excite him like this but it does and he doesn't let the thought settle any longer than he needs to because he wants to think about you. 

He needs to think about you. 

Luke can feel his knees digging into the mattress of his bed and his shoulders are curling inwards and he feels a tension on his arm, the one bracing the headboard where his knuckles brush against the wall but that doesn’t take his focus away. His other arm was molding his pillow into some crude and unworthy shape that could resemble you, if he trusts his senses and believes it enough, it is you. Perfect, soft and warm you. The thought alone makes a shiver run from the base of his spine to his shoulder blades, it makes his hip stutter and he sucks in a breath before it turns into a sound he would deny he makes till his dying day. 

The cords in his arm tighten and his muscle strains as he presses the pillow a little harder and he retreats to his mind, his eyes rolling back and his lips part open before his teeth catch the soft middle of it. He thinks he’s in between your legs and his cock is poking you where you need him the most and it's obscenely warm, wet and inviting but he’d rather ruin you like this first because he wants and you aren’t denying him either; it makes his cock jump on its own from the desire alone.

His breathing turns shallow and his skin flushes with beads of sweat dripping down the lines on his nape. 

His imagination runs and his hips pick up the pace, the drag of the fabric against the skin of cock where it's hot and wanting makes him fantasize about how it couldn’t compare to the actual perfection of you and that makes his head dizzy with a shameless want, it almost makes him forget that picturing you like this was wrong. But if it was so wrong, how come it feels so good that he can’t stop? 

Luke thinks about how you’d clench around nothing, the salacious look of you and the panties you're wearing now completely ruined and sodden because of him. The imprint of your cunt would be burned into his mind and his mouth waters at the opportunity of tasting you at the fullest, he would pull the fabric aside and he’d bend his entire abdomen to meet you where you need him the most. His lower half would drag against the mattress but he couldn’t care about that now when he’s got his eye on his prize. 

Luke knows you’d taste divine and the fact that he was yearning for a taste he’s never once had makes him sick with want and it drives him to the walls because he knows he’d do anything, anything to even get a drop of you on his tongue. That was enough to drive it home and Luke does so with a resounding force to his hips as he begins to tremble all over and the noise he makes was devoid of consonants before he bites down on his lower lip to stop himself from getting any louder. 

He inhales deeply, shifting his posture until he sits on the back of his ankles. The slow pull away from the crude fantasized pillow shape of you makes him hiss at the separation as his hand pulls away and the pillow returns to its shape. He looks down at his spend, smeared all over and he feels aware of the cold sweat on his nape and dampens his scalp there. The hand on his headboard finally lets go and his triceps have a certain burn to them that he can’t help but find satisfying. 

His hand drags to run through his hair and he feels how sweaty it's gotten in some spots and then his senses return to him without the mist of his desire and shame now.

“Fuck.” he exhales this time with a honesty to him as the sight of what he did wakes something inside of him. 

𑣲⋆｡˚⋆.𐙚 ̊₊˚⊹♡⭑.ᐟ

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

Boaz frowned. He'd been trying to be sincere, but the man was making it very hard. "Now hold on," he huffed. "I ain't a fool. No one just happens to handle a gun the way you do. Not even lawmen." He stared at John. "I've been looking through the wanted posters. When I find you, then I'll be sure. You don't want to cross me." The threat was half hearted. Boaz was an easily angered man and he was jealous. Jealous that this drifter got to spend every waking minute with the girl he'd hoped to marry. He'd be reacting much worsely if he knew that Ruth asked the man to stay with her each night.

Boaz was about to get angry again, when a voice called out from behind the house. "John?" Ruth was calling for him, not knowing Boaz was there. She had heard noises in the house and it spooked her. It was almost instinct for her to search for John in times of trouble now.

Glaring, the deputy sauntered off, muttering angrily.

Ruth waited by the door, her fingers tapping the wood to keep her mind occupied. She'd eaten a little, and her feet had warmed up to a normal temperature. She couldn't wait to curl up in his bed again. The thought of the warm sheets, her safe little nest, his smell, it all made her feel a bit better. She wondered about the man who had attacked her... It was hard to think about, to remember, but John had been right. It couldn't define her. Nothing had hardly even happened... It made her a little embarrassed that she was close to clueless in those kinds of matters. She thought for a brief minute about asking John for advice... to maybe expalin... or show– She pushed the thought down as he appeared.

"Well I think specially lawmen should know how to shoot. But you're a bunch of cowards. That damn gang for months robbing and terrorizing the county and you did nothing to solve it. You're a bunch of old ladies wearing a star and a damn uniform, that's what you are. I've seen school girls more intimidating than you." John was getting furious. The more Boaz talked, the more Marston wanted to shoot him in the face.

The man was threatening him.

"I ain't afraid of you. And you're the one crossing me. It seems like you decided to grow a pair of balls but they grew in the place of your damn brains instead, asshole." John was snarling at the other man, his stare, his glare, like Jim Milton was gone.

"I came to this town, searched for a damn job, no one offered a hand. Then I do your bounty hinting, finish off Esposo's gang, and you treat me like some criminal? Do you want me to be? You want that?" He was ready to draw his gun and shoot Boaz in the head. "You came here to ask about someone you couldn't even protect, and you spit shit right at me just cause I can shoot better than you? And you all these months letting a gang grow and spread like sickness near the town she sleeps in!? You're sick in the head, you son of a—"

John.

The moment he heard Ruth's sweet voice, his right arm stopped tensing. He quit to draw and shoot. And when Boaz turned to leave, the temptation of shooting him through his back was big. But he knew that would ruin everything. He knew Boaz had warned others he was visiting, and he knew that if the man suspected that, others also probably did.

So that was it? The sheriff and friends were already searching for old wanted posters? Investigating him? If that was true and they found something, John knew he'd be doomed. Boaz accusing him like that, the man must have known he'd have support if he ordered an arrest.

John's heart was beating so fast. His hair even got a bit spiky, his forehead frowning like crazy, gritting his teeth, eyes teary of anger and revolt. He took a deep breath, watched Boaz leave, stare, John's eyes full of rage, his eyes telling clearly, I would have killed you right now if it wasn't for her. And he didn't say a word.

John returned home to look at Ruth. "It's Jim. James Milton." She had said John unaware Boaz was there. "Boaz was here. He wanted to know if you was alright. I told him to come in but...." He went silent, looked down, serious. Worried. If the police wanted him him behind bars, if they were planning that and needed just a tiny bit of evidence, then he was screwed.

"Stop calling me by my name, alright? It's James Milton. Jim if you must." He didn't seen mad at her, he wasn't, but he looked dead serious. "You don't need to praise me, miss. Smart? It's just...life experience I guess. I've lived through a lot of bad things." He held back tears, bit his lips. "Once your father comes back, I'm leaving this town." He said, sitting down. "I shouldn't have told you or your father who I was. I shouldn't have stayed here. He thinks I'm a criminal. And he ain't wrong. He said he'll search for evidence. He finds anything...I'm doomed."

For the first time, John looked defeated, sitting there, with his hands on his thighs, feet spread supporting his weight.

"I could go talk to the sheriff myself. Tell him about what Boaz said, how he threatened me, how he's accusing me without any proof, but it's damn obvious the sheriff would rather stay by his deputy side, even if he's wrong. Probably that sheriff also thinks I'm some gunslinger with a past of crimes. Maybe everyone thinks. Maybe I should disappear before they find something." His voice cracked. He had called too much attention, ending that gang. Looking down, a tear fell down, rolled down his cheek. Now that he was starting to feel like he was home. He kept looking down, taking deep breaths, facepalming from time to time. "Fuck...the hell I do? The fuck I should do?" He muttered to himself, thin legs and arms, tense due to cold and worry.

If he escaped again, he'd make sure to be more careful, tell no one about who he was, don't use his skills at all. Maybe it was too late though. Once they found who he was, it would come to light John Marston was alive and then....then he'd be wanted in every town all over the state, again. What life would he be able to live?

He tried to smile but failed.

"Actually I'm pretty stupid."

"Leaving?" She almost cried in shock. Her heart sank to her toes. The thought was terrible. It reminded her of when she was little, when Eli had walked out on her and her mother. She remembered pulling at his arm and watching him disappear. "You can't leave–" she worried, not thinking as her hands reached out to grab his arm. "I'll talk to the deputy... Father won't let them hurt you. You can't–"

Sitting next to him, Ruth knew she couldn't let him give up. Or go. She wanted him to stay... maybe she needed it. Needed him. After all, without him, she'd be dead or worse.

Besides that, Ruth had truly come to see John as a friend. She cared about him like she cared about all her friends. Him leaving would make him lonely again. He could clearly handle himself, but it was dangerous. He deserved rest... peace... Ruth couldn't stand the idea of him wandering alone, trying to settle in a place that wouldn't have him when her little world so desperately wanted to keep him. She resolved to speak with Boaz when she went to get Eli from the station the next day. Ruth had to find a way to get John to stay. It might be a futile fight, but she would fight it anyway.

"Why does he hate me that much? The first time we met, I tried to be friendly. Why the hell everyone hates me so much? Is it my face? The scars? Do people assume I'm bad because of them? Or was it my shooting skills? If the deputies are incompetent it ain't my fault, they seem to hate me for doing them a favor. I literally did they job and...they..." He sighed even more, his voice cracking a little, eyes starting to pool tears that wanted to roll down.

"I know what I am. I know the things I've done. But I did nothing wrong here. It's like...those people didn't even give me a chance and....they're trying to ruin everything the people who actually gave me a chance did." He was clearly hurt. Deeply hurt. Like the town he helped was spitting on his face. "I don't know what I would do if that asshole came to arrest me. I don't know if I should just let them or kill everyone in front of me in this damn town." His voice was bitter, acid, raspy, like a growl. He was angry, upset. Not with Ruth, but with the whole situation.

"I really hope all this shit is just Boaz. Cause if it's the whole police force, then I'm screwed. If they're after me, waiting just for some evidence, I doubt they'd let me leave town either. I bet the moment I step outside the county that bastard would try putting a bullet in my back." He took his gloves off, setting thme aside, his eyes sweetening and looking at Ruth. She was....such a baby girl. So nice and so scared. He really wished she wasn't so afraid of everything.

John gave her a soft smile.

"Alright. I'll stay. But if things get ugly, I'll have to run away. If they come after me, I...I can't let them hang me. I'll....I'll have to try and run away. I don't wanna die. I want to have a good life. An honest one." Eli...Fred...Ruth....maybe they could help. But if it turned out Boaz was the only one against John, if it turned out the deputy was the only one who found evidence against Marston, if the others didn't know, then he knew the safest actiong would be to kill Boaz.

One of the deputies was highly suspicious of John too, but for a different reason. Deputy Andrew was investigating Kramer's death. Andrew was a calm old man, his wife worked at the orphanage, she was a woman of old age, had been there for a long time, and turns out the day John showed up to help with the donations, she recognized him. Even without the long hair and the scars on his face, the old lady, Martha, she remembered John, the feral aura, the determined graysh eyes, even the way he walked, a bit weird like he simply moved differently, ready to tense up and have some quick reflex to protect himself, like a cat. His fangies, his dark hair, the eyebrows and eyelashes, John was actually handsome, and even as a kid, excluding the messy long hair, the dirt and the anger on his face, those features had remained the same.

Martha used to like John, always had treated him well. She remembered the sneaky smart kid he was, how he was ready to just vanish from a room if he felt any threat— and she remembered how sweet he was too, how he's sleep against her leg when he was afraid to be alone or when she brought him food. She remembered how little John was rabid like a wild cat when he joined the orphanage, how he was starting to get sweet and docile under hee care and how he changed completely after....Kramer. She suspected the man had been hitting him, but it was hard to convince anyone. She remembered talking to her husband about it, worried, so maybe the deputies could do something, but again, all Andrew could ever do was to feel bad for the kid.

The old couple didn't mean John any harm. None of them had shared the secret, none of them had told anyone about the new guy Jim Milton looking like little John so much. She was surprised Fred didn't remember John as well, maybe because both were kids back then. She had tried to catch any hints out from conversations, but apparently, only she and her husband knew who James was. They became sure the day she saw Jim working with Fred, his sleeves pulled, she saw the scar John had on his right arm, a big one that looked like a straight like. She remembered the day Kramer tried to threaten John with a knife, and John had moved and struggled and ended up cutting himself by accident because Kramer held him. That day he showed up with his arm bleeding and half his hair cut. She remembered combing his hair gently, parting the hair from left to right to hide the chunck had that been cut, almost ripped by the man, and apparently, John had never changed that, even now after 20 years. He was such a special boy to her. Capable of so much sweetness but so hurt, so aggressive like an abused animal, afraid of everything.

She had talked about Andrew about adopting him, taking him away from Kramer, but her husband said no. Said they already had two kids to raise. And now with Kramer's deth, and the deputy who seemed to have been bribed to try and have the man escape showing up killed just by his side, Andrew was afraid, thinking it could have been John out of revenge.

Andrew had asked Martha many times is she was sure if John was James, and she always said she was. Because of the way John looked at her that day during charity delivery, and then the day he saw her on the street when he was buying new clothes...and when he was working with Fred. That soft, guilty, nostalgic gaze John always gave her. Always the same, like a puppy that runs to you with shinning eyes, all left was for John to smile to her, and she knew she would cry.

Andrew was afraid. He hoped Marston wouldn't be a threat to that town. His wife defended the man at all costs in every conversation they had. Yet now Kramer was dead, and Andrew started to question if John had done it, if he was a threat.

Meanwhile, in that hotel room Eli had paid for the brothers and their sister to stay, Cain was smiling holding his hunting knife, just like he was the night he killed Kramer. That small family also had been victim of that demonic old man, and seeing Kramer from the hotel room trying to escape the prison that night, it was the perfect opportunity, and Cain had taken it.

Glad to hear him say that he would stay, she breathed a little easier, but still worried of what would happen if he was driven out of town. She'd never be able to look at people the same again. He almost looked like a child, saying he didn't want to die. That he wanted a good and honest life. Ruth wished she could give those things to him.

She cared for the man. He was her friend. She was starting to realize that she must learn to fight for the things she wants, the things she knows are right, and herself as well.

"You're safe as long as you're here," she promised gently. "I know that doesn't sound like much coming from me of all people, but I won't let them hurt you." She gave a small smile. "Come... you need food too. And more rest. You've been so helpful." She nodded toward the kitchen. "You've taken care of me, and father too. Let us care for you as well."

John got quieter and quieter as Ruth soothed him. He didn't know what to think honestly. He didn't know how bad it was. Why did he always had to feel like that? Like someone as almost everyone just didn't want him.

"Why? Why don't they want me? They don't even know the things I've done. Why they don't want me? Why doesn't anyone..." His voice cracked a bit. "I always feel like some stranger, the way people look at me, like I shouldn't be there." His tears were pooled in his eyes and he was struggling to keep them from escaping. "No one ever wanted me. I really wanted to know why. People just wanted me when I served some utility for them. I know I did awful things but...they don't know, and when I was a kid I hadn't done anything wrong to be treated like that." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well look at me babbling.

"You keep talking about your father, but you had to see how the way he treats me changed since I told him the truth." He was shaking because of the cold and feeling hungry after feeding the animals. Ruth's words soothed him though. Her little smile, he couldn't help but give her a soft sad one. "Don't underestimate yourself like that. You're strong." He was looking at her, feeling embraced by her protectiveness and surprised by her will to keep him safe. That was new and it felt so good.

Ruth didn't know why no one wanted John. Meanness and violence had never made sense to her. It just seemed to hinder any progress of any kind. "I don't know," she said in a quiet honesty. She paused, making sure to stay close. The lonely feeling he felt was something she'd felt when Eli left when she was a kid, and when her mother had died. It wasn't a good feeling. Even though she was a nice girl, she always felt sort of strange too. With her father being a preacher, it was clear people tried to act better around her because they thought of her a certain way. It wasn't a one-to-one parallel, but she understood a little. "I want you," she offered.

Realizing how that could be taken the wrong way, Ruth's cheeks flushed pink and she looked away quickly. "I mean... I like having you around. I don't want you to go. I know father is... well, he's a complicated man. But I know he cares even if he's not good at showing it. But he does. And even if he doesn't. I do."

She wiggled a little in her spot. "And I'm plenty warm now. Thank you." Standing after him, Ruth paused, not wanting to follow him right away. For a minute she'd forgotten all about her own troubles. John had helped her, and she intended to help him. Making sure all the food was put away quickly, she moved slowly to his room to not spook him. He looked sad and still a little cold laying on his bed all alone. Oh, how she wanted to just invade his space and keep him safe in her arms. His sniffs made her heart tense in worry. Making enough noise to let him know she was there, she moved further in. "Joh- er, James?" The name didn't feel right. She was holding clean warm clothes, soft ones for him to sleep in. "If you want to change..." She left again, leaving him in peace. After giving Dinner a snack she returned to his room, unable to bear the thought of him being alone. Moving close, she wondered if she should ask permission first... but then again, maybe just doing something would help.

That single phrase hit hard. So many emotions reacted to it, mixing with all the grief he was feeling about the chances of losing that new life. The urge to cry was big, and he swallowed it hard, his eyes and lips were clearly sad, surprised, worried and relieved at the same time. It was like the little boy inside him had been adopted. Finally someone who actually wanted him to be close, after so many years of people just using him or trying to make him go away.

"I...I understood— I get what you mean." His eyes were so teary, his heart so lost, not knowing if it should beat fast or slow. "Your father...he...he wants you safe." He looked down, looking so emotionally drained. Then, he smiled a little. "I'm glad you're warm. Good. You're strong."

When he hit the bed, his senses just vanished from his body. He felt heavy like a rock, arm hanging off the bed, chest against the mattress, he blacked out. Some time later, Ruth's voice made him wake up, opening his eyes wide, ready to aid her but she was alright. He sat on the bed slowly, rubbed his eyes. "Thanks. You're the best." And slowly, he changed, feeling so cold, still feeling so heavy, feeling sick. His chest was aching, his body was shivering like he was feverish. He crumbled back to bed, eyes closing fast, getting asleep so fast, like his body was fighting so many things— the cold, the shock of resting on the snow, the humid freezing air outside, the pressure he felt, the anger, the sadness, the fear and grief of losing all that.

While sleeping, he noticed her steps, he could even feel her hesitant gaze on him, and then she joined the bed, hugged him, started to caress his back, and suddenly, the world felt like a safer place. John pretty much curled against her chest, allowing himself to enjoy that shelter. Waking up to her embrace had to be one of the best sensations he had ever felt.

He shyly nuzzled against her, slowly finding comfort. "I just need...just stay like this for now." He muttered. John knew he was guilty of all his crimes. He just didn't know how things could have been different. He wished he could erase the past, and he wished he wasn't so stupid to raise attendion like he had. He wished so many things were different. Instead of hugging her tight or protectivelly, he just curled against her, seeking her shelter, as if he could hide there. He felt so loved. And he was so tired. He coughed a feel times, getting feverish, struggling against whatever disease was trying to hit him. Her caresses on his back made him feel calmer. He fell asleep just like that, melting against her, accepting every touch, accepting her and feeling so grateful.

"Well, I guess I'm yours then. I have no one else...nowhere else....and you want me."

He muttered in his sleep, words he truly meant it, and just like she hadn't meant "I want you" in any lusty way, he also didn't mean it like that— that sense of belonging was way deeper, something he had always searched for— he just wanted to be loved or at least accepted, and now finally he had found someone who did.

"Sleep well, John Marston."

Boaz hadn't looked up, he was still sluking. Andrew made sense. A lot of sense... but he didn't really want to listen. The very idea of him proving Millton was some horrible criminal and Ruth defending him.....he despised the idea. 'Ain't askin' him to be a saint,' Boaz muttered. 'But if he's a criminal, then I gotta do my job. If he ain't been pardoned, then it's unlawful if we let him walk around this town.' The man felt another surge of jealousy. 'There's somethin' off about him. I can feel it.'

John fell asleep so deeply now he felt like he was floating, couldn't feel his body, just the warmth and safety. Even if it made no sense, he felt Ruth could protect him from the whole world.

He even dreamed about her. He was a little kid again, and he was running around the orphanage corridors, people staring him with ugly eyes, judging him, and finally by the door there was sunlight and Ruth, and she opened her arms to hug him, calling him, and he would run so fast and jump right into her hug. And then she'd hold his hand and take him home. He didn't know where, it didn't matter, because anywhere with her could be good.

John cried in his sleep because of that dream, his hands gripped the fabric of her clothing, lips parted in a painful and happy expression. That could be heaven. He could be dead right there and it would be fine. Hours later, he woke up with the scent of food and tea— half awake, he dreamed he could see his kid self standing from the bed and running to the kitchen, not to eat but to hug her so tight, because he was awake, because he could, because she was right there. He didn't know what hit him, but he just remained still resting on his bed just like that and started to cry silently with one of his eyes open, looking through where the light from the kitchen illuminated the corridor, hugging Dinner, who had snuggled against his chest, napping for a while before moving from there.

After the silent burst of emotions, he coughed again, and then sat up, drinking a lot of water from his glass, walking to the kitchen to meet her.

She moved close, rubbing his arm a minute. "Please, sit. Or you can even eat in bed. Whatever you want." Ruth found that he was unusually warm, maybe even beginning to run a fever. She frowned, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'll also make you a warm bath. Your normal clothes are all washed and are about dry, but you can stay in." She even nodded at his coat, the one she'd been wearing for some days, his new one which really looked very good on him but now was starting to smell like her. "You should wear your coat too if you need to keep warm."

Leaving John with the food, she went to begin heating up a bath before heading upstairs to change. She wore simple but warm clothes before heading back down. She started to put on her coat and gloves. "Everything should be ready for you when you need. I have to go pick up father from the train station." She moved close to John again with a soft smile, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Please don't worry about me. I'll be okay. And please rest."

The scent of the food and tea attracted him. He walked silently to the corridor, and when she gestured calling him, he quickly went to her like a puppy given permission to enter the kitchen. His eyes looked heavy, he looked anxious and a bit scared, vulnerable, like the whole world he had been building was about to crumble.

John listened to her, sipped the tea right away, enjoying the scent, and then the soap, it seemed so nutricious ans smelled so good. He could have all of it? Since despite drinking a lot of water he still felt thirsty and now hungry, he drank the soup like it was milk, his throat making little noises, eyes closed, tongue guiding in all the bits of meat and potatoes, he finished his bowl quickly and started to refil it. Seeing more water on the table, he drank all of it, the whole thing, panting, shivering, he also drank the whole tea, which wasn't as hot anymore.

It didn't take long for him to empty another bowl of soup, drinking it the way he was, licking his lips, like the meal was giving him life again. "A hot bath seems nice." And it seemed bad as soon as she mentioned she was going out. "No...I...I should go with you..." He felt worried about she going on her own. What if she got attacked again? Just the thought of seeing her traumatized and scared broke his heart. "You sure you don't want me to tag along? At least take my gun with you then." He offered his holster to her.

John hummed a little when she planted a kiss on his forehead, closing his eyes and melting. Oh if only he was a decent man, younger, she could have been such a good wife. Or just....family. She appreciated him...cared for him in ways people maybe never had. She didn't seem to be using him and she really didn't have to be nice the way she was. "Mnm."

He felt all warm inside, full of soup and love.

"Well...if you ain't back in half an hour...I'll go search for you." He took his pocket watch, which he had left by the counter. "I'll bathe then. Take care...and..if anyone attacks you, shoot or stab the damn bastard." He couldn't lie, the kiss on his forehead, the soup, all that sweetness, if made him feel so happy, even if he felt his world was starting to fall apart.

He felt his heart tight, about not going with her. But he was weak. He felt he couldn't really run a few meters without losing his breath. Even going up the stairs seemed tiring. Damn, even stripping down seemed tiring. The water felt even hotter than it was because of his fever, and that made it even more relaxing. The sigh of relieve he let out. Scrubbing himself was a bit painful and got him tired. He almost took a nap in the tub. Relaxed and happy, he felt it between his legs, but he was too tired to do anything. He just dried himself and got dressed. The man tried to take the bowls and pan to the sink, they felt so damn heavy, even empty. Once he was done, he dragged himself back to bed, taking his fur coat, wearing it and curling under it on the bed, also under the sheets. His nose was so red and he was coughing, like his lungs were trying to fight some illness off. He felt so cold, shivering.

'Miss Ruth?' Boaz emerged from a small office, his eyes almost wide and very wary. She stood a little straighter. "May I speak with you a minute... Alone?" Boaz's eyes darted to the pile of posters then at Andrew. His stomach did a flip but he nodded, following the girl out back. 'Everything okay?' He asked. 'I heard about the incident. You alright? That Milton fella isn't–'

"I'm alright," she interjected. Sucking in a deep breath, Ruth stared into his eyes. "Stop looking into him," she stated. The command gave the young man pause. 'What?' "Mr. Milton. I don't know how far you've looked, Boaz. But I'm asking you. Just stop... please." Even in her attempt at being defensive, Ruth was trying to be nice. "My father and I... we know he's not the best of men. But he is trying to be."

Bkaz blinked at her in surprise. 'But he's dangerous!'

"And so is Eli," Ruth stated. "You know how he was. What he's capable of. But he's changed. And I believe Mr. Milton can to. If you run him off, then how could he?" Boaz frowned. 'Men like that don't change.' Ruth frowned back. "Then you underestimate him. And me." Boaz opened his mouth. 'I didn't mean–' "I trust him," Ruth insisted. "So trust me. Please." She stared at him expectantly. Boaz didn't like it one bit. He hated it. But he knew Ruth's word was good. And he resolved to keep poking around in silence, even if he didn't tell anyone. 'Alright,' he conceeded.

Nodding in satisfaction, Ruth left, heading straight for the train station. She passed Fred and his son outside their store. 'Miss Ruth!' Moses waved. She waved back and smiled at Fred. 'Is Milton alright? I ain't seen him in a bit... Thought he mighta run off.' Ruth shook her head. "No, he's still here. Caught sick from overworking himself. I've got him on bedrest." Fred laughed. 'You always were quite the mother hen, Ruth.'

She made sure to stop in the doctors too, to pick up extra medicinces before heading to the station where a train was pulling in. When Eli stepped off, Ruth felt herself sigh in relief. She always missed him. "Father!" She wrapped her arms around him in a big hug, senting his wobbling backwards a little.

"Ah- Ruthie?" Eli gave a small chuckle, patting her hair. "What's this for?"

"Just missed you," Ruth said, pulling back. Eli eyed her in suspicion but didn't say anything. The two climbed into the wagon and started back. The Reverend looked around.

"No Milton?" He asked curiously.

"He's sick," Ruth explained. "Did some chores out in the cold for too long. Please... be gentle to him, father."

Eli nodded, giving a long sigh. "Yes, dear. I fear I have been a bit of a fool as of late. He deserves more trust than I have given him."

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

Boaz frowned. He'd been trying to be sincere, but the man was making it very hard. "Now hold on," he huffed. "I ain't a fool. No one just happens to handle a gun the way you do. Not even lawmen." He stared at John. "I've been looking through the wanted posters. When I find you, then I'll be sure. You don't want to cross me." The threat was half hearted. Boaz was an easily angered man and he was jealous. Jealous that this drifter got to spend every waking minute with the girl he'd hoped to marry. He'd be reacting much worsely if he knew that Ruth asked the man to stay with her each night.

Boaz was about to get angry again, when a voice called out from behind the house. "John?" Ruth was calling for him, not knowing Boaz was there. She had heard noises in the house and it spooked her. It was almost instinct for her to search for John in times of trouble now.

Glaring, the deputy sauntered off, muttering angrily.

Ruth waited by the door, her fingers tapping the wood to keep her mind occupied. She'd eaten a little, and her feet had warmed up to a normal temperature. She couldn't wait to curl up in his bed again. The thought of the warm sheets, her safe little nest, his smell, it all made her feel a bit better. She wondered about the man who had attacked her... It was hard to think about, to remember, but John had been right. It couldn't define her. Nothing had hardly even happened... It made her a little embarrassed that she was close to clueless in those kinds of matters. She thought for a brief minute about asking John for advice... to maybe expalin... or show– She pushed the thought down as he appeared.

"Well I think specially lawmen should know how to shoot. But you're a bunch of cowards. That damn gang for months robbing and terrorizing the county and you did nothing to solve it. You're a bunch of old ladies wearing a star and a damn uniform, that's what you are. I've seen school girls more intimidating than you." John was getting furious. The more Boaz talked, the more Marston wanted to shoot him in the face.

The man was threatening him.

"I ain't afraid of you. And you're the one crossing me. It seems like you decided to grow a pair of balls but they grew in the place of your damn brains instead, asshole." John was snarling at the other man, his stare, his glare, like Jim Milton was gone.

"I came to this town, searched for a damn job, no one offered a hand. Then I do your bounty hinting, finish off Esposo's gang, and you treat me like some criminal? Do you want me to be? You want that?" He was ready to draw his gun and shoot Boaz in the head. "You came here to ask about someone you couldn't even protect, and you spit shit right at me just cause I can shoot better than you? And you all these months letting a gang grow and spread like sickness near the town she sleeps in!? You're sick in the head, you son of a—"

John.

The moment he heard Ruth's sweet voice, his right arm stopped tensing. He quit to draw and shoot. And when Boaz turned to leave, the temptation of shooting him through his back was big. But he knew that would ruin everything. He knew Boaz had warned others he was visiting, and he knew that if the man suspected that, others also probably did.

So that was it? The sheriff and friends were already searching for old wanted posters? Investigating him? If that was true and they found something, John knew he'd be doomed. Boaz accusing him like that, the man must have known he'd have support if he ordered an arrest.

John's heart was beating so fast. His hair even got a bit spiky, his forehead frowning like crazy, gritting his teeth, eyes teary of anger and revolt. He took a deep breath, watched Boaz leave, stare, John's eyes full of rage, his eyes telling clearly, I would have killed you right now if it wasn't for her. And he didn't say a word.

John returned home to look at Ruth. "It's Jim. James Milton." She had said John unaware Boaz was there. "Boaz was here. He wanted to know if you was alright. I told him to come in but...." He went silent, looked down, serious. Worried. If the police wanted him him behind bars, if they were planning that and needed just a tiny bit of evidence, then he was screwed.

"Stop calling me by my name, alright? It's James Milton. Jim if you must." He didn't seen mad at her, he wasn't, but he looked dead serious. "You don't need to praise me, miss. Smart? It's just...life experience I guess. I've lived through a lot of bad things." He held back tears, bit his lips. "Once your father comes back, I'm leaving this town." He said, sitting down. "I shouldn't have told you or your father who I was. I shouldn't have stayed here. He thinks I'm a criminal. And he ain't wrong. He said he'll search for evidence. He finds anything...I'm doomed."

For the first time, John looked defeated, sitting there, with his hands on his thighs, feet spread supporting his weight.

"I could go talk to the sheriff myself. Tell him about what Boaz said, how he threatened me, how he's accusing me without any proof, but it's damn obvious the sheriff would rather stay by his deputy side, even if he's wrong. Probably that sheriff also thinks I'm some gunslinger with a past of crimes. Maybe everyone thinks. Maybe I should disappear before they find something." His voice cracked. He had called too much attention, ending that gang. Looking down, a tear fell down, rolled down his cheek. Now that he was starting to feel like he was home. He kept looking down, taking deep breaths, facepalming from time to time. "Fuck...the hell I do? The fuck I should do?" He muttered to himself, thin legs and arms, tense due to cold and worry.

If he escaped again, he'd make sure to be more careful, tell no one about who he was, don't use his skills at all. Maybe it was too late though. Once they found who he was, it would come to light John Marston was alive and then....then he'd be wanted in every town all over the state, again. What life would he be able to live?

He tried to smile but failed.

"Actually I'm pretty stupid."

"Leaving?" She almost cried in shock. Her heart sank to her toes. The thought was terrible. It reminded her of when she was little, when Eli had walked out on her and her mother. She remembered pulling at his arm and watching him disappear. "You can't leave–" she worried, not thinking as her hands reached out to grab his arm. "I'll talk to the deputy... Father won't let them hurt you. You can't–"

Sitting next to him, Ruth knew she couldn't let him give up. Or go. She wanted him to stay... maybe she needed it. Needed him. After all, without him, she'd be dead or worse.

Besides that, Ruth had truly come to see John as a friend. She cared about him like she cared about all her friends. Him leaving would make him lonely again. He could clearly handle himself, but it was dangerous. He deserved rest... peace... Ruth couldn't stand the idea of him wandering alone, trying to settle in a place that wouldn't have him when her little world so desperately wanted to keep him. She resolved to speak with Boaz when she went to get Eli from the station the next day. Ruth had to find a way to get John to stay. It might be a futile fight, but she would fight it anyway.

"Why does he hate me that much? The first time we met, I tried to be friendly. Why the hell everyone hates me so much? Is it my face? The scars? Do people assume I'm bad because of them? Or was it my shooting skills? If the deputies are incompetent it ain't my fault, they seem to hate me for doing them a favor. I literally did they job and...they..." He sighed even more, his voice cracking a little, eyes starting to pool tears that wanted to roll down.

"I know what I am. I know the things I've done. But I did nothing wrong here. It's like...those people didn't even give me a chance and....they're trying to ruin everything the people who actually gave me a chance did." He was clearly hurt. Deeply hurt. Like the town he helped was spitting on his face. "I don't know what I would do if that asshole came to arrest me. I don't know if I should just let them or kill everyone in front of me in this damn town." His voice was bitter, acid, raspy, like a growl. He was angry, upset. Not with Ruth, but with the whole situation.

"I really hope all this shit is just Boaz. Cause if it's the whole police force, then I'm screwed. If they're after me, waiting just for some evidence, I doubt they'd let me leave town either. I bet the moment I step outside the county that bastard would try putting a bullet in my back." He took his gloves off, setting thme aside, his eyes sweetening and looking at Ruth. She was....such a baby girl. So nice and so scared. He really wished she wasn't so afraid of everything.

John gave her a soft smile.

"Alright. I'll stay. But if things get ugly, I'll have to run away. If they come after me, I...I can't let them hang me. I'll....I'll have to try and run away. I don't wanna die. I want to have a good life. An honest one." Eli...Fred...Ruth....maybe they could help. But if it turned out Boaz was the only one against John, if it turned out the deputy was the only one who found evidence against Marston, if the others didn't know, then he knew the safest actiong would be to kill Boaz.

One of the deputies was highly suspicious of John too, but for a different reason. Deputy Andrew was investigating Kramer's death. Andrew was a calm old man, his wife worked at the orphanage, she was a woman of old age, had been there for a long time, and turns out the day John showed up to help with the donations, she recognized him. Even without the long hair and the scars on his face, the old lady, Martha, she remembered John, the feral aura, the determined graysh eyes, even the way he walked, a bit weird like he simply moved differently, ready to tense up and have some quick reflex to protect himself, like a cat. His fangies, his dark hair, the eyebrows and eyelashes, John was actually handsome, and even as a kid, excluding the messy long hair, the dirt and the anger on his face, those features had remained the same.

Martha used to like John, always had treated him well. She remembered the sneaky smart kid he was, how he was ready to just vanish from a room if he felt any threat— and she remembered how sweet he was too, how he's sleep against her leg when he was afraid to be alone or when she brought him food. She remembered how little John was rabid like a wild cat when he joined the orphanage, how he was starting to get sweet and docile under hee care and how he changed completely after....Kramer. She suspected the man had been hitting him, but it was hard to convince anyone. She remembered talking to her husband about it, worried, so maybe the deputies could do something, but again, all Andrew could ever do was to feel bad for the kid.

The old couple didn't mean John any harm. None of them had shared the secret, none of them had told anyone about the new guy Jim Milton looking like little John so much. She was surprised Fred didn't remember John as well, maybe because both were kids back then. She had tried to catch any hints out from conversations, but apparently, only she and her husband knew who James was. They became sure the day she saw Jim working with Fred, his sleeves pulled, she saw the scar John had on his right arm, a big one that looked like a straight like. She remembered the day Kramer tried to threaten John with a knife, and John had moved and struggled and ended up cutting himself by accident because Kramer held him. That day he showed up with his arm bleeding and half his hair cut. She remembered combing his hair gently, parting the hair from left to right to hide the chunck had that been cut, almost ripped by the man, and apparently, John had never changed that, even now after 20 years. He was such a special boy to her. Capable of so much sweetness but so hurt, so aggressive like an abused animal, afraid of everything.

She had talked about Andrew about adopting him, taking him away from Kramer, but her husband said no. Said they already had two kids to raise. And now with Kramer's deth, and the deputy who seemed to have been bribed to try and have the man escape showing up killed just by his side, Andrew was afraid, thinking it could have been John out of revenge.

Andrew had asked Martha many times is she was sure if John was James, and she always said she was. Because of the way John looked at her that day during charity delivery, and then the day he saw her on the street when he was buying new clothes...and when he was working with Fred. That soft, guilty, nostalgic gaze John always gave her. Always the same, like a puppy that runs to you with shinning eyes, all left was for John to smile to her, and she knew she would cry.

Andrew was afraid. He hoped Marston wouldn't be a threat to that town. His wife defended the man at all costs in every conversation they had. Yet now Kramer was dead, and Andrew started to question if John had done it, if he was a threat.

Meanwhile, in that hotel room Eli had paid for the brothers and their sister to stay, Cain was smiling holding his hunting knife, just like he was the night he killed Kramer. That small family also had been victim of that demonic old man, and seeing Kramer from the hotel room trying to escape the prison that night, it was the perfect opportunity, and Cain had taken it.

Glad to hear him say that he would stay, she breathed a little easier, but still worried of what would happen if he was driven out of town. She'd never be able to look at people the same again. He almost looked like a child, saying he didn't want to die. That he wanted a good and honest life. Ruth wished she could give those things to him.

She cared for the man. He was her friend. She was starting to realize that she must learn to fight for the things she wants, the things she knows are right, and herself as well.

"You're safe as long as you're here," she promised gently. "I know that doesn't sound like much coming from me of all people, but I won't let them hurt you." She gave a small smile. "Come... you need food too. And more rest. You've been so helpful." She nodded toward the kitchen. "You've taken care of me, and father too. Let us care for you as well."

John got quieter and quieter as Ruth soothed him. He didn't know what to think honestly. He didn't know how bad it was. Why did he always had to feel like that? Like someone as almost everyone just didn't want him.

"Why? Why don't they want me? They don't even know the things I've done. Why they don't want me? Why doesn't anyone..." His voice cracked a bit. "I always feel like some stranger, the way people look at me, like I shouldn't be there." His tears were pooled in his eyes and he was struggling to keep them from escaping. "No one ever wanted me. I really wanted to know why. People just wanted me when I served some utility for them. I know I did awful things but...they don't know, and when I was a kid I hadn't done anything wrong to be treated like that." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well look at me babbling.

"You keep talking about your father, but you had to see how the way he treats me changed since I told him the truth." He was shaking because of the cold and feeling hungry after feeding the animals. Ruth's words soothed him though. Her little smile, he couldn't help but give her a soft sad one. "Don't underestimate yourself like that. You're strong." He was looking at her, feeling embraced by her protectiveness and surprised by her will to keep him safe. That was new and it felt so good.

Ruth didn't know why no one wanted John. Meanness and violence had never made sense to her. It just seemed to hinder any progress of any kind. "I don't know," she said in a quiet honesty. She paused, making sure to stay close. The lonely feeling he felt was something she'd felt when Eli left when she was a kid, and when her mother had died. It wasn't a good feeling. Even though she was a nice girl, she always felt sort of strange too. With her father being a preacher, it was clear people tried to act better around her because they thought of her a certain way. It wasn't a one-to-one parallel, but she understood a little. "I want you," she offered.

Realizing how that could be taken the wrong way, Ruth's cheeks flushed pink and she looked away quickly. "I mean... I like having you around. I don't want you to go. I know father is... well, he's a complicated man. But I know he cares even if he's not good at showing it. But he does. And even if he doesn't. I do."

She wiggled a little in her spot. "And I'm plenty warm now. Thank you." Standing after him, Ruth paused, not wanting to follow him right away. For a minute she'd forgotten all about her own troubles. John had helped her, and she intended to help him. Making sure all the food was put away quickly, she moved slowly to his room to not spook him. He looked sad and still a little cold laying on his bed all alone. Oh, how she wanted to just invade his space and keep him safe in her arms. His sniffs made her heart tense in worry. Making enough noise to let him know she was there, she moved further in. "Joh- er, James?" The name didn't feel right. She was holding clean warm clothes, soft ones for him to sleep in. "If you want to change..." She left again, leaving him in peace. After giving Dinner a snack she returned to his room, unable to bear the thought of him being alone. Moving close, she wondered if she should ask permission first... but then again, maybe just doing something would help.

That single phrase hit hard. So many emotions reacted to it, mixing with all the grief he was feeling about the chances of losing that new life. The urge to cry was big, and he swallowed it hard, his eyes and lips were clearly sad, surprised, worried and relieved at the same time. It was like the little boy inside him had been adopted. Finally someone who actually wanted him to be close, after so many years of people just using him or trying to make him go away.

"I...I understood— I get what you mean." His eyes were so teary, his heart so lost, not knowing if it should beat fast or slow. "Your father...he...he wants you safe." He looked down, looking so emotionally drained. Then, he smiled a little. "I'm glad you're warm. Good. You're strong."

When he hit the bed, his senses just vanished from his body. He felt heavy like a rock, arm hanging off the bed, chest against the mattress, he blacked out. Some time later, Ruth's voice made him wake up, opening his eyes wide, ready to aid her but she was alright. He sat on the bed slowly, rubbed his eyes. "Thanks. You're the best." And slowly, he changed, feeling so cold, still feeling so heavy, feeling sick. His chest was aching, his body was shivering like he was feverish. He crumbled back to bed, eyes closing fast, getting asleep so fast, like his body was fighting so many things— the cold, the shock of resting on the snow, the humid freezing air outside, the pressure he felt, the anger, the sadness, the fear and grief of losing all that.

While sleeping, he noticed her steps, he could even feel her hesitant gaze on him, and then she joined the bed, hugged him, started to caress his back, and suddenly, the world felt like a safer place. John pretty much curled against her chest, allowing himself to enjoy that shelter. Waking up to her embrace had to be one of the best sensations he had ever felt.

He shyly nuzzled against her, slowly finding comfort. "I just need...just stay like this for now." He muttered. John knew he was guilty of all his crimes. He just didn't know how things could have been different. He wished he could erase the past, and he wished he wasn't so stupid to raise attendion like he had. He wished so many things were different. Instead of hugging her tight or protectivelly, he just curled against her, seeking her shelter, as if he could hide there. He felt so loved. And he was so tired. He coughed a feel times, getting feverish, struggling against whatever disease was trying to hit him. Her caresses on his back made him feel calmer. He fell asleep just like that, melting against her, accepting every touch, accepting her and feeling so grateful.

"Well, I guess I'm yours then. I have no one else...nowhere else....and you want me."

He muttered in his sleep, words he truly meant it, and just like she hadn't meant "I want you" in any lusty way, he also didn't mean it like that— that sense of belonging was way deeper, something he had always searched for— he just wanted to be loved or at least accepted, and now finally he had found someone who did.

"Sleep well, John Marston."

Boaz hadn't looked up, he was still sluking. Andrew made sense. A lot of sense... but he didn't really want to listen. The very idea of him proving Millton was some horrible criminal and Ruth defending him.....he despised the idea. 'Ain't askin' him to be a saint,' Boaz muttered. 'But if he's a criminal, then I gotta do my job. If he ain't been pardoned, then it's unlawful if we let him walk around this town.' The man felt another surge of jealousy. 'There's somethin' off about him. I can feel it.'

John fell asleep so deeply now he felt like he was floating, couldn't feel his body, just the warmth and safety. Even if it made no sense, he felt Ruth could protect him from the whole world.

He even dreamed about her. He was a little kid again, and he was running around the orphanage corridors, people staring him with ugly eyes, judging him, and finally by the door there was sunlight and Ruth, and she opened her arms to hug him, calling him, and he would run so fast and jump right into her hug. And then she'd hold his hand and take him home. He didn't know where, it didn't matter, because anywhere with her could be good.

John cried in his sleep because of that dream, his hands gripped the fabric of her clothing, lips parted in a painful and happy expression. That could be heaven. He could be dead right there and it would be fine. Hours later, he woke up with the scent of food and tea— half awake, he dreamed he could see his kid self standing from the bed and running to the kitchen, not to eat but to hug her so tight, because he was awake, because he could, because she was right there. He didn't know what hit him, but he just remained still resting on his bed just like that and started to cry silently with one of his eyes open, looking through where the light from the kitchen illuminated the corridor, hugging Dinner, who had snuggled against his chest, napping for a while before moving from there.

After the silent burst of emotions, he coughed again, and then sat up, drinking a lot of water from his glass, walking to the kitchen to meet her.

She moved close, rubbing his arm a minute. "Please, sit. Or you can even eat in bed. Whatever you want." Ruth found that he was unusually warm, maybe even beginning to run a fever. She frowned, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'll also make you a warm bath. Your normal clothes are all washed and are about dry, but you can stay in." She even nodded at his coat, the one she'd been wearing for some days, his new one which really looked very good on him but now was starting to smell like her. "You should wear your coat too if you need to keep warm."

Leaving John with the food, she went to begin heating up a bath before heading upstairs to change. She wore simple but warm clothes before heading back down. She started to put on her coat and gloves. "Everything should be ready for you when you need. I have to go pick up father from the train station." She moved close to John again with a soft smile, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Please don't worry about me. I'll be okay. And please rest."

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Luke returns after a patrol gone wrong. After holding it in so long, both you and him can’t stop yourselves from confessing your feelings.

a/n: this is just fluffy with maybe some teeny tiny moment of angst, implied fem!reader, luke is a cutie. leia and reader kiss (instead of luke iykyk), takes place at the start of TESB. english is not my first language, please don’t be afraid to like, reblog and/or comment!! 💌

The first time you had met Luke was on Tatooine, after Leia instructed you to accommodate both R2-D2 and C-3PO in an escape pod to ensure the message she recorded securely made it’s way to Obi-Wan. You still remember it not feeling fair that you left Leia behind on the ship that day.

When you eventually woke up after passing out during the landing, you found yourself in a desert with both droids not anywhere in sight, only the seemingly endless sight of the warm sand of Tatooine.

After tracking Artoo’s location on a tablet that was barely hanging on, you made your way towards Mos Eisley where you reunited with Artoo and Threepio, the two of them waiting outside the Cantina and spouting something about Obi-Wan and a certain Master Luke.

Walking inside and making an acquaintance with Obi-Wan, explaining your position, a boy around your age walked up to you two. The first thing you noticed were his bright blue eyes, partly covered by his shaggy golden hair. He quickly avoided your gaze when he noticed you staring, instead favoring to stare at the ground until Master Kenobi introduced the two of you.

Ever since that day, rescuing Leia, almost dying together in a garbage compactor, and worrying about him while he was out destroying the death star, you and Luke had grown impossibly close. You both instantly found comfort with one another, him confiding in you and you doing the same in return. Comforting each other after nightmares, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner together on base, him teaching you to fly his X-Wing, or at least try to.

Now, about three years later, the rebellion had relocated to Hoth. Living on a planet like Hoth, famous for its freezing climate, made surviving on base with minimal supplies considerably harder.

You were currently stood next to Leia, discussing future plans and reviewing some reports from the day before. After talking strategies, you moved over to a monitor, planning on checking said reports when you’r interrupted by a call of your name. Turning your head, you see Han making his way over to you, a frown visible on his face. You knew he wasn’t very fond of the brutal temperatures.

“Commander Solo.” you acknowledge as he comes to stand beside you, hands on his hips. You and Leia had decided to send him, along with others, including Luke, on an expedition to search for any signs of life.

Hab begins talking, “No signs of life out there. We placed the sensors, so you’ll know if something’s out there.”

You nod along in appreciation and confirmation, before your thoughts drift to one specific rebel. “Has Luke come in yet?”

A knowing smirk grew on Han’s face. “No. He’s checking out a meteorite that hit near him.”

Han knew about the obvious crush Luke had on you, and could only assume that you were just as affected by him. He often tried to nudge Luke along, teasing him when one day he’d asked him for some girl advice. And for you, it was clear to Han that you cared about Luke more than anyone else on the rebel base, even if you’ve never said it out loud.

Hours had passed. After Han told you he needed to leave, you’d quickly busied yourself again. Then, it turned out that Luke was still missing and Han had gone after him.

You were currently standing in the main hangar, hoping for any signs of the boys before you had to close the doors for the night. But things weren’t looking good so far. You turn to Leia, who’s face is mirroring your worried expression, even if a tad more hidden. “Do you think they’ll make it back in time?” you ask, your voice quiet.

She gives you a small smile in return. “We can only hope they will.”

Although that weren’t the words you had wanted to hear, you agreed with her. You nodded quietly, attempting to reassure yourself and her. You wondered where they were now. Were they save? Already on their way back? Was Luke hurt?

Your thought are interrupted to an approaching lieutenant, informing both you and Leia that all pilots had returned and that the shield doors must be closed for the night. Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Realistically, you knew that them not making it back on time was the probable outcome, though you had hope that they would both safely make their way back to you and Leia. That you could scold Luke for his reckless behavior, then throw your arms around him in a much needed hug.

After Leia said the final words and the doors closed until the next morning, she turned to you, reaching for your hand to drag you back into the real world and out of your thoughts. “Come on.” she gently guides you to walk alongside her. “You’re really worried about Luke, huh?”

You swallow tightly as you place one foot after the other, mindlessly walking next to her. “I‘m worried about them both.”

A small knowing smile makes it’s way to her lips, but she doesn’t say anything. To her it has always been clear that you and Luke were meant for each other. She had often tried to push either one of you to make a move, but Luke would blush and stumble on his words and you would strictly avoid confrontation.

“Get some rest, alright?” Leia demands more than suggests with a light squeeze to your hand, before letting go. “We will need it.”

You depart with a nod, sending her one last look before you continue the walk to your room, towards the barracks on base.

The second you had woken up the next morning, you had gotten ready rather quickly before rushing to the main hanger in hopes to join a search party. That didn’t go as planned, instead you were assigned to some maintenance work, seeing you would be more useful staying at the base.

An hour later, you were on your way back to the main hanger when your comlink buzzed. Fumbling a bit, you managed to grasp it in your hand as you press the button to connect you to the other line. Quickly staring your name and rank, you wait for a response.

To your surprise, it’s a familiar voice that sounds through the comlink. It’s Leia, almost shouting your name. “Where are you? Nobody knew how where you were?”

“I‘m on my way back to the main hangar. What’s wrong?” you question, picking up your pace.

Leia lets out a small breath. “We found them. They’re back.”

Your eyes widen is surprise, and a feeling of relief settles across your body, your shoulders dropping. “Where are they now? Are they okay?”

“Han is with Chewie right now. He’s okay.” She’s quiet after that, and you can feel the tension in the silence. “Luke was pretty banged up. He’s in the medbay right now. He’s still being treated.”

Then tension flows back into your body at her words. “I‘m on my way.” you state, quickly picking up your pace again.

You can hear Leia let out a sigh at the other end of the line. “They said we’re not allowed-” But you cut her off, not thinking as you redirect your route to the medbay. “I have to go.”

You shut off the comlink, shoving it back into your pocket. You’re usually one to follow orders, but this time you can’t wait. You just have to be there for him, need to see him and check that he’s really okay.

Your steps quickened until you were basically running, rushing past other rebels going on with their day, some shooting you questioning looks.

When you arrive at the medbay you rush in, looking around, you scan every face until there’s one you recognize. It’s a medic you’ve gotten to know over the years, eating lunch with her sometimes or going for a night walk and talking about your days. You quickly call her name and she turns to face you from where she had previously been arranging medical supplies on a cart.

You walk over to her until your standing face to face and she greet you with a smile. “I assume you’re here to see Luke?”

Your expression becomes sheepish as you realize how desperate you must look right now, hair wind blown and face slightly flushed from running from end of the base to the other. As you give her a confirming nod she leads you to the door leading to his room. “I think it’s okay if you’ll go in now. He’s awake.”

You nod along, squeezing your hands into first to stop the eagerness rushing through your body. “Thank you.”

She nods comfortingly with a small smile. “I‘ll tell Leia and Han.” With that, she turns and walks away, and you take that as your sign to finally enter Luke’s room.

You spot him, slouched against the upper part of the bed, his head snapping up at the sound of someone entering. Before he can say anything, realizing that it’s you, you’ve already thrown your arms around him, awkwardly leaning down in a hug, careful not to hurt him anymore.

He lets out a small huff, his mouth tilting up in a smile as he returns the hug. When you pull back, you look at his face, and it’s then that you spot his injuries. There’s countless cuts across his face, some bigger than others, his right eye slightly swollen, the skin already bruising with color. You’re too scanning his face to notice the blush that shows up on his cheeks as he avoids you’re gaze.

“You’re so stupid.” you swat at his arm. You try to keep a stern expression, but it softens the moment he meets your gaze. “What happened to you?”

“Got attacked by a Wampa.” he explains. At your shocked expression, he smiles sheepishly. “How did you manage to survive that?” you question in disbelief. The only answer you revive is an awkward shrug. You shake your head in disbelief, but also slight amusement. Only Luke could shrug a Wampa attack off the way he did just now.

You’re interrupted by Threepio and Artoo entering the room behind you, both energetically expression their joy of his wellbeing. They’re quickly followed by Han and Leia.

You’re relived to see Han as well, watching as he heads straight for Luke, kneeling down to speak to him. “How are you feeling, kid? You don’t look so bad to me. In fact, you look strong enough to pull ears off a Gundark.”

“Thanks to you.” Luke responds.

“That’s two you owe me, junior.” Han spoke, holding up two fingers for emphasis. He then turned away from Luke to face you with a smile, ruffling your hair like he did usually. “Hey, you.”

You nudge his arm away with a playful glare. Both you and Luke watch as Han and Leia go on, sharing sarcastic comments and bantering, Han smugly explaining that Leia confessed her true feelings to him. Yours and Luke’s eyes widen at that, sharing a small, knowing look with each other before turning back to face the spectacle that was taking place right in front of your eyes.

After them throwing backhanded compliments at one another, Han turns to you with a smirk after Leia called him scruffy looking. “I must have hit pretty close to the mark to get her all riled up like that, huh?”

Your eyes widen at Hans provocative statement, before focusing them on Leia, watching as her face turns from fuming to a smug smile. “Why, I guess you don’t know everything about women yet.”

With that, Leia strutted across the room confidently, all eyes on her. To everyone’s surprise, and most of all yours, she approaches you, grabbing your face and kissing you right on the lips.

Before you can give any kind of reaction, Leia pulls away and struts out the room. Your mouth is left hanging open. You don’t notice the look shared between Luka and Han, but confused, surprised and somehow not at the same time.

“Take it easy.” Han advices Luke as he turns to leave, Threepio and Artoo following behind him, leaving only you and Luke.

Realizing what just happened, you turn to face Luke, finding an unreadable expression on his face. It wasn’t that he was mad, or even entitled to, but he was… confused.

“You never told me you were into Leia. Or girls, in general.” Luke states with a small smile, although you can tell there a twinkle of hurt in his eyes, his hope for a chance with you diminished right in front of his eyes.

“I‘m- what?” you interrupt yourself, still extremely confused by what just transpired. He just shoots you another solemn smile, avoiding your gaze. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping you as you near him, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “I‘m not into girls, Luke.”

“You’re not.” he states it as a question.

“I‘m not… or at least not into Leia.” you shrug. You take a deep breath, swallowing once before you let bravery overcome you and grab his hand, holding it tightly in yours. “There’s only one person I‘m really into.”

His eyes widen as he hears your words, hope rushing back into his body as his blood rushes up to his cheeks. “There is?” he asks hopeful, desperately hoping he’s correct in assuming that it’s him you’re talking about.

Before you can overthink anymore, you place your hand on the side of his face, leaning forward until you feel his lips against yours. The kiss is soft, his lips pressing against yours with light, enjoyable pressure. It doesn’t last too long (longer than with Leia), but both of you are smiling shyly at one another after pulling away.

As you’re about to break the silence, a loud announcement sounds through the speakers, calling all headquarters personnel to report to the command center.

Luke and you know that it’s your que to leave, so you press a quick kiss onto his cheek, just barely grazing the corner of his mouth. With another squeeze to his hand, you stand. “We’ll talk later.” you promise, then turn to leave the medbay.

LOLL thank you anon I have some fluffy thoughts but i shall include the last bit

Okokthis'll have some sexual themes to it so kindly minors close your eyes

Pilot .ᐟ LUKE SKYWALKER had become a name people said with something close to reverence.

You remember the first day he arrived at the Rebellion as clearly as if it were happening now. He had that fresh-faced, wide-eyed look—something achingly sincere that could only be described as hope. He wasn’t the tallest among the pilots crowding the Yavin IV hangar, but he didn’t need to be. The sun-kissed warmth of his skin and that unmistakable shock of golden hair made him stand out instantly, especially against the blaze of his orange flight suit.

The hangar had been its usual chaos; mechanics shouting over engines, droids weaving between boots, the scent of fuel thick in the air. But through all of it, your attention kept drifting back to him. 

The rookie, and you were right to watch.

He was the one who made the impossible shot; the one in a million. The one that reduced the Death Star to stardust. After that, everything changed.

You watched him climb the platform during the ceremony, bright lights glinting off polished medals, dressed in that sharp yellow jacket that seemed made for him. Every pair of eyes followed his ascent. His smile was wide, almost bashful, only made the cheers louder. By the time the celebration began, Luke Skywalker was no longer just a pilot.

He was a symbol of hope, defiance—of the future.

To the galaxy.

To the Rebellion.

To you.

========================================

Hoth, however, is not Yavin IV. Hope doesn’t feel as warm here.

The planet is merciless; white, blinding, and so cold it feels personal. The air bites at exposed skin, creeps into your bones and settles there stubbornly. But freezing on Hoth is still preferable to kneeling before the Empire, so you learn to adapt. You layer up after layer to fend off the cold and you endure.

Luke endures too but fame follows him even here. His reputation has only grown since Yavin IV. Pilots, commanders, recruits orbit him constantly and Luke, with that easy grin and earnest charm, never seems to push them away. If anything, he draws them in. Now that you’ve been assigned as the primary mechanic for his X-wing, you see more of him than most or at least—you’re supposed to. In reality, you often get the short end of the stick.

You try not to blame him. You really do.

But it’s hard not to feel a slight flicker of resentment when he’s the last to land before nightfall and you’re left waiting in the frigid hangar, fingers stiff inside your gloves. It's hard not to feel slighted when he promises to walk you through the adjustments he noticed during pre-flight checks only to be swept away by a crowd before he can finish a sentence. 

All he ever manages is that apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to you!” He always says it like he means it and it wouldn’t be the first time this has happened to you. 

Which is how you find yourself here now—alone in the hangar long after most have turned in for the night. His X-wing sits before you, frost clinging to its hull. You huddle deeper into your jacket as you work, breath fogging in pale clouds with every exhale. The cold gnaws at your fingers, makes your joints ache as you tighten bolts and recalibrate wiring.

If you’re lucky, you might make it to dinner before the kitchens close. But that depends on what you’re dealing with and with Luke’s ship, that can mean anything.

You sigh and keep working.

You’re so focused on the delicate circuitry behind the maintenance panel that you don’t notice the shift in the air. Don’t notice the sound of approaching boots muffled against the hangar floor. You continue your scrutiny inside of the panel and you know that you need a specific tool for this kind of problem and you know for certain that you have it in your tool kit. 

And when you turn, you nearly collide with him.

“Fuck!” The curse bursts out of you before you can stop it, heart slamming violently against your ribs.

Luke startles at your reaction, hands lifting instinctively in surrender. A sheepish, apologetic smile spreads across his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I should’ve said something.”

The shock drains from you slowly, leaving behind irritation that feels far warmer than the cold ever could. You wave him off with a sharp huff and turn away, already moving toward your tool kit. You don’t trust yourself to speak, after all, he’s the reason you’re still here. You allow yourself that small pettiness. You’ve earned it.

“C’mon,” he says softly, your name following in that familiar voice. He trails after you like a shadow, close enough that you can feel the heat of him despite the freezing air. He doesn’t need you to say anything to understand. He can feel the tension rolling off you in waves and if the determined look settling over his features is anything to go by—Luke Skywalker has every intention of making good on his promise this time.

“I’m sorry I brought the ship back so late.” Luke’s apology is earnest—too earnest. It would be easier if he sounded careless, if there was something to justify your irritation. But he sounds soft and sincere and that only makes it harder to stay angry. So you don’t look at him. You keep your eyes on the open maintenance panel, fingers stiff inside your gloves as you adjust wiring with careful precision. If you meet his gaze, you’ll fold. You know you will.

“Give me a chance to make things right,” he tries again, hope threading through his voice. He keeps a respectful distance, hovering just far enough away not to crowd you but close enough that you can feel his presence like a persistent warmth at your back. “I’ll make it up to you. I said that, didn’t I?” The reminder only grates on you more.

The cold has been merciless. Your lips feel numb, possibly blue now, and you’re certain dinner has ended almost --if not completely finished at this time . You should be asleep by now, tucked beneath layers of blankets. Instead, you’re in this frozen hangar, fingers aching, because the galaxy’s favorite pilot can’t seem to land on time and now he’s following you around like a guilty tooka.

“You can have my share of dinner for a week,” Luke offers quickly, scrambling for leverage. “All of it.” he adds, hoping that can sweeten the deal but; 

Nothing. Not even a glance his way so he tries again. 

“My blanket,” he adds, more desperate now. “It’s yours. If you want it.”

But you continue working, the sound of tools against durasteel fills the silence, and Luke visibly searches for something, anything, that might crack your resolve just to get back on your good graces.

“Please,” he says finally, your name falling from his lips in a tone that forces you to inhale deeper than you mean to.

He steps closer. “What do you—”

“Luke, just—”

You turn sharply to cut him off, but your gloved grip slips. The tool in your hand clatters loudly to the floor, the metallic echo ringing through the hangar far longer than it should.

“Fuck me—!,” you snap in frustration.

The words hang in the frozen air and both of you go still.

The tool finishes its noisy descent, settling against the durasteel with a final clang. When you look up, Luke is staring at you and something in the atmosphere has shifted. The irritation from moments ago has dissolved into something heavier, something thicker. 

“Well,” Luke says slowly, a teasing grin tugging at his mouth, “if that’s what you want.” The amusement in his eyes is unmistakable. He’s seizing the opportunity, trying to lighten the mood now that you’re finally looking at him.

Your brows lift as realization dawns and frustration floods back in all at once; the cold, the missed dinner, the stubborn ship, the gloves, the tool—and this insufferably handsome pilot.

Something in you snaps.

“Yeah,” you answer simply.

His grin falters at that. You watch the amusement drain from his expression, replaced by something uncertain but definitely not unwelcome if he’ll be truly honest with himself. Heat creeps up his neck, blooming pink against pale skin. He hadn’t expected you to agree and he definitely hadn’t expected you to mean it.

“You wanted to make it up to me, right?” you ask, stepping closer now. Your voice is steady, now that you’re so fed up with just about everything, you feel bold and that was enough to make you throw all rational thought out the nearest viewport now that you're the one daring him.

Your hand catches the front of his jacket and tugs. Luke moves instinctively, one palm bracing against the hull of his X-wing above your head to keep from stumbling into you. The shift traps you between him and the cool metal of the ship but you’re the one who pulled him in and you both know it.

“C’mon, Skywalker,” you murmur, mimicking his earlier pleading tone but yours is layered with something far more dangerous, provocative, and interesting. You tilt your head up at him, your eyes tracing the line of his jaw and you watch closely as your gaze follows the path to the tips of his ears flushing red under your scrutiny. You like knowing you can do that to him.

“I wanna fuck,” you say plainly, voice low and unwavering. The bluntness steals the air from his lungs. It makes his throat bob and his breathing changes to a more conscious effort now that you’ve managed to steal all of the air in his lungs with just a couple words. 

For a split second, he looks stunned then something settles over him; something steadier. His hand remains planted above your head, but his posture shifts like he was grounding himself and now all of his focus is on you. 

“Okay,” Luke answers, nodding once and he wasn’t hesitant at all even as he tried to shake off that flustered feeling creeping onto him.  There’s determination in his eyes now along with desire. His gaze darkens as it drags slowly over your face, your mouth, lower.

“Okay,” he repeats, quieter now.

The cold still bites at your skin but suddenly, it’s the last thing either of you feel.

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

Boaz frowned. He'd been trying to be sincere, but the man was making it very hard. "Now hold on," he huffed. "I ain't a fool. No one just happens to handle a gun the way you do. Not even lawmen." He stared at John. "I've been looking through the wanted posters. When I find you, then I'll be sure. You don't want to cross me." The threat was half hearted. Boaz was an easily angered man and he was jealous. Jealous that this drifter got to spend every waking minute with the girl he'd hoped to marry. He'd be reacting much worsely if he knew that Ruth asked the man to stay with her each night.

Boaz was about to get angry again, when a voice called out from behind the house. "John?" Ruth was calling for him, not knowing Boaz was there. She had heard noises in the house and it spooked her. It was almost instinct for her to search for John in times of trouble now.

Glaring, the deputy sauntered off, muttering angrily.

Ruth waited by the door, her fingers tapping the wood to keep her mind occupied. She'd eaten a little, and her feet had warmed up to a normal temperature. She couldn't wait to curl up in his bed again. The thought of the warm sheets, her safe little nest, his smell, it all made her feel a bit better. She wondered about the man who had attacked her... It was hard to think about, to remember, but John had been right. It couldn't define her. Nothing had hardly even happened... It made her a little embarrassed that she was close to clueless in those kinds of matters. She thought for a brief minute about asking John for advice... to maybe expalin... or show– She pushed the thought down as he appeared.

"Well I think specially lawmen should know how to shoot. But you're a bunch of cowards. That damn gang for months robbing and terrorizing the county and you did nothing to solve it. You're a bunch of old ladies wearing a star and a damn uniform, that's what you are. I've seen school girls more intimidating than you." John was getting furious. The more Boaz talked, the more Marston wanted to shoot him in the face.

The man was threatening him.

"I ain't afraid of you. And you're the one crossing me. It seems like you decided to grow a pair of balls but they grew in the place of your damn brains instead, asshole." John was snarling at the other man, his stare, his glare, like Jim Milton was gone.

"I came to this town, searched for a damn job, no one offered a hand. Then I do your bounty hinting, finish off Esposo's gang, and you treat me like some criminal? Do you want me to be? You want that?" He was ready to draw his gun and shoot Boaz in the head. "You came here to ask about someone you couldn't even protect, and you spit shit right at me just cause I can shoot better than you? And you all these months letting a gang grow and spread like sickness near the town she sleeps in!? You're sick in the head, you son of a—"

John.

The moment he heard Ruth's sweet voice, his right arm stopped tensing. He quit to draw and shoot. And when Boaz turned to leave, the temptation of shooting him through his back was big. But he knew that would ruin everything. He knew Boaz had warned others he was visiting, and he knew that if the man suspected that, others also probably did.

So that was it? The sheriff and friends were already searching for old wanted posters? Investigating him? If that was true and they found something, John knew he'd be doomed. Boaz accusing him like that, the man must have known he'd have support if he ordered an arrest.

John's heart was beating so fast. His hair even got a bit spiky, his forehead frowning like crazy, gritting his teeth, eyes teary of anger and revolt. He took a deep breath, watched Boaz leave, stare, John's eyes full of rage, his eyes telling clearly, I would have killed you right now if it wasn't for her. And he didn't say a word.

John returned home to look at Ruth. "It's Jim. James Milton." She had said John unaware Boaz was there. "Boaz was here. He wanted to know if you was alright. I told him to come in but...." He went silent, looked down, serious. Worried. If the police wanted him him behind bars, if they were planning that and needed just a tiny bit of evidence, then he was screwed.

"Stop calling me by my name, alright? It's James Milton. Jim if you must." He didn't seen mad at her, he wasn't, but he looked dead serious. "You don't need to praise me, miss. Smart? It's just...life experience I guess. I've lived through a lot of bad things." He held back tears, bit his lips. "Once your father comes back, I'm leaving this town." He said, sitting down. "I shouldn't have told you or your father who I was. I shouldn't have stayed here. He thinks I'm a criminal. And he ain't wrong. He said he'll search for evidence. He finds anything...I'm doomed."

For the first time, John looked defeated, sitting there, with his hands on his thighs, feet spread supporting his weight.

"I could go talk to the sheriff myself. Tell him about what Boaz said, how he threatened me, how he's accusing me without any proof, but it's damn obvious the sheriff would rather stay by his deputy side, even if he's wrong. Probably that sheriff also thinks I'm some gunslinger with a past of crimes. Maybe everyone thinks. Maybe I should disappear before they find something." His voice cracked. He had called too much attention, ending that gang. Looking down, a tear fell down, rolled down his cheek. Now that he was starting to feel like he was home. He kept looking down, taking deep breaths, facepalming from time to time. "Fuck...the hell I do? The fuck I should do?" He muttered to himself, thin legs and arms, tense due to cold and worry.

If he escaped again, he'd make sure to be more careful, tell no one about who he was, don't use his skills at all. Maybe it was too late though. Once they found who he was, it would come to light John Marston was alive and then....then he'd be wanted in every town all over the state, again. What life would he be able to live?

He tried to smile but failed.

"Actually I'm pretty stupid."

"Leaving?" She almost cried in shock. Her heart sank to her toes. The thought was terrible. It reminded her of when she was little, when Eli had walked out on her and her mother. She remembered pulling at his arm and watching him disappear. "You can't leave–" she worried, not thinking as her hands reached out to grab his arm. "I'll talk to the deputy... Father won't let them hurt you. You can't–"

Sitting next to him, Ruth knew she couldn't let him give up. Or go. She wanted him to stay... maybe she needed it. Needed him. After all, without him, she'd be dead or worse.

Besides that, Ruth had truly come to see John as a friend. She cared about him like she cared about all her friends. Him leaving would make him lonely again. He could clearly handle himself, but it was dangerous. He deserved rest... peace... Ruth couldn't stand the idea of him wandering alone, trying to settle in a place that wouldn't have him when her little world so desperately wanted to keep him. She resolved to speak with Boaz when she went to get Eli from the station the next day. Ruth had to find a way to get John to stay. It might be a futile fight, but she would fight it anyway.

"Why does he hate me that much? The first time we met, I tried to be friendly. Why the hell everyone hates me so much? Is it my face? The scars? Do people assume I'm bad because of them? Or was it my shooting skills? If the deputies are incompetent it ain't my fault, they seem to hate me for doing them a favor. I literally did they job and...they..." He sighed even more, his voice cracking a little, eyes starting to pool tears that wanted to roll down.

"I know what I am. I know the things I've done. But I did nothing wrong here. It's like...those people didn't even give me a chance and....they're trying to ruin everything the people who actually gave me a chance did." He was clearly hurt. Deeply hurt. Like the town he helped was spitting on his face. "I don't know what I would do if that asshole came to arrest me. I don't know if I should just let them or kill everyone in front of me in this damn town." His voice was bitter, acid, raspy, like a growl. He was angry, upset. Not with Ruth, but with the whole situation.

"I really hope all this shit is just Boaz. Cause if it's the whole police force, then I'm screwed. If they're after me, waiting just for some evidence, I doubt they'd let me leave town either. I bet the moment I step outside the county that bastard would try putting a bullet in my back." He took his gloves off, setting thme aside, his eyes sweetening and looking at Ruth. She was....such a baby girl. So nice and so scared. He really wished she wasn't so afraid of everything.

John gave her a soft smile.

"Alright. I'll stay. But if things get ugly, I'll have to run away. If they come after me, I...I can't let them hang me. I'll....I'll have to try and run away. I don't wanna die. I want to have a good life. An honest one." Eli...Fred...Ruth....maybe they could help. But if it turned out Boaz was the only one against John, if it turned out the deputy was the only one who found evidence against Marston, if the others didn't know, then he knew the safest actiong would be to kill Boaz.

One of the deputies was highly suspicious of John too, but for a different reason. Deputy Andrew was investigating Kramer's death. Andrew was a calm old man, his wife worked at the orphanage, she was a woman of old age, had been there for a long time, and turns out the day John showed up to help with the donations, she recognized him. Even without the long hair and the scars on his face, the old lady, Martha, she remembered John, the feral aura, the determined graysh eyes, even the way he walked, a bit weird like he simply moved differently, ready to tense up and have some quick reflex to protect himself, like a cat. His fangies, his dark hair, the eyebrows and eyelashes, John was actually handsome, and even as a kid, excluding the messy long hair, the dirt and the anger on his face, those features had remained the same.

Martha used to like John, always had treated him well. She remembered the sneaky smart kid he was, how he was ready to just vanish from a room if he felt any threat— and she remembered how sweet he was too, how he's sleep against her leg when he was afraid to be alone or when she brought him food. She remembered how little John was rabid like a wild cat when he joined the orphanage, how he was starting to get sweet and docile under hee care and how he changed completely after....Kramer. She suspected the man had been hitting him, but it was hard to convince anyone. She remembered talking to her husband about it, worried, so maybe the deputies could do something, but again, all Andrew could ever do was to feel bad for the kid.

The old couple didn't mean John any harm. None of them had shared the secret, none of them had told anyone about the new guy Jim Milton looking like little John so much. She was surprised Fred didn't remember John as well, maybe because both were kids back then. She had tried to catch any hints out from conversations, but apparently, only she and her husband knew who James was. They became sure the day she saw Jim working with Fred, his sleeves pulled, she saw the scar John had on his right arm, a big one that looked like a straight like. She remembered the day Kramer tried to threaten John with a knife, and John had moved and struggled and ended up cutting himself by accident because Kramer held him. That day he showed up with his arm bleeding and half his hair cut. She remembered combing his hair gently, parting the hair from left to right to hide the chunck had that been cut, almost ripped by the man, and apparently, John had never changed that, even now after 20 years. He was such a special boy to her. Capable of so much sweetness but so hurt, so aggressive like an abused animal, afraid of everything.

She had talked about Andrew about adopting him, taking him away from Kramer, but her husband said no. Said they already had two kids to raise. And now with Kramer's deth, and the deputy who seemed to have been bribed to try and have the man escape showing up killed just by his side, Andrew was afraid, thinking it could have been John out of revenge.

Andrew had asked Martha many times is she was sure if John was James, and she always said she was. Because of the way John looked at her that day during charity delivery, and then the day he saw her on the street when he was buying new clothes...and when he was working with Fred. That soft, guilty, nostalgic gaze John always gave her. Always the same, like a puppy that runs to you with shinning eyes, all left was for John to smile to her, and she knew she would cry.

Andrew was afraid. He hoped Marston wouldn't be a threat to that town. His wife defended the man at all costs in every conversation they had. Yet now Kramer was dead, and Andrew started to question if John had done it, if he was a threat.

Meanwhile, in that hotel room Eli had paid for the brothers and their sister to stay, Cain was smiling holding his hunting knife, just like he was the night he killed Kramer. That small family also had been victim of that demonic old man, and seeing Kramer from the hotel room trying to escape the prison that night, it was the perfect opportunity, and Cain had taken it.

Glad to hear him say that he would stay, she breathed a little easier, but still worried of what would happen if he was driven out of town. She'd never be able to look at people the same again. He almost looked like a child, saying he didn't want to die. That he wanted a good and honest life. Ruth wished she could give those things to him.

She cared for the man. He was her friend. She was starting to realize that she must learn to fight for the things she wants, the things she knows are right, and herself as well.

"You're safe as long as you're here," she promised gently. "I know that doesn't sound like much coming from me of all people, but I won't let them hurt you." She gave a small smile. "Come... you need food too. And more rest. You've been so helpful." She nodded toward the kitchen. "You've taken care of me, and father too. Let us care for you as well."

John got quieter and quieter as Ruth soothed him. He didn't know what to think honestly. He didn't know how bad it was. Why did he always had to feel like that? Like someone as almost everyone just didn't want him.

"Why? Why don't they want me? They don't even know the things I've done. Why they don't want me? Why doesn't anyone..." His voice cracked a bit. "I always feel like some stranger, the way people look at me, like I shouldn't be there." His tears were pooled in his eyes and he was struggling to keep them from escaping. "No one ever wanted me. I really wanted to know why. People just wanted me when I served some utility for them. I know I did awful things but...they don't know, and when I was a kid I hadn't done anything wrong to be treated like that." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well look at me babbling.

"You keep talking about your father, but you had to see how the way he treats me changed since I told him the truth." He was shaking because of the cold and feeling hungry after feeding the animals. Ruth's words soothed him though. Her little smile, he couldn't help but give her a soft sad one. "Don't underestimate yourself like that. You're strong." He was looking at her, feeling embraced by her protectiveness and surprised by her will to keep him safe. That was new and it felt so good.

Ruth didn't know why no one wanted John. Meanness and violence had never made sense to her. It just seemed to hinder any progress of any kind. "I don't know," she said in a quiet honesty. She paused, making sure to stay close. The lonely feeling he felt was something she'd felt when Eli left when she was a kid, and when her mother had died. It wasn't a good feeling. Even though she was a nice girl, she always felt sort of strange too. With her father being a preacher, it was clear people tried to act better around her because they thought of her a certain way. It wasn't a one-to-one parallel, but she understood a little. "I want you," she offered.

Realizing how that could be taken the wrong way, Ruth's cheeks flushed pink and she looked away quickly. "I mean... I like having you around. I don't want you to go. I know father is... well, he's a complicated man. But I know he cares even if he's not good at showing it. But he does. And even if he doesn't. I do."

She wiggled a little in her spot. "And I'm plenty warm now. Thank you." Standing after him, Ruth paused, not wanting to follow him right away. For a minute she'd forgotten all about her own troubles. John had helped her, and she intended to help him. Making sure all the food was put away quickly, she moved slowly to his room to not spook him. He looked sad and still a little cold laying on his bed all alone. Oh, how she wanted to just invade his space and keep him safe in her arms. His sniffs made her heart tense in worry. Making enough noise to let him know she was there, she moved further in. "Joh- er, James?" The name didn't feel right. She was holding clean warm clothes, soft ones for him to sleep in. "If you want to change..." She left again, leaving him in peace. After giving Dinner a snack she returned to his room, unable to bear the thought of him being alone. Moving close, she wondered if she should ask permission first... but then again, maybe just doing something would help.

That single phrase hit hard. So many emotions reacted to it, mixing with all the grief he was feeling about the chances of losing that new life. The urge to cry was big, and he swallowed it hard, his eyes and lips were clearly sad, surprised, worried and relieved at the same time. It was like the little boy inside him had been adopted. Finally someone who actually wanted him to be close, after so many years of people just using him or trying to make him go away.

"I...I understood— I get what you mean." His eyes were so teary, his heart so lost, not knowing if it should beat fast or slow. "Your father...he...he wants you safe." He looked down, looking so emotionally drained. Then, he smiled a little. "I'm glad you're warm. Good. You're strong."

When he hit the bed, his senses just vanished from his body. He felt heavy like a rock, arm hanging off the bed, chest against the mattress, he blacked out. Some time later, Ruth's voice made him wake up, opening his eyes wide, ready to aid her but she was alright. He sat on the bed slowly, rubbed his eyes. "Thanks. You're the best." And slowly, he changed, feeling so cold, still feeling so heavy, feeling sick. His chest was aching, his body was shivering like he was feverish. He crumbled back to bed, eyes closing fast, getting asleep so fast, like his body was fighting so many things— the cold, the shock of resting on the snow, the humid freezing air outside, the pressure he felt, the anger, the sadness, the fear and grief of losing all that.

While sleeping, he noticed her steps, he could even feel her hesitant gaze on him, and then she joined the bed, hugged him, started to caress his back, and suddenly, the world felt like a safer place. John pretty much curled against her chest, allowing himself to enjoy that shelter. Waking up to her embrace had to be one of the best sensations he had ever felt.

He shyly nuzzled against her, slowly finding comfort. "I just need...just stay like this for now." He muttered. John knew he was guilty of all his crimes. He just didn't know how things could have been different. He wished he could erase the past, and he wished he wasn't so stupid to raise attendion like he had. He wished so many things were different. Instead of hugging her tight or protectivelly, he just curled against her, seeking her shelter, as if he could hide there. He felt so loved. And he was so tired. He coughed a feel times, getting feverish, struggling against whatever disease was trying to hit him. Her caresses on his back made him feel calmer. He fell asleep just like that, melting against her, accepting every touch, accepting her and feeling so grateful.

"Well, I guess I'm yours then. I have no one else...nowhere else....and you want me."

He muttered in his sleep, words he truly meant it, and just like she hadn't meant "I want you" in any lusty way, he also didn't mean it like that— that sense of belonging was way deeper, something he had always searched for— he just wanted to be loved or at least accepted, and now finally he had found someone who did.

"Sleep well, John Marston."

Boaz hadn't looked up, he was still sluking. Andrew made sense. A lot of sense... but he didn't really want to listen. The very idea of him proving Millton was some horrible criminal and Ruth defending him.....he despised the idea. 'Ain't askin' him to be a saint,' Boaz muttered. 'But if he's a criminal, then I gotta do my job. If he ain't been pardoned, then it's unlawful if we let him walk around this town.' The man felt another surge of jealousy. 'There's somethin' off about him. I can feel it.'

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

Boaz frowned. He'd been trying to be sincere, but the man was making it very hard. "Now hold on," he huffed. "I ain't a fool. No one just happens to handle a gun the way you do. Not even lawmen." He stared at John. "I've been looking through the wanted posters. When I find you, then I'll be sure. You don't want to cross me." The threat was half hearted. Boaz was an easily angered man and he was jealous. Jealous that this drifter got to spend every waking minute with the girl he'd hoped to marry. He'd be reacting much worsely if he knew that Ruth asked the man to stay with her each night.

Boaz was about to get angry again, when a voice called out from behind the house. "John?" Ruth was calling for him, not knowing Boaz was there. She had heard noises in the house and it spooked her. It was almost instinct for her to search for John in times of trouble now.

Glaring, the deputy sauntered off, muttering angrily.

Ruth waited by the door, her fingers tapping the wood to keep her mind occupied. She'd eaten a little, and her feet had warmed up to a normal temperature. She couldn't wait to curl up in his bed again. The thought of the warm sheets, her safe little nest, his smell, it all made her feel a bit better. She wondered about the man who had attacked her... It was hard to think about, to remember, but John had been right. It couldn't define her. Nothing had hardly even happened... It made her a little embarrassed that she was close to clueless in those kinds of matters. She thought for a brief minute about asking John for advice... to maybe expalin... or show– She pushed the thought down as he appeared.

"Well I think specially lawmen should know how to shoot. But you're a bunch of cowards. That damn gang for months robbing and terrorizing the county and you did nothing to solve it. You're a bunch of old ladies wearing a star and a damn uniform, that's what you are. I've seen school girls more intimidating than you." John was getting furious. The more Boaz talked, the more Marston wanted to shoot him in the face.

The man was threatening him.

"I ain't afraid of you. And you're the one crossing me. It seems like you decided to grow a pair of balls but they grew in the place of your damn brains instead, asshole." John was snarling at the other man, his stare, his glare, like Jim Milton was gone.

"I came to this town, searched for a damn job, no one offered a hand. Then I do your bounty hinting, finish off Esposo's gang, and you treat me like some criminal? Do you want me to be? You want that?" He was ready to draw his gun and shoot Boaz in the head. "You came here to ask about someone you couldn't even protect, and you spit shit right at me just cause I can shoot better than you? And you all these months letting a gang grow and spread like sickness near the town she sleeps in!? You're sick in the head, you son of a—"

John.

The moment he heard Ruth's sweet voice, his right arm stopped tensing. He quit to draw and shoot. And when Boaz turned to leave, the temptation of shooting him through his back was big. But he knew that would ruin everything. He knew Boaz had warned others he was visiting, and he knew that if the man suspected that, others also probably did.

So that was it? The sheriff and friends were already searching for old wanted posters? Investigating him? If that was true and they found something, John knew he'd be doomed. Boaz accusing him like that, the man must have known he'd have support if he ordered an arrest.

John's heart was beating so fast. His hair even got a bit spiky, his forehead frowning like crazy, gritting his teeth, eyes teary of anger and revolt. He took a deep breath, watched Boaz leave, stare, John's eyes full of rage, his eyes telling clearly, I would have killed you right now if it wasn't for her. And he didn't say a word.

John returned home to look at Ruth. "It's Jim. James Milton." She had said John unaware Boaz was there. "Boaz was here. He wanted to know if you was alright. I told him to come in but...." He went silent, looked down, serious. Worried. If the police wanted him him behind bars, if they were planning that and needed just a tiny bit of evidence, then he was screwed.

"Stop calling me by my name, alright? It's James Milton. Jim if you must." He didn't seen mad at her, he wasn't, but he looked dead serious. "You don't need to praise me, miss. Smart? It's just...life experience I guess. I've lived through a lot of bad things." He held back tears, bit his lips. "Once your father comes back, I'm leaving this town." He said, sitting down. "I shouldn't have told you or your father who I was. I shouldn't have stayed here. He thinks I'm a criminal. And he ain't wrong. He said he'll search for evidence. He finds anything...I'm doomed."

For the first time, John looked defeated, sitting there, with his hands on his thighs, feet spread supporting his weight.

"I could go talk to the sheriff myself. Tell him about what Boaz said, how he threatened me, how he's accusing me without any proof, but it's damn obvious the sheriff would rather stay by his deputy side, even if he's wrong. Probably that sheriff also thinks I'm some gunslinger with a past of crimes. Maybe everyone thinks. Maybe I should disappear before they find something." His voice cracked. He had called too much attention, ending that gang. Looking down, a tear fell down, rolled down his cheek. Now that he was starting to feel like he was home. He kept looking down, taking deep breaths, facepalming from time to time. "Fuck...the hell I do? The fuck I should do?" He muttered to himself, thin legs and arms, tense due to cold and worry.

If he escaped again, he'd make sure to be more careful, tell no one about who he was, don't use his skills at all. Maybe it was too late though. Once they found who he was, it would come to light John Marston was alive and then....then he'd be wanted in every town all over the state, again. What life would he be able to live?

He tried to smile but failed.

"Actually I'm pretty stupid."

"Leaving?" She almost cried in shock. Her heart sank to her toes. The thought was terrible. It reminded her of when she was little, when Eli had walked out on her and her mother. She remembered pulling at his arm and watching him disappear. "You can't leave–" she worried, not thinking as her hands reached out to grab his arm. "I'll talk to the deputy... Father won't let them hurt you. You can't–"

Sitting next to him, Ruth knew she couldn't let him give up. Or go. She wanted him to stay... maybe she needed it. Needed him. After all, without him, she'd be dead or worse.

Besides that, Ruth had truly come to see John as a friend. She cared about him like she cared about all her friends. Him leaving would make him lonely again. He could clearly handle himself, but it was dangerous. He deserved rest... peace... Ruth couldn't stand the idea of him wandering alone, trying to settle in a place that wouldn't have him when her little world so desperately wanted to keep him. She resolved to speak with Boaz when she went to get Eli from the station the next day. Ruth had to find a way to get John to stay. It might be a futile fight, but she would fight it anyway.

"Why does he hate me that much? The first time we met, I tried to be friendly. Why the hell everyone hates me so much? Is it my face? The scars? Do people assume I'm bad because of them? Or was it my shooting skills? If the deputies are incompetent it ain't my fault, they seem to hate me for doing them a favor. I literally did they job and...they..." He sighed even more, his voice cracking a little, eyes starting to pool tears that wanted to roll down.

"I know what I am. I know the things I've done. But I did nothing wrong here. It's like...those people didn't even give me a chance and....they're trying to ruin everything the people who actually gave me a chance did." He was clearly hurt. Deeply hurt. Like the town he helped was spitting on his face. "I don't know what I would do if that asshole came to arrest me. I don't know if I should just let them or kill everyone in front of me in this damn town." His voice was bitter, acid, raspy, like a growl. He was angry, upset. Not with Ruth, but with the whole situation.

"I really hope all this shit is just Boaz. Cause if it's the whole police force, then I'm screwed. If they're after me, waiting just for some evidence, I doubt they'd let me leave town either. I bet the moment I step outside the county that bastard would try putting a bullet in my back." He took his gloves off, setting thme aside, his eyes sweetening and looking at Ruth. She was....such a baby girl. So nice and so scared. He really wished she wasn't so afraid of everything.

John gave her a soft smile.

"Alright. I'll stay. But if things get ugly, I'll have to run away. If they come after me, I...I can't let them hang me. I'll....I'll have to try and run away. I don't wanna die. I want to have a good life. An honest one." Eli...Fred...Ruth....maybe they could help. But if it turned out Boaz was the only one against John, if it turned out the deputy was the only one who found evidence against Marston, if the others didn't know, then he knew the safest actiong would be to kill Boaz.

One of the deputies was highly suspicious of John too, but for a different reason. Deputy Andrew was investigating Kramer's death. Andrew was a calm old man, his wife worked at the orphanage, she was a woman of old age, had been there for a long time, and turns out the day John showed up to help with the donations, she recognized him. Even without the long hair and the scars on his face, the old lady, Martha, she remembered John, the feral aura, the determined graysh eyes, even the way he walked, a bit weird like he simply moved differently, ready to tense up and have some quick reflex to protect himself, like a cat. His fangies, his dark hair, the eyebrows and eyelashes, John was actually handsome, and even as a kid, excluding the messy long hair, the dirt and the anger on his face, those features had remained the same.

Martha used to like John, always had treated him well. She remembered the sneaky smart kid he was, how he was ready to just vanish from a room if he felt any threat— and she remembered how sweet he was too, how he's sleep against her leg when he was afraid to be alone or when she brought him food. She remembered how little John was rabid like a wild cat when he joined the orphanage, how he was starting to get sweet and docile under hee care and how he changed completely after....Kramer. She suspected the man had been hitting him, but it was hard to convince anyone. She remembered talking to her husband about it, worried, so maybe the deputies could do something, but again, all Andrew could ever do was to feel bad for the kid.

The old couple didn't mean John any harm. None of them had shared the secret, none of them had told anyone about the new guy Jim Milton looking like little John so much. She was surprised Fred didn't remember John as well, maybe because both were kids back then. She had tried to catch any hints out from conversations, but apparently, only she and her husband knew who James was. They became sure the day she saw Jim working with Fred, his sleeves pulled, she saw the scar John had on his right arm, a big one that looked like a straight like. She remembered the day Kramer tried to threaten John with a knife, and John had moved and struggled and ended up cutting himself by accident because Kramer held him. That day he showed up with his arm bleeding and half his hair cut. She remembered combing his hair gently, parting the hair from left to right to hide the chunck had that been cut, almost ripped by the man, and apparently, John had never changed that, even now after 20 years. He was such a special boy to her. Capable of so much sweetness but so hurt, so aggressive like an abused animal, afraid of everything.

She had talked about Andrew about adopting him, taking him away from Kramer, but her husband said no. Said they already had two kids to raise. And now with Kramer's deth, and the deputy who seemed to have been bribed to try and have the man escape showing up killed just by his side, Andrew was afraid, thinking it could have been John out of revenge.

Andrew had asked Martha many times is she was sure if John was James, and she always said she was. Because of the way John looked at her that day during charity delivery, and then the day he saw her on the street when he was buying new clothes...and when he was working with Fred. That soft, guilty, nostalgic gaze John always gave her. Always the same, like a puppy that runs to you with shinning eyes, all left was for John to smile to her, and she knew she would cry.

Andrew was afraid. He hoped Marston wouldn't be a threat to that town. His wife defended the man at all costs in every conversation they had. Yet now Kramer was dead, and Andrew started to question if John had done it, if he was a threat.

Meanwhile, in that hotel room Eli had paid for the brothers and their sister to stay, Cain was smiling holding his hunting knife, just like he was the night he killed Kramer. That small family also had been victim of that demonic old man, and seeing Kramer from the hotel room trying to escape the prison that night, it was the perfect opportunity, and Cain had taken it.

Glad to hear him say that he would stay, she breathed a little easier, but still worried of what would happen if he was driven out of town. She'd never be able to look at people the same again. He almost looked like a child, saying he didn't want to die. That he wanted a good and honest life. Ruth wished she could give those things to him.

She cared for the man. He was her friend. She was starting to realize that she must learn to fight for the things she wants, the things she knows are right, and herself as well.

"You're safe as long as you're here," she promised gently. "I know that doesn't sound like much coming from me of all people, but I won't let them hurt you." She gave a small smile. "Come... you need food too. And more rest. You've been so helpful." She nodded toward the kitchen. "You've taken care of me, and father too. Let us care for you as well."

John got quieter and quieter as Ruth soothed him. He didn't know what to think honestly. He didn't know how bad it was. Why did he always had to feel like that? Like someone as almost everyone just didn't want him.

"Why? Why don't they want me? They don't even know the things I've done. Why they don't want me? Why doesn't anyone..." His voice cracked a bit. "I always feel like some stranger, the way people look at me, like I shouldn't be there." His tears were pooled in his eyes and he was struggling to keep them from escaping. "No one ever wanted me. I really wanted to know why. People just wanted me when I served some utility for them. I know I did awful things but...they don't know, and when I was a kid I hadn't done anything wrong to be treated like that." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well look at me babbling.

"You keep talking about your father, but you had to see how the way he treats me changed since I told him the truth." He was shaking because of the cold and feeling hungry after feeding the animals. Ruth's words soothed him though. Her little smile, he couldn't help but give her a soft sad one. "Don't underestimate yourself like that. You're strong." He was looking at her, feeling embraced by her protectiveness and surprised by her will to keep him safe. That was new and it felt so good.

Ruth didn't know why no one wanted John. Meanness and violence had never made sense to her. It just seemed to hinder any progress of any kind. "I don't know," she said in a quiet honesty. She paused, making sure to stay close. The lonely feeling he felt was something she'd felt when Eli left when she was a kid, and when her mother had died. It wasn't a good feeling. Even though she was a nice girl, she always felt sort of strange too. With her father being a preacher, it was clear people tried to act better around her because they thought of her a certain way. It wasn't a one-to-one parallel, but she understood a little. "I want you," she offered.

Realizing how that could be taken the wrong way, Ruth's cheeks flushed pink and she looked away quickly. "I mean... I like having you around. I don't want you to go. I know father is... well, he's a complicated man. But I know he cares even if he's not good at showing it. But he does. And even if he doesn't. I do."

She wiggled a little in her spot. "And I'm plenty warm now. Thank you." Standing after him, Ruth paused, not wanting to follow him right away. For a minute she'd forgotten all about her own troubles. John had helped her, and she intended to help him. Making sure all the food was put away quickly, she moved slowly to his room to not spook him. He looked sad and still a little cold laying on his bed all alone. Oh, how she wanted to just invade his space and keep him safe in her arms. His sniffs made her heart tense in worry. Making enough noise to let him know she was there, she moved further in. "Joh- er, James?" The name didn't feel right. She was holding clean warm clothes, soft ones for him to sleep in. "If you want to change..." She left again, leaving him in peace. After giving Dinner a snack she returned to his room, unable to bear the thought of him being alone. Moving close, she wondered if she should ask permission first... but then again, maybe just doing something would help.

Previous — When Eli sighed, John already knew what probably was on his mind. That look in his eyes of a man who hated himself. "No. I ain't afraid of you. I ain't afraid of dying either. And don't get me wrong, damn, you're scary. It's not that though." John's eyes were getting teary too at Eli's words. He listened and to realize the man was accepting him, all of him, Jim Milton and John Marston, that was such a relief. "I ain't afraid of dying. I had been wandering and drinking hoping I'd die and not even notice. I couldn't swallow a bullet....but...I pretty much had given up. Trying, you know? I....I just....don't wanna die...without achieving anything." His voice was almost breaking. "Anything....good. Anything worth it. I...I was an inconvenience to people my whole life. Someone like me should be dead....I shouldn't even have been born. My mom...she died because I came to this world. I feel....it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be, it was...too cruel." He was struggling to hold back his tears. "I look back sometimes and I think....what a waste. I'm thirty now....I was supposed to be a man. But...I achieved nothing, I build nothing. Nothing more than a pile of corpses."

He kept listening, patting Dinner softly when the animal poked his leg. Eli's words touched him deeply. "You did nothing wrong to me, you don't need my forgiveness. You saved my life and protected this place. We need strength to protect what's precious, to do what is right. Fighting isn't wrong. We ain't like those men, Mister MacAdams. They broke into this place out of spite. I was never a rapist, I didn't hurt women or children. I would kill a man just for looking me wrong, I was....damn...I am bad. But...not that bad. I ain't...vile I guess. Those men are sick of the head and....perfid. Burying them is doing the world a favor." John was pretty rough when it came to that— he had no mercy for abusers.

"We don't have to do grace. I guess...not murdering people like maniacs already is a good start." He gave Eli a smile, a truthful smile, and when the man stood, he followed, and when he mentioned going to town again to get John some clothes, his eyes shone in happiness. He felt he didn't deserve it, and yet he was so glad, he held Eli's forearm with both hands gently, hesitating to hug the man, holding back clearly, containing his joy— he had been accepted in that house, all of him. He felt he belonged, he felt loved— and he had so much love to give as well.

"I told you....because I feel I can't forge a new life while hiding things from you. I don't wanna lie...and...yes...John Marston is dead...I don't take my words back. I...I wanna change. I'm changing. I might...borrow his power when I need. To defend this place, you, Ruthie...I will kill for that, without regrets. But my days of train heists and robbery are over." He sighed, lowering his head, letting go of Eli's arm. "I told you my name because I'm tired of building things....just to watch them crumble. It's difficult for me to....get attached...and....I really want...I always wanted a family. A proper family, not...getting used or...some drunk father who'd...." He almost broke again. "If who I was got to ruin all this...all I'm trying to build....then...then I'd rather have it settled it right now rather than live a lie and watch everything we forged get ruined. I'm not afraid of you." His eyes said everything. Instead of fear, no, he already loved that man and Ruth. And the church and even the rabbit. John's chest was tense due to holding the sobbing and the tears solid, didn't shed not even one. "Thanks for having me here, Mr.MacAdams." John said with all of his heart, gripping the man's shirt over his chest, squeezing the fabric a little and then letting it go.

When he saw Ruth's little boots, he remembered. "By the way, I had Ruthie sleep here last night. You told me to stay with her, and I didn't want to bother you to ask. I kept the door and window locked, rifle ready just in case, but it was a peaceful night."

Boaz frowned. He'd been trying to be sincere, but the man was making it very hard. "Now hold on," he huffed. "I ain't a fool. No one just happens to handle a gun the way you do. Not even lawmen." He stared at John. "I've been looking through the wanted posters. When I find you, then I'll be sure. You don't want to cross me." The threat was half hearted. Boaz was an easily angered man and he was jealous. Jealous that this drifter got to spend every waking minute with the girl he'd hoped to marry. He'd be reacting much worsely if he knew that Ruth asked the man to stay with her each night.

Boaz was about to get angry again, when a voice called out from behind the house. "John?" Ruth was calling for him, not knowing Boaz was there. She had heard noises in the house and it spooked her. It was almost instinct for her to search for John in times of trouble now.

Glaring, the deputy sauntered off, muttering angrily.

Ruth waited by the door, her fingers tapping the wood to keep her mind occupied. She'd eaten a little, and her feet had warmed up to a normal temperature. She couldn't wait to curl up in his bed again. The thought of the warm sheets, her safe little nest, his smell, it all made her feel a bit better. She wondered about the man who had attacked her... It was hard to think about, to remember, but John had been right. It couldn't define her. Nothing had hardly even happened... It made her a little embarrassed that she was close to clueless in those kinds of matters. She thought for a brief minute about asking John for advice... to maybe expalin... or show– She pushed the thought down as he appeared.

"Well I think specially lawmen should know how to shoot. But you're a bunch of cowards. That damn gang for months robbing and terrorizing the county and you did nothing to solve it. You're a bunch of old ladies wearing a star and a damn uniform, that's what you are. I've seen school girls more intimidating than you." John was getting furious. The more Boaz talked, the more Marston wanted to shoot him in the face.

The man was threatening him.

"I ain't afraid of you. And you're the one crossing me. It seems like you decided to grow a pair of balls but they grew in the place of your damn brains instead, asshole." John was snarling at the other man, his stare, his glare, like Jim Milton was gone.

"I came to this town, searched for a damn job, no one offered a hand. Then I do your bounty hinting, finish off Esposo's gang, and you treat me like some criminal? Do you want me to be? You want that?" He was ready to draw his gun and shoot Boaz in the head. "You came here to ask about someone you couldn't even protect, and you spit shit right at me just cause I can shoot better than you? And you all these months letting a gang grow and spread like sickness near the town she sleeps in!? You're sick in the head, you son of a—"

John.

The moment he heard Ruth's sweet voice, his right arm stopped tensing. He quit to draw and shoot. And when Boaz turned to leave, the temptation of shooting him through his back was big. But he knew that would ruin everything. He knew Boaz had warned others he was visiting, and he knew that if the man suspected that, others also probably did.

So that was it? The sheriff and friends were already searching for old wanted posters? Investigating him? If that was true and they found something, John knew he'd be doomed. Boaz accusing him like that, the man must have known he'd have support if he ordered an arrest.

John's heart was beating so fast. His hair even got a bit spiky, his forehead frowning like crazy, gritting his teeth, eyes teary of anger and revolt. He took a deep breath, watched Boaz leave, stare, John's eyes full of rage, his eyes telling clearly, I would have killed you right now if it wasn't for her. And he didn't say a word.

John returned home to look at Ruth. "It's Jim. James Milton." She had said John unaware Boaz was there. "Boaz was here. He wanted to know if you was alright. I told him to come in but...." He went silent, looked down, serious. Worried. If the police wanted him him behind bars, if they were planning that and needed just a tiny bit of evidence, then he was screwed.

"Stop calling me by my name, alright? It's James Milton. Jim if you must." He didn't seen mad at her, he wasn't, but he looked dead serious. "You don't need to praise me, miss. Smart? It's just...life experience I guess. I've lived through a lot of bad things." He held back tears, bit his lips. "Once your father comes back, I'm leaving this town." He said, sitting down. "I shouldn't have told you or your father who I was. I shouldn't have stayed here. He thinks I'm a criminal. And he ain't wrong. He said he'll search for evidence. He finds anything...I'm doomed."

For the first time, John looked defeated, sitting there, with his hands on his thighs, feet spread supporting his weight.

"I could go talk to the sheriff myself. Tell him about what Boaz said, how he threatened me, how he's accusing me without any proof, but it's damn obvious the sheriff would rather stay by his deputy side, even if he's wrong. Probably that sheriff also thinks I'm some gunslinger with a past of crimes. Maybe everyone thinks. Maybe I should disappear before they find something." His voice cracked. He had called too much attention, ending that gang. Looking down, a tear fell down, rolled down his cheek. Now that he was starting to feel like he was home. He kept looking down, taking deep breaths, facepalming from time to time. "Fuck...the hell I do? The fuck I should do?" He muttered to himself, thin legs and arms, tense due to cold and worry.

If he escaped again, he'd make sure to be more careful, tell no one about who he was, don't use his skills at all. Maybe it was too late though. Once they found who he was, it would come to light John Marston was alive and then....then he'd be wanted in every town all over the state, again. What life would he be able to live?

He tried to smile but failed.

"Actually I'm pretty stupid."

"Leaving?" She almost cried in shock. Her heart sank to her toes. The thought was terrible. It reminded her of when she was little, when Eli had walked out on her and her mother. She remembered pulling at his arm and watching him disappear. "You can't leave–" she worried, not thinking as her hands reached out to grab his arm. "I'll talk to the deputy... Father won't let them hurt you. You can't–"

Sitting next to him, Ruth knew she couldn't let him give up. Or go. She wanted him to stay... maybe she needed it. Needed him. After all, without him, she'd be dead or worse.

Besides that, Ruth had truly come to see John as a friend. She cared about him like she cared about all her friends. Him leaving would make him lonely again. He could clearly handle himself, but it was dangerous. He deserved rest... peace... Ruth couldn't stand the idea of him wandering alone, trying to settle in a place that wouldn't have him when her little world so desperately wanted to keep him. She resolved to speak with Boaz when she went to get Eli from the station the next day. Ruth had to find a way to get John to stay. It might be a futile fight, but she would fight it anyway.

"Why does he hate me that much? The first time we met, I tried to be friendly. Why the hell everyone hates me so much? Is it my face? The scars? Do people assume I'm bad because of them? Or was it my shooting skills? If the deputies are incompetent it ain't my fault, they seem to hate me for doing them a favor. I literally did they job and...they..." He sighed even more, his voice cracking a little, eyes starting to pool tears that wanted to roll down.

"I know what I am. I know the things I've done. But I did nothing wrong here. It's like...those people didn't even give me a chance and....they're trying to ruin everything the people who actually gave me a chance did." He was clearly hurt. Deeply hurt. Like the town he helped was spitting on his face. "I don't know what I would do if that asshole came to arrest me. I don't know if I should just let them or kill everyone in front of me in this damn town." His voice was bitter, acid, raspy, like a growl. He was angry, upset. Not with Ruth, but with the whole situation.

"I really hope all this shit is just Boaz. Cause if it's the whole police force, then I'm screwed. If they're after me, waiting just for some evidence, I doubt they'd let me leave town either. I bet the moment I step outside the county that bastard would try putting a bullet in my back." He took his gloves off, setting thme aside, his eyes sweetening and looking at Ruth. She was....such a baby girl. So nice and so scared. He really wished she wasn't so afraid of everything.

John gave her a soft smile.

"Alright. I'll stay. But if things get ugly, I'll have to run away. If they come after me, I...I can't let them hang me. I'll....I'll have to try and run away. I don't wanna die. I want to have a good life. An honest one." Eli...Fred...Ruth....maybe they could help. But if it turned out Boaz was the only one against John, if it turned out the deputy was the only one who found evidence against Marston, if the others didn't know, then he knew the safest actiong would be to kill Boaz.

One of the deputies was highly suspicious of John too, but for a different reason. Deputy Andrew was investigating Kramer's death. Andrew was a calm old man, his wife worked at the orphanage, she was a woman of old age, had been there for a long time, and turns out the day John showed up to help with the donations, she recognized him. Even without the long hair and the scars on his face, the old lady, Martha, she remembered John, the feral aura, the determined graysh eyes, even the way he walked, a bit weird like he simply moved differently, ready to tense up and have some quick reflex to protect himself, like a cat. His fangies, his dark hair, the eyebrows and eyelashes, John was actually handsome, and even as a kid, excluding the messy long hair, the dirt and the anger on his face, those features had remained the same.

Martha used to like John, always had treated him well. She remembered the sneaky smart kid he was, how he was ready to just vanish from a room if he felt any threat— and she remembered how sweet he was too, how he's sleep against her leg when he was afraid to be alone or when she brought him food. She remembered how little John was rabid like a wild cat when he joined the orphanage, how he was starting to get sweet and docile under hee care and how he changed completely after....Kramer. She suspected the man had been hitting him, but it was hard to convince anyone. She remembered talking to her husband about it, worried, so maybe the deputies could do something, but again, all Andrew could ever do was to feel bad for the kid.

The old couple didn't mean John any harm. None of them had shared the secret, none of them had told anyone about the new guy Jim Milton looking like little John so much. She was surprised Fred didn't remember John as well, maybe because both were kids back then. She had tried to catch any hints out from conversations, but apparently, only she and her husband knew who James was. They became sure the day she saw Jim working with Fred, his sleeves pulled, she saw the scar John had on his right arm, a big one that looked like a straight like. She remembered the day Kramer tried to threaten John with a knife, and John had moved and struggled and ended up cutting himself by accident because Kramer held him. That day he showed up with his arm bleeding and half his hair cut. She remembered combing his hair gently, parting the hair from left to right to hide the chunck had that been cut, almost ripped by the man, and apparently, John had never changed that, even now after 20 years. He was such a special boy to her. Capable of so much sweetness but so hurt, so aggressive like an abused animal, afraid of everything.

She had talked about Andrew about adopting him, taking him away from Kramer, but her husband said no. Said they already had two kids to raise. And now with Kramer's deth, and the deputy who seemed to have been bribed to try and have the man escape showing up killed just by his side, Andrew was afraid, thinking it could have been John out of revenge.

Andrew had asked Martha many times is she was sure if John was James, and she always said she was. Because of the way John looked at her that day during charity delivery, and then the day he saw her on the street when he was buying new clothes...and when he was working with Fred. That soft, guilty, nostalgic gaze John always gave her. Always the same, like a puppy that runs to you with shinning eyes, all left was for John to smile to her, and she knew she would cry.

Andrew was afraid. He hoped Marston wouldn't be a threat to that town. His wife defended the man at all costs in every conversation they had. Yet now Kramer was dead, and Andrew started to question if John had done it, if he was a threat.

Meanwhile, in that hotel room Eli had paid for the brothers and their sister to stay, Cain was smiling holding his hunting knife, just like he was the night he killed Kramer. That small family also had been victim of that demonic old man, and seeing Kramer from the hotel room trying to escape the prison that night, it was the perfect opportunity, and Cain had taken it.

Glad to hear him say that he would stay, she breathed a little easier, but still worried of what would happen if he was driven out of town. She'd never be able to look at people the same again. He almost looked like a child, saying he didn't want to die. That he wanted a good and honest life. Ruth wished she could give those things to him.

She cared for the man. He was her friend. She was starting to realize that she must learn to fight for the things she wants, the things she knows are right, and herself as well.

"You're safe as long as you're here," she promised gently. "I know that doesn't sound like much coming from me of all people, but I won't let them hurt you." She gave a small smile. "Come... you need food too. And more rest. You've been so helpful." She nodded toward the kitchen. "You've taken care of me, and father too. Let us care for you as well."