Charles Smith x Female reader
It’s been years since you were part of the gang. It’s been so long since Arthur died saving as many as he could. It’s been even longer since you lost people from your family like Hosea and Lenny, Sean, Jenny and those Callander boys.
It’s been, what feels like a lifetime, since you’ve seen Charles.
AN: this is part 1 of this fic, a nice little Charles Smith goodness for you (and myself). The title is from a Hozier song btw.
If you want to find it, I have it posted on Ao3.
The train whistle wakes you up like a stab to the head. It’s been a long ride, from Beecher’s Hope to Saint Denis. But you’d told John and Uncle that it was best you go alone, that neither of them would want to witness this reunion.
Uncle had joked that he did, unsurprisingly. But John had understood. He always did, like a good brother should. For the past few years, you’d been helping him and Abigail out when you could, when you weren’t working, yourself. Singing in bars and small shows earned well enough, but not often enough. So, you’d also taken up teaching, local kids and sometimes as a private tutor to folks who could afford it.
But ever since Abigail had left with Jack, and you really couldn’t blame her, you’d stuck by John since there wasn’t really anyone else anymore. You’d almost slapped him stupid when he told you he’d bought Beecher’s Hope; the rundown dust-pit of land it was. But it’s what Abigail wanted, he’d said, and that had been the end of it.
But this reunion is yours. John and Uncle know that. It’s yours and it’s been yours for over eight years.
When you get off the train, you’re hit with the reminder that you really don’t like Saint Denis. It’s like a fact that was lost to time, only to be discovered by being there. Dutch may have been wrong about several things, but his dislike for civilization was something you couldn’t disagree on. Pushing aside thoughts on that man, that time, you stride into town with a strong sense of determination. Most folk turn away from you, a few children jump out of your way, even. You’ve got one job to do here and you’ll be damned if anyone tried to stop you. It’s like the sweetest stab of pain; being so close but it’s still not enough.
Your feet carry you to the nearest tavern, one you and Sadie Adler had gone to when you’d been sent to scope out the town. Another ghost from the past you were joyously reunited with. But you weren’t here for her. Nor for pleasantries with the barman. You ask your questions and he wisely gives you directions without missing a beat.
As you near your destination, you notice a few others heading the same way. There’s some sort of excitement to them. Those that walk in pairs talk hurriedly between themselves while other men walk determinedly. You follow one such fellow all the way to Saint Saturnines. A few of them give you strange looks; a woman walking alone to whatever excites them so much.
It’s when you hear the crowd that your nerves suddenly kick in. Your determination wavers for a moment as you stand just at the gate. An old man brushes past you, looking at you funny, and you notice the cash in his hand. A thought clicks in your head and suddenly you realize exactly what you’re walking into.
After everything that had happened in the gang, the idea of a crowd of men cheering for a fight doesn’t seem to bother you. The thrill you used to get when you went of a job with your fellow gang-members (it hurt to remember them as your family) spreads from your chest. You’re so close, you have to be, and your footsteps quicken around the corner.
“…but they hate a massacre, and you are a killer. I’m going now.”
“That man has no clue,” you say as casually as possible, even with your heart trying to crawl up your throat. You nearly sob when Charles turns around and sees you. He’s tired, he’s bloody bruised, and as handsome as you remember.
“Hello Charles.” The name slides so nicely along your tongue, causing a smile to split across your face.
“You’re alive!” He moves to touch you, bruised hands reaching for you, but stops before he can. It won’t do. His hands are rough, warm, dirty and so very much real in your own. Any breath in you leaves as Charles’ hands grab yours just as tightly.
“So are you,” you say, laughing a little. A hiss of a breath slips past your teeth at the nasty cut on his cheek. You lift one of your hands from his to gently brush some of his hair away to see it better. “Is that as fun as it looks?”
“Of course not.” He leans into your gentle touch as if starved. Maybe he is, you certainly are.
“I missed you.” Plain and simple. It makes your heart feel too big for your chest. You want to cry. To laugh. To run away as far and as fast as you can. As long as you get to see Charles’ face.
“I missed you too. I missed you so much, Charles.” You grab his face just to lean your forehead against his. A small sound escapes him; it’s soft and raw and too emotional for you to process. “I can’t believe I found you.”
“How did you find me?” Charles pulls back a little to look at you. Your faces hover closely like hummingbirds and bees around beautiful flowers. “It’s been years.”
“Uncle said he heard you were here.”
“Uncle? He’s still alive.”
“Yeah, so is John and Abigail. Jack and Sadie too.”
“I can’t believe it.” Charles’ hands drift to your wrists, not missing the opportunity to run them up along your arms. He doesn’t try to pull you away, just holds you there.
“Uncle thought you were in some kind of trouble.”
“Kinda…” It’s now that Charles pulls your hands from his face. It’s the look of shame he has that worries you the most. “I’ve been throwing fights for a few dollars.”
“Throwing fights? Charles… that’s really dangerous you realize?”
“So… what do you want to do?”
Charles pauses for a long moment. His eyes only leave your face for barely a second when he glances at the crowd to your left. You watch his face, studying everything you remember and nuances that time has given him. It’s obvious when a thought occurs to Charles; his face lights up a little and you wish he would smile outright like he used to.
“Let me go place a bet.” It’s nowhere near what you had expected, nor what you really want, but Charles smiles at your obvious confusion and slight disappointment. “People are going to bet more on me losing.” Charles admits quietly, leaning closer to you. “Which means I’ll get more money if I win.”
“Yeah, I kinda already planned it.”
“Well, is there anything I can do?”
Again, Charles hesitates with a quick flash of shame. He looks down at his bare torso, covered in blood and a few scars.
“Y/n, don’t take this badly. But I’d rather you weren’t here. I… I don’t want you to see me…”
“See you beat the crap out of someone?” Charles snorts a laugh and it’s still one of your favourite sounds in the world. “I’ve seen you do it before. But never shirtless.”
That gets his attention. It’s the smallest movement, but you catch the twitch of Charles’ mouth as a warmth shows in his dark eyes. Suddenly the air between you is barely enough for your lungs.
“I could give you a private show. Later. But for now… wait for me out front?”
You nod without thinking; as if you could ever say no to him. Charles gives you a warm, fond smile that makes your stomach flutter like you were some naïve girl. When he steps back and gives you a better view his bared chest and arms, that fluttering turns to burning.
“I’ll go wait by the road.” You stumble backwards a little; unable to keep your eyes off of him. Charles, on his part struggles to turn away from you. When he does, however, you can’t help but call out. “Oh, and Charles? I’ll kiss you if you win.”
He looks baffled at first, like he cannot process your words. But then there’s a joy in his eyes that reminds you so much of hope. It takes more effort than you care to admit, to turn from him. But it won’t be long now before it’s just you and Charles after so many years.
