You’re sick. And you weren’t getting any better. In fact, you only seemed to be getting worse.

You had been going on less and less missions lately, spending more time in your tent, getting less talkative around the campfire. All of this was starting to worry some of the members of the gang, especially Arthur. He knew you best after all, and this wasn’t the person he was used to.

One night after a big mission, the whole gang was around the campfire, singing songs and drinking to wind down. However, you were in your tent, curled up on your cot, eyes closed and shoulders trembling slightly. After about half an hour of Arthur being unable to keep his eyes off your tent, he walked over, gently opening the flap.

The sight of you made his heart sink. You didn’t even notice him before you felt strong, calloused hands grip your shoulders and lean you up against his chest.

“Oh, darlin’…” He murmured.