Chapter Text
It had been a long time since Javier thought of Kieran Duffy.
Seeing him again, Javier couldn't shake the thought of the distinct memory of his dead body riding his beautiful steed back in Shady Bells, with his head in his hands.
In the eyes of a much younger man, Kieran was a treacherous rat. The way Javier saw it, Kieran betrayed the O'Driscolls. He would betray the Van Der Linde gang as well. At the time, he had seen Kieran as the lowest of the type of puto-betraying his friends. While Javier held no love in his heart for the O'Driscolls, the Mexican had a high regard for loyalty and believed that there were absolutely no exceptions when it came to following orders.
Such thoughts were hypocritical in hindsight.
When the Pinkertons - the pendejos - came to their camp, Kieran didn't just stay aside cowardly. He'd gone as far as drawing his weapon. And that was when Javier began to warm up to him. The Mexican slowly started viewing him as yet another hermano. Javier was one of those who wasn't kind to him by any means. He'd treated him arguably even worse than Arthur; and yet, the boy remained loyal and never sold them out.
The moment he saw him again, he felt his heart clenching slightly.
The repulsive attack in his heart made him spasm slightly. Kieran was a good kid, but he was brought into the wrong world, and he ended up being tortured to death.
And, like last time, Arthur still captured him.
Dutch plotted the same acts of cruelty as O'Driscoll in order to get Kieran to spill information, trying to make him talk. Last time, Javier was young and dumb; he just saw it as necessary...
Hell, he still did so now...
Perhaps it was better that Kieran was tied up. It not only decreased the chances of him getting captured by the O'Driscolls but also allowed the gang to use him as bait to lure Colm out, and when they did, Javier would be able to put him down...
"Sir..." He murmured softly, "do you have any food?"
Javier stared at him with coldness. It was best he didn't cause a slip of the tongue. "Your name, O'Driscoll..."
"K-Kieran..." he stammered, "Kieran Duffy..."
"Well, Mr. Duffy, you were riding with the O'Driscolls. You ain't about to have the best days."
"I didn't have a choice!" He shouted. "Please, sir, have a h-"
Javier interrupted, "Don't try to pull off that bullshit, amigo."
Kieran shivered; whether it was the wind or something else, Javier didn't bother to care. Finally, he managed. "P-Please, sir, Colm O'Driscoll will kill me if I open my mouth. I-I'm going to die."
"And I care because? Why did you never run before?"
Kieran's eyes widened. "My father... my father was an Irishman with a dream of farming in California, but b-both he and my mo-mother later died of cholera. I had to work at stables, but they threw m-me out. I joined the army, b-but it didn't w-work out well. I've been with some outlaws before, but they got killed. I don't care about the O'Driscolls! I could either ride with them or die, which wasn't much of a choice. I a-am the b-botto-bottom rung of t-t-the ladder in their ga-ga-gang."
Wait a minute...
Mierda, what was wrong with him?!
The moment Javier entered the stable and relieved Charles of his guard duties, assuming his position, the Mexican tried with all his will to ignore him. Arthur and John were the only ones who perhaps had any meaning to him, and that hadn't exactly been due to loyalty. Perhaps John was right; he was a coward. However, Javier recognized that he had still been human, capable of human compassion and sympathy.
The Mexican Revolutions were always bloody affairs, but backing a dictator should have been something he'd never done.
And yet, his heart soared with...
Pity.
It was ridiculous.
Why did Kieran Duffy matter to him? Arthur and John, he'd known for a matter of years, but Kieran was in the gang for a short time and he was useless...
Javier held his stare, examining Kieran.
"Please, sir, just... do you have something to eat?" Kieran shivered. "I-I'm sure t-t-there's some part of you that... cares 'bout others."
Javier tried to shrug off his words.
But it was pointless.
Goddamn it...
He stormed away from Kieran... and returned with small portions of apple and water, helping him eat and drink. Once Kieran's stomach was full and he was able to pee properly, he nodded.
"Thank you."
He would probably help the kid when no one was looking. For old time's sake.
"If you tell anyone about me helping you, Kieran, you ain't ever going to be safe from me, understood?"
"Y-yes, sir!"
The Mexican stood there as time passed and eventually was replaced by Bill, allowing him to light a cigarette and begin to smoke.
Arthur and Charles had apparently gone out hunting and came back with deer on their individual horses. It was enough to feed the camp for days.
"So...?" Hosea began slowly, taking the space beside him. "You're questioning Dutch now?"
"I'm not-" Javier started defensively, worried that Hosea was going to scold him.
"It's alright, young man, I heard it from Arthur," Hosea quipped, his lips quirking slightly. "I just want to make sure that Dutch doesn't get you all killed, and I'm glad to see I'm not alone. Despite what he says, you nor anyone ain't betraying us for asking questions. That's what the gang is supposed to be about. A community."
It wasn't a community.
At least, it wouldn't be any more soon.
The gang would slowly become solely about Dutch and what he wanted. Javier was unable to handle the stress of last time, and he became interested in Micah's ideals because he took all the egoistical sucking up and bowing before Dutch as loyalty.
"Javier, I know it would be difficult," Hosea began slowly, placing his hand on his shoulder, "but I can't bear the thought of you swinging. You're smart. You can survive. And you're sweet on little Tilly."
A taunting grin crossed the older man's lips as the Mexican practically flipped in his to look at him.
"I ain't sweet on her, boss."
"It's alright if you want to marry one day, Javier."
What type of mujer would want him?
Before Javier could answer, the sound of a cabin door opening broke through the air.
"Railroad men, now that our bellies have been filled, it is time we make something of ourselves!" Dutch boomed. "Get your horses ready because we have a train to rob!"
He discarded the rest of his stew at once. Going after Cornwall was the beginning of the end for the Van Der Linde gang. The cabrón had armies that Javier witnessed.
Everyone else had to pay for it.
Hosea came to Dutch's side, clearly resisting as he grabbed his arms in frustration. "Why are we doing this?" the man asked. "The weather is breaking; we could leave. I thought we were lying low."
"We need money, Hosea." Dutch indicated for Charles to bring the Count. "Everything that we had is back in Blackwater."
"But..." Hosea's words fell empty, seemingly at a loss for words.
Javier decided he couldn't stay quiet anymore. "Hosea is not wrong, Dutch," he interjected, moving up to join them. "We can't be robbing trains, not with the amount of heat we have on us. The Pinkertons ain't going o be the only problems we face."
Dutch's eyes flashed. "That's the second time you've doubted me, Javier. I need your strength. You should know that we need money. With enough, we can-"
"It isn't about the money anymore," Javier rebuked. Dutch just didn't have a plan. All he did was speak sweet words and make empty promises that were as real as Abraham Reyes' wish to fight for a better Mexico with his Rebellion. "This train you're planning to rob..." he continued. "It belongs to a man named Leviticus Cornwall. That bastardo owns almost everything you can imagine. The mines, railroads, oil, land, and if he discovers we're going after him, he will send the Pinkertons after us until we're all dead."
"Well, good for him then." Dutch positioned himself on top of the Count and turned to face the exit. "He can learn just who he'll be dealing with."
No.
No. Please.
"Javier's right, Dutch!" Hosea pleaded.
Dutch focused behind him.
"Come on; ride with me!"
"Dutch!"
Too late...
Dutch beckoned, and pulled on the reins, causing the Count to run off. Hosea had to fling himself to the side or he would have been run over as he coughed madly into his hand.
Javier looked at Hosea and sighed before closing his eyes and moving up to Boaz and following the rest. The entire time, he'd stayed quiet, hoping that none of them noticed his behavior. Fortunately, if they did, no one commented on it, keeping focused on the mission ahead.
As soon as they arrived at the tracks, Arthur and Bill tried to set up the dynamite, but they failed.
Javier placed his bandana on, tying it around his nose.
"Damn!" Arthur growled in frustration, directing his next statement to Dutch, while Bill complained. "Where did you-"
Side by side, Arthur, Lenny, and Javier rushed up the pavement, pausing for a moment as the familiar form of the whizzing train passed them by. Finally, Arthur and Lenny leapt. Javier followed quickly behind and managed to stop himself from rolling off the vehicle. Lenny, on the other hand, wasn't as fortunate.
"Dammit, Arthur, Javier! Pull me up!" Lenny called from below, his hands and legs dangling for dear life. Based on raw, uncontrollable, and regrettable instinct, Javier ran beyond before he grasped the situation for what it was. It was about his own safety. Every man for himself as it had been twelve years in the future. But then..
Damn it!
The horror of what he was about to do set on him.
Oh, what was he doing?
Lenny was a kid!
He didn't deserve to die. Screw the money. Screw getting himself out. Javier'd wanted to avoid what happened to them before, right?
Arthur and Javier scurried over to Lenny, both gripping his stomach and bringing him up. The kid breathed heavily now that he was on solid ground, his lungs taking in proper air.
When Lenny managed to stand up, he gripped his revolver. "Come on, come on, I'm fine now... And thanks."
"Try not to fall off any more trains, kid," Arthur sniped sarcastically, "Javier and I ain't always going to be there.
Javier was following behind Arthur and Lenny. The older man trusted the dark-skinned man to stab those unaware guards in the back. When they were informed of their presence, Javier had his revolver in hand and fired.
He wasn't alone.
Eventually, Arthur got into a brief scuffle with the final man on this train section. Due to being caught off-guard, the man gave him a difficult time and even knocked the hat off of Arthur's head. Yet, Arthur countered and was obviously gaining the upper hand.
The longer the fight went, however, the more time they've wasted...
"I can't get a sh-" Lenny began, only for another bullet to sail past Arthur and hit the poor man in the side of the head. "Aye, Javier!"
Arthur looked down at the man, observing his body, before staring up at the form of Javier Escuella. A revolver smoked in his hand. Surprise briefly crossed his face, before he noticed the blood on his clothing, and a scowl took over. Clearly forced.
Arthur looked down at the man, then up at Javier, keeping his scowl across his lips. "Well, Javier," he said, "you sure know how to make an introduction. Though next time, try not to paint the clothes with brains. It's a bitch to clean up."
"Sorry, brother," Javier smirked. "I couldn't let you take all the credit here."
Arthur recovered his nearby hat and moved ahead to stop the train. Lenny followed suit, and Javier stayed behind, kicking the body of the man if only accidentally. It allowed Javier to observe the man properly. He hit his brain quite quickly and killed him...
He was defenseless and he'd killed him...
A part of his heart revolted at what he had just done, but Javier fought on, justifying to himself that he did it to protect his brothers. Arthur and Lenny were in danger. The man would have taken Arthur's gun and blown them up... Oh, what did it matter?! Javier wasn't a good person! He never had been!
He was destined to rot in hell anyway.
"An army!" Lenny shouted with a gasp, holding up his rifle. "There's an army of men coming this way!"
"How many men does this guy have?!" Arthur growled, taking the first shot and clipping someone off his horse.
"Lots, Puta Madre!" Javier informed.
They took them down with ease. When the last man failed due to a bullet by Lenny, the gang finally caught up.
Per Dutch's orders, they ransacked the entire cart, looking for anything of value. When finished, they all met up.
"Those fools won't come out," Bill snarled. The gang had gathered in front of the final cab. Javier joined them. A single glance was enough for anyone to tell that this particular cab had been built like a steel fortress. It held something terribly valuable inside, and Dutch would stop at nothing to get his hands on it.
"We have some dynamite left, don't we?" Dutch inquired rhetorically.
"Saw how that went last time," Javier pointed out, earning a snort from both Arthur and Dutch.
"Aye! Shut up! That was not my fault!" Bill complained.
"Hey! Try not to make us look like jesters on a job!" Micah exclaimed with all the dignity in his traitorous body.
"Mr. Morgan, help Mr. Williamson rig it," Dutch commanded. "They don't seem to want to come out, so we'll just have to make them."
"Okay." Arthur and Bill approached the cart, sliding a single stick of dynamite through the handle. They took careful steps back as they pulled out their guns and aimed them at the explosive.
"Now," Dutch shouted, loud enough for the men in the cab to hear. "Unless you have a death wish, I'd step back, fellers." He nodded at Bill. "Mr. Williamson."
The sound of Bill's gun roared in tandem with the explosion. A giant hole had been created where the door once was.
"Alright. Now, come on out here!" Dutch ordered. "We don't want to kill you...we just wanna rob your boss."
One by one, the men exited, hands in the air. Javier and Bill rounded them up, forcing them to come next to a boulder.
"Get on up there. Search that train."
Arthur entered after Micah and Lenny. Javier couldn't help but feel his gut twist as they pleaded for their lives. Damn it, this wasn't like those books by Mary-Beth where men got second chances and everything became better. He'd known one of her publications had been about her view of Arthur himself, even though the names and situation were different; a young man who fought against forces of evil and sacrificed himself. Great in theme, childish in real life. Javier Escuella was already long gone from any "redemption" he could ever earn.
And yet, here he stood, still protesting Dutch for the safety of the gang he once would have died for, helping Kieran Duffy, and feeling pity for every death he'd caused.
As they exited the cab, Dutch broke off and headed straight for him. "What did you find?" he inquired, expectantly.
"These…" Arthur reached into his satchel, making sure he only pulled out the entire stack. He extended his hand and offered them to Dutch.
"Very nice." The man nodded with approval as he observed them. "Bearer bonds," he continued. "I think we can probably sell these pretty easily." He lifted a hand and placed it on Arthur's shoulder, his eyes lighting up. "Thank you, Arthur. Well done."
"Arthur, I trust that you can take care of this." Dutch indicated to them. "The train and the men are yours to decide."
Javier didn't feel like being around no one. He might as well stay with the lonely one of their pack. "I'll stay behind with Arthur in case any more come."
"Sure," Dutch nodded. "As soon as you two get back to camp, we'll be leaving."
"You're just going to allow Escuella to stay?" Micah scoffed. "The man has been questioning you since he rescued Marston, Dutch. He might not be trustworthy!"
"More trustworthy than you," Arthur growled in his defense.
"We don't have time for this," Dutch said sharply. "We will leave this mountain first thing tomorrow morning."
As they all took off, Arthur turned to Javier.
"What do you think I should do, Javier?" he asked.
Javier didn't want to make it seem like he cared so much, but as he stared down, his gaze softened. "Spare them. They ain't worth the bullets."
Arthur nodded once. "I was thinking the same." He looked around and opened his mouth. "Alri-"
But before they could do anything, someone approached, stopping the horse. "Hmm, does Mr. Escuella has something else he wants to tell us?"
Javier lifted his head to Micah, somewhat astonished that he hadn't joined the others yet. He wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in his head and make him pay for everything he'd done. How would Arthur react if Javier just whacked him here and now?
"Go to hell, Bell," Arthur said, standing straighter.
"Oh, we'll all be heading there soon." A pistol had emerged in Micah's hand. He aimed it at one of Cornwall's men. "But not before I make sure these men ain't gonna be able to rat!"
At his words, they whimpered in fear, backing away from the gun as far as possible. "Please don't!" One of them stammered. "We won't say a word! We promise! We... I have a family!"
Micah cackled. "Looks like your family will have to bury your bodies," he sneered nastily, "if they ever find them."
And he pulled the trigger. The men slumped dead before them.
It wasn't as if Javier didn't kill innocents in his time in Mexico. It wasn't as if they had mattered as much as they did. But why did his blood boil so hotly when the men's whimpers and cries were cut short by deafening gunshots?
"No need to thank me, gentlemen." Cackling, Micah turned his horse around and faded into the distance.
Javier stared down at their corpses.
'What difference? What difference? What difference?'
"Javier," Arthur started, grabbing his shoulders. "Are you okay? You've been acting strange. You don't just have to go to Hosea, you know? I'm here, comphrade."
"¿Quê?" he mumbled.
"Is it Blackwater? Is there something you didn't tell me?" Arthur inquired. "You're part of the family too, and I can help. I implore that you tell me what's happening..."
"You implore me?" Javier asked. "You implore me?" He repeated.
"Yes, I know if whatever's upsetting you was happening to me, you would have helped me."
No, he wouldn't...
He hadn't even care when Arthur started losing weight due to his tuberculosis, or when John was strung up in a federal prison.
And that raised another question. Before all what happened, if asked to leave Javier to die, would Arthur and John have done it?
He swallowed and stared at Arthur's fierce eyes, "They killed her you know..."
"Who killed whom?" Arthur asked, blinking in surprise.
"Dutch and Micah," Javier answered. "They killed Heidi McCourt in Blackwater."
"What happened then?" Arthur pressed. "You said Dutch killed her in a bad way but it was a bad situation..." he shrugged. "I'm assuming she had a gun."
"I was wrong. He didn't just kill her, Arthur," Javier interrupted, "She wasn't pulling a piece. Micah kept whispering in Dutch's ear that she was getting in the way. She was only a young mother... and Dutch blew her brains out across the ferry."
"Javier-"
"Don't follow everything he tells you, brother. Micah is going to get us all killed."
"Dutch has a pla-" Arthur started.
"There's always a plan. And with every plan, something goes horribly wrong."
And silence took over...