Treading A Beaten Path
"Arthur?"
Javier didn't believe it, couldn't believe it even. Right in front of his eyes sat God Damn Arthur Morgan, the Big Brother of the Van der Linde Gang. The last time he saw Arthur was from opposite ends of a line in the sand at Beaver Hollow before his mad dash south. He had been close to a walking skeleton at the end but here he was, proudly riding his horse looking so... Strong. Arthur had always been a larger man, imposing before his illness had drained and weakened him. Here in is thick blue winter coat, he was a mountain in his own right. How could this be? Before he knew what he was doing, Javier asked him.
"How are you here?"
Probably not the best way to start a conversation with a dead man, but that's what tumbled out of his mouth. Arthur for his part just quirked an eyebrow at Javier.
"Pardon?"
"I mean, what are you doing here? At the Bottom."
Javier wasn't under the delusion that Arthur was a Saint sent to save his Soul by any means. As honorable as Arthur could be back when they were alive, he didn't forget how much unnecessary pain and suffering Arthur had caused during his time on Earth along with the rest of them. But in the same breath Arthur was no Brutus, he never lied to or betrayed those whom he swore himself to. Even his "betrayal" at Beaver Hollow was more of a reaction to circumstance than a knife to the back, though the resentment of his preconception still weighed heavy and now fresh on his heart. No, Arthur should have been in Seventh Circle or maybe the Fifth unless Javier had SEVERELY misunderstood Arthur's character. Arthur for his part just looked more perplexed.
"I don't know if you know this Javier, but normally you have to start at the bottom of the mountain and work your way up it. Unless you know something I don't," Arthur responded sarcastically.
"I..." Javier didn't know how to respond to that, was this some kind of metaphor he wasn't getting?
"Come on now, we wait any longer and we are going to lose the tracks when the snow kicks back up again. You can contemplate the benefits of climbing a mountain backwards along the way," Arthur made his way ahead of Javier without a glance back, focused on the trail in the snow instead.
"... Okay," Javier answered nonplused.
Staring holes into Arthur's broad back, Javier tried to piece together what was happening.
'I need to start with what I know for certain, if nothing makes sense after that then I will panic.' Javier nodded to himself, at least he now had a goal in this frozen Hell.
'I died, which means I'm dead right now,' Javier considered. 'Back on the hangman's noose in Blackwater that pinche coño Ross let me swing instead of giving enough slack for my neck to snap.' Javier rubbed his neck and found it mostly smooth, no rope burns that he had expected to feel. Only the old scar he had from childhood.
'I'm riding a horse up a mountain in a frozen wasteland.' When he looked down at the horse for the first time it seemed oddly familiar and recognition dawned upon him, this was his old horse. Below him was his black and white American Paint from long ago.
'Boaz!'
Boaz had been lost back during his first few years back in Mexico while suppressing one of Reyes' predecessors. He had thought Boaz dead though considering where he was he might've been correct. Which brought up a disturbing idea, did animals have Souls? Javier stopped that train of thought before it went off the rails, one step at a time.
'Then there's this place to consider,' Javier mused while stroking Boaz absentmindedly. The wasteland he could now see was less of an ice-covered Hell and more of an ice-covered mountain. With the notable absence of a frozen lake filled with mankind's worst betrayers in sight. Had Dante been lying or was there more to Hell than what had been written down?
'And finally there is the matter of Arthur Morgan.' Arthur was acting odd for a man wandering through Hell, especially considering how hearty he had looked. No mention of betrayals or murders, just some sass about mountain climbing and then turned his back to him as if he trusted Javier with it. Did he not care about what happened when they were both among the living? Suddenly Javier had a sick sense of déjà vu when he realized that they were alone on a snowy mountain with Arthur following some tracks. He cleared his throat.
"Whose tracks are these?" Javier asked aloud with a sinking feeling.
"Well they could be anyone's I suppose. O'Driscolls, wandering snake oil salesmen, or even a Sasquatch. But with any luck it'll be that fool of ours who got himself lost in a whiteout. The faster we find John and bring him back the less tracks poor Abigail has to wear into the floorboards. I swear, what a woman like her sees in a layabout like Marston I will never understand, nor will I want to." Arthur continued following the trail without even turning around.
Arthur healthy looking, riding a lost dead horse, and tracking down Marston again just after a blizzard. It all clicked into place.
'So this is my punishment.'
Javier remembered something Reverend Swanson once said in one of his more coherent moments.
'True Hell is nothing as simple as pitchforks and burning cauldrons friends,' Swanson had testified. 'Nay, the unbeliever shall be shown such horrors until they can longer remember what it is to be brave. And the faithful sinner, unforgiven, shall be made to understand all his sins again and again for all of eternity. Repent now! Seek understanding and forgiveness before understanding be forced upon ye, so say the Lord Jesus Christ Almighty.'
Javier, being a devout Catholic at the time, had thought the Reverend a tale teller, as he could not remember any such verse in his Bible or taught to him by the Sisters growing up. He owed the old Reverend more credit after all. Javier considered what would happen if he tried to run from his punishment, to try and outrun his past yet again, but shook his head from such thoughts. If that didn't work on Earth then it most certainly would not work here so he may as well try to ride it out. He felt the claustrophobia of an inescapable situation try to claim his heart. Javier took a few deep breaths to regain his composure and tried to get back on his doomed task.
"Well the wind up here has wiped the tracks clean, now what?" Arthur asked suddenly.
Javier just barely kept from flinching when his eyes locked upon Arthur's. The former revolutionary thought back to what he had done before but couldn't remember. It had been over twelve years ago now. Arthur's impatient frown made Javier instinctively reach for his gun. Surprisingly he found one strapped to his hip. Taken off guard, he pulled it from its holster and examined it. It was a white double action revolver with a black ebony grip, the whole thing engraved with vines. The same revolver that was taken from him in Mexico.
"Javier?" Arthur asked quizzically.
Javier didn't look up. If Arthur wasn't going to bring up their deaths then Javier didn't want to start the conversation.
'Unless he couldn't start the conversation' Javier quickly considered. He had to choose his next action carefully.
"If we can't find John, maybe he can find us instead." Javier, his eyes never leaving Arthur's, aimed his revolver to the sky and pulled the trigger.
BANG
Arthur's only reaction was a lack of one. There wasn't so much as a twitch, even as Javier flagged him while raising his gun. Arthur's expression stayed merely questioning, no recognition of the chance of malicious intent present. Arthur didn't even consider that Javier might've shot him.
Javier's eyes widened, 'He doesn't remember, not at all?'
Arthur opened his mouth the say something.
"Hey! Over here! Can you hear me?!"
It wasn't Arthur who spoke, but their lost brother hidden from sight somewhere beyond the ridge ahead. Arthur raised his head as well as his voice.
"Marston! Its Arthur and Javier! Where are you?! Are you okay?!"
"I'm hurt in a bad way! I can't get out on my own! I'm just around the bend!"
"Stay where you are, we'll come to you! C'mon Javier."
Javier followed with a nod, his mind going a mile a minute. It seemed Arthur lacked the knowledge of their falling out at the very least, as if Javier was living through his memories. He racked his brain for a way to confirm his suspicions as they passed the scavenged remains of John's horse and a few wolves riddled with bullets. John may have been startled by the sudden attack of the ravenous pack but evidently he was ready to deliver. That gave Javier an idea.
"Well now we know what stopped John from making his way back. Shame about John's horse though, I know it'd break Kieran's heart to see her ripped to shreds like this," Javier said casually.
"Who?" Arthur asked as they skirted the gruesome scene.
"Kieran. Kieran Duffy? Bit of a cobarde, a coward, but had a way with horses, you remember him don't you?"
"Should I? Where'd I met him?" Arthur's tone was honestly curious. Javier was conflicted but he decided to play it safe and backpedal.
"I thought you would but then again it was a while ago, he taught me some things to take better care of Boaz here. Don't worry about it." Javier turned his head forward while patting his horse fondly as Boaz shuddered from the cold mountain air. Everything Javier said was true, once Kieran found his place in the gang he worked up his courage and told Javier what he was doing wrong when brushing down Boaz, among other things of that nature. It wasn't just Javier timid Kieran had corrected, everyone from Uncle to even Dutch received some sort of "talking to" though some didn't take kindly to it. Sean MacGuire had cleaned his clock not after one minute, muttering something about "the false Irish".
Javier and Arthur arrived to the bend and saw a chasm along the cliff.
"Over here!" Arthur's voice was louder but he was still out of sight.
"We're coming John, just hold on!" Javier yelled back. To Arthur he said, "It's too steep for the horses here, we'll have to go on foot."
Javier swung off his horse without waiting for a response. As he took his first step he noticed that he moved much easier than he was accustomed to, it was disorientating. His hands went around his middle and felt less than what was expected. His stomach was firm underneath his jacket which was an unfamiliar sensation and he frowned as he realized that wasn't the only difference. The lack of a broken leg should've been his first clue but he had been distracted by the sudden appearance of a ghost. Aches and pains he had acquired from over twelve years on the run and helping enforce a dictatorship were gone like they were never there. Not to say that he was in perfect condition, he felt the beginnings of exhaustion start to make itself known along with the freezing cold, but it comparison to the last few days he was a new man. He was interrupted of his introspection by a hand on his shoulder.
"Javier, are you alright?"
Arthur's sudden appearance spooked Javier and he had to stop himself from striking out. Once he had his nerves under control he glanced back to Arthur and chewed over what he should say. Part of him wanted to tell him everything; how they were both in Hell, confess his Sins, and beg for guidance. Another part of him was still angry. Maybe it wasn't fair to blame Morgan for how things fell into place and he had been dying of tuberculosis, John had told him about it during his arrest, but the bitterness of the past was still present despite everything he knew factually.
"Come on amigo, talk to me. You've been acting strange, is this about what happened at Blackwater?"
Javier deflated slightly, Arthur was visibly concerned and it was hard to answer him honestly with how unsettled Javier was right then. He chose to sidestep the issue for the moment.
"I'm fine… Arthur… it's just a lot to deal with right now and the weather here doesn't agree with me. Give me some time, yeah? We should go get John before all that's left is a frozen gringo."
Arthur didn't seem satisfied but with a nod he released Javier's shoulder. Trudging along the snow, Javier tried to remember what happened when he did this while alive. From what he could recall, after they found John half dead they got on the horses while being chased by what was left of the pack that killed John's horse and made it back to the camp without further incident.
'The camp!' Javier thought suddenly, 'If Arthur and John are here with me does that mean everyone else down here is at the camp?' Javier mentally listed who he knew was also dead. 'Bill, Sean, Uncle, Lenny, Straus, Hosea, Ms. Grimshaw, and Dutch? And Micah Bell.'
As they passed through the chasm with Arthur leading the way, Javier began to feel fainter by the minute. He wondered if they would blame him for their demise, for his inaction to stop their deaths and sufferings.
'What if they didn't remember, like Arthur? Would that be better or worse?'
The thought of seeing them again filled him with dread warring with hope. He stuffed those worries into a corner of his mind as he got close to the sound of John's shouts.
"He's down here!" Arthur shouted over his shoulder to Javier before he jumped down a ledge. Javier followed close behind, anxious to what he'd find.
"That's quite a scratch you got there." Arthur said as Javier reached the edge.
"Never thought I'd say this, but it's good to see you Arthur Morgan."
John was a mess simply put, what was left of his coat and pants was torn to shreds like his face. The scars that had become a staple of John's appearance were still fresh and bleeding along with his other injuries with the most extensive being the open gash above his knee. John's face was already pale with a blue hue threatening to overtake his complexion. Whether from blood loss or exposure Javier couldn't say. Still, John had a pained smile on his face. Death hadn't changed John from being one tough son of a bitch.
"You don't look too good," Arthur quipped as he reached down to John.
"Don't feel too good neither," John replied with a grunt while Arthur put him on his shoulder, walking back to Javier, "I'm freezing."
Javier numbly grabbed for John and he wasn't numb just from the cold.
"Don't die just yet cowboy," Arthur commented.
"John, I didn't think I'd meet you again this soon compadre." Javier pulled John onto his shoulder.
"Don't go writing me off just yet there vaquero, you won't get rid of me that easy." The way he said vaquero was grating to Javier ears. This was John alright.
"You want me to take him Javier?" Arthur, the larger of the able-bodied men, asked as he edged up to the other two.
"No," Javier's immediate answer surprised himself but any animosity he held died with John's sacrifice. Javier started turning around to exit the crevice "I owe him this much at least. He'd do the same for me."
"Huh, well I'm flattered amigo," John grunted in pain. "What I'd do to deserve such loyalty?"
"That's a good question," Arthur said with a raised eyebrow.
"You're my brother John, mi hermano, that's more than enough," Javier answered evasively. He took a few steps before a sudden cry sent a chill down his spine.
AHH-WOOOOOOOO
Looking ahead and skyward, Javier and Arthur found a snow white wolf on the ledge of the fissure's rim. Another wolf's head popped in view from around the bend, then another, and another. Javier felt his stomach drop out from under him as he counted seven wolves, each more starved looking than the last. John's horse wasn't enough for them it seemed, even as they were covered in gore from their previous kill. A harsh winter often made most animals that normally feared people desperate and this pack didn't look ready to scamper off. They jumped from their perch and landed about forty feet in front of the trio and started pacing forward.
"Is that what I think it is?" John asked gloomily from Javier's back, unable to see the threat ahead of them.
"Well it ain't the God Damn tax man," Arthur snarked quietly while handing John a spare revolver from his waist.
Javier was too busy trying to figure out what was going on to commentate. His memory wasn't the best but he distinctly remembered getting back to the horses more or less after he had found John when he had been alive. There was no way he would have forgotten being trapped with his back to the wall (and John) like this. Everything else had been the same, why was this different?
"What are they doing there?" Javier found himself asking.
"It's like they're waiting for something," Arthur supplied. "They should've just waited until we were beneath them and taken us by surprise, wolves are clever that way. Why'd they let us know they were here?"
"They are trying to spook you into running and leaving me behind. They don't want a fight, why risk it when they can get their prey to leave the weakest of the herd alone? They do the same to deer." John's tone went from morose to resolved, "We can't outrun them, even if I could keep up with you two there's no way we can outpace them out on the snow. We're going to have to make a choice."
"I don't have much in the way of ammunition, both mine and John's guns have six rounds each left and I only have one speed loader ready. Javier?" Arthur asked.
Javier cycled his cylinder while counting, "Five myself, John?"
"Nothing besides what Arthur gave me, lost my gun and bullets making my way to this hole. Set me down Javier, slowly" John uttered quietly yet firmly.
"John?" Javier questioned before complying, John's kept his mouth shut as his pained moans threated to escape his lips. John sat up straight with his back against the wall, his gun joining the others aimed at the slowly advancing pack.
"They don't want a fight but they will if they have no choice. You can make it back the way you came along the cliff if you don't have to carry me and I doubt they will follow."
Javier was as silent as the grave while listening to John's implication of what he was saying.
"I don't like our chances here, even if make every shot count it might be not enough. We should probably cut our losses and run." Arthur stated matter-of-factly.
"We are not abandoning him!" Javier exclaimed with vitriol. The wolves slowed and growled in response.
'Not again.'
"Calm down! I was just stating the facts. We fight here, we probably aren't leaving." Arthur said, his eyes still challenging the pack leader. They all knew as soon as any weakness was shown that the wolves wouldn't hesitate.
"You two shouldn't have to pay for my bad luck," John spoke resolutely from behind them. "Javier, can you tell Abigail that-"
"Tell her yourself idiota, we're getting out of here together." Javier interjected.
"Well that's that. What's left of you probably wouldn't have been more than a snack to them anyways Marston. Here's what we are going to do, Javier you drag our cripple back the way we came, it's the narrowest part and we're going to need that. I'll cover you, just remember to not turn your back on them and go bit by bit, don't rush." Arthur commanded authoritatively.
Javier made his way over to John and with shivering hands wrapped his belt across John's chest and under his arms. With one fist bound around the belt and the other holding his revolver, Javier painstakingly backtracked towards where they found John. For his part, John was biting the inside of his cheek in an effort to not cry out, the jostling of his shredded leg not helping any. Still John kept his weapon trained on the ravenous pack along with the other two outlaws.
As they passed the threshold of the ravine, wide enough only for two large men to stand shoulder to shoulder, Arthur had them stop and position themselves.
"John, how's your aim?" Arthur asked.
"Still better than yours," John replied shakily as Javier propped him against the rock face, his raised weapon and arm steady enough regardless.
"You'd be lucky to piss without getting your boots wet. Now the second a hairy mug passes the opening I'm taking my shot. Hopefully that'll scare 'em off but we shouldn't count on it, if they rush after that then I'll empty my cylinder and you two start making some fresh pelts. I'll reload and finish off what John missed. We'll just have to see after that, ya'll ready?"
John and Javier both nodded. Javier had switched from a state bewildered shock to one of survival the second he heard the wolves, mostly acting without thought. Having a few moments outside or moral peril his mind starting putting together the seemingly conflicting facts like a jigsaw puzzle. It didn't make any sense that the wolves trapped them in when he knew they were able to get to the horses back when they were alive. Unless the Reverend was half-right at best like usual. Just then the first wolf passed the threshold.
BANG
Arthur was still a crack shot it seemed, the wolf collapsed immediately and barely twitched. There was no time for celebration as Arthur's words became prophetic, the other wolves rushed as soon as the first hit the ground.
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
While the shots were impressive, only two more wolves went down under the hail of Arthur's fanning gunfire. Two more were mid-leap over their fallen comrades when John and Javier took their turn. With Javier's breath held, he lined his shot as everything became shades of grey, he found himself within the Moment as his revolver discharged.
BANG
He saw the bullet strike the shoulder of one of the wolves as it landed, it subsequently crashed to the floor. He heard John's gun bark as he starting putting down his own hound but Javier had to focus on the one struggling in front of him.
BANG
BANG
Another two hit the wild animal, one between the shoulder blades and the other to the back of its powerful neck, which would have to do. His head was already starting to cave in as he could hear the ocean crash into his ears. Javier chanced a glance to John and saw he had laid out his own monster, but it had taken all the ammunition on hand to do so if the lowered weapon was an indication. He had two rounds left and endeavored to make them count. A wolf that Arthur had apparently only wounded had made its way off the ground and was about to pounce the remaining ten feet distance towards them.
BANG
BANG
His final two bullets were too much for the beast in the end, both to the chest next to a few holes Arthur had punched into the now dead creature. Javier released his breath, his heart pounding along with his head, he had done his part. The final two of the pack had cleared the small pile of carcasses and were ready to tear them apart as Arthur readied his own revolver with the last of their ammunition.
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
"Dammit!" Arthur yelled in frustration.
Arthur had done well with what he had available. He had to use four of his rounds on one of the wolves before it stopped rushing forward but by the time he focused on the last wolf it had already picked up speed, his final shots only grazing it at best and it took one more leap towards them, claws outstretched.
More specifically towards John, the weakest of the group.
Before he even knew what he was doing Javier found himself in front of the 150 pounds of death made manifest and then on the ground underneath it.
"Javier!"
Javier didn't know who cried out but his attention was on the monster currently trying to rip out his neck. Thankfully Javier's hands discovered purchase along the wolf's neck which kept it from tearing into his. That didn't stop its claws from shredding his face from brow to chin.
"¡Coño!"
The claws then began to slice into his chest and stomach, making his arms contract in pain. The wolf's snapping jaws getting ever closer to him. He felt an impact through his arms as something hard impacted the head of the wolf, which raised said head to growl in the direction of John, who was now missing his gun. Before it could either go back for Javier or attack John, a large arm snaked around its chest and a large knife gouged savagely under the jaw of the wolf, dangerously close to Javier's hands. With his one good eye, Javier saw his chance and kicked away the beast while Arthur wrestled it to the ground, stabbing viciously the whole way down. It made a few painful yips as it panicked but eventually it stilled and Arthur sat back breathing heavily along with the rest of them.
"Javier? You still with us?" Arthur asked between gasps.
"Just about, carajo,that was too close." Javier eventually responded, moaning as he sat back up with his body screaming in defiance.
"Not that this hasn't been pleasant," John groaned, "but we should get a move on before more catch the scent of blood."
"Point." Arthur agreed as he got up and made for the revolver John had thrown. "Only you Marston could have better aim throwing a gun than shooting with it."
"Oh shut it, I only had to throw it 'cause you missed."
"Big talk from the man who could only put down one tiny wolf," Arthur shot back, "Can you stand Javier?"
"Yeah, I think so," Javier slowly stood up. He gingerly lifted the remains of his poncho and shirt and inspected the damage as best he could with only one eye. Long cuts bleeding down his chest and stomach but fortunately they were mostly skin deep. "My entrails stay on the inside for now."
"Let's try and keep it that way," Arthur walked over to John and picked him up without much complaint.
"Which way now?" Javier asked aloud as he holstered his own revolver that fell from his hand earlier.
"Forward, can't go back anyways. Then we try to find the horses," Arthur said simply as he stepped over the bodies of the pack with John hanging off his shoulder. Javier followed after.
"It was three," John said suddenly.
"What's that?" Javier asked.
"Three wolves, got at least two of them when they surprised me and Betsy and then one just back there."
"Oh well excuse master hunter Marston, I bow to your wisdom of letting yourself being almost eaten by your prey. It really lowers their guard," Arthur snorted.
Javier didn't know what set him off, maybe it was the absurdity of the situation he found himself in, or maybe just good old despair, but he found himself full belly laughing. Not that he could laugh for long, with every shake he threatened to tear his own cuts open wider.
"It wasn't that funny Javier," John grumbled.
"Of course it was, I am hilarious," Arthur retorted.
Once out of the ravine, both Arthur and Javier whistled for the horses and thankfully they were close enough to hear their riders. John was loaded onto Arthur's horse and they were on their way down the mountain before long.
The rest of their ride was mostly silent, only communicating when necessary. After crossing the river to lose their trail leading back to camp, Arthur kept nudging John awake and Javier himself was fighting his own drowsiness. While John was obviously the one worse off, Javier started to feel the shakes and queasiness that came part and parcel with blood loss. The only reason they hadn't stopped to treat their injuries was the threat of other animals and exposure, they took a risk trying to head straight back to camp and were about to see if it payed off.
"There it is, home sweet home," Arthur announced over the sounds of heavy wind and falling snow. Indeed, Javier could just make out the broken down wagons leading into the abandoned mining camp the gang had occupied in their flight from the Pinkertons and the law. From what he could see it was just as he remembered it, cold and depressing. He noticed it was getting harder to see, but from the worsening weather or his own wounds Javier couldn't say.
"Can we get some help here?!" Arthur yelled out into the blizzard, the nearby shacks just barely visible. A few seconds later a door burst open and none other than a youthful Abigail Roberts rushed out in near panic towards Arthur and the slumped over John. Right behind her were Bill Williamson and Lenny Summers, both looking very much well and able bodied.
"You're alive! You're alive!" Abagail exclaimed in blatant relief as both of the men helped Arthur get John down.
If Javier was more coherent he would have been more overwhelmed by seeing two more ghosts of his past, but seeing a woman who SHOULD have been amongst the living broke through his haze and shocked him into silence. Terror gripped his heart as he assumed the worse.
'Did Ross get her and Jack?'
He was pulled, quite literally, from his thoughts as Arthur moved him out of his saddle and Javier unconsciously complied.
"-ith me? Javier? Come on bud, we're getting you inside."
Javier tried to open up his mouth when he felt another pull his free arm onto their shoulders.
"Jesus Javier, what happened?"
Hosea Matthews' face, graced with the wrinkles one gets from a lifetime of laughter and anguish, bared concerned as he directed Javier along with Arthur to the inside of the house right behind John. Javier could only gape like a fish.
"Hosea…?"
What could he say? What should he say? Apologize? Laugh? Cry? It was getting harder and harder to stay up standing even with the assistance. Arthur took the choice out of his hands.
"The wolves that were nibbling on Marston decided they wanted seconds, instead they found Javier here punching and kicking to keep our lost maiden out of their bellies. It appears he didn't agree with them" Arthur said in dark humor as they sat Javier down on an empty bed.
"We need to clean and close the cuts, before infection sets in. Best to get him warm too." Hosea said seriously, already carefully removing what was left of his shirt and poncho. "Miss Grimshaw is already working on John, Arthur go get one of the other women who can use a needle they should be in one of the other rooms. I'll start here." Arthur nodded and left, leaving just the two of them alone.
Hosea took deliberate care while cleaning the blood off his face with a rag and hot water, trying not to worsen the cuts near his eye. Javier hardly noticed as he kept staring at Hosea, until he finally spoke up.
"I wasn't sure I'd see you again, any of you."
"Well you're a tough one, Javier, I always said as much." Hosea said distractedly as he worked. "It'd take more than a few wolves to keep you down. Good work on bringing back John by the way, with any luck he'll make it through this, as long as he doesn't catch ill."
"He'll make it," Javier said offhandedly.
"'Course he will, too stupid to die he is." Hosea chuckled while wiping the mess off Javier's closed eye, "Now go ahead and try to open that eye, it doesn't look cut but better to be sure, don't want no surprises later."
Javier, his right eye now clean of any debris and blood, did as Hosea asked. The area around his eye was stinging like he got socked by a broken bottle but he could see just fine. Hosea brought a finger up and in a circle, making sure Javier could follow it.
"Good," Hosea nodded, "now take a few swigs of this then lie down, the rest won't be as pleasant."
Hosea pushed a bottle of whiskey into Javier's hands and then went to working cleaning up his chest and torso. Javier did as asked, the burn almost pleasurable as it went down his throat. With half of the bottle left, Hosea took it back and gently but firmly pushed Javier onto his back. Arthur returned just then with a familiar woman at his back.
"Mary-Beth here is the best after Miss Grimshaw, you're in good hands Javier. You'll be riding again in no time. I'm going to check in with Dutch. Hosea, Mary-Beth," Arthur nodded to both before turning around.
Mary-Beth Gaskill stepped up nervously to Hosea with needle and thread in hand. Javier was once again taken aback, numb as he was, by the fact that another living person was down here in Hell. What the Hell was going on? Javier dazedly opened his mouth only for Hosea to shove a horse's bit in.
"Trust me son, you're going to want to bite into that for this next part." Hosea instructed.
"Just so you know, I've never stitched a person before, only cloth and leather," Mary-Beth stated aloud timidly, all the while staying in place.
Hosea moved around to the head of the bed while beckoning her over to the side while reassuring her, "It's not so different, I'll disinfect and help keep him steady while you work, you just worry about the needlework." Then Javier felt Hosea rub a whiskey soaked cloth into his wounds. They stung like Hell but mercifully the whiskey already inside him was doing its work.
After the disinfection, Hosea held either side of Javier's head like a vice and nodded to Mary-Beth. Javier saw Mary-Beth swallow as she steeled herself and got ready to work, placing the needle at the top of the first cut above his brow.
'¡Carajo!'
Javier's initial reaction was to thrash and yell as he chomped further into the bit. It was almost as bad as getting slashed by the wolves! Hosea kept him still as best as he could but the response froze Mary-Beth.
"Don't focus on him, focus on making your stitches" Hosea grunted authoritatively.
"Need any help? John passed out so they don't need me over there."
Javier opened his eyes to see Bill Williamson, much younger and healthier than he last saw him down in Mexico.
"Mr. Williamson, if you could be so kind as to sit on his legs and hold his arms down."
Without a word Bill did as much and Javier couldn't have moved even if he wasn't on the verge of unconsciousness.
"Now, please continue Mary-Beth. The sooner you finish the sooner we can get some shuteye," Hosea said as he kept the iron grip on Javier.
Once again Mary-Beth grabbed her needle and began threading the gash shut. Javier didn't have to worry about trying not to move under Bill's unrelenting strength holding him down so with scrunched up eyes and gritted teeth he struggled in vain. As Mary-Beth worked, she evidently became more confident in her stitches and started sewing faster much to Javier's consternation. As she was on the third cut the door opened with a blast of cold air which made everyone able turn and see who was at the.
"Daddy?"
"Abigail, get the boy out of here please. He shouldn't see this," Hosea commanded.
As Abigail abandoned the side of her future husband, Javier glanced to the front and saw a child, one he had seen as a young man mere days ago. Abigail gathered the young Jack Marston in her arms and took him to another building shutting the door behind her. Javier, head already swimming in a terrible concoction of pain, alcohol, and blood loss, had one final thought before all others left him as Mary-Beth resumed her painful labor.
'Not him too.'
And Javier knew no more.
A/N: This chapter ended being the hardest to get working so far, which I suppose is partly due to it now being the longest chapter and the most important in my opinion. Besides the fact we are now at the premise hinted at in the summary, we have officially started Javier's journey. Hopefully I can keep Javier from constantly getting his crap kicked in. Poor guy has been captured, broken, tortured, hanged, mauled, and subjected to what amounts to civil war battlefield triage without any kind of anesthesia besides whiskey. All in that order. I swear I'm not doing that intentionally. Originally, they were going to just kill the wolves with no injuries but I changed it last minute and that ended up changing the following six pages, whoops. I did it for two reasons I will get to in a second but first let me rant a little about time travel fics.
How they hell are all these MCs adjusting to time travel so easily?
Don't get me wrong, sometimes the struggle of repeating history suddenly may be distracting narratively speaking but as I was giving it some thought I realized it would be immensely disorientating, doubly so if it wasn't expected. Add to the fact being in a different body for all intent and purposes, and I would assume it would be like passing out drunk at a friend's house and waking up in another country's hospital but times 10. I also wasn't sure if the concept of time travel was prevalent in the 1800s' fiction, obviously there is the idea of prophecy and regret of past actions, but even when Arthur encounters a potential "Time Traveler" he is completely befuddled which is an understandable reaction.
So, I felt it appropriate and interesting for Javier to not believe that he is back in time but rather residing in Hell. Slight spoiler but Javier isn't in Hell, he has in fact time traveled. I wanted some mystery to it in the beginning of the chapter but hopefully you've already realized that he isn't dead. If I kept up the uncertainty I believe that would get exhausting for both myself as the writer and you all as the audience.
Why does he believe he is in Hell? Consider the following: Javier's last memories were being hanged, he was raised Catholic (which I am not but I try my best to do research on and treat with respect for the sake of the story), and he already had a low opinion of himself due to his self-viewed failures and hypocrisies (helping a dictatorial regime, failing the gang, etc.). This led to a problem, how to move Javier past this and realize that he is in the past? Javier getting injured, which will lead into other effects.
If you're familiar with butterfly theory then you know it can make or break any story involving time travel. If you use time travel, you want to see what effects it has on the people and events in a story, but if the changes are so wild and confusing that you have no idea how it got to that point then in my opinion the story has failed somewhere (unless of course that is the point of the story but that's neither here nor there). My goal is for changes to be understood and traceable, if not by the characters, then at least by the audience. Now I am going to go into the changes I made and why.
1. Javier didn't lead the way following John's tracks, which meant Arthur lost them before finding John's horse. Along with the stops and talks Javier and Arthur meant that they found John later, even if just by minutes. In canon the wolves were basically on top of them anyways so they were always racing a clock even if they didn't know it. Javier didn't give Arthur the shotgun either because he wasn't even aware of it. While writing the wolf encounter, I decided that given what they had they would be EXTREMLY lucky to get away at all against seven starving gray wolves with just three revolvers and 23 rounds. So, they just barley scraped by. I am a firm believer of action/consequence writing, I believe it gives a story more of a punch. It also gives Javier a chance to show his loyalty to those he considers brothers. We'll have to see if Javier learned anything from this experience.
2. Coming back to camp, or more specifically running into the old gang. By Javier coming back injured and then falling unconscious, he cannot give up the ghost accidently as he almost did with Arthur (which could be interesting but leaves less room for future plot threads and I would have to manage a madness arc where most believe Javier is crazy which would not be fun.). In addition, it will give him some time to reflect on his situation, which I won't say anything further at this point because that is where the fun begins.
So yeah, Javier goes night night. Hopefully it came off as interesting and believable, I had to risk the plot contrivance but I think it came out well.
For everyone who has been waiting patiently for the last six plus months, THANK YOU. Life/Work had other plans as usual but I'm going to set aside more time for this story. I forgot how much fun it is to write and see all of your reviews. Side note, if anyone is interested in beta/editing please let me know. I waste too much time editing to only see a mistake a week later and try not to pull my hair out haha.
On to the reviews!
Jayfeather's Friend:
So do I! Don't worry, I have a plan. It involves mangoes.
NightlyRowenTree:
You're very welcome! Just wait, I have more Javier/Arthur interactions planned, along with the rest of the gang.
SpecterXCove:
My thoughts exactly, if a character HATES how their life turned out why wouldn't they do everything to change it? Destiny can go kick rocks.
CalmSuperior2002:
If I could give an award to most in-depth reviews I would have to give it to you my man! Hope this one reached the "God Tier"TM level of writing you're expecting.
SodaFX:
Hope it was worth the wait and I'm glad you enjoy rereading it, what a compliment! Also dig the name change.
StrikeKT:
I'm something of late to the party myself. Here it is!
TheRealPogger:
Brooooooo, here's more :)
JimmyHall24:
Welcome to the story, I recommend snacks.
Nantono:
Very succinct, thanks!
Lordoftentacle:
You're really cool for reviewing ;)
Until next time – Jazz0man