A/N: SPOILER ALERT. SPOILER ALERT. SPOILER ALERT. This story takes off DIRECTLY after completing (as in, you've seen the credits roll by) the game. Do Not Proceed If You Are Still Playing.

There, you've been warned. So this is...a test run, if you will. I've been wondering recently what I should start working on for my next little series of stories after I finished Forbidden Love. I started writing this story the other day, planning for it to only a be a one-shot, but then it developed into something that could have multiple chapters if I keep going.

My question is, who would read it? As in, who is emotionally invested in this game and thinks this could be a good read? Because if I'm the only one, I'll just write it for myself and consider something else. So I need you guys to let me know. Your opinion est très important à moi.

ABOUT THE UPLOAD. Geez, scribe, get on with it. Poor little Jack is all angsty kid after killing Edgar Ross, so he seeks the haven of Whiskey to help him feel good enough to go to sleep in his father's old room in Armadillo. There, he meets a strange man who's name was originally Nate but I changed it to Nick because it sounded like Nate Johns a little too much, and he's the gov'nah. Something may happen between the two, we'll have to see.

COMMENT please? I'm literally seeking your advice. Thanks, happy reading!

-Test Run initiated-

The gun felt heavy in my hand as I watched Edgar Ross crash backwards into the river. Blood pooled about his head and ran downstream in crimson tendrils. I swallowed and turned to look at my father's pistol…at my pistol…and after a moment I holstered it. With a deep breath I turned and walked away from the man who had murdered my father, away from the justice I so rightly deserved but was now making my stomach turn.

I needed to get out of Mexico. After a quick calculation of where I was, I headed towards the closet stagecoach. I didn't want to make the long ride back to America on my own…I was suddenly very tired. It took about half an hour to make it to Escalera but the moment I did I jumped off my horse and walked straight over to the coach driver.

"Hola gringo! Where you going? I can take you."

"Hola, senor." I dug into my satchel and pulled out a wad of bills. "You can keep all of this money if you take me straight to Armadillo, no stopping, no other riders. Comprende?"

The man stared greedily at what had to have been at least one-hundred dollars before waving me inside. "Si, senor. Come aboard."

I nodded my thanks and climbed into the coach. "Please try to get there as fast as possible. I'm exhausted so I'm gonna get some sleep. Wake me up when we get there."

"No problemo, senor. Straight to Armadillo."

I sighed with relief and whistled for my horse to follow us before I closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep.

It was almost dark when I heard a voice break into my mindless dreams and stir me from my slumber.

"Senor? We have arrived."

I forced my eyes open and saw that we, indeed, had pulled into the town. "Wow, that was fast," I murmured.

The driver beamed. "My fastest time yet, gringo. For you."

I kind of chuckled. "Right. Well thanks." I jumped down from the coach and waved goodbye as the driver trotted away. I heard a snort behind me and I turned and there was my horse, almost panting with exhaustion.

I brought my hands to his muzzle. "Oh man, you poor horse. What a good boy you are for following me all the way here. Come on; let's go take you to the stables to have a good rest." I took hold of the reins and led him to the stable hand to be tended too.

"Mr. Marston!" the man cried happily.

I tried to smile but I was still so tired, it felt much too forced. "Hello mister. Could you do me a favor and tend to my horse? He's traveled a long way without any rest."

The man grabbed the reins from me with great enthusiasm. "Of course, anything for you! It would be my pleasure."

I nodded. "Thank you very much, sir." I patted my horse's flank. "See ya, boy." With that I headed to the saloon and the residence Pa had bought there so long ago. However, once I walked in I knew I didn't want to go up to that room yet. The last person that had been in there was Pa and my emotions were still pretty frayed from murdering Edgar Ross. And so, instead of heading upstairs, I went straight to the bar. I figured a couple of shots of Whiskey couldn't hurt, plus it'd take the edge off.

I grabbed a stool and dragged it over to the bar so I could sit. The bartender looked up at me and smiled.

"Oh, good evenin' young Mr. Marston. Ain't seen you here in awhile."

"Evenin' sir. I'll take Whiskey if ya got it."

The bartender raised his eyebrows. "No time for idle chit-chat I see. I believe that calls for drinks on the house, then."

I shook my head. "Oh no sir, that's not necessary."

He held up a hand to stop me. "Listen here, Jack. Whenever a man walks in here and doesn't beat around the bush with orderin' his drink, I have found it's usually for a good reason. You've been through somethin' tonight, sir, and so that means free drinks."

I smiled in a tired way. "Ya sure, Bill?"

"Absolutely. I won't even ask you what happened, just pour you the Whiskey. Which, by the way, we got plenty of."

"Thanks be to God," I replied and we both broke into laughter.

Bill pulled out a bottle and glass and quickly poured me over a shot of the brown liquor. "Bottoms up," he said.

I downed the entire glass with one swallow and shivered a little at the taste. Bill chuckled but said nothing and simply poured me another glass full. I threw that one back as well and, this time, held back my twitch of distaste. I was still new to drinking and so I hadn't become accustomed to the taste of alcohol yet. But Pa's drink of choice was always Whiskey, and being the daddy's boy I always was and would always be, I was determined to make it my favorite too. Although…I guess now it didn't matter what my drink of choice was. Pa would never know.

"Pour me another of the same, Bill," I muttered.

The barkeep nodded and did as instructed. I decided to slow down a little bit and so I took that one in a few swallows, separated by a few minutes. As I "nursed" my Whiskey, I stared around at the people in the saloon. There were quite a few whores mingling about with the men, and a few of them were eyeing me suggestively. I ignored them and studied the men playing poker and chuckled. One of them had very blatantly just cheated, but apparently the other men were too inebriated to tell. Well, I hoped it work out for the guy.

"Tell me you saw that too."

I shifted in my stool to see a young man, probably about my age or a little older, staring at the poker players as well. "What, the man that just cheated?"

He snorted. "Yes. Then you did see it."

I nodded. "That I did. If it works, all the power to him I guess." There was a silence before I held my hand out. "Jack Marston."

The man accepted the gesture and we shook. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Nicolas Hodge, friends call me Nick."

"Is that my invitation to be your friend, Mr. Hodge?"

He laughed. "I guess so."

"Alright, I'll call you Nick if you call me Jack."

Nick nodded. "It's a deal."

I took another swallow of my Whiskey and eyed my new acquaintance. He didn't look like he was from New Austin. He wasn't dressed like a big wig, or even all that nicely, but he was very…clean. The clothes he had on were simple. He wore a dark brown leather jacket over a green button down and a pair of dark jeans that fell over his well-kept boots. His hair was mostly covered by his cowboy hat, but what I could see was very well cut. It was shorter than mine but fell around his ears and it looked like he took very good care of it. I had to admit that he was a very handsome man. He was clean shaven, something I had been considering for myself recently, and he had strong features. His eyes were bright green and stood out against his pale skin and seemed to have a lot of joy in them.

I suddenly didn't think I should mingle with this man. "Nick, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not sure I'm the man you wanna spend your evenin' talkin' too."

He raised his eyebrows. "And why not, might I ask?"

I shrugged. "Well, you just look like a very happy person and I'm afraid I'm not too happy tonight." I paused. "Or ever, really." Whoa…I hadn't meant to be so honest. Maybe I should back off the Whiskey.

But Nick grinned and I was surprised to see what perfect teeth he had. It wasn't often you came across someone who had all their teeth, and they were still white. "If you don't mind, Jack, I think I'll take my chances. I might surprise you."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I might surprise you too, with my pessimism. But if you're game, so am I." I took a swig and finished my Whiskey…why not? "So, friend, you don't look like you're from around here."

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Nick threw back his drink as well. "Turns out I am. I used to live up at Tanner's Reach, ever heard of it?"

My eyes widened. "Did you really? I've been by that place a bunch of times; it's been deserted for years."

Nick nodded. "Yep, that'd be my house. It's a long story but one day I found myself all alone up there, and so I headed for Blackwater. I've lived there ever since."

"Well ain't that somethin'. I grew up on Beecher's Hope."

"No kiddin'? That's a nice ranch. Well, it used to be anyway. What happened to you guys?"

I purposefully stepped around his question. It was still too much to ask for me to talk about my family, talk about my ranch, talk about my past. Ma had only just died about a month ago, and so that, coupled with the grief I've carried around since Pa's death, would be too much to handle if I brought it up. "Funny, we've been neighbors for who knew how long and we're only just meetin'."

Nick eyed me for a moment but he allowed my subject change. "That's how it goes."

"So, what brings you to Armadillo?" I asked.

He shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know. I've been ridin' for a while and I figured I'd stop in and rest a spell."

"Well, Bill's got the best Whiskey in all of New Austin."

Bill had just walked over and laughed. "Every man loves flattery. That earns you another drink, Jack."

I chuckled. "It's all for the booze, Bill. Nick," I turned to him. "What ya drinkin'?"

"Me? I got gin."

I made a face. "Gin? Alright. Hey Bill, do me a favor, top off my new friend here?"

Bill nodded. "It'd be my pleasure, kid," and he filled Nick's glass as well as mine.

Nick smiled. "Thank you, sir. And thank you, Jack."

I tipped my glass at him. "Can't have ya runnin' out."

With our glasses full of our drink of choice, Nick and I began to talk. At first it was only small things like our horses, Nate Johns, the town of Blackwater, incompetence in our police…idle chit-chat all in all. But as the night progressed and the saloon got rowdier, we became more "comfortable" with each other. I knew we had both lost count of how many shots we'd drank, but no one seemed to care. Even Bill, who usually was very careful with how much he allowed a person to drink, just kept topping us off when we were low.

Nick and I were surely drunk.

"So friend," Nick kind of slurred about an hour or so after we started talking. "Why ain't you happy this evenin'? What has brought ya to Armadillo for such fine drinkin'?"

Despite my pleasant buzz, Nick's words stilled me and made my blood run a little cold. Did I want to tell this man about what I had done? If I decided to tell him about Edgar Ross, I would have to tell him about…everything. About the kidnapping, about Dutch and Bill and Javier, about Ma and Pa. I could, technically, go to jail for murder as well if Nick decided to turn me in. However, I had a feeling that he wouldn't do that. I wasn't sure why, but I knew I could trust him.

And in all honestly, I was tired of dealing with this all alone. I had been coping on my own since the moment Pa died, because Ma became just short of a ghost after that. I hadn't realized it before this moment, but I desperately wanted to talk, desperately needed a friend. With a deep breath, I decided to talk.

"It ain't a pretty tale, Nick," I mumbled.

Nick shrugged. "Do any of us have pretty tales? This God-forsaken land don't allow that."

I breathed a chuckle. "Ain't that the truth…" And then I turned to him and held his gaze. "Before I tell ya, you gotta promise me somethin'. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "I think so, yeah."

My tone was serious and unwavering. "I don't take promises lightly, Nick. The story I'm about to tell ya is extremely personal. You gotta give me your word that you won't tell a soul what ya hear until the day they put you in the ground. I ain't afraid to tell ya that if you betray me, I will gun you down. Understand?"

Nick blinked but his tone was just as serious as mine. "I understand."

"Okay." I held out my hand and Nick shook it.

With a nod I took a deep breath to try and steel myself for this tale. I glanced down to check my drink to make sure it was full enough to handle what I was about to do. It was, and so I began. "It all started a little over three years ago…"

...

"So…" said Nick after a very long story followed by a very long silence. "Edgar Ross betrayed your Pa?"

I nodded and downed the last of my Whiskey. "That he did."

"What a bastard…after everything he made your father do."

"Yeah. Made my Pa do his dirty work and then shot him like a dog a couple of weeks after he got home. Ross gave us just enough time to start feelin' normal again, the kind soul." My voice was hard and icy cold.

"Damn, Jack. That really ain't a pretty tale…"

"Oh, it gets worse. After Pa died, Ma kind of disappeared. She stopped doin' pretty much everything. She almost completely stopped eating, she quit talking, she quit working; hell she hardly even got out of the bed. I had no choice but to take care of her, and everything at the ranch. About a year ago she got sick…really sick. The ranch fell apart because I had to spend every waking minute with Ma. She had this bad cough that must have developed into something much worse. The doctor gave me medicine, but it didn't help, not really. It only prolonged her…suffering." My voice grew soft as emotion twinge within me. "That illness took her from me last month."

Nick sighed and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "My condolences, Jack."

I swallowed hard. "Thank you."

There was a pause. "So now what will you do?"

"You mean what have I already done?" I corrected. "I've been tracking Edgar Ross since the day I put Ma in the ground. I first found myself at his house by Lake Don Julio, where I met his wife. She told me he was in Mexico with his brother so off I went to Chuparosa."

"And did ya find him?"

I shook my head. "Not right away. It took me some time to track them down but once I did…" I paused. "Ross was alone, trying to shoot some ducks or somethin'. I told him my name, and he sure as shit laughed in my face. Told me he was not responsible for murderin' my Pa and that I was trash. We had a standoff. I'm sure you can figure out which one of us came out alive."

"So you killed him?"

I nodded slowly and my voice went soft again. "Emptied my clip into his bastard face not eight hours ago. He fell backwards into the river and that's where I left him."

Nick's hand was still on my shoulder and he gave it a little squeeze. "Then why do ya look so sad still, Jack? You got the revenge you deserved, you avenged your Pa."

I shrugged away from him. "Yeah I know." I stared fixedly at my glass. "But…Ross' wife…she was a nice lady. She was kind and seemed to really love her husband, despite what a piece of rotten shit he was. And I can't…" I sighed. "I can't get her face out of my mind. All I keep thinkin' is how worried she must be. It won't be long until Ross' brother tells her what happened. Ma was destroyed when Pa died. What if the same fate befalls Mrs. Ross? It'll be my fault…it'll make what I did no better than what he did to me."

Nick was quiet for a moment. "Revenge ain't pretty, Jack. It's dirty and brutal and no matter what happens, someone always comes out hurt in the end. The thing ya gotta focus on most is yourself, is your own justice. I know it don't sound right, but it's the truth. What you did, does it outweigh the burden that it inevitably shouldered on another?"

I didn't reply, but I didn't need too. Nick continued after a sip of his drink.

"Tell me somethin', cowboy. What would be easier to live with? Knowing you may have shattered the heart of an old woman, or knowing that, if you hadn't, Edgar Ross would've lived the rest of his miserable existence in peaceful tranquility, unaffected by your Pa's blood most surely on his hands?"

I thought about what he said for a long time. In my mind I pictured Mrs. Ross, seated in a chair on her porch with that much-too-familiar blank stare upon her face. I pictured that she had a son that was trying to take care of her and begging her to eat. The thoughts and images filled me with remorse and pain, but not guilt. I then pictured Ross at his home, seated in the same chair with a relaxed smile on his lips and a fishing pole in his hand. He looked happy and at ease and it filled me with a burning rage that bubbled beneath my skin. He did not deserve to be happy, not after he destroyed my family and broke my spirit. I had nothing because of him, and no amount of remorse for his wife could make me regret what I had done. Ross deserved what he got.

"As much as it pains me to say it," I finally said. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew Edgar Ross was still alive somewhere."

Nick nodded. "That's what I thought. Don't be ashamed of what you've done, Jack. He was a coward and he deserved his fate."

"Yeah…he was a coward." And yet I couldn't shake the pain I suddenly felt. I had carried the weight of my grief around for so long that digging it up to the surface was taking its toll. Deeply rooted inside of me, there was pain for Uncle, Ma, Pa, Mrs. Ross…even for myself. I tried to push it down but the emotions I had been fighting against were building fast.

"Bill," Nick suddenly called. "I think Jack here needs another one."

I saw Bill look at me for a moment. "Yes, I believe he does. But after this one, son, what don't ya head up to that room and lie down."

"Sounds good to me, Bill," I murmured.

With my final drink in my hand, I took a few sips to give myself time to come back down from a very precariously ledge. When I felt safe to speak again, I turned to Nick. "Sorry about all this, friend."

Nick frowned. "Sorry about what?"

I shrugged. "Burdenin' you I guess. I sorta dumped all my problems on ya."

"By request, Jack. I could tell there was somethin' real troublin' on your mind. It ain't healthy to sit on somethin' like that and I knew, even if you didn't, that you needed to talk. You needed to get it out there and get it off your soul. Was I wrong?"

After a moment, I shook my head. "No, you wasn't wrong."

"You'd been sittin' on all this for a long time haven't ya?"

"Yeah," I replied softly. "Ever since Pa died. I didn't have anyone after that. It weren't fair for me to talk to Ma about it…she had enough in her mind to deal with."

"You're a strong man, Jack Marston," Nick said. "I admire the courage in you."

I snorted. "I'd call it cowardice, but sure."

Nick held up his glass. "To…to justice and knowing what you've done was right."

I touched my glass to his. "To justice." I quickly downed the last of my whiskey and stood up. "It's been a pleasure, Nick." I reached out to shake his hand.

"A pleasure, indeed, Jack. Perhaps we'll see each other again soon."

I nodded. "Maybe so." And we shook. "Bill," I nodded in parting to the barkeep before I headed up the stairs.

It took them slow so I wouldn't crash backwards and break my neck. I knew which room it was but I found it difficult to walk over and go inside. My hand paused on the handle for a long time before I took a deep breath and walked in. It was a very simply room. There were two beds - one by the window directly in front of me and one by the door to my left. There was a chest sitting against the wall to my right where I was positive some of Pa's belongings still lived.

I was grateful for the second bed. I hadn't really considered until this moment how difficult it would have been for me to try and sleep where Pa once did. I closed and locked the door behind me before I moved further into the room. There wasn't a lot here to indicate this room had ever been occupied, but I could tell. Pa had always been a relatively organized man. In the gang he had to be, because the others hadn't cared either way and someone had to do it. Although the room seemed barren, in the corner was a washing basin and neatly folded washrags beside it. Leaning against the wall near Pa's bed was an old rifle. I stepped over to examine and saw it was broken. The trigger seemed to have slipped out and now hung loose and useless. I chuckled a little - leave it to Pa to break the trigger of a gun. Nearby the gun was a pair of discarded boots that had certainly seen better days. I didn't blame him for leaving them here.

It wasn't much…but it was Pa, it was very Pa. It clenched at my heart as I kicked off my boots, hung up my hat, shed all my weapons and climbed into the spare bed. With a groan I realized I left the lights lit so I dragged myself back up and doused them before crashing back down. I closed my eyes and, while I waited for sleep to claim me, wondered where I should to go after this night. Should I head back to my ranch, try to get it going again? I wasn't sure… Pa would turn in his grave if he knew I was debating on letting that ranch die; it had been his pride and joy. But the thought of returning to my childhood home, alone, made my stomach twist in pain. There were just so many memories on that ranch, I wasn't sure I could face it, especially with Ma gone. She had kept me busy the past three years and I so I never had to think, but what was there to distract me now? Sure, during the day I'd be tending to cattle and horses and hay and gardening, but at night…that's when it would get hard. The house would be too quiet, too still. I shuddered at the thought.

With a shake of my head, I tried to clear my mind. I could figure out all that in the morning, when I wasn't drunk and feeling so alone and broken. For now, I just needed to sleep and put this day behind me.