Chapter 1

'Bill, Javier. Think, think for yourselves...'

Oh, how six words could cut into a man's skull.

Javier Escuella still couldn't believe it.

His brothers, Arthur Morgan and John Marston, were rats. Both of them. Bill told him weeks ago that John may have been the rat, but it had only been a few days ago when Arthur was thrown into suspicion. The man often went behind Dutch's back.

Loyalty.

That was what would have kept the gang united.

If they all had faith into Dutch, if they stayed loyal, their family would still have meant something.

For weeks, Javier noticed the tension between Arthur and Dutch. He'd cared about his brother, would die for him even; but his lack of confidence into Dutch's leadership, his plans, and him attempting to keep them alive and safe only meant that he was either bribed and had to be stopped or read.

But there was a small part of him who still couldn't believe what happened. He could acknowledge Arthur's been in the gang for twenty years, longer than anyone else, longer than Javier who only joined four years ago. It was possible that he knew of something that Javier didn't as he stood in camp, listening to and believing Dutch's speeches.

Those treacherous thoughts wouldn't leave him as he crept through the mountains. He had to find Arthur and... John, and what would he do?

Well, there was only one outcome when it came to rats.

The sounds of gunshots in the distance vibrated into his ears. Arthur and John's work no doubt.

The Pinkertons.

More kicks up the mountain led to him hearing some faint shouts, gunshots, and at last a familiar grunt. One he knew so well.

He looked at the scene.

The death of his brother would be a tragic ending, something that would never leave him, but he knew that if Arthur survived and went back for them all, it was incredibly likely that they would all die. Dutch. Bill. Everyone.

Fortunately, Micah seemed to have caught up with the rat and was plummeting him with fists while shots were going off in the background. None of them mattered. All that mattered was the fight between the two men.

When he could finally...

Kill his brother...

Without him knowing.

"Rat... you rat!"

"I'm a-" Micah said as he threw a punch to his face, knocking the back of Arthur's head into the hard rock. "Survivor, black lung!" Another punch. "I'm a survivor!" Another. "That's all there is- livin' and dyin'!"

Those words threw him out of his body. As Micah was about to plummeted Arthur, Javier's hearing became distant. There were no denials. He could see the clear victorious demeanor that Micah carried as he beaten the sick man into the grave.

He'd thought back to the deaths...

Sean.

Hosea.

Lenny.

All of them.

Were all of those deaths caused... by Micah?

He'd thought back to Ms. Grimshaw, the older woman who kept the camp well-fed, being shot by the gunslinger after she'd told him to put down his gun. Javier barely caught the scene, but at the time, he'd thought she was being fooled by Arthur and John or went mad with them.

Now, he'd thought about Micah's words. He didn't even rebutted the accusation of being a rat, just simply outright accepted it if anything else.

Shit!

The pieces began to click in Javier's head.

They came slowly, aching like a bullet piercing through a body.

Arthur flipped Micah over him and sent them both descending off the steep drop down the cliff. Landing flat on his back, his brother made more noise, wheezing and gasping for air as he seemed to try to shout. Perhaps a battle cry. Great pain coursed off of Arthur's face as he wheezed and gasped for air.

Micah stood up and began advancing to him, having already recovered from the earlier blow, as if he was a predator looking down at his prey.

He gripped Arthur's collar and began beating him senselessly. Punch after punch. Arthur was barely countering, dodging, and retaliating.

"'Ooo, black lung, you have no idea how long I have been waitin' to do this."

Taunts after taunts came at each other.

"Can't you see I've won? I got what I wanted. You rat. I should've killed you long ago. Milton told me. You're scum, Micah. Spinless bastard. You ain't no man. I've already beaten you. Can't even kill a dyin' man." Arthur snarled after each blow.

More dodges and punches came at each other.

"You've lost. You goddamn all you got? Come on! Hope you're ready for hell. You're pathetic. After we're done, I'm gonna kill Marston too. You've lost. This is where it ends for you. Come on. You weak fool."

Javier, all the while, thought about it all. Those weeks of Micah sucking up to Dutch, it all made sense now as Arthur put it. Thinking back to those taunts, those times of starting fights with the members of the gang, how he'd been tempted to shoot the bastard himself after he'd insulted him, he realized. Arthur and John only attempted to expose him for his lies and was received negatively by their leader.

Goddamn it! They were all fools! All of those weeks and months, of ego-stroking, the validation and cherishing, it was so obvious now. They were all failures! Becoming relics to the past. Dutch's legacy over twenty years came crashing down once and for all. There was nothing. No money. No camp. No gang. Just brainless followers...

And Javier was one of them.

He was loyal to Dutch. He would throw himself down for the man, but... was it possible that Dutch changed as well? Was it possible that the time Dutch spent with Micah - the rat - led to him feeding false information and painting Arthur and John into negative lights?

Did so many of them died because of this goddamn rat?

The man grabbed Arthur and snarled, "Die!"

This time, Arthur countered and headbutted him, causing the man to kick him back, grabbing his wounded nose.

"Still got a little fight in you, haven't you boy?"

Javier watched as Micah slammed him against the stone of a wall.

At last, there was one thing he could do.

It was over now.

Time to end this.

Javier walked up stealthily like a shadow in the night, his hand sliding down to his silver-action double revolver in his holster. None of them saw him, not yet anyway. He swung it in the direction of Arthur.

Killing Micah would be going against Dutch. He just simply... couldn't. Surely, Dutch couldn't be wrong. As the weakened man struggled to fight, the man barely keeping up against Micah's pushes, the Mexican could see that Arthur was losing.

Javier approached the coughing form of Arthur. What had been up with him lately? What happened to loyalty? He still cared enough about his friend from his new random sickness.

'You're okay, friend?' he asked, concerned.

'Never better,' he grimly responded, having also felt the tense, rocky grounds that was in the relationship.

'Dutch... you're breaking his heart...you know that?' he pointed out after a second of silence.

'They tell you to say this to me, friend?' he asked, with a frown, his eyes bored into his own.

The Mexican replied. 'No... but I know.'

'Dutch... and that fool in his ear... they're goin' to kill every last one of us. I see that now.'

At the time, Javier thought that a falling out was inevitable, but that Arthur would simply leave the gang. What could Dutch do against someone who wanted to leave of their choosing? It happened before...

Now, true to Arthur's word, the worst happened.

Brothers fired against brothers, the gang splintered, the increasing doubts within Javier even though he was meant to be loyal, the paranoia.

Now would be the perfect time to end all of this and unite the remainers of his new family-the new gang. The Mexican knew what he had to do. He could see both of the necks of the targets.

One shot was all that was necessary.

More coughing filled the air, and it made him cringe. Mere months ago, Arthur Morgan was an unmovable object of the Van Der Linde gang, a force of nature who could last against any threat. Now whatever sickness he had which was causing him to die, it gave him a severe disadvantage in the battle.

"Forgive me," he murmured to the air as he made his choice.

In one snap of movement, he altered the angle and pulled the trigger.

The bullet pierced through the air straight into the waiting skull of the target, sinking deep and fulfilling its obligation of handing out a quick death. Arthur broke into fits of coughs. Micah collapsed. Javier glared...

He holstered his revolver and moved up, as Arthur's legs gave out, collapsing near the rat's bloodied form. Some blood landed on his face as well. His eyes began to close as he muttered one word...

"John..."

Before his body collapsed one last time. He could still faintly hear his heart beat, but if Arthur was indeed dying, that may change soon!

He had to get the hell out of here!

Away from the Pinkertons.

Away from... Dutch.

Scores of boots marching, he could register over the rocks. They were coming, surrounding them. Javier had to grab him and get the hell out of here. This reminded him of mere months ago when he'd found the bloodied John on that mountain back in Colter, alongside Arthur.

Disregarding that memory of an event that felt like a lifetime ago, he grabbed onto the weakened man. Noticing how weak and soft he felt, he gently led him to Boaz, placing him on top of the horse, and swinging off. This would be a tight escape. The Pinkertons would find Micah's body. If Arthur was indeed the rat, Javier would deal with him. He would keep a close eye on him, prevent him from smearing more information that Dutch did. But he was weakened, half-dead, meaning that he could do nothing unless his strength was nursed back to him completely.

As for Micah...

He had no love in his heart for that piece of shit anyway.

Saving Arthur would mean that his reluctance about this all took over. Killing Micah meant that Arthur and John got what they wanted. Maybe he couldn't stop the gang from collapsing after all, but he'd recalled all of the times Arthur Morgan saved his life. He owns him that much at least.

He had to just keep running and not look back.

Arthur's note: This WON'T tie into Red Dead Redemption 1. Lately, I have wondered what would happen if Javier sided with Arthur. But instead, I wanted him to have gone back for Arthur on the mountain. There's a Sadie one and some John ones but I would like to see Javier slowly realizing that he has been played.

He's still very loyal to Dutch... but he realizes that the gang have been splintered beyond belief. Since this is 1999 and tuberculosis was a killer back in those days, this would be a slow recovery for Arthur.

I hope you all have a good day/night.