Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello!! welcome to my attempt at a fanfic (cheer)

what is this? a chapter 0?
well, i thought i'd explain some things and leave warnings here, since a lot of people don't read those. i don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

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1 - There is a good bit of gore, and it's explained in some detail. it's not to the point it's unbearable, but still.

2 - Some characters use slurs, and a lot of the time they're directed at either Javier or Ruben.

3 - There's a lot of homophobia, internal and not.

4 - This is my first time writing something like this, and my first language is not English, so i apologize if there's any glaring mistakes!

5 - Since i forced myself to do this in 12 chapters, some things are very rushed, and i do realize that...i wish i would've gotten more time, but yknow how it is lol.

6 - Chapter 12 ends on a cliffhanger because while there IS a chapter 13...it's 18+, and i did not want to put it here with all the rest. Chapter 13 will be posted seperately.

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of course, this is the 1800's, but if you do not want to read about any of this you're more than welcome to exit!

i'll give warnings on the beginning note of every chapter of what's in there, just in case ;)

Their playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EI0ZOv4Pn70Alilw8yrxt?si=c66848fd029a48f7

Chapter Text

Run.

Run until your legs give out, until your lungs burn and scream for mercy, until you’re far enough away to forget the pain, to escape the memories.

He could feel the warm sand under his feet, even through his shoes—it was hot out, but it always was around that zone in Mexico. He wasn’t new to this.

The images of her death flashed in Ruben’s memory—whatever even happened? He wasn’t sure—too new a memory, too loud, too scared. That wasn’t mean to happen. It’s all wrong .

This isn’t happening. It can’t. It just can’t.

The smell of blood surrounded him—stained his shirt and pants, stained his brain forevermore— He didn’t have time to check, he just knew, felt the sticky and warm liquid on him.

He should’ve said something. Should’ve explained she didn’t know, that she couldn’t even understand. Should’ve taught her. Should’ve done more, help more, not just stand there and watch.

Blood rose from the sand. Slowly. First ankles, then knees, then hips...panic gripped him. He desperately searched for a way out.

This isn’t right.

It kept rising—torso, chest, chin. He couldn’t breathe.

Ruben, Ruben, Ruben!

Ruben gasped for air as he sat up, holding on to his chest tight like he expected it to explode. Just a nightmare. He was fine.

He wiped his teary and weary eyes, taking a moment to relax, take in his surroundings once again; a forest, few animals and even less people, the light scent of flowers and the feel grass under the palm of his hands, the sky as it began to turn pink and yellow, the birds starting to sing their cheery tune...

He still didn’t know where he was, but it was presumably the United States, given the few people he had stumbled upon spoke English.

He internally thanked his uncle for teaching him.

Eventually, he stretched and yawned, getting up from the dirt. No money meant no bed, or tent—or anything, really. At the start, he only had a knife and the clothes he was wearing with him...unfortunate, but not impossible to survive.

By now he had some sort of rifle he wasn’t truly familiar with and a few cans of food to his name, so it was much better than his rocky beginning. Sure, he had no housing, proper clothes, sustainable food source or anyone to keep him company...but it was something.

Since the start, Ruben dreaded the idea of having to hunt, and he tried not to. It made his stomach feel strange—and not the good type of strange—the ‘this will ruin your life’ type of strange. Some sort of premonition, perhaps.
For weeks, he just ate berries and bean cans that he found around, maybe steal from some sleeping stranger if the moment lend itself to it...but hunger got worse and worse. You always end up having to make a move, can’t just let life pass you on.

The first time was awful, and it went even worse than he could’ve imagined.

His plan was simple; find a small animal and throw the knife at it.

Not particularly smart, perhaps, but there was a lot of determination and not a lot of brain to work with. So, he tried...once, twice, thrice—it did not work, of course. It landed either too far or too close, but never on the animal...and if it did, it barely did any damage.

The first time he was actually able to get something was when he found a rifle, both ages ago and not long enough.
Some unfortunate individual was ravaged to death...God knows what happened to them, perhaps some beast, perhaps another person. Men were always worse than beast, Ruben knew.
He found them already a mess of guts and blood, and of course, he wouldn’t stay long to check what it was. Just took the gun the person had, some other supplies and ran away.

He once again thanked his uncle for teaching him how to shoot...Ruben wished he was home every morning, back in Brazil, and not in this stupid country with even stupider people.

After poorly checking the guns for damage, he had taken some time to practice—just shooting at empty cans and sticks—That day he found his aim wasn’t great...but it was good enough to hit a larger animal. Not that he knew how to skin nor cook it, much less save the remaining food, but this was better than what he had before.

He had climbed up a small hill, attempted to steady his breath as he closed one eye and looked down the sight of the weapon. He looked around; animals too small, animals too big—He felt his heartbeat at his throat, so loud and heavy it could’ve choked him—But once his hands stopped shaking enough to keep steady, he aimed at some poor buck...it landed on it’s flank—the animal tried to flee, panicked, and Ruben panicked too.
He ran down the hill, stumbling and falling flat on his face. It hurt. His moves faltered as pain rushed through him, trying to get back up...once his eyes settled on the dying animal they widened, and he nearly puked.

He messed up time and time again, ended up wasting most of it’s meat and skin and...everything. Poor beast, innocent of any blame, getting killed and cooked (poorly) for a sinners' survival.

But that’s in the past...or further in the past, perhaps.

By now, hunting was no problem. In fact, he found he enjoyed it; The fleeting warmth of fresh blood on his hands, the almost pure sight of something dying in his arms and the feel of the knife at the beings throat...It was strange, satisfying perhaps.
Not in a strange way, no, it didn’t arouse him. It’s different. He never could quite place it.

As he was left with less and less bullets, he took to chasing down the animal on foot more and more often. No need to run, really, it’ll tire itself out with time so all you need is a little patience. Once it’s tired itself out, laid on the floor and looking up at you with defeat in it’s eyes, you may go in for the bite...or knife, if you’re feeling fancy.


Ruben shook his head and gathered his few things, taking on the road yet again. He didn’t know how long it had been, but it had been long enough that the scar on his nose had nearly fully healed. Long enough his hair went past his shoulders. Long enough his clothes were a mess.

A simple button down that used to be white, now stained with all sorts of things, some black jeans and black shoes...simple clothing. He never really learnt how to mix and match clothes, so he always followed the pattern of ‘dark pants, light shirt’. According to him, that always worked.

He walked down a path, never knowing where it lead, just that it lead somewhere. It was important to him, keeping a path near. It meant something.
Within all this panic and sorrow, it was somehow the only thing grounding him.
He needed something or someone to believe in, and since God had failed him...a road made of dirt, grass and pebbles was the next best thing at the moment.

The days usually got muddled together, like making a piece of art with watercolors and then throwing a glass of water on it; just a mix of colors and fainted memories.
Yet somehow, they left their mark.

This day had been like any other, a whole lot of nothing seasoned by more nothing...that was, until he got hungry.

It had gotten late—the sun starting to hide itself behind the far mountains—and his stomach roared with hunger...no time to rest, he kept telling himself, but it got worse and worse. Eventually he gave in and walked into the woods, placing down his rifle and looking around. He’d chase it down tonight, whatever it was he could find.

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the trees and tall grass that rippled in the breeze as Ruben walked about...it didn’t take long to find a lone deer drinking out of a puddle of water. He quietly (and quietly) kicked off his shoes as he crouched to get closer the animal, could feel every little pellet under his feet and under the palm of his hands, the scent of prey...suddenly, a gunshot rang out from god knows where, and the animal fled.

Mierda. (Shit.)

Usually, he’d slowly follow it around...but tonight, he didn’t feel like waiting. So he just started running behind the animal, not caring for any rocks that stabbed his feet, or the fact that he was leaving behind his belongings. He needed this. Needed to sink his teeth into the animal—he didn’t know why, it was simply a necessity at the moment.

He ran with all his might, unsheathing his knife from his belt, looking like a man on a mission. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead from the effort as time went by, but Ruben didn’t slow. His legs burned with the effort, but he pushed forward, his focus locked on the flash of fur ahead. Every step felt like an eternity, but he refused to let the animal slip away.

Until a jagged rock jutted from the ground, causing Ruben to stumble.

His foot twisted awkwardly, causing him to groan and grit his teeth...but he couldn’t stay down, too stubborn to let it escape, so he recovered and pressed on, eyes scanning the surroundings. The deer had gained a few more feet, disappearing momentarily behind a thicket of trees.

Ruben huffed in frustration. His ankle hurt.
Faster. Faster. His breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed harder, but the animal was faster still….until it wasn’t. It messed up, making an odd turn to the left that ended in Ruben leaping and sinking his teeth into the animals neck. It kicked and screamed as the younger man stabbed it over and over...and eventually, it gave up. Blood seeped into his clothes, staining his hands up to his wrists.

He sighed in relief as it settled down, spitting out fur and blood onto the ground once he got off the animal, sitting down on the grass next to it. He caressed it’s brown and white fur, taking deep breaths to relax...it was still warm.

Slowly but surely, he opened up it’s insides, cut away pieces of meat. Crack, crack, crack...every rib and bone on the way hit with the handle of his knife. He still wasn’t good at this, even if he tried he always somehow—what was that?

“ and he likes fishing, yes “ An unfamiliar voice rang through the air, along with some chuckles. It sounded old, someone who’s lungs weren’t doing very well.

The voices slowly approached, steps, thumping on the dirt along with Ruben’s heartbeat, almost in harmony. He didn’t know what to do, so he looked around for—right. He hadn’t taken his gun with him. Foolish.

Before he could think of anything else to do he heard a small gasp.

“ Did he...bite that thing? “ The younger one of the two men asked quietly — burly , with brown hair...though, in the dim moonlight, it was hard to tell if it was really brown, or dirty blonde or some other color.

“ You’re asking a lot of questions today, Arthur “ The lean, older one responded in the same tone.

They whispered among themselves for a few moments while Ruben simply stared at them like a caged animal, moving back ever so slightly and gripping his knife as his face grew darker.
God knows how long he had been alone. People always meant danger.

“ Hey, kid “ The older one eventually said, looking straight at him. He didn’t seem afraid, although his movements were similar to those of someone handling a scared horse. “ You alright? Don’t look too good “ He added, taking a slow step forward, showing both his hands as a sign of trust.

“ Hosea… “ The younger one of the pair whispered, placing a hand on the others shoulder, who merely shushed him and continued moving.

“ That blood yours, or just the deer? “ He added. Ruben sat silent...until the man got close enough and he moved away, which caused the blonde-ish to point his rifle at Ruben, finger on the trigger. He felt threatened, and his first instinct was to fight.

Quickly, he got up from the floor and ran toward them. “ Don’t shoot, Arthur! “ Ordered the silver fox as he moved out of the way, shooting the maybe brunette a glance that was both warning and dismissive, but it was enough to make him lower his rifle with a weary sigh.

“Not gonna shoot a boy, don’t worry.” ‘Arthur’ muttered, his voice laced with exhaustion from the days work, lowering the gun and placing it carefully on the ground as he squared up to face Ruben. A quiet menace appeared as the blonde? rolled his shoulders and raised his fists.

Ruben didn’t waste a second—He closed the gap between them in an instant, his fist darting toward bruneblond midsection—But he was quick, clearly more experienced.
He blocked the punch, ducking low and twisting to the side. His own fist connected with Ruben’s side in a sharp jab that made him grunt and stumble. “ Ay—hijo de perra! “ (motherfucker) Ruben growled, but didn’t let It go.

The older man was clearly patient, waiting for Ruben to approach to swing again with a vicious hook aimed at Ruben’s jaw. Ruben ducked, the punch grazing his ear, and in that split second, he seized the opportunity. With a near growl, Ruben lunged forward.

Before Arthur could react, Ruben’s mouth locked onto his forearm, sinking his teeth into the exposed flesh. It was an animalistic move, pure instinct, and it caught the other man off guard.

Arthur let out a strangled yell, stumbling backward, his eyes wide in disbelief as Ruben’s teeth sank into his skin. The bite wasn’t even that hard, their age and strength difference clear. It was more so the surprise of being bitten by another man, one that was around half his age, that caught him off guard.

He cursed, his face contorted with pain and surprise. “What the hell—?” he hissed through clenched teeth. His attempt to pull free only seemed to make Ruben clamp down harder, desperation and fury propelling him.

Arthur groaned in frustration and smacked Ruben’s face with the palm of his hand, which made younger man finally release his grip. Now he was the confused one.

There was silence for a few beats, the two men just staring at each other in confusion and anger…until the other, which had simply been watching, barked a laugh.

“ He bit you! “ He said between laughs. Arthur was not as amused, but chuckled anyway.

“ Could get hydrophobia, y’know? “ He huffed, wiping the saliva off his arm.

Ruben whined like a kicked dog quietly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked at the two. They looked back at him, nearly- blonde looking quite pissed while the other looked rather amused.

“ Let’s try this again… “ The eldest hummed.

Chapter Text

They chatted for a good while, the two who had fought settling down—mostly thanks to the older man, who he had learnt was named Hosea—they ended up reaching some sort of peace, which lead to Hosea and Ruben riding on one horse, and Arthur riding on the other.

They promised to take Ruben somewhere safe, somewhere he wouldn’t have to hunt animals with his bare teeth, somewhere he could bathe safely...and he wasn’t even obligated to stay forever, just until he got his shit together. Sounded good, if not suspicious.

Hosea had a gray horse, it’s top a little black along with it’s legs. The other mans horse was a red-ish beautiful horse, like a the horseification of a sunset.

Now, Ruben could hear the voice of the two men talking clearly, something about the camp. Strangers. Why would they take him, specially after biting one of them? He raised his head and looked at Arthur. He looked angry. Ruben couldn’t blame him.

The ride was long and mostly quiet from his part; Ruben didn’t care to pay attention to their chatter, just the horses hoofs striking the dirt and rocks below, the critters of the night...it was late. Why were they out? Just hunting? He could see the dead deer mounted on Arthurs horse, the way it’s blood stained the horses hair...he wondered if they cared.

After what felt like years, but also not long enough to get used to the idea, they arrived into their camp. They were immediately greeted by two men—a fatter one that was clearly balding and a taller blonde—actually blonde, too. Neither looked happy.

“ Who’s that then? ‘nother wee bairn ya picked off the street? “ The new blonde asked in a strange accent, pointing at Ruben with his rifle. He frowned as a response, mentally choking out the man, which only seemed to amuse him.

As the barrel slowly drifted, accidentally moving toward Hosea, the original ‘blonde’ said “ Don’t. “ and pushed away the barrel of the gun.

“ Roight “ Blonde 2 responded, scoffing as he moved the gun away. “ Welcome, then “ He hummed, looking back at the balding one.

“ Yeah, welcome “ He nodded, playfully hitting blonde 2’s arm.

The three of them could hear their distant chuckles and jokes in the distance, which only irritated Ruben further. Why was he here, again? This is all so stupid...he was fine on his own. He didn’t need—yet another voice interrupted his thoughts.

“ Hosea! “ A man with slicked back raven dark hair and a mustache called out, his eyes nearly gleamed with happiness as Hosea looked back at him and chuckled.

“ Dutch “ Hosea responded, voice warm and fuzzy, swiftly getting off his horse. Arthur got off, too, so Ruben took that as a sign to follow. “ Look what we brought in “ He said, raising his hand and moving it closer to Ruben—but stopping before he made contact. The action was oddly comforting.

“ I saw! Who’s this? “ He asked, moving closer to the youngest of the group. Ruben took a step back, feeling completely overwhelmed by now...and Dutch was going to touch him, but stopped once he saw the blood. “ Nervous, I see...and very dirty “ He commented, looking him up and down.

Hosea chuckled, crossing his arms. “ He was ‘hunting’, apparently, “ He said, in a very incredulous voice, which Ruben took silent offense to. “ With his teeth “ He added and chuckled. Arthur huffed, and Ruben could see him rub his arm where he had bit earlier. He felt guilty about it now.

“ Well...welcome home, son “ Dutch said, now placing his hand on Ruben’s shoulder. It was firm, a little tight, and Ruben stiffened up immediately.

Before he could say anything, though, Dutch moved away. “ C’mon, old girl, you and I got a few things to talk about… “ He said, voice smooth, almost too smooth. Like it was forced...just a show.

As they walked away, chatting happily, Ruben looked at them confused. After a few beats, he turned around to where Arthur had been...but he wasn’t there anymore. He crossed his arms and looked around camp...it was nice, he supposed, but wasn’t someone supposed to show him around? Was that it?

The camp was placed in a little opening in the forest; There were a good couple of tents, some caravans and campfires littered around, some hitching spots for the horses...although, it was dark by now, so seeing things wasn’t easy. The only things he could make out was because of the fires, and a few lanterns.

The air was fresh, the night sky almost ethereal with the most gorgeous moon Ruben had seen in a long time. He found himself walking toward one of the farther campfires—as if it called for him—the warmth inviting him to sit down on a nearby chair...he moved his hands closer to it, staring into the pit.
Every crackle and pop of the devouring embers had him mesmerized, he felt like he could stare at it forever and never get bored; the way the flame danced in the light night breeze made it almost look alive—sometimes, he could swear he saw things in it—Dancing couples, animals, someones face...sharp, soft, fire has a way of showing you something, but as it cannot speak, you’re left only wondering what it’s trying to communicate.

Yet another voice broke his peace—although, he recognized it this time...somewhat, at least.

“ Hey, son...sorry about that abrupt leave, me ‘nd Hosea had some things to talk ‘bout. “ The man—Dutch, apparently—talked with an almost apologetic tone. Almost. Everything about him seemed to only be half true. “ Get up, I have someone to show you. “ He seemed excited to show Ruben this...someone.

And Ruben did just that, even though the situation was still immensely strange to him. They walked a few feet in completely silence toward another one of the campfires—This one actually had people—while Ruben picked at his nails.

“ Oh, silly me… “ Dutch suddenly stopped, turning around to look at Ruben with a big smile as he stretched his hand out. “ Dutch, Dutch Van Der Linde...the head of this here gang, if you may. “ Ruben took his hand and gave it a weak shake, which made the other chuckle. “ I understand you might be scared, but do not fret, most folk here don’t bite. “ He winked at him before turning back to their destination.

“ Hosea told me ya might me Mexican...somethin’ ‘bout cha cursin’ in what he believed to be Spanish “ He started talking, again. “ And, well, we have ‘nother Mexican ‘ere...thought it’d be a good way to get’cha to settle in “ The words felt like nails on chalkboard.
He thought they’d get along, just because of that? What kind of assumption is that? Ruben quietly grumbled ‘I don’t even like Mexico’...which, unfortunately, was heard by the Mexican.

“ What’s wrong with it? “ He spoke in a low, irritating voice—at least to Ruben. The man was slim—like he starved for a while—with olive skin and a mustache, along with some pretty prominent eye-bags. His hair was tied back into a small ponytail, keeping every strand neatly out of his face—shit. Ruben was staring.

“ What’s not wrong with it? “ He answered after a beat, crossing his arms.

There was an awkward pause, the two of them just staring blades into each others eyes...his were brown, but shined ember in the dim light of the fire—before a fight could break out, Dutch spoke up again.

“ Well...how about you take a bath? There’s a river nearby, maybe...hmm… “ He looked amongst the men; the Mexican, two gingers—one far younger than the other—and yet another blonde...he seemed to be completely passed out, though.
Dutch sighed in defeat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“ ‘lright...i’ll go look for Ms.Grimshaw. Stay here. “ He ordered and then left. Great.

Ruben groaned, sitting down on the dirt.

“ So, what’s yer deal? “ The younger ginger asked. “ Been mad since I saw ya enterin’—Mac said ya looked like ya wanted to choke him out “ He laughed, which made Ruben roll his eyes.

“ Pointed his gun at me. “ Ruben mumbled.

“ Mac? Ah, that’s just him...don’t worry ‘bout it “ He responded, leaning back. “ I’m Sean, Sean MacGuire “ He nodded, giving Ruben a big smile, which somewhat calmed his nerves.

“ Ruben—uhh….Connor “ Ruben responded awkwardly, nodding back.

“ Why the hesitation, Mr.Connor? “ The older ginger chimed in, voice slurred, like he was drunk...or on his way there.

“ Nothing…? “ Ruben shrank a little into himself, giving a very obviously false smile.

The other men looked between each other, and then laughed a little.

“ Right, nothin’. “ Sean giggled, shrugging. “ Nun our business, I reckon. “ He said in a way that screamed ‘i’ll ask you later, and you better answer or I’ll annoy you about it forever’. Ruben counted on in.

The rest of the chatter was pretty mundane—random tales, jokes, questions of the past...a lot of questions went unanswered, but the folk seemed unbothered, so things were mostly calm. Sean seemed to talk a lot about his father, even though it was clear in his tone that the memory still ached…Ruben made a mental note not to ask about him.

“ What about that nose? “ The ginger asked, leaning back on his hands and tilting his chin toward Ruben.

“ A...uhm...brute? “ He tilted his head, unsure if he had used the word correctly, to which Sean answered with an affirmative nod. “ Yes—okay….a brute broke my nose “ He hummed.

The only itch begging to be scratched was the mustached Mexican, who went completely quiet, just eating bread and staring into the fire.
For some reason, that annoyed Ruben. But most things did at the moment, so he tried to ignore it.

They talked for a good while—mostly Sean and Ruben, the pair seeming to get alon g quite nicely...but before silence could settle in, Dutch came back. It really felt like silence wasn’t allowed in this place .

“ Mr... “ Dutch looked at Ruben expectantly.

“ Connor. “ He said.

Dutch nodded. " Mr.Connor, I reckon we'll get ya some clothes later on, but for now, Ms.Grimshaw here’ll take ya down to the river. Once you're done, you can toss on what you're wearin' now. " Ruben sighed and nodded, getting up from the floor.

She looked to be around Dutch’s age, a large bun on her head. “ Christ, you look like a nightmare. “ She said, looking the scuffed up young man up and down with both worry and disgust. “ C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. “ She ordered, turning 180 ° on her heels toward the river.

Ruben simply followed, looking down at the floor.

For once since he came here, there was silence...almost silence, at least, but it was good enough. The crickets chirped and the horses eat grass while the rest of the gang talked and singed...it was nice. A bunch of broken people thrown together making a little paradise of their own.

Once they both got there, Ms. Grimshaw gave him a bar of soap and left Ruben to his devices. He looked around, still picking at his nails; more woods, more grass, more rocks... nothing new. H e yawned and rubbed his eyes before he took off his clothes, shivering as the chilly night air brushed against his bare skin. Chills ran down his arms as he wad d led into the water; The cold hit him like a punch, swirling around him and forcing a sharp breath, but he needed this.

Slowly but surely he relaxed into the cold water, soothing his tired muscles. He rubbed soap over his skin, lathering it up with steady motions, the cuff of his shirt too . The sound of the river’s water slowly making it’s way filled his ears as he rinsed, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away…
He looked at his hands, the blood on them slowly washing away—but not entirely. It never would. Under his nails, at the far corners of his mind, it’ll always be there.

Eventually, he got out of the water, shook the water off and put his clothes back on—they stuck to his skin, as he w as damp, but he paid no mind to it—and walked back to camp. People were either going to or already in their tent. S ome shared, some on their own...it made sense, given it was late, but he didn’t really know where to go. A little defeated, he went to the first campfire he’d gone to and rested his back against one of the logs, crossing his arms and looking up at the sky.

Were they trust-worthy? They’d barely explained anything, just left him to his own luc k.

H is stomach roared with hunger again. Right. He hadn’t eaten yet. He groaned as he got up, looking around...surely, there had to be food here.

Ruben ended up going up to someone’s horse—black and white with a blonde mustache— he hadn’t seen this breed before . He chuckled, giving the horses a few pats before it tried biting him, to which Ruben only scoffed and moved over to it’s satchel. He looked around it’ s insides , eventually settling on an apple...no one would miss ONE apple, right?

Vibrant shade of red with a smooth, glossy skin that catches the light. It had a subtle gradient, transitioning from deep crimson at the top to a lighter, almost golden hue near the bottom. His mouth watered just thinking of how juicy it’d be.

Nontheless, h e inspected it for worms before going in for a chomp—which got cut off by a smack t o the back of the head.

“ Fock ya doin!? “ Mac exclaimed, snatching the apple out of Ruben’s hands. “ That ain’t yers, wee thief. “ He huffed, giving it to his horse instead. It seemed content, a lot more relaxed than just with Ruben.

“ Sorry. “ Ruben mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “ Just hungry “ He added, looking away.

Mac stared down at him; Tall, built, permanent angry face...Ruben shrank onto himself, picking at his nails—until he flinched and looked down at them. Shit . Blood. He cursed quietly at himself, looking down at the blood as it slowly started to bubble up, eyebrows furrowed.

Mac suddenly took Ruben’s hand within his own, inspecting the wound. “ No very smart, hm? “ He said, voice deep . He sighed, hand slipping to the others wrist as he looked around. His hands were warm, but rough with years of work.

Mac, after a bit, yanked Ruben toward one of the caravans, holding on too tight for comfort.

When they arrived, he rummaged through a box and grabbed two cans of beans, still holding on tightly. After a quick glance at them, he yanked Ruben toward one of the campfires without a word, pulling him along like a ragdoll.
Once they reached the fire and both settled into chairs, Mac finally released his grip. He carefully set the cans at the fire's edge, pressing them into the soil— but a s the heat became too intense, he quickly pulled his hands back toward his body.

“ Could’ve asked. “ He said.

“ Sorry. “ The other responded, still looking down at his bleeding nails.

There was almost silence again, the light noise of people snoring somewhere in the background.
Ruben heard Mac sigh, saw him lean back at the corner of his eye, watched him scratch his beard...the blonde’s eyes were blue, he noticed. He had a scar on his neck... like he nearly got hanged .

Ruben opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Mac leaned in and pulled the cans closer—hissing and ‘ow’ -ing along the way, but not giving up—until they were in front of them both. After a few seconds, the both of them letting the cans cool down in silence , Mac grabbed one of them and opened it with his knife. He handed said can to Ruben, who gave a small ‘gracias’ (thank you), and basically chugged it down.

Mac snickered. “ Wasn’t lyin’, hm? “ He chuckled, opening the other can and doing just the same. “ Where ya sleepin’? “ He asked as he wiped his mouth.

“ Uhm...over there “ Ruben nodded to where he was planning on sleeping. Mac followed it with his gaze, and frowned once his eyes settled near the fire.

“ Nay, yer sleepin’ wit us. “ He responded, tossing the can away as he got up.

“ Us? “ Ruben tilted his head—and then got the back of his head smacked again. “ Ow! “ He turned around, rubbing the back of his head with a frown .

There stood the second blonde, the one who was passed out earlier , shit eating grin on his face. “ Aye, us. “ He said. “ Davey Callander, by the way. “ He added as he stretched one hand toward Ruben.

He, of course, took his hand and got pulled up—way too hard, as he stumbled and bumped his forehead with the others chin, who cursed in some...weird language he didn’t recognize. The other barked a laugh, loud as a tree falling.

They talked for a bit, Ruben actually feeling comfortable enough to talk more...or perhaps it was the exhaustion, his feet aching profusely from the earlier chase. He made a mental note to either steal or buy some shoes.
Whatever the case, the three ended up going to a tent that was...strangely further than the rest. Paying no mind, he ducked and got inside; It was alright, nothing too fancy, just two very messy cots, a candle—which was a safety hazard, but Ruben said nothing— and a few boxes.

Eventually, the two brothers laid on their cots, lending Ruben a blanket to sleep on the floor.

He took a deep breath, staring up at the tent’s ceiling as he laid down ...today had been a lot. Mentally and physically. Spiritually, too, if you believe in that kind of thing. His whole body ached, mind going wild with ideas...but when did it not? His brain always seemed to be working overtime to overwhelm him, storming with ideas that ran by far too quick to catch, just a flash and a bang and it was gone…

He thought of the deer, the blood on his hands, the texture of the fur in his mouth, the light drifting away from it’s eyes. He thought of his rifle and shoes, which he had completely forgotten about. He thought of the Mexican’s eyes…brown with an ember shine. Like honey, perhaps.

Ruben huffed and turned around to lay on his side, using his arm as a pillow as he forced himself to drift off to sleep...and eventually, he did.

Chapter Text

The next time he woke up he wasn’t in camp—no, he was back in Mexico. That old house he grew to hate, small and hot, in the middle of no-where. Anytime they needed to buy groceries the pair went together, praying when they came back nothing was stolen. His mom smiled at him, her face so soft and warm as always.

“ Meu amor, o que há de errado? ” (My love, what’s wrong?) She asked, voice kind, placing her hands at Ruben’s cheeks. And he felt young again. Her hands were so smooth, touch so tender. He leaned toward it, the warmth he longed for, eyes bubbling up with tears.

“ Eu te amo “ (I love you) He whispered, voice breaking. “ Sinto sua falta. “ (I miss you) He added, nuzzling his face against the palm of her hands.

“ Estou aqui, com você... não chore, querido. “ (I’m here, with you...don’t cry, beloved) She whispered, rubbing her thumbs along his cheekbones. She looked worried, as if nothing had happened.

Ruben sighed, placing his hands over her own. He took the time to appreciate having her like he had never before; keep his eyes on her, feel the light breeze, smell her food, hear their animals outside...he wondered if they died after he left, or if someone took them—not that they were worth much—perhaps the revolutionaries.

With as much trouble as they brought, he sure fucking hoped they got something out of this.

“ Você não entende, eles mataram você. A culpa foi minha. Me desculpe, mãe. “ (You don’t understand, they killed you. It was my fault. i’m sorry, mom.) He murmured, pulling her into a hug...she felt colder now. Her face just a little wrong.

“ O que você me diz, passarinho? Estou aqui. Eu juro que estou aqui. “ (What are you saying, birdie? I’m right here. I swear i am.) She cooed, tracing circles on his back.

His grip on her slowly got tighter as the smell of food turned into the bitter copper of blood, the sound of their animals becoming the sound of their commands—yelling at him, demanding that he stand up.

“ Meu amor… “ (My love…) Her weak voice called for him, but he refused to listen. Refused to pull away.

“ Ruben… “ She tried to pull away.

“ Ruben “ He held on even tighter, feeling the sand and blood stick to him.

“ RUBEN! “

He jolted awake between tears and sweat, heartbeat ringing at his ears. His body trembled, eyes wide, pupils darting around the dimly lit tent, trying to process reality. The brothers were snoring, quite loudly. He understood now why the tent was further away.

The sun was beginning to rise, he could hear other people starting their day. He was awake.

Ruben’s chest roses and fell quickly, the memory of the nightmare gripping him tightly. His hands shook slightly as he ran them through his disheveled hair, still feeling the echoes of dread, the darkness from the dream clouding his thoughts.

Time waits for no one. Get up.

Chapter Text

Ruben had been in the gang for a few weeks now, enjoying the community, the meals—there were minor bumps and issues, some arguments ( mainly with a certain M exican he butted heads with quite often ) but things were alright.

He felt stupid, lowering himself to his level, arguing with someone he deemed as plain moronic. But he couldn’t help it, every time they were close he felt his chest tighten with what he assumed to be hatred, and every little thing the Mexican did stuck to his mind like a bad memory ...it annoyed him, he just couldn’t let it go.

Although, sometimes, the arguments felt one-sided. Like the other man didn’t care as much, his voice much softer, his apologies much more sincere whenever Dutch made them talk it out . Just thinking about it made Ruben’s blood boil, venom under his skin.

He shook his head, going back to brushing his new mare— Ruth, a Blue Dakota he stole from some lawman who left her unattended for too long near a saloon—h e was enamored by her b lack and blue colors, and in his drunk mind, him liking the horse meant he could just take it.
Apart from some light scolding, nothing more was said. It simply became one of those funny stories the others would tell when they had nothing else to talk about.

Ruben yawned and gave her a few more pats and kisses before going over to the Callander brothers—the three of them had grown to become quite close, nearly always going out together with Sean McGuire too—who had called him earlier. They sat on a pair of logs, the younger of the pair smoking a cigar while the other cleaned his revolver. Sean wasn’t there. Odd.

Upon seeing Ruben approaching, Mac put his gun back in it’s holster and stood up. “ Doll! “ He chuckled, giving the other a rough pat on the shoulder. “ Took ya long e’nuff. “ Mac ushered Ruben closer to David, who was watching them with an exhausted expression. The man had drank until the sun rose, and had barely slept. Nothing new, of course.

“ So, we got somethin’ planned “ Mac started as he sat Ruben down forcefully, something he had gotten used to, starting to pace around right after. “ You, me, Davey over ‘ere “ He pointed at his younger brother. “ and Sean...maybe, ain’t sure yet... “ He trailed off, looking somewhere off into the distance...he shook his head before he went on, as if to shake away whatever he was thinking about. “ Anyway, it’ll be easy. “

“ What are we robbing? “ Ruben asked, tilting his head. “ House? Saloon? Stagecoach? “

“ House. “ Davey mumbled, rubbing his temples, flicking his cigar so it’s ash would fall on the dirt .

“ Why can’t Sean go? “ Ruben crossed his legs at the ankles , placing his hands between his thighs.

“ It’s a big house. “ Mac shrugged.

“ Aye, and they’re dangerous as far as I heard. “ Davey added before taking a hit.

Ruben squinted his eyes, frowning as he looked at them with confusion.

“ And….doesn’t that mean...we need more hands on deck? “

The brothers sighed as if he said something stupid, looking between them for a few seconds before chuckling and looking back at him. Ruben hated when they did that, that stupid magical silent communication they had.

" Sean’s not the best shot, ye ken that, it ain’t an insult. We’re just worried he might get hurt. " David explained, smoke passively pouring from his lips.

“ Aww, you’re worried about him? “ Ruben snickered, which earned him a smack from David.

Mac sighed, sitting down at Ruben’s other side. “ Now...the question is...who’s tellin’ Dutch? “

Ruben blinked a couple of times, more confused. “ You...haven’t told him?? “ He asked, looking at Mac with a ‘are you stupid’ look, to which Mac only scoffed.

“ We ain’t want him adding him anyone else to our plan, lad. “ Davey said. “ Plus, he ain’t gotta know every wee thing we go to. “

“ He’s our leader, though.” Ruben retorted.

“ Aye, and we adore him, or whatever...but he’ll add that greaser ya love so much fer certain, and I ain’t want’cha two arguin’ the whole way. “ Davey responded rolling his eyes.

Ruben went silent, staring down at the dirt below his boots—they were new, he’d bought them a few weeks ago after having used Sean’s for so long. Those never quite fit him, Sean’s feet were longer but thinner than his own, so he had to buy something else.

Something stirred within him, his stomach doing flips. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“ What if...we ask for...John? “ Ruben asked eventually, to which Mac only scoffed and kicked the dirt, standing up again.

“ John? lad, ain’t no one trustin’ ‘im. “ He said, voice growing louder. Ruben could feel the anger start to boil within Mac...gotta be careful now. Keep your words to yourself, unless you want to get murdered.

“ Maybe this can be a good chance for him to win that trust back…? “ The youngest of the trio mumbled, still staring down at his boots. The other two scoffed again. That’s a no.

So far, no one had truly explained what happened to John Marston. All Ruben knew was that he had left for a while without warning and had only recently came back. How long? No idea. Why? Nope. Nothing. Only that he left and came back. He assumed it was a touchy subject, so he didn’t ask. Simply accepted it was something to be upset about.

After some awkward silence Ruben stood up. “ I’ll tell Dutch. Maybe he’ll let just us go…? “ He half-asked, looking back at the two for an answer. They only nodded, so he took his leave.

He took a deep breath as he approached Dutch, attempting to calm his nerves—he was sitting in his tent, his new gramophone playing a tune as he read. Ever since Dutch bought it he’s used it every day, acquiring a good few records. It’s become the new way to get on good side…

Ruben didn’t know why, but approaching the man was always nerve-wracking—Dutch was mostly kind, but he had his...moments...everyone knew of them. You had to catch the subtleties of his tone and mannerisms to tell what mood he was in.

Given the music was a little louder than usual, and his body seemed tense, Ruben now knew the real reason the Callanders didn’t want to tell him. They were nervous. He was even more nervous now.

“ Uhm… “ He cleared his throat as he approached, standing a few feet from the entrance. “ Dutch? “ Ruben asked, arms crossed behind his back.

Dutch didn’t raise his head, nor glanced at him, he only hummed.

“ Well, uhh...well—Mac and Davey had something planned, and they sent me to tell you about it...to…see if you agree? “ He said. It was true, technically. Sure, they hadn’t really sent him, and Ruben was sure the pair w ere planning on going without saying a word...but Ruben always felt the need to tell if he was going anywhere. It felt safer that way.

“ And why ain’t they tell me? “ Dutch responded, closing his book and placing it beside him. “ Why you always the one tellin’ me ‘bout these things? “ He added, tilting his head ever so slightly as he glanced at Ruben.

“ ... uhh.. “ Ruben looked down at his feet. “ Well, I’m going, and since I’m new… “ He trailed off, fiddling with his hands.

“ Just you three? “ Dutch asked, standing up. “ Y’know that’s not how we do things, son. “ He walked over to Ruben, placing his hand at his shoulder. “ Mr.Escuella and Arthur will go with you three. “ He stated. It wasn’t a question, there were no other options. Dutch’s will never bent.

Still, he had to try.

Ruben shrank into himself ever so slightly, forcing himself to meet his gaze. “ Bu t me and Javier don’t get along, it’ll cause trouble, i—” Dutch’s grip got ever so slightly tighter. Ruben stopped talking.

“ I’ll go look for them Callanders so they explain to me what you bunch of fools want to do. “ He stated. Ruben didn’t even get to ask if John could go before Dutch left...which might be for the best.

Defeated, the mixed man walked over to one of the campfires and sat down on the dirt. There wasn’t much to do now but wait…as minutes passed by, all he could do was think of the upcoming job.

Like always, the Callanders hadn’t given much information on what it entailed. They never planned much, simply ran in, took random things and ran out guns blazing. It was fun, he couldn’t lie, but they always ended up getting scolded...which wasn’t as fun.

He hummed a nameless tune as he thought of what guns to bring, if he should wear a jacket…

“ Hey, Ruben. “ A familiarly irritating voice called out, taking him out of his peace. “ Dutch told me we were going out soon but...didn’t explain anything. You know something about that? “ Javier asked.

Great. He’s here now.

“ No. “ Is all Ruben responded, looking up at the sky. He could feel Javier stare at him, could guess the look on his face. That same stupid look.

“ Okay, well...gracias igualmente. “ (thanks anyway) He responded...but didn’t leave, sitting down and popping open a tin of something instead.

Ruben couldn’t see what it was, but since he could hear paper and... something else curiosity got the best of him and he looked back at the Mexican.

It was tobacco. He felt a little stupid now.

“ Quieres? “ (You want one?) Javier asked as he rolled a cigarette. Ruben huffed.

“ No. “ He said, crossing his arms and looking back up.

There was silence for a few beats. Ruben picked at his nails. He could hear the Mexican light the cigarette and take a hit. Could imagine it in his mind. The sky was beautiful; blue hues and a few clouds, a bit of wind—although, Hosea had said it’d rain, since his knees hurt. Ruben wondered if he was joking, or if it was true.


“ Acaso te hice algo? “ (Did I do something to you?) Javier eventually asked, his voice much less gentle now.

“ Me molestas. “ (You bother me.) Ruben responded.

“ Apenas te hablo. “ (I barely talk to you.) The other retorted, sighing with frustration right after. He did that a lot around Ruben.

Ruben stood up and left. He didn’t want to deal with this. Didn’t want to listen to him anymore. Hated that feeling in his chest.

The day went by mostly well after that; Mac and Davey explained their ‘plan’—which was probably done in the spot when Dutch asked—, he talked to Arthur about it, didn’t bump into Javier again…

Packing up was pretty easy. The place was just a day away, so there wasn’t much to pack anyway; three tents they’d share between the five of them, some cans, water and that was all.
Since it was early enough, they left right then and there, each of the men getting on their horses and heading toward this ‘house’; Mac and Davey lead the group, which was worrying, given they often misread maps...but Ruben guessed it was some sort of trust exercise.

They passed through the forest and over rocks, following the river toward their destination; Marble County. It had nothing to do with marble, truly, but since richer folk lived there they wanted to make a ‘fancier’ name…
The sky slowly turned darker as moments went by, fluffy white and gray clouds becoming stars as the sun made way for the beautiful moon...except, you couldn’t really see it very clearly. It seemed Hosea was right. It would rain tonight.

Arthur got a little closer, which napped Ruben out of his thoughtless trance. “ Ya think this’ll go well? “ He asked, looking down at the younger man. They had talked a few times since they first met, nothing too long just small talk or questions.
Ruben once apologized so much that Arthur snapped at him with ‘christ—i forgive ya, ‘lright?? quit it now.’ which (kind of) stopped the apologies.

“ I hope so, Dutch says we need money. “ He responded, scratching his cheek.

“ These two only bring trouble, y’know? ‘m worried they’ll blow up again like last time...and every time before that. “ The other huffed, fixing his posture and looking at the siblings with a mixture of disdain and frustration.

“ I like how they work—i mean, it’s dangerous, but that makes it more fun...no? “ Ruben gave an awkward smile. Arthur did not smile. He only sighed in frustration and kicked his horse so it’d go faster, catching up to the brothers and—seemingly—going to question then yet again.

Ruben sighed. Feeling like he just wasn’t good at talking to folk—it was hard, getting used to talking to people again after what felt like years of lonesome...he knew it hadn’t truly been that long, but it still felt odd. Plus, English wasn’t his mother language, so it only made things harder.

Bored, he decided to look around; there weren’t many animals around anymore, given it was getting dark, so most he saw were owls and opossums and other critters and—he accidentally looked at Javier. Quickly, he looked away, feeling a little embarrassed.

“ You need something? “ He asked.

Ruben groaned. “ No, solo miro. “ (No, just looking around.)

“ Ah, bueno. “ (Oh, alright) The other nodded and looked back to the road.

Awkward.

Thankfully, Arthur soon called out to them, saying they’d stop to sleep and continue tomorrow.

They quickly made a temporary camp; the tents around a campfire Mac made, horses tied to trees, and that’s all. Mac and Davey were set to share their tent, Arthur use his own and Ruben and Javier were SUPPOSED to share the other...but Ruben refused to, deciding to join the Callanders instead, squeezed between them like a sardine.

It rained all night—not a harsh storm, but it was enough that no-one slept well that night.

Chapter Text

The next morning everyone woke up really early—the sun barely peaked down upon them from behind the mountains and clouds, the birds just starting to sing, the sky still very much a dark blue...yet Ruben was wide awake and heating up some cans by the time everyone had gotten up.

He had trouble sleeping—always had, but with strangers that odd fear within him only got stronger.

Technically, these people weren’t strangers, but they weren’t close enough for his fears to settle down either. He got up so early he felt like he hadn’t slept at all...but he needed something to do, so while the others slept he had gone out to get more sticks and dead leafs to start up the fire again. That wasn’t easy, given it had rained...most everything was dripping wet, which was unfortunate, but with patience and determination it ended up working.

Arthur was the only one to give his thank yous—well, Javier tried, but was promptly ignored.

They ate, cleaned their faces with a rag Javier had brought and gotten wet, and hit the road yet again.

Thankfully, they had slept only a bit away from town, so by the time they got there the town was buzzing with people. Left and right, people worked and singed, calling others to come over and check out their goods, others argued and...it was just so nice, Ruben looked around with excitement and had to be stopped by the others from running to check stuff out more than once.

Of course, daytime isn’t exactly a good time to rob, so Arthur ended up deciding that they should just make time by looking around. Maybe they’d find some other house to rob. Or just something exciting to look at…

Mac and Davey left together, to no ones surprise, and Arthur left on his own...leaving Ruben and Javier (once again) set up to be alone in front of some shop where the others had split up.

To Ruben, it felt like some sort of bad joke by life itself, being stuck with this guy.

Javier cleared his throat. “ Entonces...quieres ir a ver algo? “ (So...you wanna check something out?) he asked, looking at Ruben expectantly.

Ruben whined and groaned, having a bit of a temper tantrum…to which Javier chuckled at.

“ It’s not funny “ Ruben huffed.

“ It kind of is, though. “ Javier responded, a slight smile on his lips.

“ How? I don’t want to be around you. “ Ruben responded, crossing his arms.

Javier stopped smiling, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “ Pero porqué? En serio no entiendo qué te he hecho. “ (But why? I really don’t understand what I’ve done to you.)

“ Déjalo, si? Solo déjalo. “ (Leave it alone, alright? Just leave it.) Ruben grumbled, kicking the dirt.

“ Pero—ay, dios...actuas como un niño mimado, sabes? “ (But—oh lord...you act like a spoiled brat, you know?)

“ Tú eres el problema aquí, yo no! “ (You’re the problem here, not me!) Ruben said, pointing at Javier.

He slapped his hand away, growing more and more frustrated. “ No te he hecho nada, Rubén! Me miras como si te hubiera escupido la cara! “ (I haven’t dont anything to you, Ruben! You look at me as if i had spat on your face!)

“ Fue culpa de TÚ gente que—” (It was YOUR peoples fault that--) his voice got cut off as another man approached.

“ Can you two greasers cut it out!? Get the hell away from my shop! “ He yelled, practically squaring up to fight them.

Javier tightened his fist and quickly looked at him, his face spitting venom, making the man cower without even a few words spoken.

“ Listen—your arguing is— uhm... scaring my costumers, alright? Just...go argue somewhere else! “ He said, stuttering and stumbling over his words. Ruben never understood why people got so scared... that face didn’t have that effect on him. Strange.

Ruben felt guilty for starting that argument...

The two did end up leaving, walking around town with no more words spoken between them. Houses so big and tall, shops, horses, everything seemed so fancy. So clean and pristine. He felt like they didn’t fit in—well, Javier was better dressed than him, so he could get a pass...somewhat….people were still so very rude to them.

They went through multiple places; plenty shops, a bar and even a park that was at the center of town. It was gorgeous; plenty trees, places to sit at, a huge water-fountain…

“ You wanna toss a coin? “ Javier asked, taking a coin out of his pocket and placing it on the palm of his hand.

“ Hm..? oh, sure. Gracias. “ (thanks) He took the coin, their hands briefly touching.

Ruben placed it between his hands, closed his eyes and blew air into it before tossing the coin into the water. Javier watched him the whole time, eyes gentle in that special way that made Ruben want to smack it off.

“ What did you ask for? “ Javier asked, leaning in ever so slightly, like a secret between them.

“ I can’t tell you! If I do, it won’t come true. “ Ruben huffed, leaning away and crossing his arms with a slight pout.

Javier chuckled and shook his head, shrugging as he started to walk off again. Ruben watched him for a couple of seconds before going after him.

After a while of looking around Javier bought a new necklace—it was very nice, Ruben couldn’t lie—a silver cross with some...rocks..? in it. Javier was the religious type, Ruben had come to learn. He’d watched the man pray before meals a few times, or heard him mumbling other words of devotion at the far corners of camp.

It was cute—well, no, not cute. More so...entertaining? No, no, that sounds weird too. It’s...well, it didn’t….well—

Mac smacked him, taking him out of his little mind travel.

“ Caralho mano! “ (god-damn, dude!) Ruben yelped, smacking the others hand away, which earned him another smack from Mac. A little harder this time.

“ Don’t fockin raise yer hands at me, lad, i’ll snap yer neck like a twig. “ He said, voice low and threatening...did he mean it, though? No idea. Mac could never turn off his ‘scary’ factor.

Davey and Arthur were there now, too. Must’ve spaced out...time felt like it flew by.

Ruben pouted, puffing out his cheeks. Mac snorted, rolling his eyes. “ Quit that, doll. “ He said, flicking Ruben’s nose. “ C’mon, let’s go. “

“ Is it time? “ Ruben asked, following behind Mac. He looked up at the sky as the group made their way to the outskirts of town; it was becoming dark, but the clouds had completely left by now. No more rain, it seems.

Eventually they all made it out, small talk here and there, but no conversations of real matter...things only got more serious when they sneaked behind the house…

It was a quite large home with a stone fence around it, seemingly divided into 2 to 3 levels, standing on a foundation of pink bricks and a blueish roof. There was balcony on the back, and from where Ruben stood he could see a bench or two. The walls of the home consisted of light pink wood with white corner boards. Many windows were strewn around the walls of the house and on top of the building rested a slim chimney, but as there was no smoke it could be guessed no one was inside at the moment…

"Alright, here’s the plan," Arthur drawled, taking charge since he was Dutch’s son. "Me, Ruben, and Javier'll hop the wall—'cause we’re the quiet ones. Y’all two go on down and wait for us to unlock it. Once we do, just grab whatever you can. Got it?"

“ Can’t Javier go with the other two? “ Ruben asked.

“ Wha—what did I do?? “ Javier asked, looking at him confused. “ I thought we were getting along. “

“ Well, no, I still dislike you. “ The other answered with a shrug.

“ Pero—” (But—) Javier’s voice was cut off by Arthur’s.

“ Just shut up. This is how we’ll be doing things. “

They nodded, and the plan started.

The three went up to the fence, scaling it and cautiously walking on it toward the balcony….but once there, they realized it was locked.
Since Mac and Davey were waiting on their spot, they had no way to say what was up, so they just had to figure out another way in...

“ Who locks balconies?? “ Asked Javier quietly.

Arthur sighed, looking around. Eventually, his eyes landed on a window that happened to be open. He poked Ruben’s shoulder.

“ Think you could get that? “ He asked. Ruben nodded and took a few steps back, before sprinting forward and jumping for it—BARELY catching the ledge.

This job wasn’t going well so far, but Ruben trusted it could be fixed, so he pulled himself up and made his way into the abode; it was even fancier inside, big central stairs, a chandelier...which made him instinctively grimace.

He made his way to the balconies door, unlocking it from the inside and flashing Arthur a smile as the other two walked in.

“ I’ll go unlock the door for the other two, go gather stuff already. “ He said, and the two Mexicans nodded.

The three parted ways as they did their thing.

Ruben went to the bathroom first, finding a good bunch of jewels; pretty necklaces, pins and some rings. He placed a silver one around his index finger, admiring it for a few seconds...deciding he’d keep that one for himself.

Then, he went to the bed-room, going through the drawers and closets, finding a few stacks of money...everything seemed to be going well—Until Arthur came sprinting into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Although, it was clear he made the effort to make little to no noise.

Chapter Text

“There’s people! “ He hissed, making his way to Ruben.

“ Eh? “ He took a little step back, looking at him confused.

“ C’mon, we have to go through the window “ Arthur whispered, gently pushing Ruben toward the window.

“ Ay—pero...wait, wait, and the rest? “ Ruben asked, looking back at Arthur with worry.

“ I’ll get them in a second, let me just... “ Arthur checked the window and...it was locked. He cursed quietly, looking back at the door. “ C’mon. “ He whispered, walking over to the door again.

They crouched up to the railing, looking down...lo and behold, people had started to come inside. Some sort of party, perhaps, given the fancier clothing. Or maybe that’s just how these types of people dressed up...Ruben didn’t know.

They looked at each other, then to the other doors.

“ So…? “ Ruben whispered.

“ Go over there, check who’s inside and tell them to get out. “ The other whispered back.

He nodded, and they split up...unfortunate for Ruben, he opened the door to another bedroom...in which Javier was in.

He sighed, walking over to Javier and tapping his shoulder. “ Ey, hay que irnos. “ (Hey, we gotta go.) He whispered as quietly as he could.

“ Hm? Ah, bueno...porqué? “ (Hm? Oh, alright….why?) He answered, gently closing the closet he was checking out.

“ Entraron personas a la casa. “ (People came into the house) The other explained, glancing down at Javier’s hands...he was holding a particularly shiny object. He didn’t know what It was, but it looked interesting.

“ Ay, mierda…. “ (Ah, shit...) Javier cursed quietly, looking back at the door. “ Pues...vamos “ (Well...let’s go)

They quietly made their way out of the room, finding Arthur and the Callanders waiting by the balcony for them...well—waiting isn’t the right word. The Callanders were already jumping off, Arthur was the only one by the balconies door.

“ What took ya so long?? “ He hissed, glancing between them and the main door.

“ It didn’t take that long! “ Ruben retorted as they went up to him.

“ Jesus... “ Arthur huffed, making his way out, placing his hands at the rails and jumping off—presumably landing on his feet, given all the pair heard was an ‘oof’ and the sound of Arthur’s boots hitting the gravel below.

Ruben looked at Javier expectantly. “ What? “ The other said. Ruben sighed.

“ Get out. “ He motioned to the fence.

“ Ah—you first. “ Javier said, taking a little step back. Ruben frowned.

“ No, you go first. “ He said, crossing his arms.

“ Qué importa? No me voy a morir por esperar 2 segundos más. “ (What’s it matter? I won’t die ‘cause I waited 2 more seconds.) Javier responded, crossing his arms as well.

This was stupid. Another stupid argument. And they knew it, but they went on anyway.

“ Por qué me peleas? Para molestas nada más? Salta y ya, pesado. “ (Why are you arguing with me? Only to bother? Go on and jump, annoyance.) Ruben stated, frowning.

Javier’s eyes widened ever so slightly before he frowned as well. “ Y tú por qué me insultas? Siempre igual, carajo, no tienes nada que decir entonces insultas mi carácter. “ (And why do you insult me? Always the same, damn, you have nothing to say so you insult my character.) He spat, shoulders tensing up.

Ruben groaned, rubbing his face with his hand.

“ Thank you for the coin. Is that what you wanted? “ He asked, no longer whispering, tapping his foot on the floor.

“ First, be quiet, and second, this has nothing to do with the coin! You’re always being rude to me for no reason. “ Javier answered, also not whispering anymore.

Suddenly, they heard the click of a gun.

“ What are you two doing in here? “ A feminine voice asked.

The two whipped their head toward this person—old, obviously rich, with two men with her pointing their guns at the pair. Only two, one younger than the other. Strange. Perhaps she wasn’t ready for any type of trouble...

They slowly raised their hands up, eyes wide as plates as they took a small step back.

“ Fock’s goin’ on up there, lads!? Jump down! “ Mac called out from below. Javier groaned and Ruben snickered. The woman didn’t seem amused.

“ Check them, go check if anyone else is inside and catch the man below. “ She said, and their gunmen did, one of them leaving while the younger one patted down their clothes—obviously, they found what the two had stolen in their pockets...but they also ripped away Javier’s necklace away, breaking the cheap chain in the process.

He glared at them, and Ruben could see his hands twitching as if he wanted to ball them up into fists…he refrained, though, which was stupid to Ruben...that necklace was his, bought somewhat lawfully. This was stupid. They could take them, kill them and run away…

“ You simple fools will pay. After this, I’ll make an example out of you. “ She said, crossing her arms and tapping the floor.

Ruben sighed, quickly thinking up a plan, and when the man approached him to pat him down...he quickly punched his jaw, making him stumble—Javier, taking the hint, turned around and left through the balcony while yelling at the others to run.

He tried to do the same, turn around and run—but the gunman pulled him back and punched the air out of his lungs. Ruben practically growled, tackling him to the ground before he could react and punching him as hard as he could. The woman hollered for help, attempting to pull him off but that only gained her a shove—which made her stumble down the stairs—and for Ruben to get more vicious with his punches.

He broke skin more than once, feeling skin and blood on his knuckles. The kids face swelled with tears and blood. What a mess.

He fought back, obviously, getting a few punches and kicks in...but he just wasn’t strong enough. Ruben almost felt bad...almost. In times like these, guilt only makes things harder.

You can feel guilt for hurting your friends, people you care about, but not some stranger who’s making your job harder than it needs to be.

But did he deserve this? He didn’t NEED to beat him this hard. Hosea often says he goes too far. Maybe he’s right. Maybe. He’d always been like this—well, no...maybe? It was hard to tell.

Hearing more people be on their way, he took the broken necklace back and stood up, running to the balcony and jumping off. The next few moments were a mess—The group ran away while the lady’s hired guns shot at them, so they had to get on their horses and go through the forest to lose them—there weren’t many, so Mac had offered murder as a solution, but Arthur denied it.

All Ruben could hear was a ringing in his ears. The feeling of the blood on his hands. He still had the necklace in one of them, holding so hard onto it he was a little worried it might break.

After a while, he didn’t know how long, they lost their pursuers…

“ Ruben! “ Arthur called out to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“ What!? “ Ruben turned his head toward the voice...realizing he was much further ahead than the rest. “ Ah—sorry! “ He pulled on the reins, making his horse slow down.

“ What the hell happened!? “ He asked as their horses came to a halt together. The rest of the group stopped a little before.

“ Some...uhh…well— “ Ruben looked into Arthur’s eyes, the mix of worry and anger swirling in them like a storm...he sighed, deciding to just admit his fault. “ Me and Javier argued...and we got caught… “

Arthur groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose , frustration evident in every inch of his posture. " Christ… " His voice was more weary than surprised. Like he expected this. He let out a deep sigh, his eyes narrowing. " Alright... we’re headin’ back to camp and tellin' Dutch. "

With that, they spurred their horses, their hooves pounding against the dirt as they galloped hard toward camp.

The group were mostly silent. What a mess.

When they finally arrived, the camp was anything but calm. It was a damn mess. Word had spread fast—As it turned out, the lady had called for the law, and what was supposed to be just a little robbery ended in a whole mess...the law was already on their tail. There was no time to waste. They had to pack up, move out, and fast.

The group were questioned by some gang members, Ruben and Arthur splitting and heading for Dutch, who was talking with Hosea, already planning where to go...north, as it seemed.

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he glanced at Hosea. The older man’s expression was grim. This wasn’t the plan—hell, it wasn’t even close. Hosea and Arthur had agreed they needed to head south, away from the law. But Dutch, as usual, had his own ideas. He wasn’t listening.

" Dutch, we need to get south " Arthur muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. " This is gettin’ out of hand. "

But Dutch, ever the optimist in his own twisted way, ignored their advice and pushed forward. " We’re moving up, son! " he insisted, his eyes filled with the same determination that had led them here in the first place. " The trees have done well for us, but I heard there’s a few nice rivers up there...a bath wouldn’t do you wrong. " He joked with a smirk.

Arthur shot a look at Hosea, who simply shook his head. This wasn’t so bad, they’d figure it out. Run, like always.

They had no choice but to follow Dutch’s lead anyway .

Chapter Text

3 days later.

Ruben was on ‘shit-cleaning-duty’ ( Bill ’s words) , picking up every pile of manure in the barn and then throwing it in a cart, humming a tune to himself...it was early, he was trying to do this quickly so he could go out later.

They’d traveled 2 whole days to get here— He liked this camp; it was bigger than usual, two cabins at the center —one for Dutch and Hosea, the other for Arthur and John— with the other’s tents littered around it, a barn in fairly well state, an actual fence…or parts of it, rather. Plus, it was warm and well hidden…heaven, as far as Ruben was aware.

Shame he was stuck cleaning poop all day. It was fair, he guessed, after making such trouble…

Eventually he was done, wiping his forehead, leaving the shovel near the exit and walking out toward his tent . He needed to bathe, of course, he smelled like crap...quite literally, too.

Things were still tense in camp, of course. People made questions, complained about moving, talked down to him. It was fine. They were lucky that woman had barely scratched them. They were lucky the lawmen had lost them. It was fine.

Ruben took a deep breath, heading to the Callanders tent; He still slept with them, seeing no point in wasting money buying another tent even if Hosea had said he could. Maybe someday, maybe if he really needed it. Once he got inside he grabbed a clean button-down from Mac’s chest—Ruben often stole clothes from Mac, to Mac’s amusement—and beelined toward the river.

He bathed, threw on clean clothes and went back to camp, thinking of how to ask Dutch to let him out...He was sat down at one of the new tables, eating stew, looking down at it like the food owed him money.

Ruben cleared his throat. “ Sir? “ He asked, trying to sound confident even though he was clearly not.

Of course, Dutch was fully aware of his nerves, tilting his head as he turned toward Ruben. “ Yes? “ He hummed, acting unaware.

“ I was wondering if I could...maybe….go out for a while? Just to see if I can catch something. “ Ruben responded, arms crossed behind his back.

There was silence for a few beats, the two men staring at each other. Ruben wondered what Dutch was thinking—the man was always doing so, it seemed, be it plans or the books he was reading or something else. His brain seemed like an unsolvable maze to him.

Eventually, Dutch snickered and shrugged. “ ‘course, son. You’re better off robbin’ for us than picking shit all day. “ He said before going back to eating, silently dismissing Ruben.

Ruben made a mental note to buy something Dutch for his kindness, nodding and heading out.

He got on Ruth, not taking anything that wasn’t already on the mare as he went out. He hoped to find something—anything—that would keep him busy and maybe bring some coin back to the gang.

He started in the nearest town, his boots kicking up dust on the dirt roads. The usual hustle and bustle was absent. The saloon stood mostly empty, its door swinging lazily in the wind, and the merchant at the stall seemed to be nearly dying of boredon . Ruben tried a couple of the local shops, but the owners had no work for him. "Come back next week," one grumbled, barely glancing up from his task.

As he walked down the main street, Ruben paused by the stables. Maybe some ranchers needed help with cattle or repairs. He leaned on the wooden fence, watching the horses lazily graze, but the stablehands were nowhere to be seen. No deals, no jobs. The town had nothing to offer.

Feeling the weight of wasted hours, Ruben turned back. He passed a few more mostly empty towns, the silence growing heavier with each step. Where the hell was everyone?

There was no point in sticking around. With a frustrated sigh, he made his way back to camp, the thought of returning with nothing gnawing at him.

No one asked, of course, but it still bothered him.

It was late now, the sun completely hidden from view thanks to the treeline, clouds becoming stars...with not much else to do, he just idly did chores around camp. It sometimes felt like no-one did anything, and he really wished someone who’d be more useful would come around.

Eventually, Pearson called out for people to come over and eat, and so he walked over to the dishes after most everyone had gone already, grabbing a plate and turning around to—

“ Ay—cuidado. “ (Owch—careful.) Javier grumbled.

They had barely talked to each other—not that they talked much beforehand, but Javier had now started to return the favor and had begun to avoid Ruben—so this was their first interaction after the better part of 3 days. He seemed upset.

“ Pero si tú te me tiraste encima! “ (But you were the one that threw himself on me!) Ruben retorted, the weigh of the past few days making him more irritable than usual.

“ Yo no—ugh...Ruben, I don’t feel like arguing. “ Javier said, shoving past him to grab a plate for himself.

Ruben stared at him for a few seconds, anger boiling before he grabbed his arm and turned him around. “ Oh, but you very well argued with me back at that woman’s house! If it weren’t for you, we’d be fine! “

Javier seemed stunned for a few seconds, but eventually he nearly growled as he leaned in closer, expression darkening. “ You’re the one that’s always pushing me, don’t act innocent. “ He said, eyebrows furrowed.

Ruben could nearly feel Javier’s breath on him; a mix of tobacco, some sort of alcohol and...something else he couldn’t quite place. He shook his head, deciding this wasn’t the best time to think about that.

Instead, he threw his plate to the dirt—it was made of metal, so it wouldn’t break—and shoved Javier. “ This is all your fault! “ He said.

Javier put his plate down on the table with force before shoving Ruben back. “ I don’t know what your fucking problem with me is, but you’ve been rude to me since we met! “

“ Everything—everything that’s happened is your peoples fault! “ Ruben spat, anger rising from deep within. A wound that never healed.

Javier’s eyes widened, letting out a bitter chuckle as he looked Ruben up and down. “ My people? Cariño, you’re Mexican too. “ (Darling.)

The petname made a shiver run down his spine. He ignored that, too. “ No, I’m not. And that’s not even what I meant. “

“ Right—so your father isn’t Mexican? “ Javier placed his hands at his hips, raising an eyebrow.

Ruben groaned. “ Yes, he was, but I was born in Brazil. “

“ That makes you half-Mexican, imbécil! “

“ NO! I mean—maybe—that’s not my point! You revolutionaries ruined everything! “ Ruben’s voice broke ever so slightly.

Javier raised his eyebrows, and if he wasn’t before he sure was now. “ What does that have to do with anything!? I—oh, I see. I know what you are, un maldito imbécil que prefiere vivir en miseria antes de pelear. “ (A fucking moron who’d rather live in misery than fight.)

“ Tienes idea cuantas personas murieron porque gente como tú se les ocurrió ser parte de una pelea QUE NO PUEDEN GANAR? “ ( Do you have any idea how many people died because people like you decided to be part of a fight YOU CANNOT WIN?) Ruben spat, jaw clenched.

“ Mi tío murió por la revolución, Rubén, así que si, si tengo idea. “ (My uncle died for the revolution, Ruben, so yes, I do know) Javier answered, fists clenched. He was so close to punching Ruben. So, so very close.

“ Pero—no es lo mismo! Él pagó el precio, yo—” (But—it’s not the same! He paid the price, i--) Javier’s patience had finally snapped.

Without another word, he punched Ruben’s face, a hard hit that sent the younger man stumbling backward. Ruben’s feet slipped on the dirt, and he crashed down onto the ground with a grunt.

Javier’s wasn’t a heavy puncher, he mostly used knives. This was surprising.

" Levantate! “ (Get up!) Javier’s voice was sharp, filled with anger, as he watched Ruben scramble to his feet.

Ruben grumbled as he got up, very quickly squaring up.

Before Javier could react, Ruben lunged forward, making them both land on the ground, Ruben on top of Javier. He swung for a punch, but Javier moved out of the way and moved so he was on top now—they rolled in the dirt, struggling for control, fists flying as they tried to gain the upper hand.

Their limbs tangled as they fought to get on top of each other, each trying to pin the other, but neither succeeding. A bit of blood splattered every once in a while as punches landed.

The forest around them seemed to hold its breath as the two men rolled on the dirt, their movements frantic and wild. Javier tried to land a punch to Ruben’s ribs, but Ruben grabbed his arm and twisted it, forcing Javier to the side. They were both covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, but neither one was backing down.

Ruben silently hoped someone would come and stop them.

Javier kneed the other’s stomach, causing him to grunt. In retaliation, he swung an elbow toward Javier’s face. The two collided again and again, their breathing heavy and ragged.

They kept their eyes on each other. Javier’s eyes followed a trickle of blood that ran down from Ruben’s nose to his lips.

It was chaos, messy and uncoordinated. Neither could get the leverage needed to end it.

Javier managed to land a blow to Ruben’s cheek, but Ruben responded with a shove. They were still both on the ground, so it barely mattered at all.

They were both exhausted now, breathing heavily, their muscles aching from the constant struggle. Neither had won, and neither had truly hurt the other.

The fight slowly came to an end, both of them lying there in the dirt, tangled together, their breaths heavy but no longer frantic. There was no decisive blow, no clear victor. Just a mess of exhaustion and frustration.

They were silent for a few seconds, both sighing and looking away.

“ Tu...tu padre murió en la pelea? “ (Your...your dad died at the fight?) Javier asked between breaths , quiet , nearly gentle even if he was still fuming.

Ruben felt his throat tighten. He swallowed, shaking his head.

“ Entonces? “ (Then?) Javier asked, frustration showing again.

Again, there was silence.

He sighed, accepting Ruben wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet. “ Mira, Rubén...no sé qué pasó, y lamento que hayas perdido a alguien por la causa, pero no fue culpa mía. Yo no maté a esa persona. Yo solo quería que nos trataran de manera justa. “ (Look, Ruben...I don't know what happened, and I'm sorry you lost someone because of our cause, but it wasn't my fault. I didn't kill that person. I just wanted us to be treated fairly.)

They both sat up, Ruben looking back at him. “ Te juro que moriría por cada inocente que falleció. “ (I swear I would die for every innocent who passed.) Javier added, looking straight into his eyes.

Ruben opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Arthur called out to them.

“ The hell are you doin’!? “ He asked, stomping his way over. “ On the—oh my lord. Did you fight??? Again??? “ Arthur sighed in frustration. “ Get up, go eat. “

And so they did, brushing themselves off and heading for dinner.

They didn’t talk about it to anyone who asked.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Ruben woke up so early the birds weren’t even singing yet. There was barely a light breeze, near silence in the surrounding forest. He needed to leave—not forever, but long enough to let this pass.

He took cans and bullets, a fishing rod and bait, stuffing them in his horses satchel before ‘lending’ a pen and some paper from Arthur.

He sat down, placing the page on one of the wooden tables and thought of what to write. Who would he write to, anyway? Should he even do this? They were upset when John left, maybe he should warn he won’t leave forever just in case.

Dutch? He is the leader, after all. But he’s busy, maybe he wouldn’t see it.

Arthur? Maybe, but he figured Arthur would be upset with him…not that he actually seemed to be, just that constant feeling that everyone around him judged him more than they actually did.

Hosea…?

He hummed to himself, nodding and beginning to write.

‘To Hosea.’ He stared at the words, even if he had just began it felt wrong. He scratched it over. ‘To Mr.Matthews.’ He hummed in approval.
‘As you may or not know, Eu got into a fight with Javier yesterday.’ ...they fought nearly every day, he needed to explain more.
‘More serious than the usual ones, i guess. I’ll be home soon, a day or two,’ He thought about Dutch again. ‘please tell Dutch to not yell at me too much. -Love, Ruben.’

Satisfied enough with it, he sneaked into Dutch and Hosea’s shack and left it on one of the old and dusty kitchen counters, heading out as quickly and quietly as he could right after.

Ruben walked over to Ruth, getting on her, kicking her into a trot and heading for the road...where to, though? Well, he was going to fish, so some sort of river or beach seemed like the best way to go.

He thought about it while he went, taking a deep breath and enjoying that sharp morning air...Hosea had told him of a nice spot he had found, but Ruben didn’t quite exactly remember where it was. He still went for it, sort of praying he’d somehow remember the path and reach it.

The forest was dense, trees high as clouds, their leaves forming a thick canopy that filtered the sunlight into soft, dappled patterns on the ground...Ruben looked around as they traveled, allowing himself to relax and take in the scenery. Small patches of wildflowers added bursts of color...he loved this, going out and enjoying nature. No troubles, no stupidity other than his own, just himself and the creatures of the forest.

His brain didn’t allow him to keep the tranquil mood, though. Going back to thinking of his...situation...with Javier. He had been an idiot, he’d come to realize...Javier had only been kind to him, so why did just thinking about him make his blood boil? Maybe he was thinking of this the wrong way, maybe his blood wasn’t boiling, maybe it was something else.

It was strange, something he had never felt before; A tightness in his chest, like riding through the desert with a melody playing faintly in the distance; too far away to reach, unfamiliar, yet all you want to do is reach it—He kept telling himself it's just the wind, but deep down, the tune is already echoing in his chest, trying to pull him in. The music plays louder in his mind the more he thinks about it.

He shook his head, looking back to the path. He would apologize to Javier, and that’s all.

As they continued along the path, the sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling filled the air. In the distance, the forest began to thin out, revealing a tranquil clearing with a sparkling stream flowing through it—this was the fishing spot...probably. Maybe he had found another. Didn’t matter, he supposed. Any place is a good spot if you make it so.

Ruben felt a sense of calm as they approached, forcing himself to look forward to a relaxing moment by the water.

He took most things off Ruth, making a little camp for himself before he took off her saddle to let her roam around and relax too. She had been such a wonderful partner in crime, he adored her.

He walked over to the river, threading the bait—worms—onto the fishing rod’s hook before throwing it into the water...and missing, the hook landing on the other side of the river’s bank. He groaned, reeling it in and trying again...this time, it landed in the water. Great. He dug a little hole and put the rod standing up there.

Fishing had never been his thing—he didn’t like waiting, he’d much rather chase after whatever he was going to eat, the adrenaline was much greater there...still, he was trying. He didn’t know why. An itch at the back of his brain telling him he should...both Hosea and Javier had offered to teach him. He denied them both, which he regret now.

He stood next to it, hand resting there as to feel any twitch or vibration that would signify something had bit into the bait.

While he waited, his mind swam with thoughts once again...Javier really liked fishing, he thought he was ‘the best fisher ever’, which was amusing—he’d come home so happy every time, his smile shinier than the stars above. It was...nice...he guessed. Seeing the man so happy.

Javier often seemed angry; he had a frown on his face most of the time and barely spoke...it didn’t make him seem all that friendly. Yet he was, he always was—to him, at least, always offering help and words of affirmation.

Ruben had been such an asshole.

He felt like he re-discovered that every so often, and would always tell himself he’d do better...but he never did. He never got better. His actions were still wild and rude. Maybe Bill was right, maybe he was a savage, an animal. Maybe he—

Ruben finally felt the rod twitching, which pulled him out of his thoughts. Quickly—yet clumsily—he grabbed the rod reeled the thread...nothing. He had taken too long, whatever fish he had caught was gone.

He took a deep breath, getting more worms and wrapping them around the hook with thread again...a lot more thread this time, though.

Hours went by, trying over and over again, and he caught nothing .


By then it was dark, so he went to bed..

…

Pearson called out for people to come over and eat, and so he walked over to the dishes after most everyone had gone already, grabbing a plate and turning around to—

“ Ay—cuidado. “ (Owch—careful.) Javier grumbled.

They had barely talked to each other—not that they talked much beforehand, but Javier had now started to return the favor and had begun to avoid Ruben—so this was their first interaction after the better part of 3 days. He seemed upset.

“ Pero si tú… “ (But you...) He stopped. What? This isn’t right…

“ Yo qué? “ (I what?) Responded Javier, frowning.

Ruben took a step back, looking around. He felt confused, so he rubbed his eyes before looking back at Javier. He looked...strange. Not quite right. There was a scar on his nose, another on his cheekbone...his eyes shined ember as if there was a fire nearby, but there was not. Ruben could swear he licked his lips. “ You...nothing. “ He mumbled, patting Javier’s shoulder before going to eat.

But there was no-one. No-one in camp but Javier, who had followed him to the pot. They were both quiet as Javier waited for Ruben to finish serving himself...the air was tense, Ruben could hear his heartbeat loud as drums in his ears.

He glanced at Javier, who was looking at him.

“ What? “ Javier mumbled, raising a hand to touch his own cheek, the scar that seemed old before now bleeding. “ Do I got something on my face? “ He looked confused, yet...nearly glad? Of what?

Ruben stood in silence, just staring at him. His face felt warm, he had never stared at Javier this long...well, while Javier was aware at least. He swallowed hard, passing the ladle to Javier.

Suddenly, neither of them had their bowls in their hands. There was no pot. No fire. Just each other. Ruben couldn’t look around to check if there was even trees nor dirt below his feet.

“ I’m sorry. “ Ruben mumbled.

“ So am I. “ Javier responded.

“ Am I dreaming? “ Ruben asked, scratching his neck nervously.

“ You’re saying you dream of me? “ Javier tilted his head with a smirk, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

Ruben hummed, stepping closer to Javier. “ I wish this would last forever… “ He mumbled, blinking a few times. He felt like he was going to wake up soon.

“ You should tell me about your fishing experience. “ Javier responded, placing his hand on Ruben’s chest, feeling his ribs, the white-ish shirt he was hearing...his hand was warm.

“ Will you laugh at me? “ Ruben chuckled, moving his hand to cover Javier’s.

“ Probably. “ The other agreed with a smile.

....

Ruben woke up, but unlike most other nights...he didn’t feel nervous , he wasn’t shaking with fear, just a lingering warmth on his chest. He swallowed hard as he looked down, embarrassed of having dreamt such a thing. This was wrong , he reminded himself.

It wasn’t as early as usual, the sun already shining bright above, birds chirping. He could see a coyote in the distance . Ruben supposed it was alright, given he said he’d take a few days to come back...he missed home already, though. And after that dream? He had to go back as soon as possible... not today, though. Maybe tomorrow, or past tomorrow, or—

He took a deep breath, getting up from the dirt and brushing himself off as he thought of what to do for the rest of the day...he couldn’t go back home just yet, he had to settle his thoughts first... a bath, maybe?.

He bathed far too often, he knew, most people didn’t clean even their face once a week—not that that was strange, but it meant him preening himself often was strange to some...to others, it was blessing. Ruben was messy. Truly messy . He’d eat with his hands if he could, get blood on his clothes so often Ms.Grimshaw yelled at him nearly every time he got home...he didn’t even know how he managed to somehow become a mess of sweat, dirt and god knows what else every time he left his tent, but it was like some sort of curse by now.

Of course, the only way to fix being disgusting, is bathing...in a river. Or bath, if you had the money to afford it.

He took his clothes off—which were somehow not already a mess—and waddled to the river, unconsciously placing his hand where Javier’s was...in the dream, of course.

He prepared himself mentally, but sighed as the not so cold water hit his skin; He expected it to be cold, but the sun had been out long enough it was...actually quite nice. He rinsed himself, no soap this time around, just water and scratching at skin to pick away at the grim and dirt
.
Ruben’s mind wandered as he cleaned himself, thinking of the dream. His hand slowly made its way from his chest downward... h e stopped himself, shaking his head as his face grew warm, s tepping back—he nearly slipped.

“ Caralho ” (Fuck.) he mumbled to himself, staring at his hands as if they’d acted on their own, as if this was their fault. He groaned, splashing his face with water before stepping out.

He grumbled to himself as he got dressed, his head a mess of embarrassment and frustration and...that familiarly hated feeling in his chest, squeezing his heart, leaving behind a lingering twist in his stomach. He hated it. He hated it.

Ruben tried to distract himself for 2 days; hunting, robbing random folk, selling pelts and stolen goods, killing a few O’driscolls...but nothing got his mind off that stupid stupid dream, and Javier, and the way he had stepped toward him, and how rude he had been to Javier since he arrived, and their fight, and feeling Javier’s body on him and—this wasn’t helping. He needed to apologize and get this over with.

It had been long enough, he supposed, although this trip hadn’t eased his mind at all...running away from his feelings wasn’t going to help this time, unfortunately, no matter how hard he always tried to run away, you cannot ever really escape anything. Not feelings, not people, not your past or your future.

He patted Ruth’s head, scratching behind her ear before putting on her saddle. She huffed and kicked the dirt, and Ruben chuckled.

“ Eu sei, meu amor, we’ll be back soon, and you can go back to biting Boaz… “ (I know, my love.) Ruben hummed, giving her an apple before tightening the girth.

The mixed man got everything ready, wasting as much time as possible to try and figure out what the hell to say. He wasn’t good at this! Talking? Feelings?? Why the fuck should he be sorry, anyway! Javier had started it—he hadn’t really, but maybe if Ruben kept telling himself so, it’d become true.

Settled enough, and the sun already going down, he god on Ruth and kicked her into a trot.

Chapter Text

The forest thickened around them as Ruben guided Ruth beyond the edge of the clearing, leaving behind the stillness of that open space where, for a short while, the world had felt uncomplicated.

The last glimmer of moonlight faded behind the tree leafs—branches laced so tightly over their heads they made a ceiling above them. The silence pressed in, heavy and undisturbed, broken only by the gentle clop of hooves on the soft earth.

Maybe he could come back another time, he hadn't seen anyone the whole time he was there...maybe he could even bring Javier next time. Javier would know if if the spot was any good for fishing anyway, would have said something clever about the size of the trout just by glancing at the ripples. Ruben smiled faintly at the thought.

The road was barely visible now. Trees towered around them, their trunks vanishing into the black above, as if the forest had no ceiling at all. The moon was somewhere up there, he was sure, but its light didn’t reach them. He tugged gently on Ruth’s reins and reached for the lantern tied to his saddle.

With a few flicks of flint, the wick caught, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced in the night air.

Shapes loomed and slipped away in the corners of his vision: crooked branches, tangled roots, the vague suggestion of movement deeper in the woods; where earlier there had been patches of wildflowers nodding in the breeze, he now saw only glints of distant eyes—silent, watchful things just beyond the light’s reach.

Ruben kept one hand near the lantern and the other loosely on the reins, his mind drifting. He tried again to rehearse what he might say when he saw Javier back at camp; ‘i’m kinda sorry about how I’ve been treating you, even if I wasn’t even th—’ He snickered, no. that was awful. ‘listen, even though you have a very easily hated face—’

He sighed...this was dumb, if he really wanted Javier’s forgiveness, he’d have to take it seriously…he cleared his throat before speaking out loud this time.

“ Javier, I’m really sorry about how I’ve been treating you. I know não é sua culpa, I’ve been an ass since we met—you just...i don’t know, every time I look at you I think of the revolution and...eu sei, não é sua culpa… “ (I know, it’s not your fault) He trailed off, frowning as he looked down at his hands. He sighed, looking back at the road. He’d figure out what to say then and there.

Ruben saw camp far in the distance, the travel had felt a lot shorter this time around...as his eyes caught glance of Mac Callander, his brain forgot all about the apology, now thinking of a mischievous plan...quickly, he got off Ruth, patting her back so she’d keep trotting into camp without him.

While the mare made it’s way, he sneakily made way through the forest, behind trees and bushes, pausing every time Mac looked around. The man stood tall, angry and watchful as always...he turned to Ruth as she finally made her way there, stopping near one of the entrances.

“ Ruth? “ The Scotsman asked, getting closer with an outstretched hand, offering pats. “ Where’s the lad, hm? “ Mac looked around, already growing suspicious…he shrugged, though, taking Ruth’s lead and moving closer to the hitching rail, tying her there.

Ruben giggled quietly as he watched, waiting for Mac to turn around...before sprinting toward him, on his way to tackle the man—but Mac heard the footsteps, and quickly turned around to catch Ruben as he jumped.

“ There ya are! “ The man laughed loudly, lifting Ruben in the air, who giggled and kicked at him. “ Been gone fer days! Was ‘boutta go look fer ye! “ He said before placing Ruben down.

“ No you weren’t “ Ruben huffed, crossing his arms.

“ Aye, I wasn’t “ Mac shrugged, probably playful as he punched Ruben’s arm.

“ Ow...hey, where’s Javier? “ The younger of the pair asked, rubbing his aching arm.

Mac hummed in thought, scratching his beard. “ Uhh...fock, no idea. Probably wit Dutch, I think the big boss was plannin somethin’, aye? “ He said as he glanced around, not letting himself be distracted from guard duty for long. “ Why? “

Ruben saw the suspicious side-eye Mac gave him, but pretended not to as he glanced back at camp; There were barely any people awake, but there was light in Dutch and Hosea’s shack. He mumbled something about it being nothing, waving Mac dismissively as he walked away.

“ Glad to see ya too, asshole. “ Mac grumbled, rolling his eyes before going back to work.

Ruben nervously walked toward the shack, scratching at his hands—a bad habit of his, he had plenty little scars from picking at his skin, an unconscious effort to calm his anxious brain...he heard voices inside as he placed his ear on the door; Dutch, Javier and Bill. Something about a short job, which Bill complained about.

Ruben’s heart fluttered as he heard Javier saying it was alright, that they’d be quick. Before he could move away, the doors swung open, smacking him across the face and making stumble and fall on his ass.

“ Ay—caralho, olhe antes de abrir a maldita porta! “ (Motherfucker, look before you open the damn door!) He was planning to yell more, but his words sizzled out of his heated brain as Javier’s worried eyes landed on his own.

The mixed guy swallowed hard as Javier approached, offering a hand. “ There you are. “ Javier sighed in...relief, it seemed, his voice gentle as he helped Ruben get up. The man opened his mouth to speak, glancing Ruben up and down, but Dutch spoke first.

Ruben wondered how often Javier looked at him like that without him realizing.

“ There you are ” Dutch said, stepping forward with his hands on his hips. “ Christ—I read the letter you gave Hosea. You should’ve come to me about that! ” His voice rose, sharp with frustration, but after a beat, he exhaled heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to steady himself. “ It’s fine. You’re riding out with Javier and Bill tomorrow. ”

“ HUH?! ” Bill shouted from inside the house. “ THAT WASN’T THE DAMN PLAN! ” He stomped out, scowling, stopping just behind Dutch.

As Dutch and Bill launched into a heated back-and-forth, Javier sighed and rolled his eyes. Quietly, he reached out, taking Ruben’s arm with a gentle touch and guiding him away from the argument.

“ Estás bien? ” (You okay?) he asked softly, his usual calm in place.

Ruben had expected anger, distance—maybe even to be told to fuck off. But this was Javier. That was never his way. A small, involuntary smile tugged at Ruben’s lips as he looked up at him.

“ Sí, claro. Solo... necesitaba un tiempo, ” (Yes, of course. I just... needed some time.) he responded.

Javier hummed in understanding, looking all over Ruben’s body again—to check if he was okay, obviously. Ruben’s face still got warm, and he looked away, placing his hand on his chest.

“ Necesito hablar contigo. “ (I need to talk to you.) Javier said, gentle, as if trying to not scare Ruben off...which it did, the man immediately growing tense.

“ Eh? De qué? “ (Huh? What for?) Ruben asked, sizing up Javier out of nature.

Javier put his hands up, trying to relax the other. “ Ey, ey, calma. “ He took a step back, giving Ruben space. “ Mira, tú...bueno, yo—”

His voice got cut off by Dutch calling for them. They both groaned, grumbling insults in their respective mother languages.

They made their way to their boss, who briefly explained their job—mostly for Ruben, who had no idea what was happening—before sending them to bed, no space for arguing.

Ruben and Javier gave each other a brief goodbye nod before going to their cots...thankfully, both Callanders were off in guard duty, allowing Ruben to get a good night’s rest...but before falling asleep, he remembered he had left everything on Ruth. He groaned, rolling over to his other side as he decided on the spot he’d figure it out tomorrow.

…

Ruben breathed hard, blood trickling from his nose, hot against his upper lip. He was running—from what, he didn’t know say. Only that if he stopped, it would catch him; His chest burned, each heartbeat like a hammer blow, loud and frantic, as if his heart itself wanted to break free of his ribs and flee without him.

The ground beneath him shifted—one moment bloody sand, the next mud, the next something like glass that cracked but never broke. He saw things at the corner of his eyes, vaguely humanoid but not enough to make out.

Behind him, a voice echoed through the dark. Muffled. Distant. Familiar. It tugged at something buried deep, just out of reach. A name he refused to say, a face blurred in memory but sharp in feeling. He almost recognized it. Almost.

Still, he ran. His legs ached, but they moved without permission, as if trying to outrun not a monster, but a feeling. A man he often thought about in his wake.

He stumbled through a door that hadn't been there a moment ago, falling into a hallway lit only by flickering, warm, candle light. Ahead, a figure stood in silhouette. Unmoving. Waiting. He didn’t want to see who it was.

He didn’t need to.

He already knew.

He turned and ran the other way, but the hallway came closer, trapping him, the candle fire danced and threatened to burn out—flickering with every denial he whispered to himself while awake...but then it calmed, turning more...gentle. Warm.

Slowly, Ruben calmed down, looking around.

T he voice behind him—clearer now, his face and upper body visible —spoke his name.

Soft. Breathy.

Loving.

….

Ruben nearly jumped from his cot as he woke up, breathing hard. His face felt warm, trying to shake away the lingering memory of Javier’s mouh. He looked down, and found an...unfortunate and sticky turn of events. Even more flustered, he rushed out of his tent, making sure nobody saw him and his messy form.

By the time Bill and Javier had woken up, Ruben was mostly alright, but he found it hard to even glance at Javier. The man noticed, of course, asking a few times if he was alright, but Ruben either gave no answer or a very short excuse.

He felt like a stupid teenager—he was, kinda, at least one of the youngest in camp. But still, this hadn’t happened before. He never had time for it, he supposed, too busy with trying to live his whole life for fooling around.

The three men got on their respective horses, Ruth as always nipping Boaz, who huffed and bit back. It was playful, Javier said, but it made Ruben nervous. Which only seemed to amuse the horses.

“ Cálmate, si te asustas, ellos se darán cuenta. “ (Calm down, if you get scared, they’ll know.) Javier chuckled, patting Boaz.

Ruben huffed, pulling on Ruth’s reigns once more to get her away from Boaz. “ Es que parece como si le diera gracia! “ (It’s just as if it was funny to her!) He said, fighting off a smile.

Javier laughed, that sweet sweet sound. “ Si, es posible. “ (Yeah, it’s possible.) As he watched Ruben struggle with the horses, Javier’s face fell from a smile to a light frown. “ Realmente me preocupaste cuando te fuiste así, sin avisar. “ (I was really worried when you left like that, without warning.) He said, voice serious.

Ruben turned to him, confused. “ ...pero si avisé “ (...but I did warn) He mumbled, looking back to the road.

“ Si, a Hosea, a mí—digo, a Dutch no. “ (Yes, to Hosea, not to me—i mean, not Dutch.) Javier said, getting a little flushed and looking to the road, too.

They were silent for a while, Bill rambling in the background.

Ruben couldn’t comprehend that Javier...cared, even worried about him. “ Não pensei que te importara—Quero dizer...pensé que hasta quizá estarías feliz de verme ir. “ (I didn't think you'd mind—I mean...I thought maybe you'd even be happy to see me go.)

Javier frowned, merely glancing at Ruben. “ Eres un idiota. “ (You’re an idiot) Is all he responded.

The road went mostly without issues, Javier and Ruben chatting away while Bill sulked the fact he was supposed to go out with Mac today. Surprisingly, Javier and Ruben barely argued...it was a nice change of pace.

They made their way through the thick forest, toward a flowery clear. It was beautiful, really, pink and purple short flowers along the grass, a sunny day with barely any clouds...truly, a horrible time to go steal from someone.

“ We’re here.. “ Bill grumbled as he got off his horse, tying it’s reigns around a tree before walking over to a rock and sitting by it.

The plan was simple; some members of a gang Ruben gave no fucks about so he didn’t remember their name, was going to come by here with recently stolen goods. They were to stop them, kindly ask for the money, and if they didn’t give it away, well...Dutch had allowed them to go ham.

The three of them sat by the rock, mindlessly chattering about unimportant things like the weather, John and Abigail’s arguments, how cute little Jack was...and Bill even saying he was fond of Mac, which Ruben and Javier tore at him for, mercilessly making fun of the guy.

“ Naww...you really like Mac, hm? “ Ruben giggled.

Bill groaned, crossing his arms. “ It ain’t like that, you pair of weirdos, I just—Mac’s my best friend, alright? Now quit. “

Ruben and Javier exchanged glances, snickering.
Bill looked so embarrassed...the man tried to look tough and manly, acting as an asshole for people to take him more seriously...but nobody did.

When he wasn’t acting like that, Ruben sometimes enjoyed talking to him...well, enjoy is a big word. It was alright. Not his favorite person.

“ Mac’s sure a guy… “ Javier said, rolling his eyes. Among the trio, Javier was the only one who wasn’t the biggest fan of the Callanders; He didn’t like their more...brutal, nature, the way they hurt people for fun, their dog vs dog way of seeing the world...and them trying to make Ruben like that. He often told the young man to steer away from them, but that always ended in arguments.

“ Quit it, we know you don’t like him...but we do, it’s 2 v 1 “ Ruben said, poking his side.

“ Ay—es que...i mean, it’s just that, he’s really an asshole. Last week, he threw you in the lake just to ‘test if you could swim. “ Javier said, growing a little frustrated.

Ruben hesitated, glancing away for a second. Sure, the Callanders weren’t the nicest, but they helped him every time he needed it...they made him feel safe, cared for—not that he’d ever say that out loud. Instead, he just went with “ He means well. "

“ I agree, just doesn’t want the kid ‘ere to end like Marston. “ Bill agreed, nodding.

Javier rolled his eyes. “ There’s better ways...and, hey, I like Marston. “

Bill scoffed. “ ‘Course you do...he’s a traitor. “

Javier scoffed, offended. “ What’s that supposed to mean? “ He asked, glaring at Bill.

Suddenly, horse hoofs. “ Shh! Shut up! Shush! “ Bill hissed, placing his hand on Javier’s mouth, who smacked it away and gave him a sharp glare.

Ruben giggled quietly at the exchange, Javier’s face softening, which Bill mocked him for.

They kept at this for a while—one person did or said something, the other two made fun of them for it, rinse and repeat...until they heard the click of a gun.

“ Y’all stupid as rocks. “ The hoarse voice of an unknown man said, frowning as he pointed his gun at the trio.

The three of them raised their hands—not before Javier elbowed Bill’s side, of course.

The man huffed in annoyance, as if looking at three misbehaving children. “ Why were ya hidin’? “ He asked “ Nd’ don’t bullshit me, I ain’t got time fer crap. “

The air was tense, the nice surrounding not at all fitting the ringing in Ruben’s ears, his heart drumming against his chest once more.

“ Ain’t nothin, really, we was just—we just...uhh.. “ Bill turned to Javier and Ruben for aid. The two were no help, Ruben looking around and Javier just glaring at the man...Bill could tell Ruben was planning something, though, so he decided to try and buy them time. “ Jesus—okay, hey, calm down, we’re all friends. “

“ We ain’t friends. “ The unknown man answered, cold—before Ruben tackled him.

Gunshots filled the air, Javier and Bill pulling out their guns to shoot at the other gunmen while Ruben struggled with the larger man—he failed, of course, getting kicked off.

“ Focking rat! “ ‘Stranger’ yelled, looking around for his gun. But by the time he was about to grab it, Ruben shot his hand.

Before he could shoot for his head, Bill picked him up, Javier running by his side.

They rushed into the forest, Bill letting Ruben down as they hid behind a rock. “ Jesus christ—what the hell kinda plan was that!? “ He yelled.

“ Did you have anything better!? “ Ruben asked, panting.

“ Okay, okay, we gotta split up...get to the horses and go. “ Javier stated, fixing up his hair.

“ We can’t go to camp, Dutch will kill us. “ Bill said, checking how many bullets he had before putting his gun in it’s holster. “ Let’s just...yeah, split, I’ll find some place for us to hide. We meet up back here in a few hours. “

The other two nodded. It was a dumb plan, but three negatives don’t make a positive.

As Bill walked away, Javier took Ruben’s hand and pulled him away. “ Eh? Javi, se supone que nos separemos “ (Huh? Javi, we’re supposed to go split) Ruben said, but made no effort to move away.

“ Es un buen momento para hablar “ (It’s a good time to speak.) Javier responded.

They made their way through the dense forest, Ruben’s face feeling warm once more. It felt like it always did when Javier since he came back—suddenly, he remembered he wanted to apologize for once.

“ Javier—para, tengo que decirte algo. “ (Javier—stop, I have to tell you something.) Ruben pulled away, causing Javier to immediately stop and look at him with worry...Ruben could swear his face was lightly blushed.

Before he could speak, Javier did. “ Lo siento. “ (I’m sorry.)

They stood in silence for a few seconds, Ruben’s face turning from hesitance to confusion. “ Eh? “

“ Antes de que me insultes, o me digas que soy un tonto, o lo que sea, escuchame. “ (Before you insult me, call me a fool, or whatever else, listen to me.) Javier asserted.

He took a deep breath, fishing his hair once more. Ruben just stared at him, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt.

“ Yo...realmente disfruto cuando pasamos tiempo juntos. Sin peleas ni argumentos, solo tú y yo y… “ (I...really enjoy it when we spend time together. No fights or arguments, just you and me and...) Javier sighed, glancing away for a second to recolect his thoughts before speaking again.

“ Y lamento que nuestra última conversación antes de que te fueras haya sido una pelea. No quiero que peleemos más, Rubén, quiero que nos llevemos bien...aunque seas un cretino a veces. “ (And I'm sorry our last conversation before you left was a fight. I don't want us to fight anymore, Ruben. I want us to get along...even if you're a jerk sometimes.) He added that last comment with a slightly smirk.

Ruben felt that weird twist in his stomach again, the way Javier was looking at him making him want to smack it off...but he didn’t, instead choosing to nod. “ Está bien, intentaré no discutir más. “ (Okay, I'll try not to argue anymore.)

Javier visibly relaxed, letting out a soft breath. “ Eh, no creo que lo logres, pero aprecio el gesto. “ (Eh, I don't think you'll succeed, but I appreciate the gesture.) He said, playful tone.

Ruben frowned, hands tensing into a fist...he took a deep breath, shaking his head and walking off.

“ Mhm? “ Javier hummed, following behind Ruben.

“ Nada. vete, ya hablamos. “ (Nothing. Go away, we already talked.) Ruben grumbled, staring at the dirt.

“ Hmm… “ Javier walked a little faster so he could be in front of Ruben, walking backwards. “ Suena a discusión. “ (Sounds like arguing.) He smirked.

“ Vai caer. “ (You’re gonna fall.) Ruben pointed out, giving Javier a half-felt glare. “ Y no es, você está me molestando “ (And I’m not, you’re annoying me.)

“ Lo siento, cari, no es mi intención. “ (Sorry, dear, it’s not my intention.) Javier chuckled, raising his hands defensively. “ Vamos por los caballos y...al bar? O donde quieras. “ (Do we go get the horses and go to...the bar? Or wherever you want to.)

Ruben hummed in thought, Javier moving so they were now walking together. “ Encontré un lugar lindo, pesqué--bem, eu tentei...de qualquer forma, você seria capaz de dizer si es un buen lugar. “ (I found a beautiful place, I fished--well, I tried...anyway, you'd be able to tell if it's a nice place.) Ruben said, using more portunhol than proper spanish than now that he was more comfortable. He watched as the cogs turned in Javier’s face, giggling.

“ Lo haces de gusto. “ (You’re doing it on purpose) Javier huffed, playfully punching his arm.

“ Juro que no, juro que no. “ (I swear I’m not, I swear I’m not) Ruben said between giggles. “ Es que estoy comodo, meu descolpa. “ (It’s just that I’m comfortable, sorry.)

Javier’s face turned to surprise, and then...something else. He looked away, a faint smile on his lips. “ Idiota. “ (Idiot.) He mumbled. “ A ver, te sigo. “ (Alright, I’ll follow you.)

“ Bien, bien. “ (Okay, okay.) Ruben nodded.

Things felt...different, now. It was easier, far more comfortable than any time before...Javier apologizing had helped calm the situation. Ruben thought that, maybe, if Javier apologized every time...things would get fixed.

Chapter Text

It had been a few weeks since that conversation, they had gone fishing back then and Javier said it was a pretty good spot, which Ruben felt really proud of. He had happily watched as Javier talked on and on about fishing, Hosea teaching him, a few tricks he had...Ruben caught nothing, against all of Javier’s efforts, and by the end Javier kept joking the fish hated Ruben. They were talking more, hanging out more—still argued, but every time they did, Javier would bend the knee and apologize. Ruben liked it, he didn’t need to talk about how he felt, just accept Javier’s apology….not the healthiest, perhaps, but it worked.

After they got home, Dutch gave the three men an earful and a half. Calling them morons, how it was a very simple mission and he could’ve BELIEVE they messed it up, how they should’ve paid more attention, etc. They promised they’d do better next time, but Dutch barely bought it. Thankfully, they hadn’t been put on ‘time-out’, just let off with a warning.

Not much of interest happened; hanging out with gang members, random jobs, getting used to the place, hunting down people and animals, constantly getting in trouble for ‘being too messy’...Ruben now sat near a campfire on a log, staring down at his bloody hands and cuffs. It had been a long day.

It was supposed to be a simple trip; go out, get some meat, come back...but of course, with Ruben’s luck, it just HAD to go wrong. He’d been ambushed, barely made it out with a few bruises and superficial cuts, had to kill 2 men on his own...he thanked Mac for teaching him to fight better, despite his smaller frame.

He wished Javier was there, helping him wipe the sin away; the dark crimson stains covered his hands, seeped under his nails, splattered on his clothes, and even smudged the corners of his mouth...Javier would’ve made this better, he’d be chatting with him, distracting him from his thoughts…

Actually, he wasn’t sure WHERE his ‘friend’ was; He’d also left early today for some mission that was supposed to be quick too, but was clearly taking its time. Ruben blamed Bill, who had left alongside Javier, thinking that if Javier had left on his own, he’d be back by now. The man was skilled and quick after all, much better compared to the other...but no, of course not, Williamson HAD to intervene and keep him away.

“ Hey, Connor “ came a voice, snapping Ruben from his thoughts. He turned his head to whoever was calling for him, silently hoping it was the Mexican he had started to care for against his will...but their voice sounded nothing like Javier's; it didn't hold the honey-like lacing, the accent, the sweet nicknames... Instead, it was rough, someone who had probably smoked since the moment they were born.

There stood John Marston, wearing his ugly, stained, union suit. Ruben guessed he had just woken up, given that horrible bed hair that sat on his head. He cleared his throat, trying to will away the smile that threatened to tug at his lips.

“ What? “ Ruben asked, picking off the blood with his nails, averting his gaze.

“ Dutch’s lookin’ for ya…woke me up an’ everything “ John said, voice rough with sleep, more than usual.

“ Oh—sure. Why didn’t he look for me? “ Ruben asked as he got up from the log and wiped his hands on his pants. The blood was already dry, anyway, a useless attempt. He just didn't feel like going to the nearby river right now, even if he knew Ms. Grimshaw would chop his head off if he saw him.

“ Don’t know, he looked a bit…I don’t know “ John looked away mid-sentence, never one to say how he felt, or what he thought. He and Arthur played the ‘bumbling moron’ part well, Ruben thought.

Without any more words spoken, Ruben simply nodded and started to walk away, leaving behind John and the crackling and popping comfort of the campfire, toward Dutch’s cabin.

He sighed and wiped his feet on the grass before knocking on the door of the cabin, fixing up his clothes as best as he could.

“ Come on in, son! “ Dutch called out from inside, and given the nickname, he already knew who it was. Or he thought he was Arthur, or John...or...actually, Dutch calls that a lot of people.

He walked in and closed the door behind him, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Odd, he thought. The blinds were shut and there was only a lone candle lighting up the room, but still enough to make Dutch’s figure clear.

" You need me? " Ruben asked as his eyes landed on the other man and the book he was reading. He was probably not going to pay attention, as usual. Whatever Dutch had planned would be repeated when the time came, anyway.

" Why else would I call you? " Dutch replied, his tone a mix of joke and seriousness. " You and Mr.Escuella are going on a job tomorrow...it'll be easy, don't worry "

Now that caught Ruben’s attention. He stood in silence for a few beats, his mind racing. Javier and him? Just the two of them? Not unusual, he supposed—folk were reprimanded if they went alone on missions, even if there weren’t many numbers in the gang for now. Dutch and Hosea usually preferred duos over solo missions. It was safer, everyone understood.

Noticing Dutch stare at him with a certain...look...he cleared his throat and nodded.

" Good, I knew I could count on you " Dutch stood up, walking over and giving Ruben a pat on the back. It was careful, clearly not wanting to get stained. " You'll leave tomorrow early, all the way to Deer Creek...i know Mac nearly wreaked havoc there, but they won’t suspect us. I’ll give you the details when Javier gets back.”

Dutch herded Ruben out of the room after that, not giving much more room for talk, which Ruben had grown used to be unbothered by. He felt like a sheep sometimes.

Ruben gave a slight wave and nod as Dutch closed the door behind him. He sighed, standing by the door for a few seconds before heading to his tent. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he stared at the floor, lost in thought. A bath was a good start, most likely. He didn't even know what the mission entailed, so he couldn't prepare much anyway...Deer Creek was humid and hot, though, so 'no big jackets' was something to keep in mind.

He walked off toward his tent, thinking of what to do while he waited for Javier—it was strange, that they were on better terms now. Most folk thought they still hated each other…Ruben decided that maybe that was a good thing.

He crouched beside the bucket right outside of his tent, the cool water reflecting the blue sky and clouds as it slowly turned red, reminding him that it was getting late.

As he washed his hands, the water in the bucket gradually turned crimson, swirling with the blood and grime from the day’s mission. Tilly had left the bucket with a knowing smirk days ago, saying it was a ‘good reminder to stay clean.’ He chuckled at the memory, shaking his head with a smirk. Fair enough.

Tilly was very young, spring, Ruben loved spending time with her...reminded him a lot of his own sister, before she died. He made an effort to always be nice to her, help her out, same with baby Jack Marston...they didn’t deserve to be treated badly.

Recently, Abigail had asked him to take care of Jack while she took care of laundry, and Tilly tagged along. They talked all afternoon, playing with baby Jack, showing him things...Ruben couldn’t imagine himself a parent, but he sure enjoyed watching over the kid. He couldn’t figure out why John tried to hard to stay away from him.

He wiped his hands on his pants as he shook off the memory, feeling the dampness as he stood up. The bucket, though simple, was a small but constant reminder of Tilly’s care...Oughta return the favor, he thought, perhaps he could buy the young woman a gift.
With a final yawn and stretch, Ruben ducked into the Callanders tent, making his way to their shared chest and looking through it, searching for clothes...and soap, too. Better not forget this time.

Sure, a quick rinse was nice, but his whole body was stained. A bath would do him better.

He grumbled under his breath, staring at the disheveled pile of clothes. Choosing an outfit was always a hassle for him. What did it really matter, anyway? People like Javier, Dutch...he never understood that need to look good...although he found he didn’t quite mind when at least one of those people overdressed.

Eventually, he landed on a simple white button-down and black jeans...his usual, basically. He carefully picked up the outfit and his socks, along with underwear—a union suit—not wanting to get anything bloodied up.

As he made his way out of the tent and toward the nearby creek, the crunch of grass and rocks under his boots was the only sound in the cool night air...well, the faint murmur of the camp too, and If he listened closely, he could almost swear he heard the unmistakable sounds of Mac and Davey in a heated brawl. Brotherly bond, he guessed. They did that to him sometimes, too, or ‘test his skill’ in some other way.

The others didn’t really like it, specially given the pair were nearly twice his age and size, but Ruben was very thankful the brothers had taken him under their wing, taught him how to fight, how to win, no matter the price. The world was cruel, if he had to fight dirty to win, so be it.

Short and skinny, Ruben’s hair is long and wavy, past his shoulders by now...it worked for missions where he had to dress up, but it also made people make fun of him for looking ‘feminine’. He despised it, blood boiled under his skin every single time, and he’d always try to fight it...at first, it didn’t work, but by now he held his ground.

He often asked people like Arthur and Mac for advice, the ‘scary’ men, but nobody could give him something better than ‘just get better!’ which wasn’t very helpful.

Sometimes Mac would give him a surprise attack, forcing Ruben to figure out how to get the man off him quickly...sometimes, Mac went a little overboard; Last time, he nearly broke a rib, and Arthur had to pull him off.

It helped, in a way, getting tested in such ways, but sometimes Ruben wished there were other ways than getting ambushed and beat up by his peers.

Ruben unconsciously touched his ribs as he got to the spot—Thankfully, it seemed no-one was there. He quickly undressed, shivering as the chilly night air brushed against his bare skin. Goosebumps prickled his arms as he kicked off his boots and stepped into the water. The cold was a shock, wrapping around him and making him gasp, but he needed this. He really did.

As his body slowly relaxed he sighed, starting to leather the soap on his tan skin, creating bubbles and washing himself...this was nice, a little cold, but nice.

The man found his brain drifting off again—it often did. Either he was fidgeting, or pacing, or something else. Unable to sit still—Mac often made fun of him for it, or how he never paid attention to instructions, or the way Ruben sometimes spoke over other people...he didn’t mean to, it was just hard for the man to figure out when his speaking turn was.

Ruben wondered why he was this way. If maybe everyone was like this, but they were just better at hiding it.

His thoughts turned sour as he thought about his father, who hated these traits of his with a passion...he thought of the dark rooms, begging to be let out, promising he wouldn’t run away like that again...Ruben held himself, mentally cursing himself for thinking about it, but it didn’t help just...made it worse.

The memories were abruptly popped like a bubble by the distant sound of hoofs hitting dirt, followed by other gang members voices. Quickly, Ruben rinsed himself off and got out of the water, shaking himself off before he put on his clothes.

He felt his clothes get damp and start sticking to his skin as he made his way back to camp, running as if his life depended on it, his heart punching his rib-cage like it wanted to escape—and there he stood. Javier Escuella.

He was briefly reminded of their rocky past as he watched the Mexican hop off his horse, the light ‘thud’ when his golden laced shoes hit the floor, the way his hair danced with the light breeze.

He looked at Ruben. Ruben smiled back.

“ Hola “ (Hey) Ruben whispered with a shy smile as he walked closer to Javier.

“ Buenas “ (Hello) Javier smiled, his gaze softening. “ Te bañaste, hm? “ (You bathed, hm?)

Ruben chuckled awkwardly, looking down at his dripping clothes. “ No tuve tiempo de secarme” (Didn’t have time to dry up)

Javier raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. He didn’t say anything, though, simply turning back to Bill Williamson...who Ruben had completely ignored.

“ Yeah, yeah, I’ll put the money in place...whatever. Nice to see you too. “ The ex-military man huffed, waving a hand dismissively as he walked away.

Ruben scratched his neck, feeling a bit awkward now. He was sure Bill would tell Mac, who would smack him for his bad manners.

Before he could beat himself down mentally further, though, Javier placed a hand on his shoulder.

“ How ‘bout a drink? “ He asked, sounding a bit unsure.

“ Ta bom. “ (Sure) Ruben nodded, and Javier smiled. “ Porqué en inglés? “ (Why in english?) He asked as they made way toward Pearson’s wagon, raising an eyebrow.

“ Ah—costumbre nomas, somos los unicos que hablan español aquí. “ (Oh—just used to it, we’re the only ones who speak spanish here.) Javier shrugged, fixing his sombrero.

“ Tonto .” (Moron) Ruben snickered, punching his arm and grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two cups from the box on the table.

Javier shot him a glare, but sighed and rolled his eyes. “ No pienso pelear contigo. “ (I’m not fighting with you.)

“ Ehh...ya vas a caer, te conozco. “ (Ehh...you’ll give in eventually, I know you.) Ruben joked as they opened the bottle and poured some for each.

Javier scoffed, shaking his head as he looked down at the cup. “ Brindis...a tu salud. “ (Cheers...to your health.) He said, clinking their glasses before shooting in the whiskey. He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“ Igualmente. “ (Same for you.) Ruben mumbled as he watched, before shaking his head and drinking too. It burnt good, left a lingering warmth in his stomach...

Suddenly, running and stumbling arrived no other but John Marston.

“ H-hey, you two seen Abigail? “ He asked, panting like he’d been running for a while.

Ruben and Javier glanced at one another, confused. “ Huh? Uhh..no? Why? “ Asked Javier, nearly dropping his cup as he totally (not) nonchalantly placed it on the table.

“ She’s been botherin’ me all day, tellin’ me to help change the child’s clothes—i don’t know how to do that!? I got big man hands, not little...dainty hands that know how to do that. “ Marston responded, which always ticked Ruben the wrong way.

“ You just...have to learn. “ Ruben shrugged.

“ It ain’t that easy… “ John huffed, crossing his arms, looking around as if expecting Abigail to just appear.

“ Calm down, she’s not hunting you down or something. “

“ I came back, ain’t that enough? “

“ Yes—i’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. “ He internally grimaced, expecting John to cuss him out or swing a punch...Mac would, at least.

Javier cleared his throat and looked back at John. “ I uhh...think Abigail is coming this way, brother. “

John ran away without another word. But Ruben could tell he was really angry. Great.

After John was far enough, Javier hit Ruben with his elbow. “ Qué cabecita, hm? “ (What a mind, hm?) He chuckled.

“ No quise—yo...se me escapó, sabes que yo no lo juzgo así comúnmente. “ (I didn’t mean to—i...it slipped out, you know I don’t usually judge him like that.) Ruben stumbled over his words, nervous.

Javier gave his lower arm a little squeeze, trying to give him a reassuring smile as he realized Ruben’s mind was going wild. “ Ey, me refería a él. “ (Hey, I was talking about him.)

“ Oh.. “ Ruben chuckled awkwardly and looked away.

Javier sighed, bringing a hand up to untie his hair, which barely reached his shoulders. “ ¿Por qué no... simplemente nos vamos a dormir? Tal vez podamos hacer algo mañana temprano. “ (Why don't we just...go to sleep? Maybe we can do something early tomorrow morning.)

Ru ben nodded, still looking away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Javier open his mouth to speak—but he didn’t. Instead, Javier turned and walked off. Ruben watched him go, a pit forming in his stomach.

He grumbled and kicked at the dirt, smacking the cups in frustration before storming toward the Callanders' tent; Inside, Davey was already asleep, but Mac wasn’t. He sat reading by candlelight, flinching and quickly putting the book away when Ruben entered.

“ Ya alright? ” the Scotsman asked, as if he already knew what had happened. Somehow, he always knew. “ C’mere ” he motioned for Ruben to come closer as he shifted to give him space.

Ruben did, waddling over and laying beside Mac. The bed was far too small for both of them, but it wasn’t the first time they'd shared it.

" I do everything wrong " Ruben muttered, curling into himself.

Mac rolled his eyes, sitting up and gently moving Ruben so his head rested in his lap. " How so? "

" I'm trying... so hard, to get along with Javier, but it feels like the universe is against me! " he burst out, looking up at Mac, who was already braiding his hair.

" Thought ya hated him, " Mac said, skillfully braiding and unbraiding the black strands. His eyes lingered on the few gray hairs already coming in. " Goin’ soft or sum? "

" Not going soft... just... he’s nice. To me, " Ruben said, fiddling with the ends of his own hair. " And he has a nice smile... and... we went fishing, and he said it was a good spot, and I was so happy. "

Mac snorted, patting his head. “ He’s an asshole, far as I ken, but I’m glad yer makin’ a friend. ”

Ruben huffed and sat up, ignoring Mac’s comment. " But I keep messing up... I just... get mad, and then yell at him—and—and I’m right! Sometimes, at least! Why am I always blamed? "

" Calm down, 's alright…Listen, yer just a kid... a very angry kid. Sometimes ya remind me of Davey. " He glanced over at his sleeping brother, then back at Ruben with a small chuckle. " He’s got these issues too... Ya just gotta relax. No one’s blamin’ ya for anything. "

" But it feels like they are! "

Mac groaned—he was not the kind of man built for heartfelt talks, but neither was Ruben, so shutting this outburst seemed like the best choice for him. He grabbed the younger mans face, a little too rough, and turned it back toward him. " Ruben, yer just a kid. Javier should know to be patient. "

" You’re not patient either. "

Mac stared at him for a few seconds, then shrugged. " Aye, true. Takes one to ken one, lad. "

Ruben pulled his face away, having to use a little force. " What if he hates me? "

" Christ, " Mac muttered, rubbing his face, trying not to lose it. " Listen, he don’t hate ya. If he did, he’d treat you like he treats me—or Bill—or most people, really. "

“ Okay...true… “

“ Aye. Now go rest, hm? Reckon that tiny brain o’ yers needs some time to organize itself. “ Mac said, flicking Ruben’s ear, who let out a small ‘ow!’. “ Quit sulkin’, ‘m serious. “

Ruben knew what that meat; ‘quit crying or I’ll give you a good reason to’.
Mac had...strange ways of making Ruben feel better, but it worked. He nodded, getting off Mac’s bed to rest on his cot.

He sighed as he laid down, scratching his hand.

“ Quit that. “

“ I’m not doing anything! “

“ Don’t make me repeat myself. “

“ I think I forgot to tell Javier we have a job tomorrow. “

“ Tell ‘em tomorrow. Good night. “

Ruben huffed and rolled over, muttering a ‘night’ as he tried to quiet down his mind enough he could sleep...it took hours, long enough Mac finished up and went to sleep himself, long enough both the brothers snores filled the tent with noise…

...

Ruben was shoved into the dark room, crying and shaking. “ Lo siento! “ (I’m sorry!) He yelled, stumbling to get up and run to the door, but it was shut before he could get out. He looked around, or tried to, but it was far too dark to tell what was around.

He breathed hard, every breath labored, his chest aching so much his eyes bubbled with tears. Not again. Not again. His whole body hurt, bruises already forming, his cheek burnt with the shape of a hand.

“ Pai! Pai, me perdoa, eu não vou fugir de novo! “ (Dad! Dad, i’m sorry, i won’t run away again!) He begged as he hit the door with his small hands...was the door taller now, or did he get shorter somehow? “Me desculpe! Pai! “ (I’m sorry! Dad!) He continued, although he knew by now it was futile.

There was no answer, no way to know if he had left or was just listening to his pleas, or he had left to look for his uncle, or...It was his fault, he should’ve stayed quiet. He hit and scratched the wooden old and moldy door until his fingers hurt and bled, afternoon turning into night, which somehow made things even darker. It rained, or it sounded something like it, every soft tap hitting the wood roof and reminding him he’d be here for hours at the very least.

Eventually he gave up and stumbled into the dark, sobbing, every hiccup shaking his whole frame. He felt so small, so weak, he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t help anyone...why was this happening? Why was he so excited? Or—was it something else? Why was he here? He felt confused, unsure of the reason or why he was here again, It felt like the walls closed in on him, an exponentially increasing sense of panic and dread settling in. He couldn’t even see his own hands, his heart beat so hard that’s all he could hear apart from his own breaths.

The suffocating darkness only got darker, and darker and darker and…

He gasped for air as he woke up, Mac shaking him so much Ruben’s neck hurt. “ Ruben! Ruben wake up! “ He yelled.

Ruben shoved him away, pushing himself away with his feet, still shaking. Mac simply stared, looking at him like he was watching a scared animal.

“ Hey, hey, it’s alright...yer awake, it’s okay... “ He slowly got closer, one hand stretched out toward him.

Every breath hurt, his chest heavy as if there was a weigh on him. He curled onto himself, and Mac sighed in relief as his bigger hand was finally placed on Ruben’s back.

“ It’s okay, ‘m ‘ere, Davey too—well he was getting water fer ya...to….well to throw on ya but yer awake now, so there’s no need now. “ He said as he rubbed circles on Ruben’s shoulders, massaging him and offering comfort.

Ruben appreciated it dearly, even though he couldn’t bring himself to speak right now...hopefully the rest of the day wouldn’t be so bad.