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“Watch out!” You managed to duck behind a crate right before a bullet flew past the top of your head with a whistle. Your heart was pounding rapidly out of fear and anxiety as you let out a sigh of relief. Tightening the grip around your revolver you peeked over the crate and witnessed John shooting the man, who had just tried to shoot you, in the middle of his forehead. The man fell over the aisle of the moving train you were on, disappearing from your sight.
“C’mon, we need to move up,” John shouts at you, doing a forward motion with his arm. Well, he isn’t one to let you process what just happened.
You decide to ignore the eerie feeling you have and follow behind John who shot anyone who had a gun in his way. The scene was gruesome and the innocent passengers were downright horrified. The women held their purses in front of them as some sort of shield and the men who didn’t stand up and try to fight just sat there and threw derogatory words at you two.
With a bandana covering your identity, you threaten the passengers without mercy. You hadn’t been on a train robbery in a while but robbing people isn’t anything new to you. Most people, especially women, don’t try to fight it. They give you their valuables without you having to repeat yourself. With the men, however, you need to be rougher. A hit from your gun usually does the trick.
The women give you the side eye, their faces written with shock and disapproval. How could a woman do this to them? But you’ve already grown used to their looks and glances. Years ago you felt like you owed them some kind of explanation: you were robbing them because you were hungry or you were robbing them to help others or you were robbing them to help yourself. But eventually, you grew out of it. They don’t need an explanation. Whatever it would be, they wouldn’t accept it anyway.
“Give me everything you have.” You command, pointing your gun at a couple in front of you. The husband was sitting in front of his wife, shielding her with his body. The look in his eyes was sharp. Determined. You knew what it meant so you swat him with the bottom of your gun across his face. “Now!”
The woman was sobbing beside him, “just give her what she wants for god’s sake.” And so he does, though not without giving you a murderous glare.
You move on to the next passenger who gives you her valuables without even asking. She was young, very young. Probably around 16 and she looked horrified. Tears were streaming down her face as she said, “take them. Just don’t kill me, please.”
Your face softens and you almost want to reassure her and tell her you’re not going to hurt her and that everything is okay. But before you can, you come back to your senses when you hear Arthur yell from the other side of the train car. “We have a problem!”
“What is it?” John questions right as some man tries to start fighting him. He had lost his focus for a split second and now he was on the ground with this man hitting him in the face. “Fuck!”
You sprint to him and make contact with the man against the side of his head with the heel of your boot. The force of the kick sent the man into dreamlands as he fell limp next to John who looked beaten but relieved. He was quick to get back on his feet and adjusted his bandana that had almost fallen from his face.
The state of fear among passengers shifted after the incident. Now even men looked at you with more "respect" than ‘that's just a weak girl I could easily beat in a fight’ type of way. It woke some sense of pride and confidence within you. You weren’t a woman to be underestimated.
“I hope you guys are okay ‘cause the law’s turnin’ up and we gotta go!” Arthur yells again.
You grab John's sack from the ground, stuff it into his hands and then push him forward towards Arthur, who looked impatient as he knocked quietly and mindlessly on the door of the car. You get John to move faster by giving him slight pushes. “Quit that, I’m goin’.”
Then the train starts slowing down and stops abruptly, almost throwing you backward. You stumble a step or two but regain your balance. Although John "clumsy" Marston wasn't so lucky and fell on you. You try to catch him, some miraculous way succeeding at it, even though it almost made you fall on your ass with him flattening you into a pancake.
You could hear laughter in front of you, where Arthur was nearly giggling as he watched your antics, almost forgetting the situation around you. “Get on your goddamn feet, Marston.” You grumble, gritting your teeth as you try to help him back on his feet. He may be lean in build but damn if he wasn't heavy.
Arthur wakes up back to reality and whistles to his horse. You and John do the same and wait until your trusty steeds appear from the woods neighing happily; Arthur’s Boadicea, John’s Lincoln, and your beauty.
You hear shouting from the distance that could be identified as approaching lawmen. You jump down from the train and run to your horse. It was happy to see you but seemed nervous, sensing the tension in the air. You jump into the saddle with the sack hanging on your shoulder.
Arthur and Boadicea sprint straight into a gallop, John and you following closely behind. You follow Arthur down the path into the depths of the forest, out of sight of curious eyes. You pull your bandana down and inhale the fresh air in relief. Bandana surely is practical but it doesn’t change the fact that it feels extremely stuffy.
You rode along a streaming river for a while to hide your tracks and then stopped on top of a small hill. Your horses were huffing and puffing out of exhaustion and you gave yours a grateful pat on the neck.
“So, what’s our haul?” John asks while examining the contents of his sack.
“Real good, I think.” Arthur states, a content smile on his lips.
“Really? Whatcha got?” John lifts a brow and cranes his neck, peering curiously in the direction of Arthur's sack.
“It’s gotta be a thousand at least.” He reveals as he rummages through the contents of his sack, dividing the money and valuables into three parts and tossing them to their deserving owners. “Just remember-”
“-the camp gets its piece. We know.” You finish his sentence, mimicking his voice. You roll your eyes overdramatically but can’t help the little tug at the corner of your mouth when a smirk tries to make its way to grace your lips.
You share the contents of your and John's bags, which barely had $10 worth of each. The passengers hadn't carried much value, but that was still something. You then split up and headed in different directions but all going towards the camp. Just to confuse possible trackers.
When you arrive at the camp you don't see either Boadicea or Lincoln, which means neither John nor Arthur had returned yet. You shrug your shoulders mentally and jump off your horse's back. You take off both the saddle and bridle and let the horse go to the other horses of the gang to shred fresh grass. As if to mock you, it decides to stand next to a horse called Boaz. Boaz was Javier's horse and, hell, haven't you had a big crush on Javier, and for a long time now, too.
However, there’s nothing between you but companionship, maybe a small friendship if you squint your eyes. You've hardly ever even talked to each other, at least not without someone else being involved in the conversation. But you cherish every moment when he looks at you and says something, even if it's something small like "hey" or "how are you?" . He prefers to retreat into his own space to play his guitar, and you usually appear in a flash to listen, from closer or further away.
You often catch yourself looking for him in the camp. Whatever you were doing, your gaze raked over the campsite just to rest on Javier. For the longest time you felt like your little crush was stupid and only distracting you because Javier wasn’t showing any signs of interest. You tried to forget about it, forget about him, tearing your gaze away from him whenever you found yourself watching him. Nothing had worked, though, and eventually, you gave in. Hoping it would go away on its own. Well, it hasn’t.
You dropped off your money at your tent and were going to make your way to grab a bowl of Pearson’s stew when you heard this irritating, snickering voice. Micah. You glance over and see him sitting at a table under a tree talking to what seems like Bill. Out of curiosity, you move closer to eavesdrop on them. You weren’t surprised to hear him making some racist remarks about literally every colored person in the gang. Bill didn’t seem bothered by it, just laughed along and it made you sick.
Not wanting to start any fuss, even though punching Micah sounded very tempting, you moved away to do what you were intending to do in the first place. You grab a bowl and scoop some of the delicious-smelling food in it. Not everyone loved Pearson’s cooking but you enjoyed his food. At least it was much better than anything you could make.
You sit down in front of the main campfire to enjoy your food in quiet because only Lenny was reading a book there. He acknowledges you by looking up from the book and giving you a slight nod. You smile in response.
Suddenly you feel a hand on your lower back and the weight of a man dropping on the log next to you. It almost startles you but you manage to keep your composure. You ignored him and kept eating, hoping he wouldn’t say a word but of course, he would.
“Hmm, I noticed the greaser’s lookin’ at you again.” Micah half whispers right next to your ear, which makes you scoot farther away from him. What he just said angered you but also caught you off guard. You almost wanted to look around and search for Javier with your eyes, but you stopped yourself from doing so. Was he even watching you or was Micah just playing with you? Even if he was, you couldn't risk letting Micah get under your skin so you continued to ignore him.
You feel his hand on your shoulder and you try to shrug it off unsuccessfully. “I hope he hasn’t tried anythin’ with you ‘cause after all, a man like-”, Micah paused, searching for the least offensive words. “-well, a man like him shouldn’t be messin’ around with pretty girls like you, is all I’m sayin’.”
You balled your fist. The urge to punch the man was only growing. “Leave me alone.” You mutter through gritted teeth. Micah didn’t budge. Instead, your curt response only fueled him to keep going.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Come with me and lemme show you what a real American can do. It’ll be the best ride of your life.” Micah continued his disgusting way of flirting. He had already stood up and was now standing right in front of you, his hand trailing down from your shoulder towards your hand, which he grabbed even though you were still trying to eat.
A plan forming in your head, you calmly set down the half-eaten bowl of stew on the log beside you and let him pull you on your feet to give him the picture you were agreeing to his sexual suggestion. He clearly wasn’t the brightest or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t been a part of the gang for very long, but everyone here knew you never flirted with any of the men and it was for a reason. You had other ways of showing interest but the men rarely picked up on it. A smug smirk formed on Micah’s lips and you could see the glint of excitement in the corner of his eye. Oh, how you’ll love to snuff it out.
You couldn’t wait, because the temptation simply got too overwhelming, so you connected your fist with his face. It was so abrupt that it caught him so off guard he fell right on his ass. You didn't waste a moment before you kicked him in the chest, sending him to the ground on his back with a groan. You jump on top of him, pinning him to the ground so that he couldn't stop you from continuing your punches.
"I'm fed up-"
*a hard punch to the middle of his face*
"-with your fucking-"
*another punch*
"-bullshit." You end your sentence with one more painful blow. You heard a crack and weren’t sure if it was your knuckle or his nose. Either way, something broke and that was definitely your focus because somehow Micah managed to flip you around and now he was on top of you. You didn’t expect him to punch back, frankly, you expected him to keep you pinned down and enjoy the sight, but he did punch. And hard. He was angry and felt humiliated after what you just pulled.
His fist painfully hits your face a few times before someone aggressively yanks Micah off of you. You try to stumble to your feet and jump back at him, but someone slips their arms under your arms and locks you against their chest so that your struggling doesn't help. Giving up, you relax in their grip and let go of your little rageful tantrum.
“If I let you go, you aren’t going to punch me in the face, are you?” A familiar voice asked next to your ear.
“Is your name Micah Bell?” You asked jokingly, hoping to hear that soft laugh of his that always manages to warm your heart.
A light chuckle escaped Javier’s lips, “No.”
“Then no, I’m not goin’ to punch you.” You respond and he lets you go out of his grasp, though you kind of hoped he wouldn’t. That was until you felt warm liquid run down your face. You gently wipe under your nose, leaving only a bloody mark on your hand. Great.
“I need to clean myself up.” You growl more crankily than you had intended. Even though your anger wasn't even directed at him, you were afraid it would drive him away from you. Before you could move or say anything else Dutch approached with an angry look on his face.
“What is all this commotion?” Dutch raises a brow as his gaze switches between you and Micah, both bloody and bruised. Arthur, who you hadn’t noticed had returned to camp, was holding Micah back. He had probably pulled him from on top of you.
“This damn bitch attacked me,” Micah growled, his furious gaze fixed on you. How dare he pin it all on you? Sometimes you wonder if he’s even self-aware of his own words and actions.
“You were practically beggin’ for it.” You spat back at him. You were ready to throw fists, already raising your arm and balled fist, but you felt Javier clasp at your wrist to keep you in place.
“All right now you two, no more fighting. I think you’ve both had enough of it for one day by the looks of it.” Dutch states, eyeing both disputants with a stern and disappointed expression.
Micah huffs grumpily but then turns away and stomps towards the medicine wagon. His nose was bleeding too and seemed to be a bit crooked. Maybe you did manage to break his nose with that last punch after all. Your nose was only a little sore, but it didn't feel broken for your relief. You had turned your head to the side so your cheek had received most of the punches. Your face was burning with pain, but the feeling of success almost masked it. You had managed to break Micah's nose. It is a wonderful day.
You feel a gentle tug on your arm. “Hey, cariño, we need to get you cleaned up,” Javier states and it wasn’t a suggestion. You internally smile at the Spanish word he called you, though you weren’t sure what it even meant, it sounded sweet. You follow close behind as he leads you toward your little tent. He sets you down on the ground and motions for you to stay put before he goes to retrieve a clean rag, water, and alcohol.
When he returned, he not only had those three items but also your half-eaten bowl of stew you had left behind. A grateful smile makes it across your face as he hands it to you and you accept it very hungrily.
“No no, don’t eat yet. Unless you want it to taste like your own blood, chica.” Javier chuckles lightly as he sits down in front of you, his legs crisscrossed. You set the bowl down with a frown and turn to look at Javier who looks at you with an expectant and slightly questioning look, which you knew meant: 'is this okay?'.
You couldn't understand why he was so kind to you all of a sudden. This is the first time he has given you so much attention. Maybe he was just being friendly, even though he knows you could clean up your messy face yourself, but if he wants to do it, you're not going to stop him. You'll gladly swim in his attention whenever you get the chance.
You scoot closer to him to allow him better access to your face. With his left hand, he reaches out to gently grasp your chin and with his right he begins to wipe most of the blood from your face with a rag dipped in water. His movements are cautious and he tilts your head whenever necessary. Your eyes were closed. You didn't dare meet his gaze because otherwise, you wouldn't be able to control yourself for very long. You did feel like his gaze bored through your skull and saw your thoughts about him bouncing around, and you wondered if he noticed your slightly flushed cheeks.
Soon his hands left your face and you dared to open your eyes to see what he was doing. You can see him floating a rag in the water and squeezing the blood out of it. He then dips the rag in some of the alcohol he had brought and you take a deep breath. You watch with your eyes as he grabs your jaw again and is about to bring the rag down on your face before you grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "Wait."
“It’s okay, hermosa.” He reassured you. “I know it’s gonna hurt but I’ll take care of you.” You furrowed your eyebrows suspiciously and slapped his hand away, which came as a surprise to Javier. The slap causes him to drop the rag from his hand and he turns to look you straight in the eye, eyebrows raised in question.
“Why are you bein’ so nice to me?” The words flew out of your mouth before you had a moment to consider how rude and blunt the question sounded. He was just trying to help you after all.
“What do you mean?”
“This,” you try to sign something with your hands, making a circular motion in the air. “everythin’. Sayin’, you’re gonna ‘take care of me’. What’s that even s’posed to mean? You barely talk to me and now you’re all handsy, eager to help, and callin’ me sweet names in Spanish.”
Javier just looks at you, his mouth slightly agape. His gaze bounced between your eyes before falling on your hands that were resting in your lap. Your knuckles were a little bloody and bruised, but the blood wasn't yours, it was Micah's. He just sighs deeply, almost to say something, but he can't get anything out.
“Look, I appreciate your help but I just wanna know why you’re actin’ like this, is all.” You explain. You try to look him in the eyes that were still staring down. With bated breath, you waited for his response.
Quietly, he picks up the now dirty rag he's dropped on the ground, stands up, and strides away from you. Stunned and a little offended by the silence, you look after him. You see him leave the dirty rag in the laundry and grab a clean one before returning to you. He sits in the same place he was before as if he hadn't left. He, again, dips the rag in alcohol and brings it down on your face. You don’t stop him this time and hiss in pain when the rag makes contact with a bruise.
“Why did you punch Micah?” Javier suddenly asks, also changing the subject of discussion completely.
You chuckle, half out of disbelief that he dared to ignore your question and half out of amusement. The better question would be: why wouldn’t you punch Micah? But the look of amusement left your face the second you felt your cheek burn due to Javier brushing the rag over it. You gritted your teeth in pain.
“He tried to take me to bed on your behalf, to show you what a real American can do', or whatever. I didn't really pay attention. All I could think of was ruinin’ his ugly face." You reply, a smirk rising on your lips as a cause of your little to no efforts of trying to hide it. You weren’t going to hide the fact of how much you loved punching him from anyone.
Javier hums approvingly and finally, his hands leave your face. You exhale in relief, which was way too soon because soon your knuckles were on fire. You look down and see Javier cleaning your hands from blood with the same rag. “Fuckin’ hell.” You curse under your breath.
"Lo mataré por hacerte esto. No me importa, él pagará." He mumbles under his breath in Spanish. You didn’t understand a word and only looked at him questioningly.
“Javier?” Your voice made him look up into your eyes again.
He drops the rag and takes your hand in his, bringing your hand up to his lips. You watch him place a gentle kiss on your bruised knuckles before mumbling some more Spanish, "Me gustas. No sé cómo decírtelo, pero lo sé. No puedo encontrar las palabras adecuadas. Eres tan hermosa, como la misma diosa Afrodita. Lo siento por ser tan tonto."
“Javier?” You repeat, your voice is a bit more desperate this time. You wanted to know what he was saying. It was like he was telling you something very important but couldn’t bring himself to say it in English. His voice was like honey with a hint of longing and the look in his eyes was so soft, almost loving, and it made your heart beat faster in anticipation.
Javier reaches out his hand again, placing it gently on your cheek, which had no bruise. He strokes your cheekbone with his thumb, leans his body closer to you, and presses his lips against your forehead. His lips linger on your skin longer than they need to. When he pulled away, he didn't say another word until he got to his feet and started walking away from you without looking back. You just sat on the ground and watched him. He didn't look like he was turning back.
You felt a tear trickle down your cheek, and then another. You didn't understand what just happened. It was difficult to make you cry because you have been hardened by your past and the daily outlaw lifestyle. But something about this situation overloaded your emotions and the tears flooded out. You aggressively wiped them away. You felt ridiculous. Crying for a man? What were you even thinking? You had so many questions but not enough answers.
You lift the plate in your hand where the already cooled stew was just waiting to be eaten. You weren't hungry anymore so you just decided to throw it away. You get up and take your dishes away, pretending that nothing is wrong. You had a million thoughts going through your head at the same time and you were sure that it would soon cause a headache if you didn't get to ventilate and clear your thoughts. With a plan in mind, you step towards your horse.
Before you could reach it, though, Arthur steps in front of you. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was looking at you with a knowing expression on his face.
“You all right?” He asks even though both of you knew he knew the answer to that.
“Just peachy. I’m just goin’ on a ride to clear my thoughts if that’s okay?” You give him the puppy eyes you know he can’t resist. His face softens immediately.
“You sure you wanna go alone?” He asks, just to make sure, though he again was able to predict your response.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be back soon. If I don’t show up, feel free to send the cavalry after me.” You give him a light, reassuring smile at the end of your joke. Well, practically it wasn’t a joke because if you were to go missing, Arthur would most definitely send the cavalry after you, with him riding in the lead, too.
“Okay, jus’ be careful.” And with that, he steps out of your way.
You just slip the bridle over your horse's head. You wouldn't need a saddle and it would be a bit more comfortable for the horse to be without a saddle every now and then. Your horse is quite high, but you managed to climb on its back, throwing one foot over to the other side of it. You adjust your position to feel more comfortable before you give your horse a signal with your calves to move. It shoots off into a light trot and soon you are already further away from the camp.
The sun had begun to set, making the shadows of the trees look darker and longer. The evening air felt fresh in your lungs and you took a deep breath. One downside to the evening's descent was the increasing number of mosquitoes, already swarming around you and your horse. You decide to encourage your horse to go faster and gallop along the road for some distance before turning onto a smaller path that leads toward the shore of a small lake.
You had found the lake the day after the gang had set up camp on that temporary site. It wasn't far from the camp, but far enough that no one would wander here and accidentally find you. Since then, you've always made your way here when something has been on your mind.
You jump off your horse and tie it to a sturdy tree branch that was low enough for your horse to eat grass off the ground to pass the time. You stay to pet it for a while and just watch it eat like it hasn't a care in the world. And it probably didn't. Oh, why did you have to be cursed with a human brain… It would be easier to be a wild horse and gallop with other horses on the prairie, free, and have no heartache.
With a deep and disappointed sigh, you move closer to the shore. You crouch down just as the water meets the shore’s sand and pebbles and start looking for stones. The stones had to be fairly smooth and flat so that what you were going to do might work. Of course, you've managed to do the same with rounder and more uneven stones, but they weren't as good. You find a few suitable stones and then stand up, taking one of them in your dominant hand and correcting your position. You throw a stone into the water with just the right technique and see it skip on the surface a couple of times before it dives into the depths of the lake.
A triumphant smile forms on your lips as you forget for a moment everything that's been swirling around in your mind like a raging storm. There was just something so captivating about stone skipping; when you manage to get the stone to bounce on the surface of the water several times, and with each throw further and further. You felt as if you had turned the laws of nature in your favor and could even walk on water like Jesus himself. But you haven't bothered to try, because you didn't want to humiliate yourself completely.
You throw a new stone and it sinks into the water immediately. Your shoulders slump and you sigh. Even Mother Nature doesn't want you to think too much of yourself. Shaking your head and letting out a small chuckle at your thoughts, you throw a third stone and, miraculously, it bounces on the surface at least five times before deciding to dive. "Ha!" You cheer with a smile reaching your ears.
“Wow, I didn’t know you knew how to do that.” A sudden voice, belonging to someone very familiar, says, almost making you jump out of your skin. You hadn’t heard anyone approach you.
You turn around only to be face to face with Javier's handsome features. He had a faint smile on his face when he looked at you. There was a hint of pride in his smile but the look in his eyes was uncertain as if he wasn't quite sure why he was in front of you right now. Your breath caught and you didn't know what to say. You didn't want to sound rude and ask what he was doing here and you didn't want to give him the impression that you were angry with him. Sure, you were confused and a little hurt by his behavior earlier, but you couldn't be mad at him for that.
“Oh, um, yeah. It’s somethin’ my father taught me when he was still alive.” You reveal, which makes the other side of your mouth lift in remembrance. You were no longer looking at Javier, but through him, a dim memory flashing in your eyes.
Your slightly glazed look makes Javier uncomfortable and he moves slightly to the side and rubs the back of his neck. "Mierda, no soy bueno en esto." He mumbles under his breath so quietly you didn't even hear him.
“So, your father… He was a good man?” Javier asks, bringing you back to earth. Your expression softened at his question because you could hear in his voice he sincerely wanted to know more about your father. You have never told anyone about your father, or anyone in your family for that matter. How you lost them was a tragic event, especially because you were so young at the time. So talking about them would always make your heart ache and you weren't sure you wanted to let anyone through those walls in the maze of your mind. But now that you were alone with Javier by the lake, especially when you were already in a vulnerable state of mind, you were ready to tell him about almost anything and everything.
You sit down on the ground, facing the lake and drawing your knees up to your chest. Javier sits down next to you, maybe a bit hesitant, not knowing if you wanted him to do so but it was exactly what you wanted. You remained quiet for a moment, just following the movement of the water and seeing some fish make an appearance just below the surface, creating small ripples.
“My father always called me his ‘sweet darling’,” you began, your voice hoarse from the course of emotions running through you right now. “When he wasn’t workin’ he took his free time to spend it with me. I had an older brother but he was always somewhere, rarely home y’know? A big troublemaker if I remember right. My mom… Well, she didn’t like me very much. Sure she loved me but she didn’t like me if you understand what I mean. Guess I wasn’t the kind of daughter she wanted.”
“I understand,” Javier states quietly, fearing he was interrupting you. You turn your head to look at him and find him already looking at you. You flash him another faint smile before continuing.
“I loved spendin’ time with my father. He always found us somethin’ interestin’ to do. In all fairness, I was very young so everythin’ was interestin’ to me. That ain’t the point, though, now I’m just ramblin’. I’m sorry.” You groan in frustration, finding it hard to find the right words and not to make it all a long sob story. Javier just stayed quiet. He wanted to give you all the time you needed to finish your story because he could sense how delicate the subject was to you.
“He taught me to skip stones, fish, make wreaths, track different kinds of animals, catch butterflies and so many other things I can barely even remember. He took me to the woods or by the lake often. We’d just watch animals sometimes, hidin’ in the bushes. We’d even play hide and seek. He made my childhood so lovely and careless, Javier, and then he was gone.” A lone tear rolled down your cheek slowly and you wiped it away with your thumb, fearing showing your vulnerability right now.
Silence descended over you. It wasn't awkward but you could sense a slight tension in the air. It's as if a big question mark was hovering over you, as Javier clearly wanted to ask something but didn't dare to do so and kept his mouth shut. Just to be polite and respect your boundaries he was afraid to overstep. “Just ask what you wanna ask.”
“What happened? To your father ー to your family?” His question sank into you like a knife into butter. You knew he would ask you that very question, but you still weren't ready for it. The last time you were asked the same question was when you were taken to an orphanage and the other residents were very curious individuals. Since then, you have avoided the subject the best you could. Joining the Van der Linde gang had been easy for you in that sense. They weren't interested in your background unless you started the conversation. They knew you as the person you are now and that was enough for them.
You fill your lungs with air. Your fingers play with sand and stones, rolling them between your fingers and finally throwing them into the lake. When you were nervous, your fingers always needed something to do. The next stone you throw skips on the surface a couple of times even though you didn't even try to get it to do so. It calms your nerves a bit.
Javier watches you curiously, observing how your facial expressions change every now and then as thoughts bounce around in your head. He wasn't sure if you were going to answer his question because it seemed that the silence stretched on and on and you hadn't let out a sigh. But he didn't mind. He had noticed you leaving the camp, got worried, and decided to follow you here. He thought you were badly offended by his behavior. He was just a little startled by the emotions he had seen in your eyes earlier and decided to flee the situation before revealing something he could no longer take back.
“I was 8 years old,” you began, breaking the long silence. “It was night. We were all sleepin’ when they came, even my brother. I don’t remember how many there were but maybe a dozen men came through our door. I woke up and hid under a floorboard where my dad had told me to hide if anythin’ like that ever happened. He had told me to stay quiet and not move, not even if it was dead silent. I was only allowed to leave if either my dad knocked on the floor 3 times or when I could see the rays of the sun peek through. I heard my mother screamin’, gunshots, shountin’, and eventually silence. My dad never knocked. I fell asleep and woke up the next mornin’ still under there and finally got out just to…” Your voice trailed off, your breath hitching in your throat from the gory memory. The image was just as fresh as if it had happened last week.
You feel an arm slip around you and Javier gently pulls you closer so you can lean against him. Your tense muscles relaxed quickly and you melted into his embrace, leaning back against his chest and resting your head against his collarbone, right at the crook of his neck.
“They were dead, Javi,” you whisper, fearing your voice would break down if you tried speaking any louder. “They killed them.” You felt like you were 8 years old again, reliving the moment of your family’s death. The overwhelming feeling of sorrow and loneliness took you over due to unresolved trauma. You had never really processed what had happened. Never spoke up about it. And now it was all pouring out.
“Don’t cry, mi amor. You’re okay.” Javier spoke softly while holding you even closer. You hadn't noticed that you had started to cry but it was too late to try to hide it now, so you let the tears flow. Javier just rocked you soothingly and said sweet nothings in your ear, either in English or Spanish. You realized you didn't want the moment to end, which is why just then the tears dried up and you fell silent as Javier continued to talk to you quietly.
You had never seen this side of him before. This gentle and cautious side that only wanted to comfort and help. You were used to his rock-hard side, which showed almost no emotion other than anger and, on the best occasions, laughter and mirth. You didn't even know he could be so gentle. But you loved it. You wanted to see more of this side of him.
You tilted your head to the side and inhaled his scent. He smelled like cigars, smoke and sweat, and a hint of something else you couldn’t put your finger on, which might’ve just been his natural scent. In any case, you were attracted by his musky scent. You wiped the partly dried tears from your face and rotated your whole body more towards him, burying your face against his neck. Shivers ran down Javier’s spine as he felt your breath against his skin. He fell completely silent and with bated breath waited to see what you were going to do.
You linger there for a while, hesitant about your decision because of how tense Javier now was. Maybe he didn’t want this. Maybe he was just being nice to you again and you doing this would just push him away. But it was too late to turn back now so, finally, you connected your lips with the skin of his neck, pressing a long kiss there. Javier relaxed under you and let out a low hum, which you took as a good sign. Now, with more confidence and courage, you start trailing kisses up his neck to his jaw, and chin, and eventually you are face to face with him, your gazes meeting in the heat of the moment.
Taking the lead, Javier closes the gap between the two of you and kisses your lips. It was a soft, caring kiss. The kiss said more than a thousand words and you felt like you knew exactly what he was thinking; what he thought about you and what he wanted to say to you.
Under the force of the kiss, Javier gradually starts to fall backward and you follow, not wanting to separate from him. Soon he was lying on his back in the sand and you were lying on top of him, your lips still glued together as if by tar. You decide to deepen the kiss and add a desperate sense of desire. Javier immediately responds with the same passion and dips his tongue in your mouth, your tongues dancing together in harmony.
You were the first to pull away from the kiss when your thoughts refused to leave you alone. You lean your heavy forehead against his and a light chuckle escapes your lips. "Wha-" Javier tries to ask but you shut him up with a quick peck to his lips.
“I just poured my heart out to you ‘bout my past I’ve never really spoken to anyone ‘bout and now… now all I care ‘bout is you.” You confess, your eyes fluttering shut when you feel tears welling up again. You haven’t felt so vulnerable since the night until now. But you weren’t scared, no, it was more like a feeling of relief. Like a big burden that had been weighing you down was lifted off of your shoulders. You felt like you were Atlas who had been holding the sky for an eternity and had finally been released from the punishment by Zeus. Finally able to really feel something again and you're not just an empty and dull shell anymore.
Javier places his hands on each side of your face and pulls you in for another passionate kiss. He gently pushes the locks of hair that had fallen behind your ear and hums happily into the kiss. Then he lets his hand move along your body to your lower back and with a quick twist of his body changes your position so that you are now lying underneath him and he is pressing you against the ground with his own weight. It's funny to think that this is the second time you've been in a similar position with a man in the last hour or so, but at least Javier didn't start beating you with his fist. He just kept kissing you.
You let your hands travel around his head, finally coming to rest in his hair, which he always kept tied behind his head. This is going to mess up his hair completely, but at this moment Javier couldn't care less. He was too focused on you, your taste, and your aroma, which made him almost drunk to notice such a small thing. He now ignores your lips and starts to leave kisses along your cheeks, jaw, and neck, sometimes sucking a little and nibbling the skin with his teeth to leave a small mark.
His hand slips under your shirt and begins to roam around the now-exposed skin of your stomach, gradually going higher and higher as his face was buried against your neck. You were intoxicated by his touch and let out small moans of pleasure, not realizing what Javier was doing. When his hand had gotten up to just below your breast, you finally realized what was happening. You stop his hand by clasping at his arm and squeezing it tightly. "Javier."
He looks up, concern written all over his face. “What is it, querida?”
“Not here…” That was all you managed to say but he understood, drawing back his hand and letting the hem of your shirt fall back down. He doesn’t relent with the kisses, though, but continues pressing his lips against every inch of exposed skin you had, clearly enjoying the noises you shamelessly let out as a cause of his actions.
Eventually, you parted and lay on the sand side by side, hands enveloped, looking up to the sky. The sun had already set so low that the first and brightest stars were already visible in the darkening sky. You look at them with fascination. There was nothing more strange and wonderful than stars floating in space. You didn't understand how it could all be possible, which made them all the more fascinating. You wish there was a way to study them more closely.
A little reluctantly, not wanting to take your eyes off the sky, but with a painful question hanging in your head that needed an answer, you turn to look at Javier, who also turns to look at you. He had a satisfied look on his face. As if he had everything he needed in life and not a care in the world instead of a bounty on his head in many states and in another country to boot.
“Javi?” You ask your voice a bit above a whisper.
“Hmm?”
“What did you say to me back at camp? When you spoke Spanish?” You inquire, your eyes studying the changes in his expression after you had asked your question. He clenched his jaw and stayed quiet for a while. There was a reason why he told you that in Spanish at the time but does it matter anymore? You clearly like him, and not the way he used to think you did. And that's just because of the way you always behaved toward the guys in the gang. You didn't flirt with them or show any interest and Javier had thought you didn't want to get involved with any of them. Several of the women in the gang are just like that, so he decided to keep his respectful distance and give you your own space. Even though you had caught his attention the first time Hosea had brought you to the camp, he knew how to hold himself back from trying anything with you.
“Uh, well I said I wanted to kill Micah… and just told you how beautiful I think you are,” Javier says and then chuckles. It was amusing to him now.
“Well go on then, tell me how beautiful I am.” You demand, looking at him with an arched brow and intense stare. The look Javier shot back at you was more like an amused “really?”. “Did I say I was jokin’? Or did you already change your mind and think I’m the most hideous thing you’ve ever seen?
Javier lets out a low chuckle at your fake frown face and then rolls over to hover above you. His strong arms supported his weight, which he placed on either side of your head. He looks you straight in the eye and says, "I think you're the most beautiful miracle I've ever seen. More beautiful than the stars, more beautiful than any natural phenomenon. You look like a mirror image of the goddess of beauty herself, Aphrodite. I think you should be put on display in a museum for everyone to admire. No, I'm changing my mind. I just want you for myself." He presses his lips against yours in an adoring and loving way.
You were amused by his strong accent when he said some words, but that only made it sweeter. Yes, you've often heard men call you beautiful and have indicated how keen they are to get into your pants, but no one has ever tried to describe to you how beautiful they think you are. Certainly not that accurately and in broken English. This cannot be real. He can't be real.
“Does that answer your question?” He asks. There was a note of sarcasm in his voice and he looked triumphant. Your expression must have been something between frightened and blindly in love. You didn't even know what to say so you just pulled him by the collar of his shirt for another kiss.
"Oh, mi amor. No tienes ni idea de dónde te has metido. Nunca debiste haberme besado."