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When their body slammed into the cornfield dirt, they finally wondered what they were doing.
They stayed with that thought as they looked up at the night sky, painted with stars. It was late. It was cold. The wind was blowing, and the clothes they had on were hardly meant for being out in weather like this. Still, they supposed it did not matter. It was nothing they had not endured before.
They groaned softly, shifting awkwardly as they sat up and looked down at the dirt now staining their clothes.
“What am I doing here?” they asked, rubbing their head gently, partly from pain, partly for comfort.
It took them a moment, but eventually they found the answer: they were running from Brother Gall.
Well, technically, the Brother had not actually done anything to them. Something had made them uneasy, and they had simply… run. Or so they supposed. They could not remember the details.
“Shouldn’t you be running or something?”
They startled at the voice, so familiar, so unmistakable, and turned quickly.
They looked at him as though they were seeing a ghost. And maybe they were.
Javier looked back at them with a soft smile, amused by the sight of them.
“…”
Blake lowered their head.
“Why are you still sitting there? Vamos, get up.”
Blake gave themself a few gentle taps on the cheek before finally pushing themself to their feet. They walked past Javier without looking at him, though they could still feel him watching from the corner of their eye.
“Well? Aren’t you going to tell me why you ran off?”
Blake did not answer. They just kept walking. To where? They were not sure. Part of them wanted to go back to Brother Gall and apologize. Another part thought that was a terrible idea. And a third part thought maybe they should go back to Ricketts…
No. Ricketts was dead. They had found that out recently.
Oh.
They brought both hands to their head. It hurt. Everything felt heavy. They were overwhelmed and only wanted to cry, but they took a deep breath, knowing that would not help.
“Hey, there’s a lake nearby. Why don't you clean yourself up a little?"
After a moment, Blake decided to listen to Javier. They walked in silence toward where they thought the lake might be, and to their surprise, they were right. They reached the shore and dipped their hands into the water, splashing it onto their face. They rubbed at their skin, then remembered the dirt on their hands and began cleaning themself as best they could.
The moon shone overhead, reflected in the water. They could see themself there too; their hair was braided, but somehow they still looked disheveled. They touched their face and noticed how deep their dark circles looked. Were they really that old? How old were they? They shook their head. They did not want to think about that.
“You look older because of your hair,” Javier said from behind them.
They looked at him over their shoulder, then back at the water.
Javier had no reflection.
“I suppose you’re right…”
“You should cut it.”
“No…”
“Don’t you think? It has always helped you pass as a man.”
“Yeah… I… I don’t want to keep hiding anymore…”
“But do you have another option? You just walked away from Brother Gall. What are you going to do?”
Blake fell silent and looked down at the ground.
“Maybe… maybe I can look for Brother Laurent…”
“Will he remember you?”
Silence answered for them.
“I-I don’t know…”
“It’s been a long time. He probably doesn’t remember you anymore. Or your family.”
“Don’t say that…”
“You know I’m right.”
Javier moved closer and sat down beside them.
“That’s why you have me here, isn’t it? Because you’re lonely.”
“I try not to think about that too much.”
“But you do think about it. A lot. Don’t you?”
Blake avoided looking at him, but they could still feel his gaze through the messy strands of their hair.
“You think about me often…” Javier paused. “About us.”
“You like to imagine we could have been happy. That you could have saved me.”
“You keep imagining one version after another where everything turns out right. Where we stay together. Where I never changed. Where I agreed to leave when you asked me to. Where we got to care for our daughter… where I’m still alive.”
Javier leaned toward them.
“You keep thinking because you’re afraid. Afraid that maybe you should have tried harder. That maybe you could have saved me.”
“That I would have been happier without you.”
Blake covered their face with their hands and shook their head.
“Enough, Javi…”
“Shut up, Javier.”
A third voice broke into the scene and made Blake flinch.
“You were always selfish, always asking us for more and more. What do we have left now? Nothing. We have nothing.”
The one speaking was Blake’s reflection in the water, though its voice sounded rougher, drier.
“You didn’t even try to save me.”
“There was nothing else to do, and you know it.”
“Enough…” Blake tried to protest, wrapping their arms around themself. They made themself smaller, their mouth tightening into an uncomfortable grimace as their fingers sank into their hair.
Was this real? Were they dreaming? Were they dead? They did not understand anything. Everything was too confusing. It felt like their head might split open.
“Who am I?”
There it was. The question at the center of it all. The one that always brought that pain. It echoed in their mind, over and over, until it drowned out the argument and all its questions, leaving only a terrible silence with them, the darkness, and their reflection in the water.
“I’m nobody.”
This time no one spoke but themself. But somehow, that was even more frightening.
They closed their eyes.
They supposed that by now, it no longer mattered. Whoever they had been before Silas was already too distant a memory to reach them. Their home, their family; all of it were blurred images, beautified by a melancholy that seemed unfounded, born from their own longing for a home.
Did Javier ever see a home in them?
They had always been afraid to ask him many things; the possibility that Javier might not answer terrified them, but the possibility that he would and they would not like the answer was even greater. So they stayed quiet; sometimes they wondered whether, had they spoken, the outcome would have been different. Whether they could have been saved.
Who were they? Where were they going? Who would they become? Doubts always plagued their heart, keeping them anxious under the forecast of an uncertain future. They had always longed to go home, or failing that, to find a home, a family, and now… they had nothing. No one.
Maybe that was why they feared no longer crying for Javier. Because if they stopped missing him, there would be no one left to suffer for him, no one left to grieve his loss. Just like them; returning to the dust they belonged to, as the Bible said. Forgotten… as if they had never existed.
Blake did not know how long they cried, or even feel it. They looked into the water and did not recognize themself. It was like seeing a stranger wearing their face… and maybe that was what they were. Maybe this body had never been theirs, not really. They had always felt like a spectator in their own life, one they did not want to live.
As if trapped in a nightmare, one they had never been able to escape… but there had to be a way out, right? A back door. Nothing could last forever, not even pain.
The resolution brought them a rather unsettling lightness. One that made them smile a little as a soft laugh narrowed their tired, dark-ringed eyes. Of course! Of course, they had been so foolish. They could go home, they could stop running… they just had to wake up and they would finally see their family. They could hug them, tell them they loved them, and they would return that love; they would cry over the time apart, but they would be ready to forgive them because they would know in their heart that they had never stopped looking for them, and that… that would be enough.
Blake’s hands slid through the dirt, gathering some stones. Little by little, they slipped them into the pockets of their dress, one after another. And when they stood up, their body felt heavy… but they were not afraid; there was a strange peace in accepting the inevitable, in that surge of courage that no longer feared the consequences.
“Come on…”
In their reflection, a voice spoke to them. It was their own voice, but sweeter, softer. And it looked back at them with kindness, with understanding.
“Just a few seconds… and we can go,” it laughed a little, though if you looked closely you would notice the suffering in its eyes. “It can’t hurt that much, can it? We’ve been through much worse…”
Blake agreed. They had suffered a lot, very badly. The outlaw life had not been easy, and they had endured all kinds of pain… but there had been good moments too, hadn’t there? Especially when they were younger, when Dutch’s gang was at its best and there were no Pinkertons chasing them everywhere. They did not remember much of their life, but they still remembered Arthur’s rough laughter, Hosea’s readings, Javier’s songs…
Not everything had been so bad.
No… it had not…
They shook their head slightly, looking at their reflection in confusion. Something did not fit. Something was not right. Their eyes darted around in panic before returning to it. It was not Raven’s tone, it was not Raven; it was someone else.
“Who are you?”
But there was no answer. And there never would be. It was too late to regret it, they supposed…
Their body fell into the water, sinking instantly. Everything went silent in a second; they tried to struggle for a moment, but then they simply went still. They had always lived like this, resigning themself, letting the current carry them; too useless to live, too cowardly to die. But today, at last, it no longer mattered.
They should feel more fear, more panic. But suddenly the world had been reduced to this: only them and the void. It was so dark that, the deeper they sank, the more they could not tell where down ended and up began. And somehow, there was a strange comfort in this moment, in this instant where there was nothing left but contemplation.
Faces came to mind; their family, the gang, Rosy… Javier…
Maybe the first death is in the heart, when you are left alone. Because true darkness has love for a face.
They coughed. They coughed hard as their body bent forward to spit out water. They braced their hands awkwardly against the ground, feeling pats on their back to help them expel the liquid.
They breathed shakily before turning their face slightly back. But before they could process the image… they felt a pair of large, firm arms wrap around them, trapping them. They did not struggle; they had no strength for anything else.
“Oh, thank the Mother you’re all right…” Brother Gall’s voice was unmistakable to them. He looked at them with relief, that usual smile narrowing his eyes as he held them with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. His face looked battered; they had the impression it had been their fault. “She guided my steps to find you just in time, my elusive dove! I nearly died of worry…”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry… the tea was very strong for you, wasn’t it? Don’t worry, that happens sometimes. Accidents happen and mistakes weigh heavy, but the Mother always watches over us and shelters us.”
They felt him lift them without much effort; he was a very large, tall man. Blake barely turned their face to nestle against his body; what seemed like a gesture in search of comfort actually concealed a disappointed grimace.
Well, they were used to losing.