#rdr2 x reader

You tried to blink your hazy eyes back into focus as you lifted your tired head from the pillow. It was your third or fourth day of being horribly sick. You felt groggy and confused as your feet hit the makeshift wood floor of your tent. You turned your head and looked outside the slightly ajar flaps of your tent and from the little sliver you could see through the flaps, the camp appeared stagnant. There was no chatter of happy voices, no footsteps near your tent, and the usual liveliness that breathed through the camp was gone. You felt strangely alone in a place normally so warm and welcoming.

You looked down at yourself and noticed you were still in your day clothes, or at least, what you thought were your clothes. Perhaps you didn't have the strength yesterday to take them off, you could hardly remember anything. Your sickness had taken over much of your body and your brain, leaving you a confused mess of what you once were.

It took an unusual amount of strength to stand up from your cot, but as your balance shifted from sitting to standing, you felt weightless. Being ill usually made you very sluggish, very basic movements required so much more energy than you had, that even walking a couple feet exhausted you. Today was different. Maybe you were starting to recover, you thought as you stepped out of the canvas tent. 

The sky was gray, though it was not cold and there was no wind. A soft fog slithered and curled on the ground, snaking its way past your feet and all through the camp. You looked around the camp, your eyes searching for any of its inhabitants. There was nobody, even though it appeared untouched from before you went to sleep. As you searched through it eventually at its wooded entrance, you noticed all of the horses were gone as well. You wondered if there was some sort of mission taking place today that you were too sick to attend, but if there was, where were the women? The camp felt creepy without the regular kind faces that made the wagons and the tents feel like a proper home. It did not help that the sky began to rumble with thunder.

You turned back around and walked towards Pearson's wagon. Cain the dog was sniffing around the back, presumably looking for a scrap of food. His fur was strange, it was not the usual blueish gray colour, but a white, almost reflective coat. Seeing him pleased you, knowing that you weren’t completely alone, even if your only company was an animal.

“Cain, boy, where did everyone go, huh?” you said, dropping to your knees and reaching out a hand to pet the dog. 

Cain turned around, then stood up on his hind legs. He towered above you when he stood like a person. 

“I do not know,” he responded in a human voice. It sounded familiar to you, though you had never heard him talk before. It did not strike you as unusual.

“Have they left me behind?” you asked, staring up at his face, which became more human-like the longer you stared at it. A little orange fish swam past your foot in the fog, you understood it to be a bad omen.

“I really don’t think they would do that. Pearson mentioned losing something which was apparently rather important, they must have all gone to look for it.”

“Did he say what it was, perhaps I can help?” you offered.

“No. You need to be careful. He’s coming to get you,” Cain said with a seriousness that frightened you. He now appeared to be more of a weirdly proportioned man than a dog. 

“Who’s going to get me? Pearson?” You asked, feeling a great sense of terror wash over you and tickle your skin, causing goosebumps. 

“No,” said Cain, pointing to something behind you, “him.” 

You turned around and saw a massive willow tree you had never seen before, sitting in the middle of camp. Its trunk was higher than you could see, practically scraping the heavens, yet its leaves and branches hung down like it hadn’t the strength to do anything but stand limply. Its presence was intimidating, and had you not been looking carefully you would not have noticed him. A man was standing behind the tree and poking his head out from around it. You did not recognize him, as all you could see was a top hat nearly obscuring a pair of beady eyes that pierced your mind, even from afar.

“I can only do so much to help you, (y/n)," said Caine, "I think it would be best if you woke up. Wake up,”

Suddenly, his voice took on a different sound and it was Kieran’s voice that left the dog's lips, “wake up, sweetheart, you’re having a bad dream,” he said, and reality shifted and swayed into a blurred mess.

You felt a hand gently shake your shoulder back and forth, your eyes blinked open to what you now knew was real life. It took you a minute to get your bearings, as you were in an unfamiliar place, but you soon recalled where and who you were. You were in Dutch’s bed in Shady Belle, with Kieran.

“Darling, I think you were having a nightmare,” whispered Kieran. He moved his hand from your shoulder to your face and gently caressed you in the dark. 

“Oh, hm... yeah, I think I was,” you were surprised at how hoarse your voice was, it was worse than yesterday. Kieran kissed your forehead and tried to snuggle in close to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. The bed creaked and moaned under his shifting weight.

“Kieran, get away from me,” You coughed out as you felt him pull you closer, “I don’t want you to get what I’ve got, it's horrible. 

Kieran let out a soft huff of disappointment then rolled over to the other side of the bed, facing away from you.

“Oh don’t be like that,” you whispered, feeling his aura of sadness from him across the bed, “you’re lucky I didn’t make you sleep on the floor.” 

Kieran was silent for a moment, long enough that you almost began to fall asleep before his voice in the dark brought you from your meditation, “I love you,” he said.

“I-” another coughing fit broke up your words, “love you too, dear.”

“Tomorrow I’m going to ask Arthur to go into town and find a doctor, you need to be looked at,” he said quietly, rolling over again to look at you, although it was pitch black in the room. 

“No Kieran, please, it would be a waste. I’ve got a cold, there’s nothing any doctor could do. Besides, I can’t afford to pay him and neither can you,” you reasoned. It was getting hard for you to talk, each word required energy and breath you didn’t have. 

“I have a little money,” said Kieran, “Dutch has money for emergencies, and I can ask to borrow enough to make up for what I don’t have.”

“Well this isn’t an emergency,” you choked out. 

Kieran sat up from the bed and fumbled around looking for a match to light a candle. After a minute he lit the wick and held the candle stick up to look at you. The yellow light of the candle revealed your gaunt looking face. Your eyes looked heavy, accompanied with washed out cheeks and a red nose. While the light of a single candle was by no means flattering, you weren’t a good sight in the first place.

“Darlin’ you look like hell,” said Kieran. You could see on his face a look of concern you had never seen before. However, it did not persuade you to relent. 

“Then you oughta stop trying to cuddle with me,” you groaned, laying your head back down on the pillow and turning away from the light, “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, by god I feel like shit.”

Kieran set the candle back on the table, but didn’t snuff the light out.

“I just- I just think it's better safe than sorry,” he said quietly.

“I can’t hear you, I’m asleep,” you mumbled, hoping he would give up.

Four days prior you had begun feeling a little off, though not in the usual ways one would before they get sick. Before you or anyone else noticed something was wrong, you simply thought you woke up one day on the wrong side of the cot. You started the day off with a chip on your shoulder and you weren’t sure why. When you went through your usual morning routine, every step of the way you found something that annoyed you. 

At first it was innocent things, Uncle offered you a cup of coffee and you were upset because you didn’t like coffee. How could someone who’d known you for so long forget a thing like that? Then you found you had no clean socks left because Karen had skipped out on doing laundry the day before. Little things began to build on you until you felt like you were going to explode. All day it seemed to culminate until it reached an apex at around mid afternoon when you realized Arthur took Sadie on a stagecoach robbery you and he had planned for that day together. 

What was worse, tensions in the camp were already high as Jack had been kidnapped a week prior. Everyone was at odds with each other, and nobody was willing to humour your grumpiness. All of your short remarks and irritated scolds you issued to people you felt were slighting you, were quickly returned.

“Kieran!” you shouted, marching angrily to the outskirts of Shady Belle where he was working, “I am so goddamn sick and tired of this bullshit!”

Kieran had been sitting on a rock, quietly brushing off your saddle which had been covered in dust from weeks of riding and neglect towards cleanliness. When you came storming towards him he jolted upwards with a bit of surprise, not sure if the anger was directed at him or something else. When you reached him you ripped the saddle out of his hands and threw it with all your might at a nearby tree. The saddle was heavy, and that day your muscles were weak from the (at that time unknown) fermenting fever. The saddle didn’t quite make it as far as the tree, but instead tumbled a couple feet, and ruined the cleaning job Kieran had been working on. It did not do much to calm you down, but only hurt your shoulders in the process.

“Everybody in this camp thinks I'm nothing!” you shouted, tears starting to well in your eyes, though you tried to suppress them, “They don’t care about me at all!”

“That ain’t true darlin’” said Kieran, both sympathetic and nervous, for he had never seen you in such a state, “now you tell what happened to make you think a thing like that?” 

You began to recite the line of irritating events of the morning. Your arms wildly failing and your voice rising, at first you found yourself even more worked up than before. You were so angry you felt like hitting something. Although, as you continued to file through each little thing that annoyed you, you realized how silly it was that such small things would get you so violently angry. Still, Kieran listened to your story with sympathetic eyes, and the further you went along you began to feel like a fool. By the end of your tale you felt less angry with everyone and more upset at yourself for being so hot tempered. 

“Oh sweet pea, you’re just havin’ a bad day. Everyone has one of those now and again.” Kieran pulled you into a tight hug. In his embrace your mood radically shifted from anger and hatred, to a sorry and sappy mess. You began to cry. You remembered the saddle and felt extremely remorseful for your actions.

“Oh dear, don't be sad, there ain’t nothin' to be sad about,” he cooed, brushing the hair away from your face. 

“I ruined your work…” you stuttered out between tears. “No big deal at all darlin’, you sit down in the grass next to me and I’ll fix it in hardly a moment,” Kieran again brushed your hair away, but this time a strange look came across his face as his hand passed over your forehead. “Are you feeling alright, dear? I mean I know you’re… upset, but do you feel… okay?”

“Why?” you sniffled, confused as to what he was thinking. 

“You feel a little warm,” Kieran patted your cheeks and neck. 

“Oh, uh, no I feel okay. Maybe I just got myself a little too worked up,” you smiled at Kieran, though he did not smile back. “And you don’t gotta clean my saddle again, I’m the one who got it all dirty in the first place.”

“No, no, you just sit yourself down,” insisted Kieran, “just focus on relaxing,” he said, still worriedly feeling the temperature of your face.

Kieran helped you down onto the ground before picking up your saddle and sitting back down on the rock. He found his brush, which had also been tossed in the chaos, and got back to work. Sitting and watching him work was always something you always greatly enjoyed. Watching your handsome boyfriend work happily away could make any ill feelings go away, however, today it did not seem to have the desired effect. 

You still felt foolish for having been cross in the morning, and childish for how explosively you had reacted. Although you had not have truly offended anyone, and Kieran was not angry with you for hurling the saddle, you felt an anger directed at you from an unknown source. From who or what you weren't quite sure, but you felt an overwhelming need to be comforted and told everything was alright. You longed for forgiveness, even if you didn’t know from what. 

As soon as Kieran finished polishing your saddle and set it carefully down carefully where it wouldn’t get dirty again, you jumped up from the ground and threw yourself into his lap. Tears fell again as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried yourself in his embrace. Surprised, Kieran hugged you back as tightly as he could. 

You were never the sort to cry, even at sad moments or when you were in pain. Kieran had seen you half cry once before in the past, even then it was more so a misty eyed look he saw while you told him of the loss of your parents, before you turned away and recomposed yourself. Today was a complete change in your personality. He had seen you angry before, but never angry enough to start wrecking things, and now you were more morose than he had ever seen you over seemingly nothing at all. Kieran started to worry. 

He tried his best to rock you back and forth, making the odd shushing noise or whispering words of reassurance, but nothing seemed to have an impact on you. Finally he pushed you gently away so he could look in your eyes. 

“Darling, I don’t think you’re well,” he said, wiping some tears away with his thumb, “something ain’t right with you…” 

“Just *sniffle* tell me *cough* that you *sniffle* love me…” you cried. 

“I love you (y/n), I love you more than anything, but I think you need to lie down and take a nap.”

You nodded your head, feeling embarrassed for being so clingy, but at the same time still wanting nothing more than Kieran to keep comforting you. “Will you please lay down with me, just for a little while? Please,” you asked him, “I don’t want to be left alone.” 

“Of course sweetheart, c’mon.”

Standing up, you and Kieran walked hand in hand to your tent. As you took off your outer clothes and stripped down to your underwear, you felt how hot your skin was against the cooler afternoon breeze. You understood why Kieran asked if you were ill, your skin was practically burning. 

Kieran laid down on the cot first, then you laid down half on top of him, your head resting on his chest. Within minutes, the sound of his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a deep and dreamless sleep. Kieran laid with you awake for a while, his hands either massaging your hair, rubbing your back, or plainly holding you tightly against his chest. 

Old worries returned to Kieran’s mind as he laid there with you. Kieran had seen people die from all sorts of things, some natural, some man induced. His own mother and father had died from Cholera, and many of the people he cared about after that were taken by something vicious sooner or later as well. The memory of losing them was horrible, and each time it surfaced in his mind it took all his might to forget the helplessness the horrible disease made him feel as he watched it take away the people he loved most. Now, here he was holding you as you started to burn up. It scared Kieran too deeply to think about what pain he would feel losing you. Kieran had to remind himself that this, if anything, was only a cold, not Cholera. He had no reason to worry, or so he told himself. 

After two hours of laying there, doing nothing but holding you and trying desperately to suppress his distressing thoughts, the dinner bell rang. Kieran looked at you laying peacefully on his chest and thought he’d better let you sleep instead of waking you up. He himself was hungry, and still had the odd chore to do in camp, so he gently slid you off his chest and carefully placed you down onto the cot. Before he left he kissed you on the cheek, then exited the tent and walked towards Pearson’s steaming pot of stew a crowd had gathered around.

Kieran poured himself a bowl then found an empty table and sat down. A couple minutes later, Karen sat down next to him. 

“Where’s (y/n), Kieran?” asked Karen, shoveling a spoonful of carrot into her mouth. 

“Havin’ a sleep, I think they’re comin’ down with somethin’,” responded Kieran, pushing around the contents of his bowl of stew with his fork, “they’ll be better tomorrow.”

It was that night that the troubles began. Shortly after dinner ended you emerged from the tent in a daze. Viciously rubbing your eyes and mumbling something under your breath, you stumbled around camp, almost tripping over yourself. Kieran, who was brushing off some horses on the other side of camp, knew something was off when he heard a shout and a loud thump. 

~

You were standing at the corner of camp, looking at a fish swimming around in the clean water barrel. It was only a little thing, perhaps it was a small sunfish, you thought, Kieran would surely know. You wondered if the fish served as a method of water purification, or if he was decorative. You were rudely pulled away from meditation of the purpose of the fish by Pearson, who was beaconing you over to his work station. 

When you arrived in front of him, you noticed Pearson’s face was covered in a dark red goop which covered one side of his face to the other, and from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin. 

“I must apologize to you, (y/n), I must apologize. I have made a horrid mistake,” said Pearson, smacking his lips and licking the sides of his mouth, trying to eat the goop off his face. 

“I don’t understand what you are talking about,” you responded dryly, more interested in figuring out what was on his face than what he had to apologize about.

“Well you see,” he continued, “I was baking a pie, a blackberry pie to be specific,” you understood now what was on his face was blackberry filling, “and you see I had my car keys in my hand and you know how difficult it is to bake a pie while holding onto your keys,” you didn’t know what car keys were, but you didn’t want to seem like an idiot by asking, “and so I simply put the car keys into the pie and baked it like that. Well then I realized I needed my keys and they were in the pie!” cried Pearson with a fair bit of anguish about the situation. 

“Why were you baking a pie?” you asked. 

“Well, you see Dutch’s mother is paying us a visit and I thought it would be nice if we had a dessert for her… oh and I believe Abraham Lincoln is coming as well.”

“I suppose that is an event worthy of a pie,” you feigned interest about the situation, but your attention was soon taken by Cain who came riding in on a massive cicada. You looked into its eyes and they reflected a face that was not yours, but rather a girl you had played with when you were a child. 

“Oh and your friend as well,” said Pearson, motioning to Cain, “he’ll be coming too,”

“Good evening, dear child!” called Cain as he jumped off the back of his cicada mount, “how are you feeling?”

You paused for a moment, trying to take stock of your body, but you couldn’t feel a thing.

“I do not know,” you responded, shrugging your shoulders. Internally, you were rather surprised at your numbness. 

“Well, it's alright, I already know the answer,” replied Cain. You noticed then he was dressed in a very fine brown suit with a green cravat. You found his taste in clothing impressive for a dog. His tail wagged when he saw Pearson standing there with his face covered in blackberry filling.

“Then how am I?” you asked, hoping if you didn’t know, he would tell you. 

Cain ignored the question, “I have good news for you, I arranged a meeting with him.”

“With who?”

"Blackberry pie!" exclaimed Cain, walking up to Pearson and lapping the side of his face with his dog tongue, "too bad poor Abe doesn't like blackberries."

~

Before you could ask again who Cain had arranged a meeting with, you woke up from your lovely slumber on the dirty ground with Sean on top of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, you dumb idiot!” he shouted, standing up and dragging you by the arm a foot to the right. You turned and saw you were only a couple inches away from the raging campfire.

“What the hell are you doing tackling me like that!” you angrily shouted back at him, “I was asleep! I was in my cot! Wait-” you paused, confusedly looking around as Kieran dashed over to you from the perimeter of camp, “I was in bed- how did I get here?”

“You almost walked straight into the campfire,” said Sean, grabbing one arm and Kieran the other, pulling you up off the ground, “what in god's name did you think was going on?”

“I don’t- I really don’t know,” you said, “I was asleep…” as you got onto your feet, you almost fell over again. You felt light headed and weak, your eyes were hazy and it was hard to stand. Kieran noticed you were dazed and quickly took hold of your arm, allowing you to lean on him. 

“I think you need to go back to sleep,” said Sean, motioning for Kieran to walk you back to your tent. 

You did not protest as Kieran led you back to bed, but it was hard for your feet to keep up as you leaned heavily into his side. You tried to figure out exactly what was wrong with you, where it hurt and what was uncomfortable. Your throat was fine, and you didn’t have a headache, and although you had a fever, you didn’t really have chills nor did you feel uncomfortably hot. Your muscles hurt, but not unbearably so. 

You were too absorbed in thought to realize Kieran had sat you back down on the bed. You snapped back to reality as he kneeled in front of you and held your hands in his. His eyes betrayed a look of fear you had never seen in him before. It even frightened you. 

You went back to sleep with Kieran watching over you. That night you tried a couple times in your sleep to get back up, each time Kieran redirected you to lay back down. You tossed and turned restlessly, plagued with strange dreams. Your fever worsened and Mrs. Grimshaw was summoned to look at you. You were awakened so she could take your temperature, she looked in your mouth and looked around your limbs for any unusual spots or marks. Mrs. Grimshaw was at a loss and ordered you back to sleep. 

The next day you slowly got worse. Your throat grew sore and your chest was congested. With that and the exhaustion, all you wanted to do was sleep. Eventually Dutch had you moved to his room, where there was a warmer and drier and his real bed was much more comfortable for you. Despite the efforts that were made for your comfort and well-being, your health declined, until you were confined to Dutch’s bed completely, not by any order, but your own difficulty in moving.

Five days had passed since then and Kieran’s demands for a doctor were becoming louder. As much as he tried to conceal it from you, he was petrified. Kieran rarely left your side, although you were not awake for most of it, every time you opened your eyes Kieran was sitting next to you. Sometimes you’d find him holding your hand, one time he was wiping your face with a cloth, and a couple times you caught him with his arm around your waist and you pushed him away, fearing you would infect him. 

“Sweetheart,” Kieran’s voice startled you awake from another strange dream with talking dogs, “Darlin’, there’s good news!” 

“What is it, my love?” you said, trying to sit up, but finding no strength at all to lift yourself. You settled with staying reclined. 

“Jack is back! Arthur, Dutch and John went and rescued him! There’s gonna be a party and everything!” Kieran said excitedly, sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling down happily at you. 

“That's great, that's really very wonderful,” you smiled up at him with the widest smile you could muster, but you even struggled to move your face, “I missed his dear little face around camp.” Your voice was soft and barely above a whisper, as you tried to speak over the sound of the gang singing to Javier’s guitar playing. 

Kieran, knowing what the answer would be, but still hoping for a miracle, asked; “Would’ya like me to help you up so you can join the party?”

Your breath hitched and you closed your eyes, looking for a way to tell him you weren’t well enough. Kieran knew what you were thinking, and gently took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. He placed your hand over his heart and held it there. If he had let it go you wouldn’t have had the strength to keep it there yourself.

“Maybe Jack can come visit me, as long as he stays away from me,” you suggested. 

Kieran tried to respond, but his lips opened and then quickly shut into a deep frown. He lifted your hand to his lips to kiss it again, but this time to keep himself from crying.

“Don’t be sad,” you reassured him, “a couple more days and everything will be fine. I’m going to be okay,” you said with a confidence you wished you had, “there’s really nothing to worry about at all. This is just a bad cold. Perhaps it was Pearson's stew that was bad and I’m paying the price for his shoddy cooking.”

Kieran laughed stiffly, trying to calm himself for you, “Then we’d all have it,” he said. 

“Yeah, you're right,” you wheezed and then coughed. You buried your mouth into your arm, trying not to cough on Kieran. The momentum from your lungs compressing and expanding allowed you to roll away from him. 

When you were finished, and your breath returned to its shaky normal, Kieran gently rubbed your back. 

“Before Arthur got Jack he went and talked to the doctor’s assistant in Saint Denis,” said Kieran. 

You groaned into the pillow, you hadn’t the strength to roll yourself back over, so you made like you were comfortable laying nearly face down.

“I suppose he’s coming, then?” you asked. 

“Apparently the assistant said that because we’re outside of Saint Denis, and you’re not strong enough to travel to the city, we need to get the travelin’ doctor to come out. The traveling doctor was away, but the assistant said to come back in the next couple days to check if he was back,” Kieran explained the situation with an almost mournful tone. 

“Go and party,” you said, trying to find some way to cheer him up. 

“No, I can’t leave you,” he said kindly but firmly. 

“Yes you can,” you said, your words muffled by the pillow, “you’ve been sitting by me faithfully, go and… and have fun my dear.”

“There’s no fun to be had without you,” he said, massaging your back with his hand, “I’m not going anywhere, there's no point in tellin’ me otherwise.”

“Well then there… there you go…” you coughed again into the pillow. It was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open, “I think I’m going to rest my… rest my eyes for a moment Kier…” 

~

Each step you took echoed through the long and winding staircase. You stopped to catch your breath for a while. In your moment of rest, you gave yourself the opportunity to get a better look at your surroundings. You seemed to be walking up a long cylindrical tower, the walls and stairs of which were both painted the same white textured colour. There were no windows, but there was light. The staircase wound up and up the wall, and in the middle there was a hole where you could see all the way down to the bottom, if there was even a bottom as it seemed to go so deep that you could not see an end. However, when you looked up, you could see a source of light that seemed to spin in a circle, like one that would be in a lighthouse.

You had caught your breath and were ready to continue your ascent, when you heard footsteps coming down the staircase, getting closer and closer. Starting off at a brisk pace, you went up the stairs as quickly as you could, hoping to meet the cause of the footsteps as soon as possible. After a minute of walking, you found the creator of the noise was no one other than Sean Maguire. 

“Hehehe,” laughed Sean, in his usual jolly tone, “you’re in trouble!”

“I am?” you said, confused as to what he was referring to. 

“Oh yeah, yer about to get it from the boss up d’ere!”

“Get what?” You asked with anticipation, suddenly feeling frantic.

“Oh, he’ll tell ya!” Sean laughed, then started to walk past you. 

“Where are you going? You can’t leave me!” you said, grabbing onto Sean’s shirt sleeve and almost knocking him over, “You have to come with me?”

“I already had me word with the man, it's your turn now,” said Sean, brushing you off and heading back down the stairs. 

“But where are you going?” you called after him, but not daring to chase after him. 

“Where da fook does it look like I’m headin’? Down!” Sean answered, not bothering to look at you, just walking steadily down the stairs.

With frightful nerves you accepted your fate for talking to ‘the boss’ alone. Despite Sean’s jovial remarks, you didn’t know what was going to meet you at wherever your destination was, presumably the top of this tower. You took slow and apprehensive steps up the staircase, each one echoing in tandem with Sean’s until eventually his faded into the distance and all you could hear were yours alone. After what felt like a very long time you reached the top. 

You were in a lighthouse. In the very middle of the top room, suspended from the ceiling and visible from the staircase, there dangled a chandelier of a couple oil lanterns. With a rig made out of a couple incredibly reflective sheets of metal and a seemingly motorized lazy susan, the chandelier spun, effectively causing a rotating light. 

You looked all around the room. You had never been in a lighthouse before and you found it fascinating. Your eyes followed the circle the light made. The room had no furniture in it, no mechanics. There was a large opening that spanned across the entire circular apartment, serving as a window, but void of glass. 

The last thing you noticed was a man, standing hunched over a rifle with his back to you, looking into the scope. He was rather short, a bit stocky, and he wasn’t particularly well dressed, he seemed to be wearing some sort of hunting attire. From behind you could see a bald spot start to form at the very back of his head, where there should be ample hair sprouting. By then you had forgotten all about your initial apprehension.

The man fired a shot, then slowly took his gun off the ledge. 

“So,” he said, turning around, “you’re the one who’s been causing all this trouble for him.” 

“I haven’t caused any trouble,” You argued, “I’ve been sick in bed.”

“Hm,” said the man, walking past you and setting up his rifle on the other edge of the opening, “well, that seems to have been enough to do it.” 

You gathered by now that asking questions about yourself seemed to do very little, so you tried something else, “who are you shooting?” 

“One riding into Blackwater at the moment. They know better than to try to cross the river, yet they do it anyway, it’s my job to take them out.” 

“Why not just let them?”

“Because, it's against the natural order of things,” said the man sternly.

“Why?” 

“Ugh, kid” the man annoyedly turned his head away from his gun and towards you, “you know when you’re walking up the stairs, and you keep trying to skip steps? One, two, four, nine, and then you fall on your ass and hurt yourself because you’ve skipped too many steps at a time?” 

“I suppose so.”

“Well, I am the ‘hurt yourself’ that happens when you try to skip these specific steps.”

“I don’t think I understand, sir.” You said, coming up behind him and trying to see what he was aiming at. All you could see was fog and the occasional passing over of the light trying to penetrate it, “Do you always hit them? I don’t know how you can see through the thick fog…”

“My aim is perfect. ‘Sept once,” he said, with an almost spiteful tone. He took another shot, then dragged his gun to another side of the room and set it up again.

“What happened?” you were genuinely surprised by his answer. 

“You happened, you got in the way. That's why I had to shoot that poor devil today instead of a couple weeks ago,” said the man, pointing to the staircase.

“Sean?” you asked. 

The man nodded his head slowly, then took another shot. Then he turned around and leaned against the rim of the lighthouse opening. 

“And I’d shoot you too for it, if I was allowed to,” then he moved on again, and set up his gun again. 

“I’m glad you’re not allowed to, then. I’d be done for if you were out to get me.” 

The man laughed, “You ain’t going to get off as easy as you think.” Then he fired another shot, except this time it was much louder, and accompanied by a piercing scream. 

~

Somehow it wasn’t the gunfire from the O’Driscoll’s that woke you up, but it was the scream that Karen let out. It was a cross between a cry of anguish and that of unadulterated hatred. 

Your eyes flickered open, confused as to what was going on. There were gunshots, many of them all around, and although you didn’t exactly have your wits about you, you could gather that camp was being attacked. You tried to get up and reach for your gun, but your limbs were sluggish and feeble. You felt as if your hold body was made of concrete. 

“Either lay back down on the bed or flop on the floor, either way you’re not fightin’ (y/n),” said Arthur, who you soon realized was in the room, shooting from one of the windows.

“I can… I can help,” you huffed out, rolling off the bed and onto the floor. 

Before you could demand a gun, Arthur was already out on the balcony shooting whoever it was that was invading. You had gotten yourself up on all fours when Kieran came in the room. 

“Jesus Christ! Sweetheart, stay down!” he shouted, throwing himself over top of you, “You can’t afford a bullet on top of your list of maladies.”

You hadn't the strength or the will to fight Kieran off, so you laid down flat on the floor. You were struggling to catch your breath just from falling on the ground, you wondered how well you’d stand up in a fight. 

“Who’s attacking us? Pinkertons?” you asked. 

“O’Driscolls. ‘Parently they’ve been sniffin’ round camp the past couple days,” said Kieran.

After what felt like a very long exchange of gunfire and of laying on the hard floor, the gunshots ended. Arthur came back inside. 

“Help me get ‘em back up on the bed,” said Kieran, lifting your arm to help you stand up.”

“I can get up perfectly fine myself,” you protested, awkwardly half crawling back into the bed, “in fact I fancy I should get up and help with the clean up, there must be a lot of dead bodies out there… hopefully none of ours.”

“No,” said Arthur firmly, “you know damn well you’re stayin’ right in that bed. Kieran, you come and help.” 

Kieran kissed you on the forehead, “As soon as I’m done I’ll russel you up somethin’ to eat, you haven’t had a thing all day.” 

“Just you wait,” you called out as you watched Kieran leave the room with Arthur, “I’ll surprise you all yet, in fact, I feel nearly better.”

Reality was, you could hardly keep your head up from the pillow as soon as you laid back down.

“I hope you're hungry,” said Kieran, walking in with a bowl of stew, you had almost drifted away to another dream when he came in, “I’ve got stew for you, baby.”

“Oh joy,” you whispered, “my favourite meal.”

Kieran sat down on the edge of the bed with the bowl in his lap. He scraped around the with a spoon, fishing through the brown muck for its contents. “Would you like a carrot, a potato, or a piece of meat?”

“I think, *cough*, just a little bit of the gravy would suit me.”

“(y/n), you need more than just gravy, how are you supposed to fight this having only eaten gravy for a week straight?” said Kieran, holding a carrot on the end of the spoon and trying to move it closer to your mouth. 

“Kieran, I’m not hungry.” 

Please, (y/n), please, it’ll make me feel better if you have just one bite of something solid.”

“One carrot,” you relented, the worry in Kieran’s voice surprised you.

Kieran happily shoveled a mushy slice of a carrot into your mouth. It was horribly bland and over cooked, it tasted more of beef the beef it had been marinating with than the  vegetable it was supposed to be.

“There’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya, hun,” said Kieran with a sorry look in his eyes. 

“What is it?”

“The O’Driscolls killed Sean. They got him in the ambush.” Kieran said, his voice was low and mournful.

            “Oh Christ,” you exclaimed in surprise, “poor kid. He didn’t suffer did he?”

“No,” said Kieran, “they got him right in the head. Horrible scene.” 

“How’s Karen?” You asked, your head lolling to the side to avoid another spoonful of carrot Kieran was trying to sneak in, “poor girl must be absolutely devastated.”

“She was real angry at first, rightfully so, mind you. She even took a swing at me, said it was my fault because I’m an O’Driscoll and that I probably led them here… then she just kinda went quiet and hid herself away.” 

“Sean didn’t deserve that,” you said quietly, it was really quite a shame, you rather liked him, “it’s strange… I had a dream just before the O’Driscolls attacked, and I saw him.” 

“Sean?” Kieran asked.

“Yeah, I was walking up a staircase and he was coming down the other way. He was happy and laughing.” 

“He always was,” said Kieran, and pushed a spoonful of beef towards you which you accepted, “even though I don’t think he liked me very much, I will miss him.” 

“Me too, love, me too.” You said, taking a bite of beef.

~

"I wasn't able to see him" said Cain, pouring you a cup of tea, "but I am hopeful that I should speak with him tomorrow."

You looked around and realized you were sitting in the middle of a street blackwater. You and Cain were sitting on garden chairs, with a matching table between the two of you, right in the middle of the road. However, nobody seemed to be driving anywhere as there were no horses or carriages to be seen. There were people milling about, but there was something off about them, their hands were dangle down by their sides and they all seemed to walk with a strange staggering limp. One got close as he passed by and you saw his skin was green.

"Are these people aright?" you asked, ignoring the cup of tea Cain had set down in front of you.

"No, child, they're dead," he said pouring his own cup.

"Oh, thats not nice," you said, picking up your cup and taking a sip, but not taking your eyes off of the men and women who were allegedly 'dead', "who killed them?"

"Oh, you know, diseases," said Cain flippantly, "I plan on using this as an example."

"An example for what?" You asked. You looked down in your glass and looked at the tea. It smelt like earl grey but when you drank it, it had no taste nor feeling in your mouth.

"When I see him again, I will bring this up and ask why this is an exception, yet why he's so hell bent on taking you down."

"You'll use these weird people in Blackwater as an example? Example for what? I don't think I understand..."

"No, silly thing," laughed Cain, "this isn't Blackwater. Far from it. This... I supposed is an ill maintained dream, look, that one is headless." Cain pointed to a set of clothes walking around without a body in it, "if that thing can go around looking like that, I don't see why you can't be a little... *ahem*, off the cuff yourself."

"If I die, will I look like that?" you asked, trying to imagine what it would feel like to walk around with the same dead eyed, aimless expression they possessed. Your face grimaced in disgust, and partially in fear from them. There was something deeply unnerving about them. In the distance one of them growled lowly.

"No, you'll just be in the ground. I hope you don't die, I shall rally him hard to let you live."

"Rally who?" you asked.

"You shouldn't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to. If you don't like them, you're not going to like him either. He is their shepherd."

~

“Sweetheart, please wake up, the doctor is coming,” said Kieran, “Someone help me lift her up.”

Mrs. Grimshaw and Kieran adjusted you so you were sitting upright. It was the first time in a couple days that you had been sitting upright, and the change in blood pressure gave you a massive headache. You hadn’t the energy to complain, it was a chore even to express with your face that you were in pain, so you accepted it and waited for the doctor to come. 

The man who came in was tall, he had sunken eyes and a ghoulish sort of face. He had very little colour in his cheeks, almost giving the impression that his blood was grey, rather than red. His walking dead like appearance was only set off by his thick black hair that seemed to sprout from his head like a bush.

“Are you the patient?” he asked with a gentle voice, sitting down on the bed next to you. In spite of his cold appearance, he spoke with a warm and comforting tone, “what seems to be the problem?”

“I don’t know, Doc,” you tried to smile, but could do nothing more than twitch the ends of your mouth, “I’ve had a fever… and I can hardly eat…” it was painful to talk, after each couple of words you had to stop and catch your breath. 

“If I may,” said Mrs. Grimshaw, cutting in, “it's been going on for a week and a half now, one day they were fine, the next they were bedbound. They haven’t been able to eat, they can only drink a little, sore throat, fever, chills, every symptom there is, they’ve got.”

“Alright,” said the doctor pulling out his stethoscope from his case, “you know the routine, breathe in…” he placed the stethoscope on your chest, “Breathe out… alright, repeat,” 

You did the same thing a couple of times as he moved the device around your chest. When he was finished he looked in your mouth, your ears and took your temperature. You almost fell asleep again during the check up.

“Well, this is most unusual,” he said, after he finished up his examination, “I have never seen this combination of illnesses at once.”

“How long until I get better?” you asked, remembering what was going on and that falling asleep again was not wise.

“I don’t know,” said the doctor, putting his hands on his knees and groaning as he stood up, “I think you ought to keep doing what you’re doing and see what happens. Have you been getting lots of rest?”

“Thats all I’ve been doin’, doc.”

“Well, keep up the good work then. Tell me, are you in any pain?” 

“I get the odd headache,” you coughed, “but other than that, no.”

“Do you want opioids?” asked the doctor. 

“No, I don’t think that's necessary, doc, but thank you.”

The doctor looked around the room until his eyes fell on Kieran, who was sheepishly standing in the corner.

“Are you the partner?” he asked. 

“Yes,” replied Kieran, “I am.”

“Why don’t you walk me out?” The doctor picked up his bag and left the room.

When they got down the stairs, the doctor turned to Kieran with a stern but sympathetic look on his face. “It's not good.”

“Just tell me they aren’t going to die,” begged Kieran.

“I honestly have no idea. It's not a cold, that's for sure. Could be a brain infection, could be some kind of disease. Maybe food poisoning. There's water in their lungs, an extreme temperature, yellowing eyes, but there's no pain… there's no way for me to tell what exactly it is and I can’t treat something I don’t understand.”

“But will they die from it, doctor, I mean that's really I want to know,” asked Kieran. 

“Probably,” said the doctor, putting his hand on Kieran’s shoulder, "don't tell them unless you think they can handle it. If not, just make them as happy and as comfortable as possible. Heal both your souls while you can.”

~

You were in a row boat, and Cain was working the oars. The sky was a dark blue, with blackened clouds that covered the stars and only occasionally revealed the moon. The lake was a deep and royal purple, and the water sloshed around unnaturally, like it had a consistency closer to syrup. A lonely loon cried in the distance and a little fish swam past the side of the boat, breaking the surface of the water with a translucent fin. 

“Not good, not good at all,” said Cain, shaking his head while still rowing the boat. He seemed to be struggling with the oars as he was huffing and puffing as he pulled the oars back with all of his might. Cain was still wearing his brown suit, but this time with a red cravat. 

“What's the matter, Cain?” you asked. 

“He’s such a pigheaded, obstinate beast. Inflexible!” Cain exclaimed, “Damn him, I say. Although it doesn’t matter a haypenny what I say, especially against a beast like him.”

“Him who?” you asked, hoping this would be the same ‘him’ as from a couple dreams before. 

“He’s always been like this! Always so… so set. Set in his ways, that man. He has a way he likes to do things and by jove, that's how he will do them. Had you not've saved that boyfriend of yours, I think he might have listened to me, although it wasn't your fault he wasn't in the spot. Man wouldn't leave your side to take a piss and now you're both paying the price for it."

“Him who?” you asked, this time feeling more urgency in your question. 

“I told him, I said, why do you care so much? It's only one person. One person, different from the rest, sure, but really what difference does it make that youre… well… y’know.”

“HIM WHO?” you shouted.

“Wrong.” said Cain. 

“Wrong?” you repeated confusedly. 

“You, you're wrong. You’re not supposed to be there.”

Cain’s answer enraged you, and you grabbed him by his soldiers and shook him, “I swear to god, dog, if you don't tell me who you're referring to I’m going to punch you square in your wet nose!” You made a fist like you were going to hit him, but Cain didn’t flinch. He set the oars down and turned around to look behind him. 

Looking in the same direction he turned to, you learned he had been rowing you towards a dock, and further past the dock on the land there was a cabin. The yellow lights of the cabin were almost blinding, though it was still a long ways away. Your eyes stung as they were overwhelmed by the light. You blinked rapidly and tried to cover your eyes from the bright cabin, but Cain pushed your hand away from your face with a rough paw.

“Look. He is there.” said Cain, turning around and pointing to the dock. 

Standing on the dock was a man. Despite the darkness of the night, and the blinding cabin behind him, you could see him perfectly. His eyes were beady, he wore a long stovepipe hat that sat low on his head. He was finely dressed in a black and grey suit and had an english style moustache that stuck up slightly at the ends. His face was hard and stern. You recognized him as the man who was staring at you from behind the tree.

Immediately upon assessing him, you were panic-stricken by some instinctual knowledge. You didn’t know how or why you knew it, but this man was dangerous. He was going to kill you. 

“Turn the boat around!” you screamed, half standing up, looking for some way to escape the man on the dock without jumping into the thick water.

“Calm down!” shushed Cain, trying to pat your shoulder to reassure you, “just relax, child, relax!”

His words fell deaf on your ears and you began to panic more. You frantically searched for a way to leave the boat, or something to defend yourself with, but all your actions seemed to do was rock the boat to almost a tipping point. 

Cain wrestled you to the floor of the boat, somehow without fingers or the same level of agility he was stronger and more capable than you. Finally, he had you pinned to the bottom, and all you could see was Cain and the black sky above him. 

“Shh! Shh!” hissed Cain. 

“Who is that man?” You cried, succumbing to the strength of the dog. 

Cain opened his mouth to speak, but the noise that came from it was neither that of an animal or a human, but instead a high pitch noise that made your whole body shriek with pain. 

~

You jolted awake, your chest heaving and lungs gasping for air as if you had been holding your breath for a long time. The memory of the noise that Cain made still rang in your ears, as if it were still sounding from somewhere nearby. Your skin crawled and you shivered, though the room was distressingly hot. Sweat beaded down your forehead, you had no strength to wipe it away. You anxiously searched the room, looking for the only person who could calm you down. For the first time you had fallen ill, you were truly afraid. 

This time, Kieran was not with you, and instead your eyes were met with the familiar face of Reverend Swanson, who was sitting next to your bed in a rocking chair, reading his bible. He noticed your stirring and his eyes flickered over to you on the bed. The look in his eyes was that of pity.

Although you could not see yourself, you knew you were a ghost of what you once had been. You had been sick for two weeks now, and you could feel yourself wasting away. While you had tried to eat and stay hydrated, you couldn’t eat much as your stomach felt to be the size of a pea. Despite the fact that you constantly slept, you were always totally exhausted. Having hardly been able to eat, bathe, or even brush your own hair, you wondered how wretched you had become.

“(y/n),” said Reverend, closing his book and leaning closer to you, “is there something I can do for you? I know I am not exactly a priest, nor am I really someone worth confessing to, but I can help you if you’d like.”

“I ain’t dying,” you responded, your voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, “I ain’t dying! Where is Kieran?” 

“Mrs. Grimshaw sent him away a little while ago. Poor thing hasn’t slept more than an hour at a time for the past fortnight, let alone had any time to wash himself or eat a full meal.”

You thrust your head away so that Reverend wouldn’t see the tears coming to your eyes. Your chest started heaving again and your breathing became loud and laboured. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to cry. It hurt be alive. You felt lonely and frightened without Kieran. You knew he deserved time away from you, time to think about something other than you, but you needed him. He was the only thing keeping you attached to life, attached to your own withering body. It was cruel and selfish to cry about his absence, you knew full well he had spent every waking (and even sleeping) moment with you, it was wrong to cry that he had left.

Reverend Swanson silently stood up from his chair and exited the room. For what reason he went, you weren’t sure. While at first you appreciated being alone, it was soon taken over by the crippling fear that death may creep in while you were alone. Perhaps being watched was the only thing that kept you tied to the earth. Perhaps when nobody was around to see it, death would take form and reap you. 

You were afraid. All your life you had lived intertwined with death. Killing was your job, it fed you, it clothed you, it kept you on the run. It bonded you with the people you now called family for better or for worse. You saw it almost every day of your life, you had inflicted it on others and had almost had it bite you. Yet here you were, one foot in your bed and the other in the grave and you were beyond frightened. You didn’t want to die, not when you loved life so dearly. 

Kieran ran through the door, practically throwing himself down on the bed next to you. Up until now, you had been extremely adamant about Kieran keeping his space from you, never allowing him to hold you or kiss you. Through your whole sickness, Kieran had for the most part, respected that wish. Now, throwing caution to the wind, he pulled you into his chest and wrapped you in his arms. His embrace was so warm, the feeling of his body heat on your cold, cold limbs was like touching fire. You reveled in the touch you so dearly missed. You couldn’t move as he pulled you on top of him, though you wanted to grab him back as tightly as you could. Tears stained his shirt as he rocked you back and forth. 

“Don’t cry, love, don’t cry, I’m here now,” Kieran whispered into your hair. 

“No,” you whimpered, “I- *sniff* I don’t wanna die.”

“Who said you were going to die? You’re not gonna die, don’t say that.”

“I am,” you cried weakly, “I know… please… please, I don't want to leave you.”

“(y/n), stop it,” Kieran begged, tears starting to come to him as well, “you’re not goin’ anywhere. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Just relax.”

“How can I relax?” you choked out, it was getting harder and harder to talk with each passing word, “I can’t move…”

“If you die, sweetheart, I can’t-,” Kieran's words caught in his throat, the thought was too horrifying for him to even think, let alone vocalize, “you can’t die. I won't- I can’t live without you.”

You tried to say something in response, perhaps an urge for him to live, for both of you to live, but your throat was hurting too badly. The draining effect that crying and talking at the same time had on you was too great, your eyes felt the hard pull of gravity and now it no longer began to feel like you were going to fall asleep, but rather faint. 

“Darlin’,” continued Kieran, “just close your eyes. I promise I won’t move an inch. I promise you, you ain’t dying on my watch. I love you too much” Kieran choked for a second, “I love you too much to let you die on me now.”

Kieran couldn’t handle your crying, it only made him want to break down more. Despite wanting to spend what time he had left with you while you were in a conscious state, he seeing you weak and afraid was more than he could stomach. He knew that if you were asleep then you wouldn’t be scared. The doctor’s dreaded words rang in his ears. He didn’t want to think for a second that maybe he could be right, that you were not long for this world. 

He hushed you and gently rocked you as best he could, “go to sleep, sweetheart, go to sleep. I won't go anywhere, I won't leave you this time.”

Kieran continued to talk to you until his words grew distant and your consciousness slipped away. You slept again, but this time there were no dreams. It was a black and deep sleep, broken up only by whispers and slivers of slight awareness. No dogs kept you company through your dreams. 

After an amount of time you could not measure you regained a fuller sort of consciousness. You were aware of your body, and acutely aware that there was someone with you, but you could not move at all. It was like your body was made of stone and your soul was trapped inside the marble statue. You would have been afraid, had you not heard his voice speaking to you. It was a disembodied voice that came from all around, from every direction, if direction was still a concept. 

“When you get better we’ll leave…”

“A nice house, in West Elizabeth, in the lavender fields…”

“Safe there…”

“A boy and a girl and a cat and a dog..”

“Real marriage… church…”

“Anything you want… just tell me…”

“You just gotta get better… that’s all…”

“There ain’t… without you… I’ll die.”

You were pulled again into an all encompassing darkness.

Through the black came a white light. It was not bright, and did not illuminate anything, though it served to be an anchor in what was essentially an abyss of nothing. You did not know where you were, nor could you feel your own body, if you even still had one. You felt as if you were nothing more than a soul floating in some sort of realm of waiting. Then, he appeared. 

“I’m sorry it took so long,” said the man. He was no longer quite so frightening, as he now appeared as something different than a man or a beast but now a spirit, one neither malignant nor benign. “You see, I am not a man of action, I merely watch over things, like an accountant, in many ways.

“I spent a long time watching you, and I found you extraordinarily fascinating, you were unlike anything that has ever happened before… you were so out of place. I couldn’t predict your moves, I couldn’t hear your thoughts. For a while, I let it- by it I mean you, happen. I watched you with great interest for a long time. But then… but then child, you got in the way… and that, I’m afraid was not supposed to happen. At first I tried to look for where you came from, but I couldn’t find anything at all, even in places where people can evade me. So, I brought the plague down on you. I’m sorry it was slow and painful, not that you deserved an easy death, you certainly weren't innocent in your life, but I had no other way of doing it. 

Even now, as you try your utmost to keep those images at bay, something slick leaks out of you and dampening your underwear. There's a hotel room waiting for you just down the street and you're almost giddy with excitement to sink into the mattress. A proper mattress. Perhaps, if the walls aren't too thin, you could slip a hand under your skirt and relieve yourself of the tension the two men have left.

But first things first: drinks. Pushing open the swinging doors of the saloon, you're being greeted with air that's thick with the stench of booze and unwashed bodies. Someone is mashing those piano keys to a happy tune that you've heard folk from all over the country sing. He's no maestro, but the melody at least resembles something.

Chatter fills the four walls, accompanied by collective groaning coming from the poker table over a particularly harsh loss. Besides the smell of alcohol, cheap perfume swirls around your head as well and you gaze over to the other side where women in elaborate hairdos and colorful corsets are wooing men. Most of the tables are full and there doesn't seem to be a single spot at the bar left.

Marching deeper into the building, you luckily do find a gap at the very end of the counter. Filling the empty spot, you make it a point to avoid touching the edge or the surface. The orange lights cast down onto the wood reveal grimy and glistening spots that must have been a result of spilled beverages. It's nothing disgusting, but you'd rather not dirty your hands.

"What can I get you tonight, miss?", the man behind the counter asks, a glass and a cloth in each hand.

"A whiskey, please.", you answer and drop 50 cents into his open palm.

After he whirls around on his heels and uncorks a bottle, he turns back to you and slides a small glass over the sticky wood. The glass is milky from years of use and marked with scratches of low quality drying rags. A caramel colored liquid sloshes inside, nearly tipping over the edge and as you watch it all happen, you notice a dot of red on there.

Or several rather. It's clear that they're remnants of a lipstick stain. Not too vibrant and prominent, meaning it has been washed to some degree at least. Wrinkling your nose, you turn the lipstick stain away from you and inspect the other half. Nothing seems to be on the other side. No coloring and no other mouth marks.

Satisfied with the result (no matter how poor it may be), you lift the glass up to your lips and throw it all back. The liquor burns in a way that only a cheap whiskey manages. It slides down your throat slowly, traveling along the walls like flames and ending in a ball of warmth in your lower stomach.

The side of your face prickles then much like it does when you're being watched. Scanning the saloon, an uncomfortable feeling rises in your chest. Who could it be? You don't know anyone in Valentine. Then your eyes meet his and you do actually reach for the edge of the bar counter despite the feeling of your fingers getting glued to the wood.

Javier is on the other side, filling the space that someone left not only half a minute ago. How he noticed you so quickly, you can't explain. None of you are moving at first, but something mighty rolls through your body and suddenly, you're transported back to the cabin you shared with him and Flaco.

The mere sight of him leaves your heart throbbing and heat sears through your veins. Burning alive from the inside, you can't do much but watch him back away and disappear into the crowd. Befuddled, you search each and every face, desperately trying to find that gapped mustache and the goatee.

Something brushes your shoulder and your head snaps to the side. He's nudging you with his arm, squeezed close into your side from the people surrounding you. He awkwardly clears his throat.

"Hey there.", he says with a hoarse voice and raises two fingers for the bartender to see. Next thing you know, your glass is being refilled and a new one appears before Javier.

"Hey.", you murmur and clutch the glass like it's a lifeline. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Some liquid courage will do you well. Suddenly not caring about the lipstick stain anymore, you take a sip and tell yourself that it's leaving you braver. If you focus hard enough, you can feel it pump through your blood and you tug at your clothes in an attempt to fix them. Or maybe it's an attempt to subtly pull you blouse down to deepen your cleavage. Whether he notices or not, he doesn't show. His eyes are fixed on your face and you want to squirm from the raw attention.

"I'm here with some, uh-" Javier looks back over his shoulder and you follow his gaze. In this vast sea of people, you can't be certain what exactly grabbed his attention. "Actually, I'm alone here."

The last sentence is added in a rush and you cock an eyebrow. You sincerely doubt that he's telling the truth, but you don't particularly feel like drilling him about it. No, now that he's standing so close, you have entirely different things on your mind. Here you were, reminiscing about the mountains and as if the universe heard you, it threw one of the men right into your lap.

"Me too! Isn't that funny?", you answer and run the tips of your fingers over his arm.

His shoulders tense up, though not in a manner that indicates that he wants to flee. If anything, he leans into the touch and a pleased smile spreads over your face. It's good to know that you still got it. And that he's genuinely into you. It would be a shame to find out that he only slept with you because you were the only woman for miles.

"How long have you been here?", Javier then asks, closing in on your ear so that you hear him better over all the ruckus. His breath caresses your cheek and goosebumps line your skin. With each passing second, you want to waste your time less with idle chitchat and drag him over to the hotel.

"I got here this morning.", you answer, angling your head to have your lips hover mere inches over his. His eyes flicker down to them as you speak.

"And Flaco? You here with him?"

The name sends a delicious shiver down your spine and you gravely shake your head. "No, sadly not. I haven't seen him since…you know."

"Mhm.", he wrings out, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

No doubt, his mind is plagued by similar images like yours and you take a split second to glance down, not missing the way he shifts his legs. Almost as if he has something to hide. Feeling particularly bold, you reach out and brush one of his hair strands aside, making it a point to run your nails along his cheekbone. The corners of your lips curl up. Why beat around the bush?

"I rented a room across the street.", you coo and his eyes momentarily widen. Mouth hanging open, he sucks in a breath.

"You did?"

"Yes.", you murmur into his ear and then retreat to feign uncertainty. "Unless you're not interested. I can find something else to do tonight."

With something, you actually mean someone and he's very well aware, judging by the way he puffs his chest out like a bird. Of course, it never crossed your mind to leave this saloon with anyone else. Even if he hadn't spotted you by the bar. Flaco is the exception, obviously.

"No!", he exclaims, briefly startling you with his enthusiasm and he immediately lowers his voice to a more leveled tone. "I mean, I am interested. Of course, I am. You're…"

Javier trails off, either losing focus as he now notices the newly adjusted cleavage or simply deciding that there isn't a single word worthy of your description. Though you'd love to see him try. Laughing, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. He mimics the gesture in a heartbeat and barely manages to pay for your drinks before you drag him through the crowd.

Someone calls out his name and you watch him sign hastily towards a small group of men not to follow. You only catch a quick glimpse of them. Rugged and rough as if they're mostly sleeping under an open sky. One of them stands out a little bit though. Tall and handsome and blue shirt stretching over his broad chest. Now you see why Javier didn't want to introduce them to you and you bite back a smirk.

Cool air hits you in the face as you step onto the porch. Music and chatter still fills the street, but it's way milder out here. Dampened, in a way. Nobody is out here at this hour with most of Valentine cramped inside Smithfield's. The hotel clerk did inform you this morning of another saloon close to the church, but it scarcely has any customers since the new one opened.

There's a pair lingering in front of the hotel, bodies pressed flush together and whispering in low voices. A giggle can be heard from them before they vanish into the alleyway next to the building. Javier is following you closely on your heels and as you leap up the stairs, you pull him abruptly against your body.

he catches himself just in time by wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his other hand flat against the wall. You grin up at him, chewing on your lower lip while having both palms rest on his chest.

"I've been thinking about you.", he blurts out and something other than arousal flickers behind your chest.

"And I about you.", you confess.

He closes the gap. You let out a heavy breath, loaded with anticipation and tension that he inhales through his mouth. The kiss is full and heavy and carrying a sweetness that is only short lived before it's replaced with hunger. His tongue slides past your lips and you dig your nails into his blue jacket to brace yourself for his eagerness.

Wasting no time, you break free and pull him into the hotel lobby, only to run face first into a solid wall of fur. It came out of nowhere and you stagger backwards, caught only by Javier's hands on your shoulders and you're met with a bear. Not a bear, you realize after gathering your bearings. Just its hide having been transformed into a thick coat.

"Hijo de puta-", a gravelly voice bellows and the mountain turns around.

Your breath gets caught in your throat that tightens as if an invisible hand is squeezing it. The heat that Javier invoked in your guts burns brighter tenfold at the sight of the other man. Flaco glares at you with a tense jaw and eyebrows drawn closely together. His anger leaves you in the most confusing of states.A part of you is beyond terrified of being the subject of his scorn, yet another is overwhelmed with desire from it.

"You?", he stammers then, expression softening as much as his callous features allow it. Then his eyes find Javier. "And you?"

His voice climbs up your spine, dries your throat and plummets down into your guts. Heat blooms between your thighs and you subtly rub them together beneath your prairie skirt. That little bit of friction does next to absolute nothing but stoke your ire. It tosses oil into the flames roaring within you and the temperature inside the lobby spikes to an unbearable point.

Flaco's mouth curls up into a teeth baring grin, reminding you too much of a wolf. Images flash before your inner eye that include you being chased through the woods and it leaves you with a confusing kind of excitement. You never knew you'd be into that sort of thing, but alas. You also never knew you'd love being shared among outlaws. Murderers, thieves, moonshiners.

"We were just on our way upstairs.", Javier speaks up behind you, voicing the thoughts churning inside your skull. Understanding lights up behind the older man's features and he raises his eyebrows.

"That so? How nice for you two.", he remarks in a sly tone, gaze drifting between the two of you and you sink your teeth down into the inside of your cheek.

Goddammit, he's going to make you outright ask for it, isn't he? It wouldn't come to much as a surprise if he has you begging on your knees in the middle of the lobby. Straightening your back, you peer at him from behind your lashes and take your sweet time sizing him up. Really make him feel like you're undressing him with just looking.

"Yes, I reckon it'll be fun.", you say and take Javier's hand in yours again. "Hope you'll pass the night all right yourself, Flaco."

His face drops in an instant and you bite back a triumphant grin. His stare bores into your skull as you squeeze past him and saunter up the narrow stairs. Your room is on the very end of the hallway and you fish a key out of your pocket. The metal lies cool against your heated skin and as you turn it inside the lock, a pair of heavy footsteps thumps closer. The steps of the stairs shriek under his weight.

As Flaco appears from around the corner, you smirk at him.

"Knew you'd come-"

You choke on your words as he slams his lips against yours and you're backed into Javier, who's clothed erection digs itself into your rear. A tongue enters your mouth. Wet, warm and too big to move your own. Your eyes roll back into your head as pleasure explodes at your nerve endings and you break free from the kiss to usher both men over the threshold.

The door falls shut with a loud slam and the key slips through your fingers, dropping with a hitch-pitched jingle. Floorboards squeak and fabric shuffles. Javier's mouth is on yours now, tasting of the cheap whiskey you had earlier and hands wander along your body. You're too dizzy and drunk with need to recognize which pair belongs to who.

Fingers dig into your flesh and fondle with buttons as you try to navigate your own two limbs. An outline of a jacket is all you recognize for now, not furry enough to belong to Flaco, and so, you peel it off Javier's shoulders. It falls down silently together with the boots that your kick off and the blouse you shrug down your arms.

With your chest now exposed, your nipples harden from the chill air inside the room. Nobody has had the chance to light the fire in the fireplace yet, but you won't need to with how hot it will become in here soon. Someone palms your breasts, giving them a firm squeeze before circling your nipples with their thumb. You mewl into the younger man's mouth.

As he retreats from the kiss, you don't have the time to whine in protest before Flaco's lips capture yours, ravishing you. Desperately tugging at his thick coat, you struggle to strip him of it. Suddenly, your right nipple is being pinched between two fingers and you yelp in a mix of surprise and delight.

It's being gently twisted and a mouth clamps down on your left one, wet tongue swirling over it. Something hard hits the back of your legs then and you fall backwards, unable to find balance or anything to hold onto. The mattress may be old, but still able to dampen the fall somewhat comfortably. No springs dig into your back from the impact at least.

Staring at the men through hooded eyes, you note with much satisfaction that they've rid themselves of most of their clothes as well and you prop yourself up on your elbows. Both are sporting rather impressive tents in their trousers and you lick your lips like a panther regarding its meal.

Crawling back to the edge, you sit up and run your hands over their bulges, palming them firmly. While Flaco remains astonishingly quiet, Javier moans from the touch and his hands fly down to unbuckle his belt. The older man glances at him and you detect a flash of something quite peculiar in his eyes. Could it be that he's attracted to him as well? You wonder if Javier returns that attraction. The thought leaves you somewhat warm and giddy.

His trousers drop down then, pooling around his ankles and successfully ripping you out of your thoughts. His erection springs free, bouncing heavily from it's girth and leaking so much pre-cum that one might think he came earlier already. Slowly sinking down onto your knees, you hike your skirt up in a way that allows you to kneel on a soft surface. Your joints will thank you later for that.

Reaching out, you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and angle it upwards. He's so wide that your fingers don't even manage to touch your thumb. With the better access, you press your tongue flat against his balls and drag your tongue along the shaft, savoring the musky taste. It's not bad. Not bad at all.

Images appear inside your mind of you laying sprawled out on the table and being fucked from both sides. Your needy cunt flutters and you feel something slick seep into your bloomers. You lap a few times at his cock until it's wet enough to clamp your lips around it. It's an agonizing pace that you're setting. That much you can tell from the way his hips jerk reluctantly forward.

Javier wants to shove his entire length in, but he's holding himself back. If he wouldn't be so goddamn wide, you might be grinning right now. Slowly, you take him in, inch by inch until your nose is nestles against his thick curls. His balls brush your lower lip and you nostrils flare as you breathe in.

Then, just as torturous, you move your head backwards. All the while, you squeeze your fingers around his base and he trembles. A hand rests lazily on the back of your head, most likely just to busy it. His nails may be boring into your scalp, but he doesn't pull on any hair or shoves you into his crotch.

"Ay, dios mio…", he whimpers as his tip grazes over the inside of your cheek.

More pre-cum leaks out of him and lands on your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut from the taste and at once, you regret having positioned your skirt directly under your knees. Otherwise your free hand would wander between your legs by now. Pressing your thighs together, you crack one eye open to catch a glimpse of Flaco, who's stands entirely naked now too.

You marvel at the sheer length, contemplating how to take it all in. Since you can't exactly touch yourself right now, you extend your arm to touch him instead. While still keeping Javier inside your mouth, you pull the older man's foreskin back to reveal his flushed red tip. His cock throbs and twitches in response.

Javier's erection leaves your mouth with an audible pop. Saliva runs down your chin that Flaco scoops up with his thumb before popping it into his mouth. Then he nods towards the bed.

"Get on there, chica. On all fours.", he barks and jolts rush through your veins at the rough tone.

Javier bends down to kiss you first though, shoving his tongue past your lips and groaning as he tastes himself. Arms wrapped around your torso, he helps you get back up onto your feet and you swiftly discard your skirt and bloomers. Air hits your bare legs and you rub them together, humming at the friction it grants you.

Turning around, you note that Flaco is sprawled out comfortably over the bed and waves for you to come closer. His other hand is lazily pumping his dick and you swallow a complaint. This is supposed to be your job. You make it a point to not seem too eager as you crawl over the bed, mattress dipping under the added weight until you're on eye-level with his crotch.

Parting your lips, you roll out your tongue and he slaps his tip against it a few times. You capture it with your mouth, clamping your it tightly around the sensitive, red skin and suck a little. He hisses in response and at once, you realize that you want to hear more. Holding his erection in place with one hand, you run your tongue along his shaft once and twice and always ending it by swirling it around the head.

One arm is under his head and he looks down at you. It should unnerve you perhaps, but you only feel a toe curling thrill from the unwavering attention. Suddenly, something touches you from behind. Your ass is propped up in the air and Javier is parting your soaking wet folds, revealing your sopping cunt to his curious eyes.

A mix of shame and arousal swells behind your chest and the latter of the two overpowers the former entirely when his thumb flicks over your swollen clit. Your mouth hangs open, spit drooling onto Flaco's twitching cock and you let out a deep, guttural moan as Javier flicks over the bud again.

His thumb runs along your slit, scooping up the wetness and spreading it all over your clit. The circling motion robs you of all common sense and so, you don't complain when Flaco grabs you by the back of your head and pushes you down. In fact, you quite enjoy being manhandled like this. Along with his salty taste, you detect the tanginess of soap. Did he take a bath downstairs before you ran into him in the lobby?

Fingers tangling into your hair, he tugs and his cock springs free from your mouth. You gasp, greedily filling your lungs with air and he laughs.

"How gorgeous you look. Eh, hermosa?", he drawls and you have half a mind to beg him to shove his dick into your mouth again.

Oh, but you don't have to. As if he read your mind, he pushes you back down and you take his entire length in. Thick curls tickle the tip of your nose as you struggle to breathe. His fat head is hitting the back of your throat and it takes about every ounce of strength not to gag. Javier doesn't do your focus any favor.

His thumb works your cunt restlessly, pressing and flicking and even pinching every once in a while. With his other hand, he slide two of his fingers in and you moan around Flaco's stiff cock. Your hardened nipples graze over his thighs and you have both palms pressed down onto the mattress for support.

The older man fucks your warm mouth, giving you only a few breaks to catch your breath. Meanwhile Javier pumps his fingers in and out of you, parting and curling them. His thumb is relentless as it massages your clit and you can feel his erect tip brush over your soft ass cheeks, smearing his pre-cum all over the skin.

Something mighty uncoils inside you and you cry out with a mouthful of cock as you cum on his hand. Flaco throbs inside you, keeping you in place with his iron grip and for a split second, you're convinced he will release his load down your throat. But it doesn't come to that, much to your surprise and disappointment. Instead, his hand slips from your head that pulses with the pain of getting your hair pulled.

Javier runs his fingers over your folds again and you tremble when they reach your sensitive clit. Noticing this, he flicks over it harshly and you whine in weak protest. You try to shuffle away, but he grabs your hips with a hand to keep you in place and aligns his tip with your entrance. The moment you feel that familiar pressure, you cease all attempts at escape and stay put, eagerly awaiting the intrusion.

Pleasure strikes you like lightning. Overstimulated from your orgasm, it feels like heaven when he enters you. Your walls give into it and stretch to welcome his impressive girth. It burns, but only for a brief moment. It feels so nice, so fucking right and suddenly, Valentine seems like the most wonderful place on earth.

As he begins to fuck you, you don't even notice how Flaco shuffles away. Face pressed into the sheets and hands clawing at them, you can only focus on how he fills your weeping cunt and his veins scraping over your walls. The noises are obscene, downright filthy and you moan into the mattress, eyes shut tight.

It's a good thing that his balls are hanging so wonderfully low. They smack against your clit with each deep thrust in a rhythm so perfect that not even your dirty imagination could have come up with it. Suddenly, something wet lands on your rear as if someone spat on it and you crane your neck to peek over your shoulder.

Flaco stands next to the younger man, marveling at the way you take Javier's cock. Flaco's eyes find yours and it's like staring into the barrel of a shotgun. You know that he's up to something and a delicious kind of fear flickers behind your chest. It mixes in well with your arousal, complimenting it.

"She's taking you nice.", he comments and jerking himself off, judging by the movement of his arm.

He spits again and this time it lands on your asshole. Sweet pleasure runs down your spine as his thumb smears his saliva over that tight ring of muscle. You've never taken anyone in there and if Flaco is going to be your first, then you will fall down to your knees afterwards and thank whatever higher power made this happen.

Javier's hips stutter for a moment and he halts entirely. His hot cock quivers inside you and judging by the way he's holding your hips in a bruising grip, he's close. Moaning, you push back against him and a high-pitched groan escapes him that sounds like music to your ears. Wetting your dry lips, you wiggle this time and coax more noises out of him.

"Wait-", he pleads pathetically. "I'm going to-"

A smack cuts through the air like a whip and sharp pain explodes on your ass cheek. It should hurt. Should put you out of the mood. Yet it doesn't. Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your skull as your walls clench around Javier from pleasure. Flaco had slapped you and now that spot aches deliciously. You know that it was to stop you from playing around with the younger man, but if those will be the repercussions, then you're mighty tempted to repeat it.

"Mierda!", Javier curses through gritted teeth. "She liked that. I felt it."

He sounds so breathless that you're surprised he's even able to wring out any words at all. Flaco scoffs out an amused laugh as if he expected it already.

"Then I think she should get more of that. Isn't that so, hermosa?", he asks and your toes curl at the prospect. You nod, face buried back into the bed.

Your cunt is weeping from arousal and you're close to crying too. Whether it's a result from the pleasure or the sheer happiness of getting to experience this again, you can't quite tell. His flat palm collides with your other cheek this time and you flinch from surprise. Blood pumps in that spot from the impact and Javier grunts from your reaction.

Suddenly, you feel a pressure at your rear and although you can't see what's going on back there, you know what's happening. After stimulating your tight muscle during the spanking, Flaco finally decided that it's time. His finger slides in slowly, giving you time to adjust to the foreign intrusion.

You gasp into the sheets, unsure how exactly to feel about it. On one hand, it's a strange sensation to have something enter you there, but on the other, you like it too much to tell him to stop. Javier has stilled entirely and you glance to your side at the mirror perched against the wall. Only the lower part of your body is reflected in it, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the gaps of the curtains.

Silver shards spill onto your propped up rear, lighting up just enough to see Javier buried balls deep inside your cunt. His eyes are trained on Flaco's hand and his index finger that is gradually disappearing into your body. With each passing second, you get more used to it and when he notices you relaxing, he adds another finger.

At this point, it's more pleasurable than alien, sending jolts through your entire body. You feel his fingers push against the wall separating them and the other man's erection. Sensing it too, Javier shudders and a wolfish grin spreads over Flaco's features. He pumps his fingers in and out to test the waters and you tremble.

"This good, hermosa?", he asks.

"Very much.", you answer in a hoarse voice.

Then he turns his attention to Javier and much to your disappointment, removes his fingers. "Try it."

The emptiness doesn't last long. Only a second later, a new pair of fingers slides into you and you clench your hands into tight fists. Pain floods your system as your nails dig into your palms.

"Shit.", Javier gasps.

"She's tight, eh?"

He lazily pumps them in and out a few times before pulling them out entirely and much to your sorrow, his cock as well. There you are, ass perched up into the air and leaking from your cunt in need. You're this close to begging them to fuck you into the mattress and spill their load into you.

A pair of hands grabs you by the waist, gently pulling you off the bed and you find yourself being held by Flaco. Back pressed flush against his chest, you lean most of your weight into him to give your weak thighs some respite. His hand cups your crotch while the other travels up to your chest. Just as he pinches your nipple between is fingers, he plunges a finger between your hot folds and you almost cry out from the overwhelming sensation.

The coil tightens in your lower stomach, threatening to snap, but before it can, he stops. His fingers rest idle inside of you, just soaking up your arousal that is drooling down his hands and onto his wrist. Moving your hips, you try to fuck the orgasm out of yourself on your own accord when he suddenly grabs you by your jaw.

Palm pressing against your clit, his fingers wrap around your throat like a vice but he doesn't tighten his grip. As much as you want him to. Slowly, to test his patience, you roll your hips again and he squeezes. It cuts off part of your air flow and you let out a choked back gasp. Then you repeat your action, accidentally flicking your clit over the ball of his palm. Together with the hand around your throat tightening, it sends you barreling straight into a second orgasm.

You almost go slack in the gunslinger's embrace as you cry out his name. Javier, who has taken up the empty space on top of the bed now, gapes at you with open fascination.

"Did she just…?", he asks befuddled.

"Cum from getting choked? Yes.", Flaco answers and takes his fingers out of you, popping them into his mouth.

He licks up every drop that leaked out of you from the tips of his digits down to his wrist before gesturing towards the bed. While still holding onto his arms, you wobble towards the edge and drop down onto the mattress with your knees. Javier's legs are hanging off the edge, feet planted onto the floor. His dick stands erect, still glistening from earlier.

Although your thighs are starting to lose their strength, you somehow find it within yourself to straddle his lap and he helps you align his tip. Sighing in bliss, you sink down onto it. In all honesty, you were worried that you might be too wet to feel anything by now, but he's more than wide enough to make you feel every stretched out inch.

You sit on his cock, feeling fuller than when he took you from behind. His head rests against your cervix and his full, heavy balls press against your rear. Then the mattress dips behind you followed by fingers scooping up the wetness oozing out of you and spreading it over that pucker between your ass cheeks. They dip into the hole that has been stretched out as preparation.

"I think you're ready to take it now.", Flaco murmurs by your ear and you chew on the inside of your cheek.

Something hard presses against the hole and you brace yourself. The penetration hurts. It burns and aches and you let out a strangled gasp. Javier stares up at you in awe, taking your hands into his and cooing praises and compliments. They work and talk you through it, taking it slow. By the time, Flaco is fully inside and his balls push against Javier's, you're so full that the entire room is spinning. Knuckles caress the backside of your neck.

"Tell us if it gets too much, hermosa.", he murmurs and you nod.

So far, it does feel like too much but in a good way. Neither of them move. They stay put, pushing against each other with nothing but a wall of flesh separating them. The pain eases after some time, giving way to a sensation you didn't think possible. Heat runs along your spine and you rest your flat palms on top of Javier's stomach for support.

Slowly, you roll your hips and don't even recognize your own voice producing the most obscene of noises. It bubbles up inside your sore throat and leaves you low and guttural. They stroke you so nicely. So perfect. Flaco lifts his leg and places his foot onto the edge of the mattress as he parts your ass cheeks, watching the way his cock disappears inside you.

Javier's hair hangs loose around his head, his hair tie having gotten lost somewhere in this room. It's sprawled out over the bed just like he is. One hand is clawing at the sheets like you did earlier while the other is caressing your hips almost lovingly. You can only imagine the feeling of your walls choking him with Flaco's erection adding more pressure. You wonder just how much of the other they're feeling right now.

Thighs growing weak and tired together with your arms, your elbows buckle and you drop onto his chest. Javier catches you, wrapping his arms around your torso and burying his sweaty face into the crook of your neck. Glancing towards the mirror again, you spot the way their gazes lock. They look like they're carrying out a silent conversation among each other.

Suddenly, they pick up the pace. Arms and hands hold you in place as they both fuck into you and your mouth hangs open for a strangled moan. Your nerve endings are on fire while the air is being knocked out of you. It's so much. So good. Reaching depths you never imagined you'd be able to explore.

Both your holes are being stretched out to an unimaginable extend, leaving waves of pleasure crash down on you one after another. Surely, the other guests have caught wind by now. How can they not with all those filthy sounds that your body produces and the creaking of the old bed.

They drive their cocks deep into you, each with their own rhythm. Not a second passes where you aren't stuffed. Where one pulls out, the other thrusts and your sensitive, ruined cunt flutters and throbs. Your clit scrapes over Javier's hair and skin and you buck your hips to feel more. Greedy, you push back into the two men because even with a cunt and ass full with cock, you still crave more.

The third orgasm hits you like a brick. They rip it out of you almost violently so and your body convulses. Your limbs aren't yours anymore as you slump down boneless. Soon after, Javier squeezes you tighter in his embrace. He whimpers into your ear and thick ropes of cum paint your inner walls. The pressure is close to unbearable, yet you can't wait for Flaco to follow suit.

And follow, he does. His length throbs and twitches and fills you with a similar heat as Javier's. It leaks out of your ass and down onto your slick folds, mixing with the other's semen. They don't pull out immediately, but instead remain in this position as if to regain their bearings. You're a wreck. All three of you.

Flaco is the first to pull out and it produces a long, wet sound. Sscchhlik. Javier stays for a second longer before pressing his lips against your clammy temple and pulling out as well. You drop to the side, rolling onto your back and sighing in bliss. Cracking one eye open, you watch as Flaco submerges a cloth into the water basin by the door and tosses it to Javier.

He brings the cool cloth up to your forehead, dabbing the sweat off your skin and you smile at the soothing feeling of the chilly water. Then he moves down to your thighs, gently wiping away the mess they created. The mattress dips to your right and you turn your head, coming face to face with Flaco who grins from ear to ear. His touch is uncharacteristically tender as he runs his knuckles along the side of your face.

"Qué preciosa.", he mutters and you dip your head to plant a kiss onto the tips of his fingers.

Once Javier is done and discards the cloth, he takes up the space to your left, leaving you nestled between their warm bodies. All three of you are soaked in sweat and practically sticking together like glue. That's when a wave of sorrow washes over you and you gaze up at the ceiling. Emotions lie heavy on your chest.

"You two will leave again.", you whisper. It's not a question but a statement.

You fear that this is going to be a repeat of the mountains. They gave you a good time (a wonderful time, in fact), but will inevitably leave you to continue wandering across the country. The two men exchange looks.

"No.", Javier answers firmly and Flaco nods along.

"Then what will you do? It's not like you can just stay here.", you argue, voice stricken with grief. They're wanted men. There's scarcely any future left for them in civilization.

"You can come with me. The gang I ride with travels a lot, but they'll take you in.", Javier suggests and Flaco huffs.

"And what? Am I supposed to chase you two through the entire country?", he protests, voice rumbling through the room.

"We won't move to your run down house in those mountains.", the other man points out and you raise a hand to shut them both up.

"We'll find a way.", you say. "But I want to enjoy this now. I don't think either of us will leave Valentine anytime soon, right? We have time to figure this out."

"All right.", Javier answers and Flaco hums in agreement.

Sinking back into the mattress, you smile to yourself. Their heat rolls over you, enveloping you like a blanket as you drift off to sleep. When you open your eyes again the next morning, the entire room is lit up by the sun, revealing its messy state from last night. Clothes are scattered askew, unable to tell which piece belongs to who on first glance.

Your heart rate spikes up. Fear sinks its claws into your flesh as you sit up, beyond terrified of finding yourself alone again. Soft snoring reaches your ears and you twist your body to look behind yourself. Flaco and Javier are still lying where you left them a few hours ago. They barely moved an inch and you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle the sob of relief escaping you.