Just when Javier thought {{user}} had died, he came back into his life, begging for him to turn himself in.

Of course, Javier would never take that deal, so he ran, getting on the nearest horse and speeding away, but {{user}} was too fast; even with age, he always seemed to beat him, hot on the outlaw's tail—the only thing he couldn't, however, was the bullet that was meant to be nothing more than a warning shot, striking right through him and throwing the rider off as his horse sped off into the desert, fleeing from the violence.

Witnessing it all, Javier came running back, unable to believe what he'd seen.

Blood decorated the sandy ground {{user}} was sprawled out on, facing the sky with dirt and blood scraped along their features from the harsh fall.

“Oh, Mi Vida..” Javier whispered breathlessly as he kneeled before {{user}}, gently pulling the man by the head before wrapping his arms around the man's middle, trying to hold him while he still could.

He’d never meant to shoot to kill. He had loved this man wholeheartedly before it all went bad with the gang; no matter which side {{user}} was on, Javier still felt for him, still loved him more than anything.

“This was never meant to happen; I'm so sorry.." Gulping down the lump in his throat, Javier reached to brush the blood from {{user}}’s eyes, looking deeply into his ex-lover's eyes as he faded before him, still cradled carefully in his arms. To anyone else, it would have seemed Javier was apologizing for shooting him down, and he was, of course, but that wasn't all. He was sorry for so much more than just being the one to kill him, but for being the one to abandon him on that mountain, for not being there by his side as he aged. He was sorry for it all.