Chapter Text
The sun wasn’t even fully up yet.
The camp was still in that delicate space between sleep and wakefulness, where the only things alive were birds, some bugs, the wind, and Arthur -holding a half-full tin mug of coffee, his clothes shuffled from a restless night, and swaying side to side from sleepiness. A couple drops of hot coffee spill from his mug and into the dirt, making him swear under his breath.
He made his way over to the campfire, not surprised to see Charles not in his tent, and even less surprised to see Javier still asleep in it, his clothes sprawled around himself- which was odd, considering the man seemed keen on taking a little too much care of them at times. What he was surprised to see, however, was…what looked like a couple of lumps here and there, under the bedroll, the clothes, as well as a strange shift under his hat.
Arthur’s immediate thought was rats . Yeah, cool, rats, that’s all they need right now.
“Javier.” Arthur said, voice low. “You up?”
There was a soft snore, a light shift. A quiet but definitely annoyed ‘ hm?’ .
Arthur sighed and tried again, nudging the man’s foot with his boot. “Javie-”
“ Hm? ” came the response. Only this time, it didn’t come from Javier himself, though it sounded a lot like him.
It came from one of the lumps.
Arthur froze. Blinked.
Inside the tent, Javier stirred slightly, brow furrowing. “ Hm? ” he repeated, groggy.
Then it happened.
A soft chorus of high-pitched, eerily identical little voices echoed him:
“ Hm? ”
“ Hm? ”
“ Hmm? ”
“ Hmmm?? ”
Javier sat up slowly, sleep still clinging to his face, and found himself surrounded. Inside the tent, nestled in his bedrolls, his blankets, his jacket, his hat- roughly sixteen miniature versions of himself, all about six inches tall, started to shift and poke their tiny little heads from underneath the lumps.
All with the same hair, the same blue vest and white shirt, the same damn mustache as him. And up until that point it seemed that they were all sleeping peacefully like a litter cozying up to their mother.
Javier blinked once. Twice.
Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Arthur stepped back slowly, peering into the tent like he was looking into the gates of hell, his gaze shifting comically slowly between each individual… Javling .
“...You uh,” he finally said, rubbing his jaw. “You know anything about this?”
Javier, still blinking, as if that would make them go away, shook his head very slowly. “...No.”
A silence hung in the air, heavy and confused and only broken by one of the Javitos rolling over with a tiny snore.
And then, because nothing weird ever stays secret in this damn camp for long, John waddled over tiredly, scratching his head and with a dry biscuit half-hanging from his mouth.
“What’s goin’ on?”
Arthur gestured with the coffee mug, his face bearing the expression of a man who went to hell and came back . “Javier’s got a, uh…situation.”
John peered over, past Arthur's giant frame, into the tent.
Squinted.
Then stepped back with a sharp, wheezing laugh, folding into himself -like the situation was funny instead of unbelievably weird and, frankly, mildly terrifying “Oh my God , did you give birth?!”
Javier snapped out of his stupor just long enough to look offended . “ What?! No!”
"Oh, wow ." Abigail popped up from behind John. She had probably come to scold him about… something, but whatever it was was quickly forgotten and she also couldn't help the giggle that escaped her mouth- covering it with her hand did essentially nothing to help stifle it. “Congratulations, papa." She said. John turned to lock eyes with her for a second, and then immediately went back to cackling his lungs out.
“Think up of any names yet?” John coughed between gasps for air.
"I'M NOT GONNA NAME THEM?!” Javier hissed, appalled .
By now, thanks to Marston's and Abigail's laughing fits, a small crowd had gathered. Tilly, grimacing like she’d just smelled something foul. Swanson briefly yelled something about the devil before promptly passing out. Uncle muttering about fever dreams and mushrooms. Sadie hadn’t said anything yet, but her tired, albeit amused grin was deeply concerning.
Dutch and Hosea arrived last, both surprisingly boasting the near exact same expression of bewilderment and confusion. “Well,” Hosea sighed "this is new."
Micah strolled up with a shit-eating grin, chewing on a toothpick. “Great. Just what we needed. Sixteen more mouths to feed and not a damn one of ‘em tall enough to chop firewood.”
And through all of that, Javier remained frozen and unresponsive, stuck between not knowing how to react, not knowing if he was dreaming, and not knowing if the mini hims would suddenly stand up and decide to attack him.
One of the Javitos yawned and sat up, rubbing his tiny face and blinking at the noise.
Javier just stared at him, horrified. It looks just like him, exactly like him , it’s uncanny beyond belief.
The little guy gave him a sleepy thumbs-up.
Arthur coughed to hide the sound of his laughter.
“I don’t-” Javier rubbed his eyes, eyes shifting around between the weird little things and the crowd that formed. “I don’t remember anything. I went to sleep. Alone. Alone! ” His tone was of someone being accused of something.
One of the minis climbed onto his shoulder as he spoke like it was the most natural thing in the world and curled up there. Javier froze and stiffened as if someone had told him a venomous spider was there instead.
Dutch sighed to shuffle a laugh, like he was watching a father hold his child for the first time. “They grow up so fast.” Javier shot him a half-betrayed half-shocked look.
John wheezed, again, barely able to keep himself together. “What are you gonna do with ‘em?”
“ What am I- ?! I don’t know! I don’t know what they are! Or where they came from! What am I supposed to do, feed them!? I don't even know if they eat!” A harsh wave of his arm while he ranted caused one of the little things to go flying with a tiny ‘mierda !’.
“You could send them on a mission, or put them on night watch when you don’t want to do it. I reckon’ if they pile up on top of each other they’ll almost be your size.” Arthur said helpfully , way too amused, tipping his mug toward the crowd of javlings, now gathering around Javier properly and staring at him.
“Look at ‘em,” Sadie finally said as she walked over, arms crossed, watching two of them square-dance on a bit of folded tarp. “You could probably start a traveling show.”
Javier put his head in his hands, completely overwhelmed, while one of the mini hims gently patted his knee in comfort.
“You’re not helping,” he muttered.
Arthur just grinned, sipping his coffee.
“You sure they ain’t a curse or something?” Uncle asked, poking one with a stick. The tiny little Mexican bit him. Uncle yelped.
“We could sell ‘em,” Micah said, earning himself a glare from everyone within a 5 meter radius. “I’m kidding ,” He was not kidding.
Javier hadn’t even finished rubbing the utter confusion and horror out of his eyes when one of the clones bolted.
Then another.
Then five more, scattering like squirrels into the morning sun, kicking up dust and shouting tiny war cries in voices that sounded like they’d been pitched up and run through a guitar amp.
“¡Libertad!”
“Oh- oh no , oh this is bad- mierda !” Javier groaned, stumbling to stand up and swiping at one as it darted past his boot.
“ Stop them !” Abigail shrieked, jumping as one ran between her legs.
Arthur spat and nearly dropped his coffee trying to catch the one climbing a nearby crate like a squirrel hyped up on caffeine. “How are they so fast?!”
“ I don’t know! ” Javier shouted, grabbing two by the collars. “They got my legs but they’re better at using them!”
John lunged for one mid-air and missed. It ricocheted off a barrel and disappeared into Pearson’s tent. Pearson shouted, a high pitched sound that would’ve been funny if everyone wasn’t busy chasing little rat sized Mexican cowboys around camp. A couple plates crashed.
Micah lit a cigarette and leaned back against a tree, making no effort whatsoever to help. “We could just let ‘em roam free. Like wild horses, or rabid rats. Make our peace with it.”
“One of ‘em’s in my stewpot!” Pearson bellowed from across camp.
“Or not,” Micah muttered.
Tilly caught one and held it up at arm’s length. “This one tried to bite me.”
“I’m sorry,” Javier said, breathless, struggling to hold 3 of the little bastards in his arms. “I think that one’s just mean.”
“I’m putting it in your hat,” Tilly declared, dropping it in Javier’s hand like it was a spider.
Someone—maybe Hosea, maybe God—had the brilliant idea to get a crate.
“Just until we figure this out,” Dutch said diplomatically, overseeing the operation like they were conducting a hostage negotiation.
Arthur was corralling them with his coat like a shepherd. “I swear to Christ, one of ‘em made a run at my gun.”
“They are me,” Javier said, panting, as he watched two of them try to tip over a tin bath. “Of course they did.”
Eventually, somehow, and after a lot of running around and trying not to accidentally crush them, they got all of them. All sixteen piled into a crate padded with a blanket and some straw. The Javitos sat there like pouting little demons, hands on their hips and looking offended to be put in a box.
John leaned over the top and, without saying a word, dropped two biscuits in.
“Are you feedi- WHY are you feeding them!?” Javier snapped.
“You ain’t gonna starve ‘em, right?” John muttered, incredulous, chewing his own biscuit. “I wanna see if they eat. Maybe they’ll grow.”
“ God , let’s hope they don’t.” Arthur crossed himself, totally serious.
Abigail appeared, arms folded. “Parenting’s hard, huh?”
Javier shot her a flat look. “I am not their parent. They ain't kids. And they sure as hell ain't MY kids.”
“They live in your tent, they got your face, and they scream in Spanish. That’s basically parenthood.”
Javier sat on a log with his head in his hands. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t do anything. I went to sleep. That’s all. I went to sleep.”
“Yeah, well,” Arthur muttered, looking into the crate. “You went to sleep and woke up with a battalion of tiny yous trying to unionize.”
One of the Javitos poked its head up and made a rude gesture at him.
Arthur flipped it off automatically.
Dutch leaned over the crate, steepling his fingers like he was pondering philosophy. “This could be a gift, you know.”
“From who? The Devil?” Javier asked, looking up.
“Maybe this is a test,” Dutch said, smiling dreamily. “You, learning to care for others. Learning to take care of yourself, son.”
Javier let out an exhausted sigh and covered his face with his hands again. “I’m going to kill myself. I’m gonna do it. This might just be my final straw.”
“Well good thing we have sixteen replacements if that happens.” Micah laughed and earned himself another round of annoyed glares. “ I’m kidding .” He was not kidding.
“So what do we call ‘em, anyways?” John chimed in, still throwing biscuits at the crate and watching the weird little things fight over them.
“What do you mean what do we call them ? I’m not naming them.” Javier sounded absolutely exhausted.
“Well we can’t just call all of y’all ‘Javier’, it’s gonna get confusin’!”
“All of them , you mean. I’m Javier. The real one. The original one.”
“How about Javlings?” John ignored him completely.
“ Javinõs ?” Arthur chimed in with a southern accent so thick and pronunciation so ass that it for sure must’ve killed a Spanish teacher somewhere.
“Javitos!” Sadie yelled from where she was standing.
Javier let out a sigh so long he almost ran out of air in his lungs. Everyone seemed to agree with ‘Javitos’.