fatal flaw, part VI, part b.
Title: Fatal Flaw
Chapter: 6 / 6 (Part B)
Characters: Fernando Torres / Sergio Ramos, Xabi Alonso / Steven Gerrard, David Silva / David Villa, Frank Lampard / John Terry, Raúl / Guti, Cesc Fàbregas, Fernando Gago, Iker Casillas, Xavi Hernández, Rubén de la Red, Pepe Reina, Daniel Agger, Sami Hyypiä, Gonzalo Higuaín, Didier Drogba, Santi Cazorla, Álvaro Arbeloa, Sergio “Kun” Agüero, Rafael Benítez, José Mourinho. Not all characters appear in every part and in equal measure.
Rating: R
Warnings: AU. Infrequent language, violence and sex.
Disclaimer: It's about superheroes - how real could it possibly be?
Summary: The Force is a group of superheroes determined to save the city of Despertia from the unfathomable and relentless attacks of villains Raúl and Guti. But sometimes it is the heroes who need to be saved from their own fatal flaws.
Notes: Based on a wonderful prompt by nahco3 at footie_exchange. Apologies to those who have already seen this, and for the wait since the last chapter. Thanks to all those who have read and commented on this fic - I'm thrilled that you've enjoyed it so far, hope that you like the finale, and very much appreciate all of your lovely feedback. This chapter is split into two, because it's apparently too long for one post.
Feedback > life. If you feel the need to give constructive criticism, please do.
Previous parts: Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI (A)
Cesc listened, completely enthralled in an almost sick way, as Guti spat out his words. He had clearly wanted to get this off his chest for a while - the story was flowing with such determined ease, as though it had been written and hidden for too long, and was only now getting its first taste of an audience.
“José was obsessed with success, and control. He could never understand that we were all leading double lives - the Force had to come before everything. He would get so furious with us when we'd fail to take it all seriously, if we'd miss a meeting because we had work, or a date, or a grandmother in hospital.” Guti sighed in his reminiscence. “Now I'm willing to bet that he's done a complete turnaround - he doesn't take any interest in anything, he keeps to himself, he tries to remain as uninvolved as possible - but there are still moments when he lapses, right? When José the control-freak shows itself for a second or two?” Cesc glanced at Rafa, who nodded, his eyes wide. “But all the same,” Guti continued, “at the time, with José the way he was - well, it was more than we could bear.
“Until one day - one day, we stopped feeling angry at him. We suddenly loved being in the Force, and we gave up our jobs and dates and grandmothers. And José was happy, because his Force was finally controlled.”
“So - what happened?” Silva prompted Guti. “Why did New Year's happen?”
Guti seemed to weaken for a moment, glancing at the civilians against the wall with what almost looked like guilt, the likes of which Cesc could not have even imagined seeing on his face minutes before.
“I never wanted to hurt anyone,” Guti said softly. “I just wanted to get back at José by using his own weapon against him.” He stopped, looking up at the heroes directly. “Gago.”
“Gago?” Cesc asked, perplexed and horrified in equal measure. “A weapon?”
“José had been using him to control us, to make us forget our real-life world and remain completely focused on him. Suddenly, everything we did was to please José, and if we didn't do as he'd asked, we'd feel terrible until we managed to make it right. He had total power over us. He made us - he made us destroy everything we'd left behind, so that we could never go back.”
Guti's voice began to waver a little. “He made us quit our jobs and lose our homes, burn all of our possessions so that they could never distract us again, cut everyone off. My mother - my mother -”
His voice took on a definite tremble. “My mother had had a stroke just months before it all started, but I wasn't allowed to see her, I wasn't allowed to see anyone. All of us, we were completely faithful to José and nobody else. He became a - a megalomaniac, the most important person in all of our lives. And soon - soon it became really dangerous, a dangerous obsession.”
In the short silence, Cesc realised that his own breath had almost doubled in pace as Guti's story had unfolded. Images of José kept flying into his thoughts, along with the persistent denial - no, it can't be - it can't be that José was like that, he's not like that at all!
“At one point, one of us threatened to leave, and the next thing we knew, Gago - or rather, José - had forced him to reveal Beckham's true identity to some desperate journalist, and Beckham was in jail a day later - just like your Fernando. He went bankrupt because he had to use nearly all of his money to bail himself out. That's why Beckham House is as poor as it is. Not to mention he could barely show himself in public afterwards - his life was hardly a life at all.” Guti inhaled deeply. “So, by doing that, José sent us a message. We were on his side, or we were on our own. New Year's was his chance to really seize us once and for all. What better way to keep us in than to shut us off from the outside world?” Cesc felt Rafa tremble slightly at his own advice to the Force being repeated here in such a terrifying way. “Which is why so many people died that night. Through Gago, José and his self-obsession got us to do the most terrible thing to show him our loyalty.”
The silence in the room was now absolute, not a single civilian making a sound.
“And we had no choice.” Guti's eyes were glistening. “Because we couldn't think for ourselves, but only for José.”
Cesc let out a shuddering breath as the full horror of the tale hit home.
“But - but what happened afterwards, then?” he asked delicately. “He must have learnt the error of his -”
“José didn't learn anything,” Guti said bitterly. “It was Gago who realised, at the last fucking moment, that he'd gone too far, getting us to kill innocent people. He suddenly decided that he didn't want to have anything more to do with it - by which time it was too late for everyone to be saved. But we at least got our minds back, and fully realised what José had done.”
“So that's why you've been doing all of this,” Silva breathed, his gun now hanging limply by his side. “You didn't want José and his troops to be seen as heroes when you know he was anything but - when you were betrayed so cruelly.”
Guti nodded. “So we got to work with Sergio, and Steven, and even Fernando - messing with your reputations, trying to sling mud all over your names and prove that the Force isn't always heroic, that it can go terribly wrong. That destruction can come from the unlikeliest of places.”
He turned to face Cesc, who jumped slightly at the eye contact. “We got all our information thanks to you, through Gago. Everything about the Stentor party and its guests, you told us - I don't know if you remember.”
Cesc nodded, turning red, but not looking away.
“So that's where we got to you, Silva - we made sure that you and your power were seen by civilians, and your friends at work. And so we got you on the police's list of suspects for terrorist activity, and made sure you had to hide your face from everyone you knew - just like we had to,” Guti continued. “And later, through Fàbregas again, we realised that you'd caught onto our plans for the charity event today, which is why we, well, mixed it up, and find ourselves here instead of in that park.”
Sighing, Guti threw another weary glance in the direction of the civilians. “I never wanted to hurt anyone but José, I swear. But this seemed like the only way to do it.”
“But surely you realise that it's not?” Rafa asked, desperation laced in his voice. “What are you doing if you know, more than anyone, how much harm can come from so much power?”
“Following Raúl's orders,” Guti murmured. “He always felt the strongest about it, and said that a large-scale approach was the best way to go. You know, really kick people in the guts and crush José's little world as spectacularly as possible. He doesn't do things by halves, Raúl.”
Cesc heard Rafa inhale deeply, before the coach took a brave step forward. “Why don't you stop now, before you do something that you'll really feel guilty about? Something that you can't blame on José?”
“I'm not blaming him - it was his fault -”
“Stop all of this. Now.”
* * * * *
Yes, Fernando was filled with resentment and shock and anger, but these were all tied in with fear as the minutes kept flying by and the trail of fire leading to Sergio crept closer. The revelations about José's past were horrifying, but Fernando was too much the type to remain entrenched in present worry, and all he could really concentrate on was the choice they had to make.
“You told us that Guti would contact you if our men at headquarters made a decision,” Fernando snarled at Raúl, whose grip around his gun had not faltered for a moment, his maniacal explanation of his elaborate revenge plot having done little to win him any sympathy to go with the little empathy that Fernando had found for him. “Why hasn't he? What's going on over there?”
“It looks like they're struggling to come to an agreement,” Raúl shrugged, still looking content with the havoc he had created, playing with so many lives. “So I guess it's up to you. What will it be? Your friend and lover, Sergio - or the innocents?”
Xabi groaned from behind Fernando. “I don't understand you! You stand here and tell us a story about how horrible José was because he forced you to kill people against your will, and now you're doing it just for fun!”
“This is not fun!” Raúl hissed, although the glint in his eye betrayed his words. “We're doing this for revenge and revenge only!”
“You can't make us choose. We're going to save Sergio, and the men over at headquarters will save the civilians,” Xabi said stubbornly. “You won't win. Your killing us isn't going to undo anything that you did, or pay José back for what he did.”
Fernando saw Raúl look at José with interest. “José, my old teacher, father-figure, power-hungry monster, and so on. Since you're the reason why we're all in this mess, why don't you do the honours, eh? Time's running out, and we need to decide who'll be saying their goodbyes.”
Fernando refused to take his eyes away from Raúl, acutely aware of the fact that his gun was still aimed dangerously at Sergio's heart, but he felt everyone shift to look at José properly.
His voice was timid, and resigned, an immediate confession to the crimes that Raúl had just accused him of committing. “I think - I think Sergio should sacrifice himself, rather than kill one hundred people. Since there's no guarantee that Raúl and Guti will stop after today, why risk a hundred when you can kill one?”
“Fuck you!” Fernando roared, aching to turn around and smash his gun into the side of José's head.
“Since when do you care about saving a whole bunch of civilians, when you were responsible for their deaths nine months ago?” Xabi snapped at José. “Or are you not fussy about numbers - is one death just as satisfying as many?”
“I'm a changed man,” José said plaintively. “You know me, boys, you know that I'm not like that anymore -”
“It's not about what you're like now,” Sergio interrupted. “The fact that time has passed and you've had a convenient epiphany telling you that hey, perhaps killing people is wrong, doesn't make a difference! You still need to be punished!”
“Exactly!” Raúl said triumphantly. “That's the whole point of this game. Whichever option you choose - Sergio or the civilians - it all goes towards putting José where he belongs: behind bars. He's one of the police's top suspects. If you do this right, he'll be jailed in no time, no matter which fuckers end up spilling blood for it -”
“We're not killing Sergio!” Xabi shouted. “I don't care what you and Gago made him do - he's our friend and there's no fucking way I am sacrificing him so that you can go through with your blood-lust revenge trip!”
“Sergio,” Raúl said slowly, his eyes turning back towards him as the flames crept to within a foot of the strongman's body. “Since your friends are so indecisive, I'm leaving the choice up to you. Are you willing to die and save your city? Or will you opt for the greater good, and help this poor, humble, ex-hero finally avenge himself?”
Fernando felt a bead of sweat trickle from his forehead down past his temple and onto his cheek as he gritted his teeth, and, still watching Raúl, listened to Sergio's trembling voice.
“As much as I don't want to,” he heard Sergio say, “I have to agree with José. Kill me.”
* * * * *
Drogba had had a terrifying vision in his sleep. Throughout the entire day, he'd pondered over it, wondering whether or not he should renounce his vow and tell someone. Acting upon a vision wasn't something that he struggled with - he'd used it to find Torres, and the Force at Higuaín's office, and he'd had vague glimpses of Alonso in his dreams which told him that the man had something to do with the Force, however much he had tried to conceal it.
The problems arose when it came to explaining things like how he'd managed to find the invisible Torres in a random bar in the middle of the night. There was nobody in whom he could confide, nobody who could understand such an ability and how to harness it.
So, the whole day, he had kept his vision to himself. He went to work, ignored John and Frank making out in the corner of the locker room when they thought nobody could see, spent his lunch break reading the newspaper - he had carried out his daily routine as though absolutely nothing was wrong. Once the day was over, he'd decided to head over to the park rather than the lake for his customary evening jog. And it was here that he realised that he could not hide from his everpresent duty forever.
Amidst a crew of journalists, sound specialists, cameramen, and volunteers packing up stalls and such, Iker Casillas was fretting. Drogba first and foremostly jumped at the sight of Iker suddenly crossing his path after so long, but it was the look of worry on his face that really registered with the police sergeant.
“Where's Sergio?” Iker was asking the men around him. “He was here just a minute ago, with that damn boyfriend of his, and now - well - where did he go?”
At this point, Drogba decided that enough was enough. Thirteen hours of holding everything to himself was too long when fate seemed so determined that he should let it out.
“Didier Drogba?” Iker said in awe after Drogba had marched up to him and pulled him aside. “What - what are you doing here? What do you want?”
“Listen, I saw something,” Drogba said quietly, tugging Iker's arm and dragging him further away from the surrounding men, ignoring their looks of vague surprise. “A vision. I've - everyone's been wrong. It's Raúl and Guti, they're behind everything that's happened this year.”
Iker stared. “What? You - you've seen - I don't -” He gaped. “You're talking about the Stentor party? And the town hall? And -”
“All of it,” Drogba nodded. “I'm sure of it. I don't know why, but it's definitely them.”
“But what - what did you see? I didn't even know you could still foresee things -”
“Raúl's holding people hostage, he's got weapons, and there are explosives and his fire. Your Sergio is there, José is there, Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso -”
“But - I - what do you expect me to do?” Iker stared dumbly across at Drogba, clearly at a complete loss. “I can't just turn up and - fuck! Raúl? Are you serious? I thought that - after Gago let us go on New Year's - that we'd all put this behind us! Including Raúl!”
“Well, apparently not. Look, I don't know what he wants, but he's putting people in danger, and I know that you of all people know the damage that he's capable of -”
“I don't want to talk about that, Didier,” Iker said sternly. “You don't know how much grief I've -”
“No, I do know! This Sergio character - your journalist - he did exactly what you did to David last year! Look, I've been thinking about it all day, it all makes sense now - he turned Torres in just like you turned David in - only you, at least, got to do it anonymously - and it must be because of Gago, who I guess is working with Raúl and Guti, and -” He stopped. “Look, Iker. That's why I'm here, asking you to deal with this. Because you lost someone to Raúl's power, you saw him destroying people with his bare hands! Your own boyfriend was killed that night, one of us! Don't let that happen tonight again!”
“I know perfectly well the damage that he's capable of!” Iker said, his voice raising slightly. “Four years of my life were devoted to the Force. I haven't forgotten anything, Didier.”
“Then you know how important it is to go there and put an end to this,” Drogba said firmly. “There's no use clinging to grudges if it just results in more pain. José is there, Iker. It's not just about stopping Raúl and Guti. You can avenge David once and for all. You can avenge us.”
Iker looked up at him, Drogba unable to read his expression. He hoped, how he hoped, that they weren't already too late, that this long pause in conversation wasn't costing those heroes precious minutes of their lives.
“One last time,” Iker finally sighed. “But if it ends up like New Year's, you, my friend, will never again see the light of day.”
* * * * *
Xabi had yet to really register the fact that Iker Casillas was in the room by the time he'd begun hurling abuse at Raúl. It was a quick-paced verbal battleground, Xabi understanding little of what was said, apart from screamed mentions of betrayal and the Force and petty vengeance. He had only just noticed Sergio and Steven spluttering at the sight of their network's Chief Operations Officer suddenly turning up, when his eyes flew to the trail of gunpowder which was surely now just seconds away from reaching Sergio.
“Guys!” Xabi screamed in terror, not knowing what to do. “The fire!”
There was the faintest of pauses during which everyone looked at each other in horror, before Iker heaved a deep breath. And, his eyes just glancing in Xabi's direction before landing upon Sergio, Iker moved Sergio's body through the air and to the other side of the room, just by looking at him.
“Holy fu-” Xabi began before a huge blast sounded and the gunpowder trail exploded with a thunderous crash, and the corner of the room where Sergio had stood moments before was on fire.
“You shouldn't have done that, Iker!” Raúl shouted, the gun in his hand going off in loud bangs as he aimed it at his old friend. Instantly, Fernando cocked his gun and tried to shoot, but he fumbled and his aim was off, his shots firing through the ceiling. “I'm doing this for us - all of us!” Raúl continued screaming. “You should just let me get on with it!”
“Well, you're going about it the wrong way!” Iker screamed back, this time setting his sights on Fernando and moving him out of the way and towards Sergio, just as the fire began to spread in his direction.
“Since when can you do that?” Sergio demanded as Fernando latched onto his arm, Iker glancing in their direction briefly before ducking another shot from Raúl's gun. “You've been my boss for two years, and you've never -”
José's sudden shout interrupted Sergio, and Raúl stopped shooting as everyone turned to see what José was staring at beyond the flames. Xabi gasped as he looked through the smoke.
“I'm sorry - to everyone,” Gago said, swallowing hard as he stood in the doorway. “I - I -”
“Oh, shut up!” Raúl snapped, losing patience and hurling a ball of fire in his direction. “I always knew you were too weak for this!”
Gago ducked, and as the hallway behind him caught fire, he straightened up with a look of determined hatred that Xabi had not seen in anyone before.
“Boys, please,” José appealed, his eyes flicking from the fire in the room to the fire in the hallway, his voice shaking with fear, “stop this madness! You're all going to be killed, for nothing! I'm not even -”
Raúl roared in fury as he threw another fireball across the room, and it kissed José's side on his way past him. Crying out in pain, he fell to the floor as Raúl watched in triumph.
“Keep begging, José,” Raúl smirked. “It suits you.”
“Killing José won't change the past!” Iker yelled.
“Oh, enough of your tidbits of wisdom,” Raúl snapped irritably, raising his hand yet again.
But as he made to produce more fire, Silva suddenly appeared next to Iker, and before Xabi could really take it in, he vanished with the Stentor boss within his grasp.
“Where the fuck did he come from?” Raúl screamed furiously. “He's supposed to be drowning over at your headquarters!”
“I told him to come here,” Gago spoke up again, his voice cold. “Guti's given up your little game - the civilians over there are safe.”
“You - you went there?”
“You're the only person who still seems to believe in an eye for an eye,” Gago said disparagingly. “So I've just come back for one last thing.”
Xabi's heart sank at those words - whatever Gago had in mind, it couldn't be good, not when his powers were as dangerous as they had proved to be. While everyone watched, Raúl's expression took on a vague dreaminess as, trembling, his hand rose up.
Xabi felt his mouth fall open. “Oh, no,” he muttered.
Gago forced the hand to twist, palm towards Raúl's stomach, and Xabi realised with horror what was going to happen.
“Gago - no!” he shouted, but it was too late. Raúl had helplessly, obliviously, directed fire onto himself from his own hand, under the control of Gago's furious mind.
Xabi ran over to Raúl and pulled the rug out from underneath the coffee table, ignoring the fire lapping at the walls just a metre away. He quickly wrapped the rug around the burning body, and the flames slowly gave up their hold over his skin. Dragging Raúl over to the far side of the living room, the fire having spread yet further, Xabi turned to glare at Gago.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” he snapped. “You're just as bad as he is, you know that?”
Gago turned away from Xabi to look at Sergio and Fernando, their bodies pressed against the wall as they gazed back across at him, their eyes wide.
“I did that,” he said softly, “because for a while, it was my hand that Sergio held. And thanks to Raúl, I now realise that it is, in fact, better to have never loved at all, than to have loved and lost.”
And with that, he simply walked out of the apartment, leaving Xabi to stare at Fernando and Sergio, whose hands were indeed clinging to each other.
Swallowing hard, Xabi tried to gather his thoughts, the flames which were licking the apartment walls distracting him as he stared down at the mess.
“What do we do about this?” he said, pointing to Raúl's badly burnt figure lying in front of him. “And that?” he added, nodding towards José who wasn't quite so badly wounded, but needed to be dealt with just the same.
Silva reappeared at that moment, Guti by his side. As Sergio and Fernando instinctively jumped up, Silva held out a hand as if to say that all was fine. He glanced up at Xabi once he'd scanned the room and realised that the main struggle had ended. “People are crowded around the building, on the street,” he said. “The police'll be arriving any minute now.”
Before Xabi had time to respond, Guti had waved his hand and sent water cascading over the flames to extinguish them. Turning back to Silva, he jerked his head a little, before heading for the door. He didn't look any of the other heroes in the eyes.
“Uhm - we should -" Xabi stammered. “Thank you!” he called to Guti's retreating back. He didn't turn around. “Right,” Xabi breathed. “I'm guessing the likes of Lampard and Terry will be -”
“Right here.”
Xabi turned to see Frank Lampard looking back at him, John behind him running a hand over the ashy doorway and rubbing the dust in between his fingertips.
“Drogba sent us over, and, well - it looks like you could use some help, eh?” Frank asked.
Xabi nodded. “These two, here - they're the ones you've been looking for.”
“Now, I'm not too sure about that,” John said snidely. “It's you we've been looking for - or haven't you noticed all the posters?”
“John, just - shut up,” Frank snapped. “Well, we'll take them in, but - in this condition?” he asked Xabi, pointing down at the burns scarring Raúl and José's skin.
“Leave it to me, I'll take care of it,” Steven piped up. “You just get out of here, Xabi. And you two,” he said, looking at Fernando and Sergio. “Make sure that Silva and Cesc are alright, yeah? Oh, and the civilians,” he added as something of an afterthought.
Sergio's fingers laced in between Fernando's, the two of them nodded and shakily led the way out of the apartment, Xabi following as Steven went to work. Turning to look back at him, Xabi smiled appreciatively.
He had really been quite wrong about him, Xabi had to admit as he saw Steven crouching over Raúl and José and healing their wounds as though they hadn't wronged anyone. He was the same old Steven, yes, but he wasn't lazy in the least. Xabi knew that the other heroes, at least, appreciated his humanity, and how much he looked out for them.
Lifting his head, Steven caught Xabi's gaze. For a moment, he merely looked. But after a second, he met Xabi's smile with his own.
* * * * *
“Mourinho, who has been in hiding for the last three months, this morning signed a confession which, at long last, clears Torres, Silva, Fàbregas, Alonso and Benítez of all previous suspicion. Confessing to responsibility for each of the attacks, Mourinho states that he has been acting with the aid of an accomplice, one Raúl González, who is currently being held by police and awaiting trial. According to police sergeant Drogba who was on the scene when Mourinho signed what is surely to become -”
Iker turned off the television, inviting groans from everyone else in the room.
“Oh, come on, Iker,” Sergio complained, “this is one of the best reports I think I've ever done!”
“We've already seen it twice,” Iker grumbled. “We don't need to see it again.”
On a somewhat bittersweet day, the ex-members of the Force were gathered in his office at Stentor to celebrate the end of an era - the point after which superheroes would hopefully never be needed again. If they were needed, Iker supposed that they would all still turn up and defend each other and the city, just as they had one week before, but he sincerely hoped that the days of supervillains with too much power and no clue how to use it were well in the past. José, at least, seemed to have realised the damage he had initiated, and in signing that confession, he'd finally atoned, properly.
Iker hoped that Gago was somewhere safe. He reflected sadly on the poor man's fate - alone, and not really belonging anywhere. Despite his undeniable ability, he was never given a chance to be a part of the Force and was only ever exploited by it or used against it. Iker sighed - it was perhaps the fault of circumstance rather than Gago himself that he ended up on the bad side, regardless of his incredible potential for good.
“Come on, turn the TV back on,” Fernando grinned up at him. “This is about the only time I'll ever be willing to watch a Stentor report, you know. Cherish it.”
As Xabi laughed loudly, earning a playful slap from Steven, Iker reluctantly reached for the remote and turned the set back on.
“Oh, look, it's over, what a pity,” he said with a sly smile.
“No - wait,” Silva said. “Look who it is!”
The report that followed Sergio's had everyone in the room gaping at the television screen. Fernando Gago, it appeared, had taken over as city mayor that very morning.
“Having announced plans to invest more money into the state of public facilities such as libraries and hospitals, the appointment of Mr. Gago could not have come at a better time for Despertia, a city on the rise once more after the Mourinho confession. It appears people are already putting their faith in Gago to rejuvenate community spirit, while online polls at Stentor.com see an overwhelming ninety-two percent of citizens believe that he will cater to the city's needs better than Gonzalo Higuaín. As for the former mayor, Higuaín is believed to have interest in the development of a new coffee shop franchise -“
Iker turned off the television again. “Coffee shops? No wonder the man couldn't last more than a year, if that's what he ends up doing once he's been booted out of office.”
“He did love his coffee,” Cesc said thoughtfully. “I think it's a perfectly fine career choice.”
“Yeah, so says the bum in the room,” Fernando smirked. “When are you going to get a job, anyway?”
“There's nothing wrong with full-time university,” Villa piped up. “Uhm, this announcement probably pales in comparison to all the other ones we've had today, but, well, I'm going back to school myself. You know,” he said sheepishly, “I don't want to be waiting tables forever.”
“Good for you,” Xabi nodded approvingly, as Silva squeezed Villa's shoulder.
“Hey, just wondering, guys,” Steven said suddenly, “what happened to Rafa?”
Iker grinned. He'd wondered when that question would come up.
“Well, you know how Xavi Hernández was, well, a little too young, a little too much of a partyer to own a network this huge?”
Everyone just stared back at Iker, Sergio raising his eyebrows incredulously.
“Well, I may or may not have suggested that Rafa look into buying the network!” he announced triumphantly.
Sergio wasn't impressed. “Great,” he grumbled. “Just when I begin to celebrate not having to work under Rafa's reign of terror anymore, you tell me this.”
“I'm sure he's not that bad,” Iker laughed. “After all, given everything that we learned from José -”
“Oh, he is that bad,” Fernando shuddered.
As if on cue, the door opened and Rafa came bustling in.
“What are you all doing?” he said irritably. “Get up, and Sergio - get your feet off the table! We're having a company meeting in five minutes, so all of you, clear out! We need to discuss my welcoming party!”
As he left the room just as busily as he'd entered it, the boys began to snigger.
“He's organising his own welcoming party?” Cesc asked in disbelief. “Does the man ever sleep?”
“As long as I'm not doing the catering, I don't care,” Silva smiled.
The conversation had left the room a few minutes later, voices traveling happily down the corridor while Iker reluctantly cleared up the mess they'd left behind on his desk. As he was rearranging the chairs, there was another knock at his door.
“Oh, hi, Rubén,” he said with a small smile. “Reckon you can find us some caterers? Anything but Amphoras,” he added with a wink. “Apparently Silva's had enough of us.”
“I think I can manage,” Rubén smiled back. Looking around at the messy room, he stopped and stared at the desk. “Hey - your photo is gone. The one of David.”
Iker paused, and then looked up with another smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “The time came, I thought, to leave the past behind.”
Rubén gazed at his boss for a second before walking slowly around the desk and pressing a soft kiss to Iker's cheek. “I'm glad you think so,” he whispered.
Iker stared at Rubén's retreating back, stunned, before grinning to himself. As painful as fiery retribution could be, he thought, perhaps more good than bad had come from it in the end.
Chapter: 6 / 6 (Part B)
Characters: Fernando Torres / Sergio Ramos, Xabi Alonso / Steven Gerrard, David Silva / David Villa, Frank Lampard / John Terry, Raúl / Guti, Cesc Fàbregas, Fernando Gago, Iker Casillas, Xavi Hernández, Rubén de la Red, Pepe Reina, Daniel Agger, Sami Hyypiä, Gonzalo Higuaín, Didier Drogba, Santi Cazorla, Álvaro Arbeloa, Sergio “Kun” Agüero, Rafael Benítez, José Mourinho. Not all characters appear in every part and in equal measure.
Rating: R
Warnings: AU. Infrequent language, violence and sex.
Disclaimer: It's about superheroes - how real could it possibly be?
Summary: The Force is a group of superheroes determined to save the city of Despertia from the unfathomable and relentless attacks of villains Raúl and Guti. But sometimes it is the heroes who need to be saved from their own fatal flaws.
Notes: Based on a wonderful prompt by nahco3 at footie_exchange. Apologies to those who have already seen this, and for the wait since the last chapter. Thanks to all those who have read and commented on this fic - I'm thrilled that you've enjoyed it so far, hope that you like the finale, and very much appreciate all of your lovely feedback. This chapter is split into two, because it's apparently too long for one post.
Feedback > life. If you feel the need to give constructive criticism, please do.
Previous parts: Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI (A)
Cesc listened, completely enthralled in an almost sick way, as Guti spat out his words. He had clearly wanted to get this off his chest for a while - the story was flowing with such determined ease, as though it had been written and hidden for too long, and was only now getting its first taste of an audience.
“José was obsessed with success, and control. He could never understand that we were all leading double lives - the Force had to come before everything. He would get so furious with us when we'd fail to take it all seriously, if we'd miss a meeting because we had work, or a date, or a grandmother in hospital.” Guti sighed in his reminiscence. “Now I'm willing to bet that he's done a complete turnaround - he doesn't take any interest in anything, he keeps to himself, he tries to remain as uninvolved as possible - but there are still moments when he lapses, right? When José the control-freak shows itself for a second or two?” Cesc glanced at Rafa, who nodded, his eyes wide. “But all the same,” Guti continued, “at the time, with José the way he was - well, it was more than we could bear.
“Until one day - one day, we stopped feeling angry at him. We suddenly loved being in the Force, and we gave up our jobs and dates and grandmothers. And José was happy, because his Force was finally controlled.”
“So - what happened?” Silva prompted Guti. “Why did New Year's happen?”
Guti seemed to weaken for a moment, glancing at the civilians against the wall with what almost looked like guilt, the likes of which Cesc could not have even imagined seeing on his face minutes before.
“I never wanted to hurt anyone,” Guti said softly. “I just wanted to get back at José by using his own weapon against him.” He stopped, looking up at the heroes directly. “Gago.”
“Gago?” Cesc asked, perplexed and horrified in equal measure. “A weapon?”
“José had been using him to control us, to make us forget our real-life world and remain completely focused on him. Suddenly, everything we did was to please José, and if we didn't do as he'd asked, we'd feel terrible until we managed to make it right. He had total power over us. He made us - he made us destroy everything we'd left behind, so that we could never go back.”
Guti's voice began to waver a little. “He made us quit our jobs and lose our homes, burn all of our possessions so that they could never distract us again, cut everyone off. My mother - my mother -”
His voice took on a definite tremble. “My mother had had a stroke just months before it all started, but I wasn't allowed to see her, I wasn't allowed to see anyone. All of us, we were completely faithful to José and nobody else. He became a - a megalomaniac, the most important person in all of our lives. And soon - soon it became really dangerous, a dangerous obsession.”
In the short silence, Cesc realised that his own breath had almost doubled in pace as Guti's story had unfolded. Images of José kept flying into his thoughts, along with the persistent denial - no, it can't be - it can't be that José was like that, he's not like that at all!
“At one point, one of us threatened to leave, and the next thing we knew, Gago - or rather, José - had forced him to reveal Beckham's true identity to some desperate journalist, and Beckham was in jail a day later - just like your Fernando. He went bankrupt because he had to use nearly all of his money to bail himself out. That's why Beckham House is as poor as it is. Not to mention he could barely show himself in public afterwards - his life was hardly a life at all.” Guti inhaled deeply. “So, by doing that, José sent us a message. We were on his side, or we were on our own. New Year's was his chance to really seize us once and for all. What better way to keep us in than to shut us off from the outside world?” Cesc felt Rafa tremble slightly at his own advice to the Force being repeated here in such a terrifying way. “Which is why so many people died that night. Through Gago, José and his self-obsession got us to do the most terrible thing to show him our loyalty.”
The silence in the room was now absolute, not a single civilian making a sound.
“And we had no choice.” Guti's eyes were glistening. “Because we couldn't think for ourselves, but only for José.”
Cesc let out a shuddering breath as the full horror of the tale hit home.
“But - but what happened afterwards, then?” he asked delicately. “He must have learnt the error of his -”
“José didn't learn anything,” Guti said bitterly. “It was Gago who realised, at the last fucking moment, that he'd gone too far, getting us to kill innocent people. He suddenly decided that he didn't want to have anything more to do with it - by which time it was too late for everyone to be saved. But we at least got our minds back, and fully realised what José had done.”
“So that's why you've been doing all of this,” Silva breathed, his gun now hanging limply by his side. “You didn't want José and his troops to be seen as heroes when you know he was anything but - when you were betrayed so cruelly.”
Guti nodded. “So we got to work with Sergio, and Steven, and even Fernando - messing with your reputations, trying to sling mud all over your names and prove that the Force isn't always heroic, that it can go terribly wrong. That destruction can come from the unlikeliest of places.”
He turned to face Cesc, who jumped slightly at the eye contact. “We got all our information thanks to you, through Gago. Everything about the Stentor party and its guests, you told us - I don't know if you remember.”
Cesc nodded, turning red, but not looking away.
“So that's where we got to you, Silva - we made sure that you and your power were seen by civilians, and your friends at work. And so we got you on the police's list of suspects for terrorist activity, and made sure you had to hide your face from everyone you knew - just like we had to,” Guti continued. “And later, through Fàbregas again, we realised that you'd caught onto our plans for the charity event today, which is why we, well, mixed it up, and find ourselves here instead of in that park.”
Sighing, Guti threw another weary glance in the direction of the civilians. “I never wanted to hurt anyone but José, I swear. But this seemed like the only way to do it.”
“But surely you realise that it's not?” Rafa asked, desperation laced in his voice. “What are you doing if you know, more than anyone, how much harm can come from so much power?”
“Following Raúl's orders,” Guti murmured. “He always felt the strongest about it, and said that a large-scale approach was the best way to go. You know, really kick people in the guts and crush José's little world as spectacularly as possible. He doesn't do things by halves, Raúl.”
Cesc heard Rafa inhale deeply, before the coach took a brave step forward. “Why don't you stop now, before you do something that you'll really feel guilty about? Something that you can't blame on José?”
“I'm not blaming him - it was his fault -”
“Stop all of this. Now.”
* * * * *
Yes, Fernando was filled with resentment and shock and anger, but these were all tied in with fear as the minutes kept flying by and the trail of fire leading to Sergio crept closer. The revelations about José's past were horrifying, but Fernando was too much the type to remain entrenched in present worry, and all he could really concentrate on was the choice they had to make.
“You told us that Guti would contact you if our men at headquarters made a decision,” Fernando snarled at Raúl, whose grip around his gun had not faltered for a moment, his maniacal explanation of his elaborate revenge plot having done little to win him any sympathy to go with the little empathy that Fernando had found for him. “Why hasn't he? What's going on over there?”
“It looks like they're struggling to come to an agreement,” Raúl shrugged, still looking content with the havoc he had created, playing with so many lives. “So I guess it's up to you. What will it be? Your friend and lover, Sergio - or the innocents?”
Xabi groaned from behind Fernando. “I don't understand you! You stand here and tell us a story about how horrible José was because he forced you to kill people against your will, and now you're doing it just for fun!”
“This is not fun!” Raúl hissed, although the glint in his eye betrayed his words. “We're doing this for revenge and revenge only!”
“You can't make us choose. We're going to save Sergio, and the men over at headquarters will save the civilians,” Xabi said stubbornly. “You won't win. Your killing us isn't going to undo anything that you did, or pay José back for what he did.”
Fernando saw Raúl look at José with interest. “José, my old teacher, father-figure, power-hungry monster, and so on. Since you're the reason why we're all in this mess, why don't you do the honours, eh? Time's running out, and we need to decide who'll be saying their goodbyes.”
Fernando refused to take his eyes away from Raúl, acutely aware of the fact that his gun was still aimed dangerously at Sergio's heart, but he felt everyone shift to look at José properly.
His voice was timid, and resigned, an immediate confession to the crimes that Raúl had just accused him of committing. “I think - I think Sergio should sacrifice himself, rather than kill one hundred people. Since there's no guarantee that Raúl and Guti will stop after today, why risk a hundred when you can kill one?”
“Fuck you!” Fernando roared, aching to turn around and smash his gun into the side of José's head.
“Since when do you care about saving a whole bunch of civilians, when you were responsible for their deaths nine months ago?” Xabi snapped at José. “Or are you not fussy about numbers - is one death just as satisfying as many?”
“I'm a changed man,” José said plaintively. “You know me, boys, you know that I'm not like that anymore -”
“It's not about what you're like now,” Sergio interrupted. “The fact that time has passed and you've had a convenient epiphany telling you that hey, perhaps killing people is wrong, doesn't make a difference! You still need to be punished!”
“Exactly!” Raúl said triumphantly. “That's the whole point of this game. Whichever option you choose - Sergio or the civilians - it all goes towards putting José where he belongs: behind bars. He's one of the police's top suspects. If you do this right, he'll be jailed in no time, no matter which fuckers end up spilling blood for it -”
“We're not killing Sergio!” Xabi shouted. “I don't care what you and Gago made him do - he's our friend and there's no fucking way I am sacrificing him so that you can go through with your blood-lust revenge trip!”
“Sergio,” Raúl said slowly, his eyes turning back towards him as the flames crept to within a foot of the strongman's body. “Since your friends are so indecisive, I'm leaving the choice up to you. Are you willing to die and save your city? Or will you opt for the greater good, and help this poor, humble, ex-hero finally avenge himself?”
Fernando felt a bead of sweat trickle from his forehead down past his temple and onto his cheek as he gritted his teeth, and, still watching Raúl, listened to Sergio's trembling voice.
“As much as I don't want to,” he heard Sergio say, “I have to agree with José. Kill me.”
* * * * *
Drogba had had a terrifying vision in his sleep. Throughout the entire day, he'd pondered over it, wondering whether or not he should renounce his vow and tell someone. Acting upon a vision wasn't something that he struggled with - he'd used it to find Torres, and the Force at Higuaín's office, and he'd had vague glimpses of Alonso in his dreams which told him that the man had something to do with the Force, however much he had tried to conceal it.
The problems arose when it came to explaining things like how he'd managed to find the invisible Torres in a random bar in the middle of the night. There was nobody in whom he could confide, nobody who could understand such an ability and how to harness it.
So, the whole day, he had kept his vision to himself. He went to work, ignored John and Frank making out in the corner of the locker room when they thought nobody could see, spent his lunch break reading the newspaper - he had carried out his daily routine as though absolutely nothing was wrong. Once the day was over, he'd decided to head over to the park rather than the lake for his customary evening jog. And it was here that he realised that he could not hide from his everpresent duty forever.
Amidst a crew of journalists, sound specialists, cameramen, and volunteers packing up stalls and such, Iker Casillas was fretting. Drogba first and foremostly jumped at the sight of Iker suddenly crossing his path after so long, but it was the look of worry on his face that really registered with the police sergeant.
“Where's Sergio?” Iker was asking the men around him. “He was here just a minute ago, with that damn boyfriend of his, and now - well - where did he go?”
At this point, Drogba decided that enough was enough. Thirteen hours of holding everything to himself was too long when fate seemed so determined that he should let it out.
“Didier Drogba?” Iker said in awe after Drogba had marched up to him and pulled him aside. “What - what are you doing here? What do you want?”
“Listen, I saw something,” Drogba said quietly, tugging Iker's arm and dragging him further away from the surrounding men, ignoring their looks of vague surprise. “A vision. I've - everyone's been wrong. It's Raúl and Guti, they're behind everything that's happened this year.”
Iker stared. “What? You - you've seen - I don't -” He gaped. “You're talking about the Stentor party? And the town hall? And -”
“All of it,” Drogba nodded. “I'm sure of it. I don't know why, but it's definitely them.”
“But what - what did you see? I didn't even know you could still foresee things -”
“Raúl's holding people hostage, he's got weapons, and there are explosives and his fire. Your Sergio is there, José is there, Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso -”
“But - I - what do you expect me to do?” Iker stared dumbly across at Drogba, clearly at a complete loss. “I can't just turn up and - fuck! Raúl? Are you serious? I thought that - after Gago let us go on New Year's - that we'd all put this behind us! Including Raúl!”
“Well, apparently not. Look, I don't know what he wants, but he's putting people in danger, and I know that you of all people know the damage that he's capable of -”
“I don't want to talk about that, Didier,” Iker said sternly. “You don't know how much grief I've -”
“No, I do know! This Sergio character - your journalist - he did exactly what you did to David last year! Look, I've been thinking about it all day, it all makes sense now - he turned Torres in just like you turned David in - only you, at least, got to do it anonymously - and it must be because of Gago, who I guess is working with Raúl and Guti, and -” He stopped. “Look, Iker. That's why I'm here, asking you to deal with this. Because you lost someone to Raúl's power, you saw him destroying people with his bare hands! Your own boyfriend was killed that night, one of us! Don't let that happen tonight again!”
“I know perfectly well the damage that he's capable of!” Iker said, his voice raising slightly. “Four years of my life were devoted to the Force. I haven't forgotten anything, Didier.”
“Then you know how important it is to go there and put an end to this,” Drogba said firmly. “There's no use clinging to grudges if it just results in more pain. José is there, Iker. It's not just about stopping Raúl and Guti. You can avenge David once and for all. You can avenge us.”
Iker looked up at him, Drogba unable to read his expression. He hoped, how he hoped, that they weren't already too late, that this long pause in conversation wasn't costing those heroes precious minutes of their lives.
“One last time,” Iker finally sighed. “But if it ends up like New Year's, you, my friend, will never again see the light of day.”
* * * * *
Xabi had yet to really register the fact that Iker Casillas was in the room by the time he'd begun hurling abuse at Raúl. It was a quick-paced verbal battleground, Xabi understanding little of what was said, apart from screamed mentions of betrayal and the Force and petty vengeance. He had only just noticed Sergio and Steven spluttering at the sight of their network's Chief Operations Officer suddenly turning up, when his eyes flew to the trail of gunpowder which was surely now just seconds away from reaching Sergio.
“Guys!” Xabi screamed in terror, not knowing what to do. “The fire!”
There was the faintest of pauses during which everyone looked at each other in horror, before Iker heaved a deep breath. And, his eyes just glancing in Xabi's direction before landing upon Sergio, Iker moved Sergio's body through the air and to the other side of the room, just by looking at him.
“Holy fu-” Xabi began before a huge blast sounded and the gunpowder trail exploded with a thunderous crash, and the corner of the room where Sergio had stood moments before was on fire.
“You shouldn't have done that, Iker!” Raúl shouted, the gun in his hand going off in loud bangs as he aimed it at his old friend. Instantly, Fernando cocked his gun and tried to shoot, but he fumbled and his aim was off, his shots firing through the ceiling. “I'm doing this for us - all of us!” Raúl continued screaming. “You should just let me get on with it!”
“Well, you're going about it the wrong way!” Iker screamed back, this time setting his sights on Fernando and moving him out of the way and towards Sergio, just as the fire began to spread in his direction.
“Since when can you do that?” Sergio demanded as Fernando latched onto his arm, Iker glancing in their direction briefly before ducking another shot from Raúl's gun. “You've been my boss for two years, and you've never -”
José's sudden shout interrupted Sergio, and Raúl stopped shooting as everyone turned to see what José was staring at beyond the flames. Xabi gasped as he looked through the smoke.
“I'm sorry - to everyone,” Gago said, swallowing hard as he stood in the doorway. “I - I -”
“Oh, shut up!” Raúl snapped, losing patience and hurling a ball of fire in his direction. “I always knew you were too weak for this!”
Gago ducked, and as the hallway behind him caught fire, he straightened up with a look of determined hatred that Xabi had not seen in anyone before.
“Boys, please,” José appealed, his eyes flicking from the fire in the room to the fire in the hallway, his voice shaking with fear, “stop this madness! You're all going to be killed, for nothing! I'm not even -”
Raúl roared in fury as he threw another fireball across the room, and it kissed José's side on his way past him. Crying out in pain, he fell to the floor as Raúl watched in triumph.
“Keep begging, José,” Raúl smirked. “It suits you.”
“Killing José won't change the past!” Iker yelled.
“Oh, enough of your tidbits of wisdom,” Raúl snapped irritably, raising his hand yet again.
But as he made to produce more fire, Silva suddenly appeared next to Iker, and before Xabi could really take it in, he vanished with the Stentor boss within his grasp.
“Where the fuck did he come from?” Raúl screamed furiously. “He's supposed to be drowning over at your headquarters!”
“I told him to come here,” Gago spoke up again, his voice cold. “Guti's given up your little game - the civilians over there are safe.”
“You - you went there?”
“You're the only person who still seems to believe in an eye for an eye,” Gago said disparagingly. “So I've just come back for one last thing.”
Xabi's heart sank at those words - whatever Gago had in mind, it couldn't be good, not when his powers were as dangerous as they had proved to be. While everyone watched, Raúl's expression took on a vague dreaminess as, trembling, his hand rose up.
Xabi felt his mouth fall open. “Oh, no,” he muttered.
Gago forced the hand to twist, palm towards Raúl's stomach, and Xabi realised with horror what was going to happen.
“Gago - no!” he shouted, but it was too late. Raúl had helplessly, obliviously, directed fire onto himself from his own hand, under the control of Gago's furious mind.
Xabi ran over to Raúl and pulled the rug out from underneath the coffee table, ignoring the fire lapping at the walls just a metre away. He quickly wrapped the rug around the burning body, and the flames slowly gave up their hold over his skin. Dragging Raúl over to the far side of the living room, the fire having spread yet further, Xabi turned to glare at Gago.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” he snapped. “You're just as bad as he is, you know that?”
Gago turned away from Xabi to look at Sergio and Fernando, their bodies pressed against the wall as they gazed back across at him, their eyes wide.
“I did that,” he said softly, “because for a while, it was my hand that Sergio held. And thanks to Raúl, I now realise that it is, in fact, better to have never loved at all, than to have loved and lost.”
And with that, he simply walked out of the apartment, leaving Xabi to stare at Fernando and Sergio, whose hands were indeed clinging to each other.
Swallowing hard, Xabi tried to gather his thoughts, the flames which were licking the apartment walls distracting him as he stared down at the mess.
“What do we do about this?” he said, pointing to Raúl's badly burnt figure lying in front of him. “And that?” he added, nodding towards José who wasn't quite so badly wounded, but needed to be dealt with just the same.
Silva reappeared at that moment, Guti by his side. As Sergio and Fernando instinctively jumped up, Silva held out a hand as if to say that all was fine. He glanced up at Xabi once he'd scanned the room and realised that the main struggle had ended. “People are crowded around the building, on the street,” he said. “The police'll be arriving any minute now.”
Before Xabi had time to respond, Guti had waved his hand and sent water cascading over the flames to extinguish them. Turning back to Silva, he jerked his head a little, before heading for the door. He didn't look any of the other heroes in the eyes.
“Uhm - we should -" Xabi stammered. “Thank you!” he called to Guti's retreating back. He didn't turn around. “Right,” Xabi breathed. “I'm guessing the likes of Lampard and Terry will be -”
“Right here.”
Xabi turned to see Frank Lampard looking back at him, John behind him running a hand over the ashy doorway and rubbing the dust in between his fingertips.
“Drogba sent us over, and, well - it looks like you could use some help, eh?” Frank asked.
Xabi nodded. “These two, here - they're the ones you've been looking for.”
“Now, I'm not too sure about that,” John said snidely. “It's you we've been looking for - or haven't you noticed all the posters?”
“John, just - shut up,” Frank snapped. “Well, we'll take them in, but - in this condition?” he asked Xabi, pointing down at the burns scarring Raúl and José's skin.
“Leave it to me, I'll take care of it,” Steven piped up. “You just get out of here, Xabi. And you two,” he said, looking at Fernando and Sergio. “Make sure that Silva and Cesc are alright, yeah? Oh, and the civilians,” he added as something of an afterthought.
Sergio's fingers laced in between Fernando's, the two of them nodded and shakily led the way out of the apartment, Xabi following as Steven went to work. Turning to look back at him, Xabi smiled appreciatively.
He had really been quite wrong about him, Xabi had to admit as he saw Steven crouching over Raúl and José and healing their wounds as though they hadn't wronged anyone. He was the same old Steven, yes, but he wasn't lazy in the least. Xabi knew that the other heroes, at least, appreciated his humanity, and how much he looked out for them.
Lifting his head, Steven caught Xabi's gaze. For a moment, he merely looked. But after a second, he met Xabi's smile with his own.
* * * * *
“Mourinho, who has been in hiding for the last three months, this morning signed a confession which, at long last, clears Torres, Silva, Fàbregas, Alonso and Benítez of all previous suspicion. Confessing to responsibility for each of the attacks, Mourinho states that he has been acting with the aid of an accomplice, one Raúl González, who is currently being held by police and awaiting trial. According to police sergeant Drogba who was on the scene when Mourinho signed what is surely to become -”
Iker turned off the television, inviting groans from everyone else in the room.
“Oh, come on, Iker,” Sergio complained, “this is one of the best reports I think I've ever done!”
“We've already seen it twice,” Iker grumbled. “We don't need to see it again.”
On a somewhat bittersweet day, the ex-members of the Force were gathered in his office at Stentor to celebrate the end of an era - the point after which superheroes would hopefully never be needed again. If they were needed, Iker supposed that they would all still turn up and defend each other and the city, just as they had one week before, but he sincerely hoped that the days of supervillains with too much power and no clue how to use it were well in the past. José, at least, seemed to have realised the damage he had initiated, and in signing that confession, he'd finally atoned, properly.
Iker hoped that Gago was somewhere safe. He reflected sadly on the poor man's fate - alone, and not really belonging anywhere. Despite his undeniable ability, he was never given a chance to be a part of the Force and was only ever exploited by it or used against it. Iker sighed - it was perhaps the fault of circumstance rather than Gago himself that he ended up on the bad side, regardless of his incredible potential for good.
“Come on, turn the TV back on,” Fernando grinned up at him. “This is about the only time I'll ever be willing to watch a Stentor report, you know. Cherish it.”
As Xabi laughed loudly, earning a playful slap from Steven, Iker reluctantly reached for the remote and turned the set back on.
“Oh, look, it's over, what a pity,” he said with a sly smile.
“No - wait,” Silva said. “Look who it is!”
The report that followed Sergio's had everyone in the room gaping at the television screen. Fernando Gago, it appeared, had taken over as city mayor that very morning.
“Having announced plans to invest more money into the state of public facilities such as libraries and hospitals, the appointment of Mr. Gago could not have come at a better time for Despertia, a city on the rise once more after the Mourinho confession. It appears people are already putting their faith in Gago to rejuvenate community spirit, while online polls at Stentor.com see an overwhelming ninety-two percent of citizens believe that he will cater to the city's needs better than Gonzalo Higuaín. As for the former mayor, Higuaín is believed to have interest in the development of a new coffee shop franchise -“
Iker turned off the television again. “Coffee shops? No wonder the man couldn't last more than a year, if that's what he ends up doing once he's been booted out of office.”
“He did love his coffee,” Cesc said thoughtfully. “I think it's a perfectly fine career choice.”
“Yeah, so says the bum in the room,” Fernando smirked. “When are you going to get a job, anyway?”
“There's nothing wrong with full-time university,” Villa piped up. “Uhm, this announcement probably pales in comparison to all the other ones we've had today, but, well, I'm going back to school myself. You know,” he said sheepishly, “I don't want to be waiting tables forever.”
“Good for you,” Xabi nodded approvingly, as Silva squeezed Villa's shoulder.
“Hey, just wondering, guys,” Steven said suddenly, “what happened to Rafa?”
Iker grinned. He'd wondered when that question would come up.
“Well, you know how Xavi Hernández was, well, a little too young, a little too much of a partyer to own a network this huge?”
Everyone just stared back at Iker, Sergio raising his eyebrows incredulously.
“Well, I may or may not have suggested that Rafa look into buying the network!” he announced triumphantly.
Sergio wasn't impressed. “Great,” he grumbled. “Just when I begin to celebrate not having to work under Rafa's reign of terror anymore, you tell me this.”
“I'm sure he's not that bad,” Iker laughed. “After all, given everything that we learned from José -”
“Oh, he is that bad,” Fernando shuddered.
As if on cue, the door opened and Rafa came bustling in.
“What are you all doing?” he said irritably. “Get up, and Sergio - get your feet off the table! We're having a company meeting in five minutes, so all of you, clear out! We need to discuss my welcoming party!”
As he left the room just as busily as he'd entered it, the boys began to snigger.
“He's organising his own welcoming party?” Cesc asked in disbelief. “Does the man ever sleep?”
“As long as I'm not doing the catering, I don't care,” Silva smiled.
The conversation had left the room a few minutes later, voices traveling happily down the corridor while Iker reluctantly cleared up the mess they'd left behind on his desk. As he was rearranging the chairs, there was another knock at his door.
“Oh, hi, Rubén,” he said with a small smile. “Reckon you can find us some caterers? Anything but Amphoras,” he added with a wink. “Apparently Silva's had enough of us.”
“I think I can manage,” Rubén smiled back. Looking around at the messy room, he stopped and stared at the desk. “Hey - your photo is gone. The one of David.”
Iker paused, and then looked up with another smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “The time came, I thought, to leave the past behind.”
Rubén gazed at his boss for a second before walking slowly around the desk and pressing a soft kiss to Iker's cheek. “I'm glad you think so,” he whispered.
Iker stared at Rubén's retreating back, stunned, before grinning to himself. As painful as fiery retribution could be, he thought, perhaps more good than bad had come from it in the end.