Resurrection 15
Title: The Resurrection 15/?
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Show: LHDP
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary- Post ep 104. Silvia gets amnesia, Pepa tries to help her remember. (I told you I was crap at summaries)
A/N- I know I wrote an ending to this story already, but I was told that it was a bit abrupt and not the way any of you thought that it would end. I don't know why, I thought it was a delightful ending! xD Anyway, my muse came back to me on this story after only about a year of running away, hopefully she stays. The wench!
And because I know ya'll need some refreshing on it:
All Previous Parts Here
The knock on the door pisses me off. She was about to kiss me! She was going to kiss me and the fucking door knocker blew that to shit. I want to murder whoever the hell had the audacity to interrupt at such an inopportune time and decide that that is exactly what I'm going to do, even when my brother walks inside and calls my name out.
But the words he says to me and the tone in his voice jar me a little. He's worried. And if there was better lighting in this room, any light really besides some from the hallway he came in from, I'm sure that I'd be able to see a crease between his brows, one that he always has when something has gone wrong. When somethings amiss.
He motions to me with his head that he wants to talk outside, away from the open ears of my wife and I nod to him while gently disengaging myself from Silvia, but not before placing a tender kiss to her forehead and telling her that I'll be right back. She nods and I stand up to walk over to him. He leads me to the hallway and shuts the door.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall behind me, impatiently waiting for whatever it is he has to tell me. Impatient mostly because I'm still perturbed with the interruption, but also because I'm extremely curious. Paco stands in front of me and swallows nervously, his handy handkerchief touched to his lips, but no words out of his mouth.
"Paco?"
"Hmm?"
"Talk." I state bluntly.
"Right."
He swallows again and brings his left hand up for me to see a large manila envelope in his grasp.
"What is this?" I ask as I take it from him.
"Open it."
I stall for a moment to read his expression before doing as he says. They're photos of the day of... I don't even know what to name that day. The day all our lives, the ones who still have their lives, changed. Changed for the worst. The first is of Silvia and me, smiling at the altar and though at the time I was overjoyed, now it only brings me to tears. A lot of tears and they come quickly to blur my vision.
I only have enough strength to view the one and I slide the rest of them back inside before slamming the envelope into his chest. The memories that one picture produces in my head infuriating me. I'm not well.
"What the hell is this, Paco!" I swipe at my eyes and glare at him while taking a step closer to my brother. "You decide to fuck up my day with this shit? I'm ever so glad that the photographer survived so that he could forever remind me of the worst time of my life! Thank you so much for bringing this to me!" I'm enraged and taking it out on the wrong person. I know that I'm taking it out on the wrong person, but it doesn't hinder me from screaming at him.
He tries to interject by calling my name, but I continue, "What the fuck makes you think that I want to see this, Paco?" My sight starts to blur again, "Why-"
"PEPA!" he yells this time and grabs my upper arm in tight grip. "Stop. Just stop, okay?"
I calm a little and deeply inhale to smother the heat scorching my shaking body. The adrenaline that was fueling my anger now only making my legs weak and limbs wobbly. I lean back against the wall behind me again to steady myself. Something I didn't have to do since his grip alone could keep me up.
One picture. One. That's all it took for me to have a near meltdown. For me to lose it. I used to think I was a strong person. I used to think I could pull through anything, yet, in one morning I found out that I cry and scream out in my sleep. In one morning, one measly picture pushed me into a state of insanity. In one morning, this morning, I find out that I'm not as strong as I assumed I was.
What kind of wreck would I have been if Silvia never pulled through? I shudder to even think that.
"Pepa?" He slowly releases his hold on me only to cup my cheek and brush away some fallen tears with the pad of his thumb. "Pepa, look at me please."
I glance up while wiping at my eyes again to find myself caught in his gaze. A gaze full of brotherly concern. I take another deep long breath and sniffle. "I'm sorry, Paco. I didn't me-"
He waves off my apology. "Shh, it's okay. I know this is hard for you, Pepa."
"...It's hard for everyone, Paco."
"Yes. It is."
It's at those words that I notice the lines on his face. Lines evidence to the fact that he hasn't slept, or at least hasn't slept well, in days. Lines that most likely mimic my own. Bags under his bloodshot eyes, creases in places of his heartwarming face that previously weren't there. He looks even worse for wear than he did the last time I saw him.
My friends and colleagues had died that day. But they weren't just mine. They were his. They were everyone's at the precinct. And they were more than that. Those three were our family. And Silvia, my wife, my love? She was injured, almost meeting the same fate as those three men. I wasn't the only one that loved her, that had her in their prayers and my ragged looking brother is proof of that. I feel selfish. I hadn't even thought about what anyone else felt, I couldn't be bothered thinking about how anyone else felt.
We stand together, silent for a moment. He removes his hand from my cheek and sighs. "I didn't mean to freak you out with the pictures, Pepa."
"I know."
"You told me to keep you informed about things, and that's what this is." he says softly and taps the envelope in his hand. "Some.... some of the pictures in here are of the wedding."
"I don't... I don't want to look at them, Paco."
He nods in understanding.
"I can't."
"I know, honey. I know." He places his hand on mine and squeezes. "Do you want me to explain the reason for my visit? For these pictures?"
What he's really asking me is if I am able to handle it and I honestly don't know if I can, but I shake my head in the affirmative.
"The mafia sent them to us." He sighs and swallows as he mentally prepares himself. His nerves back after their swift retreat. "A few of them... A few of them have everyone at the wedding in them. From those few, the ones that have Montoya, Kike, and Nelson in them... there are red 'X's' on their faces."
I bite my lower lip and clench my fists as my anger returns to me.
"There's also pictures of the..." his voice cracks, "of the bodies in... in the body bags. And some are pictures that were taken at their funerals."
Another reason for me to feel like a completely selfish person. I never attended my friends' funerals. I didn't want to leave Silvia's side and she wasn't exactly in the best shape to attend. Even if she was, though, I wouldn't have let her go. I wanted to protect her from the reality of our life. From reality in general.
"They're not done with us, are they?" I state.
"No. They included their hit list with the pictures. Only difference now is that they have three names scratched off."
My body is literally shaking now, my fingernails digging into my palms, my knuckles turning white.
"Pepa... There's more."
"More?" I don't know if I can handle more. I don't know if I can even handle what I've already heard, how can I expect to handle more?
He clears his throat and nods his head again. "There are pictures of Silvia."
"What?"
"There are pictures of her, here in the hospital. In her bed, asleep."
I grind my teeth in anger. The want to kill the murderous bastards that placed us all in this state of hell multiplying tenfold. "What?" I grind out, a growl accompanying that one worded question.
He fidgets slightly.
"I'm going to fucking kill them before that ever happens!" I'm outraged. I'm so fucking outraged that my head is spinning and all I can see is red. I feel like I'm about to explode. I start to pace because what else can I do? If I stand in place I'll end up punching something. And since I don't feel like breaking my hand against a brick wall and I really don't want to hurt my brother for being the bearer of bad news, pacing is all I can think of. I'm surprised I can even pace!
"No, you won't, Pepa. You have to keep Silvia safe. You have to stay with her."
"What the fuck will that accomplish, Paco!" I'm taking my frustration out on him again. I can't help it, I can't stop. He's not the one I'm mad at, I'm mad at myself. I couldn't protect her from getting shot and I seem to just keep on rolling with my lack of protection. I feel useless, fucking powerless.
"They were in there!" I point toward the door, "They were in her fucking room! And where was I, Paco, huh? Sitting on my ass! What the hell am I good for?" I'm yelling now. Shrieking is more like it actually and I'm sure that the patients in the rooms surrounding us don't appreciate it, but like I give a shit.
"Calm down, Pepa." He says sternly.
But I can't and I don't. I continue my pacing, my clenching of my fists, my tirade. "I'm going to fucking castrate them, then feed them their balls on a shiny fucking platter!" I say these words while acting them out with my hands, presenting the imaginary plate of testicles to my brother.
Paco pushes my hand aside, "Maria Jose! I swear if you don't calm the hell down right now, I'll make you calm down!"
I'm insane with thoughts of how many different and gory ways I can and will murder these people, then those thoughts turn to how worthless I really am, then back to the gore. So deep am I in my clusterfucked mind that I ignore Paco's obvious threat of bodily harm toward me. Not because I don't think he'll actually hurt me, but because I'm not paying attention to him. I'm unable to do so. I honestly believe I'm going crazy.
"They're fucking taunting us, Paco!"
"I know-"
"I'm going to fucking kill them!"
"Pepa-"
"I'm going to fucking kill them, Paco!"
I feel like a lunatic. I feel myself slipping, my mentality slipping away from me. Memories of my wedding day, memories of Silvia's look of panic when she first awoke from her coma, memories of all the blood, memories of all the tears, the cries, thoughts of murder, thoughts of revenge, thoughts of the ones I lost, feeling helpless, feeling hopeless, feeling worthless, all of it clashing inside me as I continue to pace. My steps in sync with the changing images in my head.
Too many emotions. All of it smothering me, pulling me down. I've been keeping it all in, not letting myself think about any of it. Distracting myself with Silvia and helping her to get better. Trying to concentrate on getting her healthy, body and mind. Not that I am in any way, shape or form ungrateful that she is alive, because god and every other deity I could think of when I was praying that she'd pull through knows how thankful I am, but I used her state of well being, or lack thereof, as a form of escape from everything else.
It was only a matter of time before I broke. No time like the present.
"Paco..." I start to sob, "This is all my fault." I turn to him with pleading eyes before slamming my back against the wall, hard this time, and sinking to the ground. My knees raised up, my arms resting on top of them, my forehead atop my arms. My whole body is shaking, quivering.
For a moment I'm alone, a huddled mass in a hallway, alone.
Then I feel a tug and my legs are draped over his lap as he cradles me almost like a baby, my face in his shoulder, his arms embracing my waist, a hand soothingly rubbing my back and the other holding my head. A position I haven't been in with him since I was a little girl. It's awkward, now that we're older, the position is awkward, but it has the same effect that it used to have on me. It's comforting and I cling to him while letting the tears fall and stain his shirt.
It's quiet. The only sounds are my soft cries echoing throughout the empty hallway. I hold on tighter to him and he kisses the top of my head. God I needed this. Some familiarity, I needed something that hadn't been changed. Something that didn't change with that day.
We stay like this for a while and it isn't until I hear footsteps coming toward us that I think to pull away, not wanting anyone else to see the rather embarrassing manner we've formed together. Two grown people hugging each other on the floor of a hospital may strike others as strange. He doesn't let me go right away, though, he squeezes a little tighter.
"You're not the only one that needs this, Pepa."
I chuckle softly and nod in understanding, placing my head back on his shoulder. "We look funny though."
"It's true, but who gives a crap."
I chuckle again, "Me, a little."
He giggles and then takes in a deep breath, my hand moving up and down as his chest expands and deflates. The way his body stiffens slightly against me, I know that the light conversation we just had is going to darken somewhat.
"Pepa?"
"Yeah?"
He sighs a long sigh and holds me a little closer, "What you said... None of this is your fault, Honey."
"Yes, yes it is." The tears are coming back. I hate fucking crying but I can't stop. "All of it. If I didn't-"
"Pepa." he interrupts, "Stop. No. You weren't. It was those Italian fuckers and we will get them. I swore to you and I intend to follow through with my promise."
I begin to say something, but a voice cuts me off.
"Awwww." he says it like he just saw some puppy chasing his own tail or whatever puppies do that's supposed to be cute.
I sigh, "Fuck off, Lucas." I hear him snicker and, knowing that our huggy, touchy, feely moment is most likely over, pull away again, unstopped this time, and peck my brother on the cheek before standing to help Paco up to his feet. "What do you want, anyway?"
"I just came to tell Paco that Mariano and others are starting to talk to the nurses and doctor that have been in and out of Silvia's room."
"Good."
"You think it was one of them?" Referring to the pictures of my wife that the mafia sent.
They both nod, but Paco is the one to speak up. "I don't see how it could be anyone else. They're the only ones that are in and out of the room besides family."
Great. Just fucking great. Everyone that's supposed to be taking care of my redhead are now suspects. I could barely stand seeing them touch her before without worrying and this information doesn't make it any better. God, I feel drained and my day is just starting.
"How are you holding up, Miranda?"
I want to glare at him, I really do, but he actually sounds genuine in asking so I shrug, "As well as can be expected, I guess."
"Yeah, me too."
"Well... what do we now?"
"We, meaning Lucas and I, are going to keep working." Paco drawls. "And you, you are going to go back inside to Silvia. Rest maybe."
"Paco-" I start to protest but he holds up his hand to interject.
"No, Pepa. No. We'll put two of our guys out here to watch over you two and you're going to bunker down with your wife."
"Bu-" I want to help. I need to help. They don't want to hear it.
"I said no." A tone of finality added to the way he says those words and I acquiesce.
"Fine. But you guys should, too, you know. Rest."
They shift in spot before nodding, then turn to leave.
"I'm serious."
Lucas throws a backward wave and keeps walking away. "Yeah, thanks mom."
I roll my eyes before Paco stops and turns back, hugging me tightly once more, "None of this is your fault, Pepa. None of it." he whispers in my ear.
I start to tear up once more.
"I mean it, Pepa. Please believe me. I couldn't take seeing you like that again."
I don't know how to respond to that and I don't, instead I just hold him close for a while longer then kiss him on one cheek and pat him on the other. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
I head back inside and shut the door as quietly as possible just in case Silvia was asleep. I didn't have to worry about that.
"Are you okay, Pepa?"
"Yes, Princess." I smile as big as I can, but it's weak. I can feel how weak it is.
"You're lying."
I sigh and nod, "Yes." I could never really keep anything from her.
"You're not going to tell me, though. Are you."
"I can't..." Not without making her think that I'm complete failure as a person.
"Okay."
She says it and I'm a bit surprised that she didn't want to push. It is a strange trait for her to simply drop a subject, especially a subject I know she's interested in. "That's it? Just, 'okay.'?" I walk toward the bed and cock my head in question.
She smiles, another something familiar that the day of our wedding never changed, and I revel in that smile. "Well... do you want to tell me about it?"
"No."
"Then yes." She lifts up the blanket in invitation, "Just okay."
I feel bipolar. My emotions swinging so fast. Not too long ago I was weeping on the floor, balling my eyes out, lost. And now... her simple gesture overjoys me. Though the emotions are polar opposites, the reaction of my body is very similar: I cry, swipe at tears, and I start to quiver.
I crawl into bed with her, making sure not to hurt her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
2nd A/N- Okay... um, lame sure, but my muse gave me something for this story and I ran with it, I really hope she doesn't get away again. I want to finish this story. Anyways, comment! Love ya'll!