Romancing the Pain - Part 22
Title: Romancing the Pain
Rating: M (swearing and violence)
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Summary: Post episode 104 as well as my last fic, Come Back to Me. It’s basically its sequel; the events that occur after Silvia was released from the hospital.
A/N: I’m so sorry this is late. Honestly, my muse has taken an extended vacation and I was so darn stuck. Then I was at the mall yesterday and that Elvis song came up and it was all I could do not to head off into an internet café and work on a Pepa and Silvia music video to it. *shrugs* But I finally caught up to my f-in muse *mutters something incomprehensible* And this is the end result. Hope you like it. Feel free to throw anything at me. I haven't done laundry this week so bring on the dirty socks. I'll just add them to my increasing pile of dirty clothes. *smiles*
ROMANCING THE PAIN - Part 22
Pepa sat on her haunches, wheezing dangerously. She coughed and winced, spitting out a glob of blood that had bubbled up her throat and collected in her mouth. She shifted slightly, grimacing in pain as her broken ribs grated against each other under her skin. She had no doubt that one of the broken bones had pierced and/or grazed a lung. Breathing was already becoming a problem but Pepa could not afford the luxury of indulging her injuries. She needed to find a way out.
“Mierda pequena,” Pepa muttered heatedly under her breath as she adjusted the loose shirt she had acquired from the attacker that had barreled into her from the side. Not only had he sent the cell phone skittering off into the darkness, he had also decided that her body would make the perfect punching bag. It had taken every last ounce of hidden strength for Pepa to overpower him; lucky for her she had managed to use his size and weight against him. As he lunged at her again, she sidestepped and stuck out her foot, aiding gravity in sending him careening into the wall. His head met the wall with a sickening crack and he crumbled next to the still prone El Gordo.
Pepa had wasted no time as she relieved him of his gun. After checking the magazine clip, she also yanked off his shirt; hers was in tatters and the brunette had no intention of skulking around half-naked in a place full of trained killers. She had then proceeded to painfully shrug on the shirt when the clambering echo of boots in the distance altered her to company. Pepa had gotten shakily to her feet and with a regretful look at El Gordo, bolted off in the opposite direction.
“Pendejo,” Pepa cursed again. She knew she couldn’t keep hold of El Gordo and still fend off what seemed like a lot of mafia men coming her way; she was already beyond exhausted, in insane amounts of pain and feeding off the last vat of adrenaline that shot feebly through her veins. Pepa knew her only hope now was Silvia. She hoped to God that her wife had managed to trace the call; it was her only chance of making it out of here alive.
“C’mon, baby. I need you,” Pepa muttered. She shifted her weight as she pressed her back as gently as she could against the cool wall, mindful of her numerous back wounds. Eyes peeled and ears perked, Pepa waited, hoping for a miracle.
************
To say that Silvia Castro-Miranda was agitated would have been an understatement. The redhead sat ramrod straight at the back of the police convoy truck, periodically yanking at her Kevlar vest, her boot attempting to tap a hole through the floor of the vehicle. It was as it Silvia had been given an overdose of amphetamine; she was the picture of restlessness. Her hands occupied itself by slamming the magazine clip in and out of her gun; her eyes were hard as granite.
Silvia about jumped out of her skin when a warm hand descended upon a very tense shoulder. She turned to see Curtis bestow a crooked grin at her. “Relax, pelirroja,” he husked. “We will get her back.” There was not but solid affirmation in his voice. Curtis did not think they would get Pepa back, he knew.
Silvia was grateful for his unyielding faith. She reached up to squeeze his hand, managing a watery smile in return. Curtis tossed her another grin before retreating, the stoic mask he always wore on missions sliding right back over his face.
“Unit 2, this is base. The perimeter is secure. Repeat: the perimeter is secure. You’re good to go.” Don Lorenzo’s voice crackled noisily through the radio set.
Curtis leaned forward and picked up the mouthpiece. “Roger that, base.” Placing the speaker back into its cradle, he signaled for Silvia to open the doors.
*************
Paco sucked in a nervous breath, feeling a trickle of sweat slide down his back despite his attempts to remain calm. His eyes took in the scene before him: three armored convoy trucks surrounded the rotting shed; the fourth was hidden behind a curtain of foliage. His team, Unit 1, encircled the derelict building, weapons poised and cocked. They were waiting for his signal for move. He heard Don Lorenzo’s disembodied voice echoed in his ear through the earpiece he wore, giving Unit 2 the green light to proceed. He turned his attention to the convoy truck on his right; he watched as the mental door swung open and Silvia emerged, hopping gracefully to the ground. She was followed by Rita, Curtis and four members of the Special Armed Forces.
Paco narrowed his eyes in concern as he took in Silvia’s agitated posture. He had been hard-pressed into letting her come; she was after all not a field agent. Nevertheless, he knew that forcing her to stay behind would have possibly been the worst thing he could have suggested. Now Sara on the other hand, he had some measure of control over. Despite her protests and near temper tantrum, Paco had been firm in assigning her to the backup team, which he fervently hoped, would not be called to assistance. He had lost enough people he cared about; there was no need to add more friends and family members to the mix.
Paco’s face hardened as the reason of why they were here permeated his brain and stuck. Nobody screwed with his family and got away with it. He felt the slow burn of adrenaline begin and let it soak into his bloodstream. It was time to get his sister back. He signaled to Curtis who nodded in confirmation. Turning back to his own team, Paco gave permission to proceed.
**************
Pepa was growing more frustrated by the minute. She wasn’t used to sitting by nature and after being tied to that damnable chair for God only knows how long, her nerves were frazzled raw. She slowly climbed to her feet, wincing as pins and needles attacked the soles of her feet and her calves. She cautiously shook each leg, helping the blood resume its normal flow. Finally pulling herself to her full height, the brunette peeked out carefully. The tunnel she was in was so far unguarded. But the silence unsettled her and she wondered just why it was empty. Nevertheless, she slowly inched her way of her hiding spot and began walking down the tunnel, hoping to find an exit. Instead, she came to a fork. Blowing out a frustrated breath, Pepa’s eyes flickered between the two paths; instinct made her choose right and she began a slow cautious walk down the dimly lit tunnel.
*************
Paco was extremely unhappy about their current circumstance. His unit was in a single file in front of him, Curtis’ bringing up the rear. The tunnel was narrow and the air musty. And it was seemingly never ending. But it was the enclosed space that had everyone’s nerves on edge; it was the ultimate nightmare, tight spaces. They were hard to defend and harder to escape. Especially when one did not know what was at the other end.
Paco released a silent breath of relief as the tunnel funneled out and broadened, the light also growing marginally brighter. The current weak orange light that lit the tunnel did not help the stout man’s already frustrated state. However, a sliver of tension eased off his shoulders when the tunnel branched out into what looked like a small assembly hall. Immediately, members of both units fanned out and began securing the three exits that were placed strategically on each of the three walls that faced them. Paco barked instructions into his mouthpiece, commanding every individual to stay at the borders of the room. Moving into the middle would have made sitting ducks of them all; it was the perfect opportunity for any foe hiding in one of those tunnels to shoot them dead.
Paco whirled around when he heard a slight scuffle of boots against the floor. He saw Silvia making her way to one of the exit tunnel entrances and hurried after her. He grabbed her by the arm just as she was about to disappear into the dimly lit area. “No, Silvia,” he said quietly, though his voice was hard as steel. He tugged her back behind the safety of one of the members of the Special Armed Forces.
Silvia wrenched her arm away from Paco’s grip. Her face was a grim mask of determination. “Paco,” she began harshly. “I’m going in there.” She pointed at the tunnel. “You can come with me or not.” Her tone brooked no argument.
Paco opened his mouth, ready to instill some emotional blackmail onto the stubborn redhead when Curtis’ yell of “GET DOWN!” sent everybody into a frenzy. The last thing Paco knew as he heard the sound of something metallic skidding across the floor was Silvia yanking him into the confines of the tunnel.