The Right to Love - Part 2

[lenageek]

Title: The Right to Love

Spoilers: Takes place after ep 101 (8x09) after Pepa and Silvia have become engaged. This is a sequel to my previous PepSi fanfic, In Love’s Defense. My fic follows LHDP up to ep 101 but departs from the show at that point - ep 104 never has and never will exist in this version of Pepa and Silvia’s world.

Rating: PG-13. Some celebration, but then a few characters starting to go through some heavy stuff!

Pairing: Pepa/Silvia (Spanish cops in uniform make me weak in the knees!)

Summary: As Pepa and Silvia deal with the aftermath of their encounter with El Gordo, a new case comes forward that challenges their rights as well as their lives.

A/N/Disclaimer: The characters of LHDP aren’t mine. My apologies for the long break in between parts, but writing this story so far is going so frikkin’ slow for me! Frustrating as hell. Anyway, if there are any readers out there, enjoy!

[ Part 1]


The main room of the precinct was abuzz with the happy sounds of music playing, voices exclaiming with excited chatter, boisterous laughter and the clinking of glasses. A long table had been set up with various tapas, beers, and wine that had been catered by Lizarran. Everyone in the precinct from the trainees to Don Lorenzo was gladly taking advantage of the break in a normally hectic workday to continue the celebration of what the commissioner called ‘our own San Antonio heroes’. Normally, he would be the least receptive to having a party on the premises, but Don Lorenzo was uncharacteristically laid-back on this occasion. “After all -” he kept repeating proudly to anyone that would listen. “It’s not every day that mi hijas receive the Order of Police Merit!”

A strident clanking reverberated throughout the room as Curtis picked up a fork, knocking it against his beer bottle. “Atención, atención, por favor!”

“Curtis, your fro and your manhood already stand at attention! You don’t need keep poking us in the eye with it!” Kike shouted from across the room, which erupted into a chorus of hoots and whistled catcalls.

“Oh, you think you’re so smart, eh?” Curtis pointed the fork at his fellow agent before raising his bottle. “I’d like to propose a toast. To us! To familia!”

“To familia!” Everyone cheered, raising their drinks.

Pepa and Silvia clinked their beer bottles together, each taking a healthy swallow of the pale, frothy beverage. Pepa’s fingers grasped onto Silvia’s tie, pulling her close and managing to sneak in a lengthy kiss.

“Ah, enough of that chicas!” Don Lorenzo’s rough tone compelled Pepa away from a very pleasant exploration of her lover’s mouth. The older man inserted himself between the couple, jokingly waving his hand to separate the two from their embrace. “What’s the matter, you don’t have time to give your padre a hug?”

“No, of course not Papa!” Silvia accepted his embrace and a kiss on the forehead. She leaned into her father’s side, the comforting smells of the starch of his shirt and aftershave taking her back to her childhood and being in the same paternal hold many times over.

“No matter how smart you get or how many awards you receive, you’re still my little girl. I’m so honored, not just as a commanding officer but as a father.” Don Lorenzo said quietly, watching his daughter squirm under doting words.

“It was just a medal, Papa.” Silvia tried to modestly deflect her father’s words, in an effort to keep the joyful tears from spilling out of her eyes. “You’ve received the Order of Police Merit, what, six times?”

“And I’m sure you’ll have me soundly beat at the end of your career, hija.”

Pepa smiled, visibly touched to see the constant affection between her adopted father and her fiancé. “I see now that it’s all a conspiracy Papa!” She shook an admonishing finger at Don Lorenzo. “You just interrupt us on purpose so you can steal Silvia away from me!”

“Now, now, no need to be jealous, cariño!” Silvia grasped her partner around her waist with her free hand, hugging the two people she loved the most for all she was worth. “There’s plenty of me to go around!”

“Gracias a dios for that!” Pepa agreed, reveling in the warmth of her family. She glanced around the room, and then gently disengaged from Silvia’s grip, scanning the faces behind her. “Dónde esta Paco?”

“No lo sé. I haven’t seen him.” Silvia shrugged, realizing that Paco had been absent for the hour they’d been back at the precinct.

The tall agent craned her neck, finally spotting her brother through the large windows that lead into his office. He had his nose buried in a file, his palm thumping his forehead in exasperation.

“Dios!” Pepa snorted. “Why is he being such a workaholic? I’ll drag that loco brother of mine out here kicking and screaming if I have to. It’s a party after all!”

Paco’s head jerked up at the knock at his door before it opened and his sister entered. His mouth lifted into a half smile as he saw that her previously immaculate appearance had become purposely disheveled - the jacket was unbuttoned, the tie completely unknotted and slung around her neck, her hair down and free flowing across her shoulders. She looked casually rumpled and comfortable as she plopped into a chair in front of the desk, propping a booted foot up on the corner of the furniture.

“You’d better be careful, hermana.” He jokingly warned her, as he gestured with a pen to the medal that was now dangling precariously off her open jacket. “You don’t want to lose that.”

The brunette grinned as she lifted her bottle of Corona to her lips for another drink. “Silvia was giving me a hard time about how I wanted to get the damn uniform off as soon as I was done with the press. Meanwhile, hers is still spotless.”

“Ah, that sounds like Silvia.” Paco observed. He was still intrigued at how his sister and the fiery redhead could have such opposite dispositions and still be so attracted to each other.

“No, actually she thinks I look sexy like this too!” Pepa blew a breath upwards, chasing a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Usually she’s the one who just about rips my clothes off! In the locker room, the shower, the lab…”

The inspector’s white handkerchief appeared as Paco flailed wildly, embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Urk! That’s too much information, little sister! Mierda! I don’t need to know every fucking detail!”

Pepa threw back her head and laughed, thoroughly amused. “So -” She gestured with her beer bottle towards the crowd of their colleagues through the glass. “Qué pasa? Why aren’t you at the party?”

“Because -” Paco’s face abruptly darkened, his expression becoming stony as he angrily slapped the file folder closed. “I don’t expect or deserve any celebration. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Paco -” Now deeply concerned, the agent leaned forward in her chair. “Neither Silvia or I blame you for -”

“No, no, hermana.” Paco mumbled as he shuffled more papers in front of him, deliberately avoiding her steady gaze. “How can you be sure? I’m sure Silvia hates me for almost killing the one she loves.”

Pepa reached out to steady her brother’s trembling hands. “Because I know.” Her voice resonated earnestly. “Silvia told me what you talked about when I was unconscious.”

The inspector found the nerve to look into his sister’s sympathetic brown eyes that mirrored his own. “And what about you?” His stomach lurched as he asked the question out loud that had been tormenting him through weeks of sleepless nights.

The tall woman stood and quickly rounded the desk to take Paco’s large frame in her arms, feeling him clutch at her desperately as a sob choked from his throat.

“I could never hate you, hermano.” She reassured him in a soft, heartfelt voice as she pressed a kiss on his hair. “Do we have the reputation as the most fucked up precinct sometimes? Have we had our share of screw ups? Absolutely.” She pulled away and took his head in her hands, looking him square in the eye to make her point. “But, I refuse to let you take the blame for this.”

Paco gave her a wan smile as he blotted at his eyes. “I admit, that’ll be easier said than done. I can’t let go of this overnight. But, gracias Pepa. Gracias for telling me.”

Pepa blinked away her own tears, emotionally exhausted at the maelstrom of emotions her family was going through today. “Come here!” Paco stood as they hugged tightly again, his sister rubbing his back comfortingly.

A tentative knock sounded on the door, as Silvia poked her head in.

“Lo siento -” she apologized, sensing the serious atmosphere that hung in the air. “Pepa, can I see you for a minute?”

“Claro.” Pepa palmed her brother’s face affectionately. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Sí, sí, I’ll be fine.” The inspector smiled gratefully at the understanding look Silvia gave him as she held the door open for her partner.

Paco sat back down heavily in his chair, his restless fingers playing with the pen as he tapped it on the thick folder of the El Gordo file he’d been studying. He glanced through the window, watching as Silvia introduced Pepa to a petite slip of a blonde-haired woman. Idly, but with increasing attention, Paco saw the visitor talking with his sister in silent conversation for several long minutes. Pepa’s expression gradually softened from an initial reluctance to kind compassion. Gesturing for the woman to wait, the agent came and reopened Paco’s door.

“Hermano.” The inspector could sense his sister’s indecision. “There’s a visitor here who wants to see you. I tried to explain that you were busy, but she really wants to talk specifically to you.” Pepa bit her lip hesitantly. “It has to do with the El Gordo case, but I just don’t want you to get too upset again...”

“Pepa, let her come in.” Paco sighed as he waved his hand forward. “It’s okay. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

Pepa nodded. “Vale.”

The agent let the young woman in as she sat in front of his desk and Paco was left facing her, alone. The inspector was internally shocked at how much older this woman looked close up - her hair was fashioned in a short, stylish cut, she was neatly attired in a floral summer print dress. But her eyes reflected a maturity that went beyond her tender years - two shiny green, brilliant flecks that reflected deep pools of grief and hard-won wisdom.

“Hola, I’m Inspector Miranda.” Paco extended his hand, which was taken in a light grip. “I was told you wanted to speak to me.”

“Sí. Gracias. I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this. I was at the ceremony today, but I just wanted to thank you personally for your work on this case.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly. “I’m Marisol Torres, Gabriel Torres’ wife. He was the delivery man that was killed when your team raided the warehouse.”

Dios mío! Paco’s eyes bulged and began to water as he recalled the innocent bystander who was shot and killed right in front of him as the first fatality of the firefight between the CNP and El Gordo’s men. She’s looks no older than Sara, and now she’s a widow!

“Lo siento, Señora Torres, lo siento for your loss!” Paco agonized as he came around his desk and knelt in front of her chair, his voice cracking. “This was my case, and I take full responsibility for what you’ve had to endure.”

Marisol’s tears joined Paco’s, yet she gazed steadfastly at him, breaking into a soft smile. “I came here to thank you for capturing and bringing to justice those that killed her husband, not to blame you. I just talked with your sister. She told me you’d hold yourself accountable, and I wanted you to know that it’s not necessary.”

“No, but it was my case. I’m supposed to protect and serve the public and I failed.”

“It was your fault that Gabriel was in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Marisol’s smile faltered for a second, but she forged on. “I don’t think so, Inspector Miranda. You didn’t pull the trigger, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I could have saved him, I should have saved him, even at the expense of my own life.” Paco insisted stubbornly.

“The fact that you tell me that means that you’re an honorable and decent man. Just like my husband.” The young woman took Paco’s hand, which he clutched gratefully. “And believe me, Inspector, there have been many times why I ask this happened. Why God had to call Gabriel home so soon, but it must be for a reason, no? And I don’t think the reason was for you to torture yourself.”

Paco nodded, speechless, as he bent his head, tears running freely down his cheeks.

“Can I ask something of you, Inspector?”

“Sí, sí, anything!” Paco exclaimed. “Do you have family to take care of you? A counselor or a priest?”

“Sí, I have family taking care of me, thank you for asking.” Marisol tenderly placed her fingers under Paco’s chin, compelling him to look into her empathetic gaze. “Will you come with me to visit Gabriel’s resting place? It’s a beautiful day, and I’d like to introduce him to one of the heroes of the San Antonio precinct.”

“Claro que sí.” Paco assented. They two stood, as Paco blotted his face with his damp handkerchief, visibly gathering himself as he straightened his shoulders. He adjusted his tie and made sure the buttons on his jacket were fastened. “I’d be honored to.”

The inspector courteously offered Marisol the crook of his arm which she accepted, placing a slim hand on his elbow. Settling his hat on his head, Paco exited his office, the epitome of poise and dignity as he escorted his guest out of the room. On the way, he caught Pepa’s concerned eye, as he nodded assuredly, giving her a wink.

Gracias, hermana. Paco mused to himself, thankful beyond measure for his family. Gracias for helping me to heal.

___

Silvia clicked off the light in the bathroom, having finished her nightly ritual of getting ready for bed. Barefoot, she padded softly into the bedroom to see Pepa struggling with a cap on a bottle of prescription pills, her tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Here let me get that for you, cariño.” Silvia joined Pepa on their bed as she took the small orange pill bottle. She exchanged the small container for a glass of water. “That’s got to be a pain to do one-handed.”

“You have no idea.” Pepa agreed. Normally, she’d be embarrassed and almost short tempered to accept help with such a simple thing. But she was never that way in front of Silvia, the one person she allowed to see her in any state, no matter how vulnerable she was.

“Gracias. You’re a lifesaver.” The brunette gratefully accepted the pills her fiancé placed in her palm, tipping her head back as she washed them down with a large swallow.

“Ah, so you admit that you’re more than just ‘a little sore’.” Silvia observed, raising a red eyebrow pointedly.

“Hey, I’m just taking my antibiotics and pain pills as the cute pelirroja doctor ordered!” Pepa put the glass down on a nearby nightstand and threaded her fingers through the red locks, bringing her fiancé in for a sweet kiss that reverberated pleasantly throughout her tired muscles.

“Now that’s the best kind of medicine.” Silvia said softly, nuzzling Pepa’s nose. She sat back and unfastened the strap that held her partner’s sling in place. “Here, let me see that arm.”

Pepa gazed lovingly at the bent head of her fiancé as she carefully ran nimble, trained fingers over her skin. Silvia always had a cool, professional detachment as a doctor, but only with Pepa were her physical exams tempered with extra tender care and scrutiny for the tiniest affliction. Slowly, the agent felt her arm gently stretched out as Silvia tested its mobility.

“So, my arm’s not going to have to come off?” The brunette half-joked.

“No, you’ll live.” Silvia pressed a tender kiss near the healing scar made from the bullet that had punctured an artery and come within a hair’s breadth of taking Pepa’s life. She lightly traced the faint scars left on the agent’s temple and brow from the additional wounds she’d sustained. “How’s your head? No headaches or blurred vision?”

“No, nothing for almost two weeks.” Pepa took Silvia’s hand, squeezing it lightly, sensing her lover’s need for her tactile touch and comfort.

A relived sigh. “Vale. As your doctor, I declare that you can leave the sling off. Just keep up with your physical therapy and exercises so the muscles don’t stiffen or freeze.”

“Gracias a dios! Finally!” Pepa playfully huffed. She pulled the smaller woman to her for another kiss. “I’m just glad I’ve been fit enough for other things.” Long fingers wandered under the light cotton shirt Silvia wore, grazing warm, soft skin.

“Mmm.” Silvia hummed happily as she fell into Pepa’s embrace, leaning her head against a strong shoulder. “It was a great day today, wasn’t it?”

“Sí.” Pepa continued her light touches, kissing the red locks under her chin. “It was just nice to be with friends and familia. That’s the best thing.”

“No, what was nice was to see you be the center of attention.” Silvia teased as she sat up and moved stray bangs out of Pepa’s eyes.

“What, that thing?” Pepa gestured towards the nightstand where their medals sat in a pair of velour display boxes. “That, that means nothing.” She cupped Silvia’s cheek in her palm, watching the dark, gorgeous eyes opposite her shining with ardor. “It’s you, princesa. Mi familia. That means everything.”

“For me too.” The redhead agreed softly.

“Speaking of familia, I’m still worried about Paco.” Pepa’s face furrowed in concern. “He didn’t come back to the precinct after he met with Señora Torres. I just hope he’s okay.”

“Go and talk to him tomorrow. See how he is.” Silvia moved behind Pepa, gently enfolding her in her arms. Her thumb comfortingly stroked the firm stomach through the ribbed cotton tank top the taller woman was wearing. “We’ll all help him through this. Just keep reminding him of the familia he has.”

“Ha! I knew that I was marrying a smart one!” The brunette laughed as the fingers on her stomach tickled her lightly.

“It’s about time you admitted that!” Silvia grinned as she pulled Pepa back and settled the covers over them.

More giggles, muffled shrieks of laughter and frenzied motions continued under the mound of blankets. It was a while before either woman was able to fall asleep.

___

The light was beyond white, beyond blinding. It was a piercing, formless glare that stabbed through her closed eyelids relentlessly, making her flinch and her stomach heave uneasily. She tried to lift a hand to attempt to block some of the dazzling glare but found that it was so unyieldingly bright, she couldn’t even see her own fingers in front of her.

The brightness abruptly disappeared with a whoosh that sucked the air out of her lungs. Gasping, she slowly regained her breath, as she turned in small circles to get her bearings. And shook her head in terrified denial. No. No, I can’t be here again!

Two tall industry shipping containers surrounded her, stretching up several meters, above which was an intricate, dusty lattice of crossbeams, catwalks and lamps suspended from the ceiling. Silvia inhaled painfully, recognizing that she was in the warehouse where the shootout with El Gordo’s men had taken place. She glanced down, noting that her gun rested in her hand. She could tell by the weight that it was loaded. But her weapon that was normally an extension of her own body, instead felt clunky and unwieldy - a useless piece of metal that would do nothing to ease the sick feeling of dread she felt creeping into her gut.

Dios! Pepa! Dónde esta, cariño? Silvia’s mind cried, the panicky feeling spreading upwards throughout her chest. She turned her head, feeling the breath leave her again, tears unconsciously springing to her eyes.

A tall, burly form stood over a recognizable prone body, an automatic rifle aimed at the helpless figure. Silvia blanched as the head turned, revealing the features of Paolo DeLuca, the mafioso that had shot her partner. She could see every detail of his face - every mole, his craggy, stubble-laden cheeks, and longish brown hair was coiffed and slicked back. His cold, azure eyes seemed to burn a hole through her as he smiled a horrible smile. It was devoid of any humor but instead expressed his absolute, unadulterated pleasure at what he was about to do.

“Lo siento, Inspectora Castro.” DeLuca’s voice echoed terribly in Silvia’s ears. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be any use to your little bitch this time.”

The blood thrummed through her ears as Silvia tried to lift her gun, even as she saw DeLuca’s hand tighten on the trigger. It proved useless as the firearm seemed to pull on her arm like a dead weight, her muscles straining regardless, to fire the weapon.

“You son of a bitch! I killed you! This is just a dream!”

DeLuca’s expression remained unchanged by her words. “Well, see how much of a dream this feels like.”

Silvia’s mouth opened in a soundless scream as the sound of gunfire tore through space, watching as Pepa’s body jerked spasmodically as multiple rounds impacted her chest. Suddenly, with the unexplainable shifting, formless flash of a dream, she found herself kneeling at Pepa’s side. As before, she ripped off Pepa’s bulletproof vest, but found her shirt covered with blood. The sticky, crimson fluid seeped rapidly out of three bullet holes, one in the stomach and two in the chest.

No, no, those bullets weren’t armor piercing rounds! She wasn’t shot there! It didn’t happen this way! Silvia agonized, even as her hands tried fruitlessly to staunch the flow of blood.

Hands grabbed at her, familiar, desperate, that she dimly recognized as her father and Paco. Muffled shouting echoed through her head as she felt herself clutched tightly to her father’s chest, even as her arms failed frantically, trying to break out of the unyielding grasp. Her body jolted simultaneously with Pepa’s as the paramedics shocked the agent over and over again with a defibrillator, the tall woman’s body convulsing reflexively with the powerful electric shocks.

As the paramedics called the time of death, giving small, sad shakes of their heads, Silvia finally managed to break free of her father’s hold. Violently, she shoved the uniformed men aside as they attempted to place an insulated wrapper over Pepa’s motionless, blood-spattered form.  She cradled the still warm body to her own, her head thrown back as she found her voice only to…

…scream, her voice a tortured, keening wail. Bolting straight up, Silvia clawed her way free from tangled, sweaty sheets, the blood still hammering excruciatingly in her ears. She hardly felt her body impact the floor as she fell out of bed with a heavy thump, her right arm and hip painfully absorbing most of the blow as they skidded across the carpet. Blindly, she crawled to the bathroom, the cool tiles of the floor a shock to her oversensitive skin. She managed to make it to the toilet just in time as her stomach heaved out its contents.

Slowly, Silvia managed to stand on legs that she barely trusted to hold her weight as she sagged against the counter. Fumbling for the handle on the sink, she turned on the water and shakily rinsed her mouth, washing away the sour taste of bile that still lingered in the back of her throat.

A light touch to her shoulder made her whirl around in shock as her heart rate spiked again, only to be faced with Pepa’s utterly confused and worried expression.

“Oh God!” The inspector cried out, a guttural sound squeezed from her tensed, churning insides. She took her fiancé in a crushing embrace, her hands constantly running up and down her back and shoulders, her fingers confirming the solid, breathing reality that was her Pepa. “You’re alive, you’re alive!”

“Shh. Princesa. I’m right here.” Pepa frowned deeply as she held the shaking body close to her own, continuing to whisper comforting words in her ear. She’d heard Silvia mention nightmares in the past few weeks but had never seen her experience such a violent, frightening reaction to one.

After several long minutes, the brunette managed to gently disengage Silvia’s iron grip on her body, compelling her fiancé to look into her eyes, as she pushed tangled red strands of hair away from tearstained cheeks. “I was so scared when I heard you scream. Estás bien, cariño? Did you hurt yourself?”

“N-no.” The smaller woman shook her head, her voice now quivering as much as her muscles were. “Can you just hold me?”

“Claro. Ven aquí, let’s get back in bed.”

Pepa led Silvia back into the bedroom, resettling the sheets over both of them before taking her lover in a firm, comforting hold. Her heart broke as she felt Silvia burrow her head into her right shoulder, her body shuddering with quiet sobs.

“Silvia, I’m not going anywhere.” The brunette swallowed thickly, trying to keep her own voice from cracking. “It’s all right, I’m fine.”

“Noo…” An agonized moan, as the redhead’s fingers clutched convulsively at Pepa’s tank top. “I tried so hard! I tried so hard to save you, but it all meant nothing! There was so much blood…”

“You did save me, you did…” Pepa murmured in her most soothing tone, cradling Silvia’s face in her hands. “I’m here because of you, for you, Silvia. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Silvia tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, her frayed thoughts and emotions still trying to reconcile her nightmare with the living, breathing woman that was holding her. “Lo siento. Lo siento, Pepa.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for -”

“I want to believe that.” Another shaky breath, as Silvia felt Pepa gently thumb her constant flow of tears away, her hand moving down to cup her aching hip. “But I’m afraid to fall asleep. I don’t want to have the dreams waiting for me, to see you die in my arms again.”

“Listen to me, princesa.” Pepa’s voice was firm, but reassuring, her brown eyes full of affectionate compassion as she gazed squarely into Silvia’s eyes. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to hold you all night and wait for you to fall asleep. So I’ll be in your dreams with you, loving you, just like I do when you’re awake. And I’ll do it every night, for the rest of our lives if you want me to.”

Silvia’s fingers sought out Pepa’s face in the darkness, her fingers tracing her lips which curved into a soft, tender smile. “Te quiero, Pepa.” She sighed, exhausted as she felt her heart rate slow.

“Te quiero, mi amor.” Came the immediate response. “Try to rest, vale?”

“V - vale.”

Pepa pulled Silvia so close, she swore she couldn’t tell where she ended and Silvia began. It took another hour and several stops and starts on Silvia’s part until she calmed down enough to be able to relax, her fatigued body craving sleep. Only when Pepa was assured that her partner was completely at rest, her ribs rising in deep, easy breaths, did she let her own tears show. They trickled down her cheeks and into her ears as her head sank back into the pillow, unrelenting.

Oh God! Pepa cried out to any deity that was listening. Por favor, por favor, help mi Silvia!