Summary: When Liz gets a hold of some serious evidence against the infamous druglord, she is afraid and doesn’t know what to do. Will there be anyone, who will be able to help her?
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 2.7K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“Shit!” you said as you looked at the clock and realized that you were already late. “Fuck!”
You ran to the bathroom and brushed your teeth with incredible speed. You grabbed your bag, shoved a sandwich and a bottle of water in it, then you searched for a new pair of pants while hastily combing your hair with your shaky fingers. God, you could have killed for a cigarette.
Ignoring the mess in the living room and leaving behind an agressively ringing telephone, you ran out of the house, down the stairs and out to the street. Just then did you remember that your car had been towed away the night before. You grunted in frustration, then started running to the bus stop, checking your watch in every second. You turned right at the corner and made it just in time to be able to catch your breath before stepping on to the arriving vehicle.
Mondays were not your favourite, let’s just put it that way. You had been out the night before, saying - and drinking - goodbye to your sister, visiting from home. You looked up at the sky as though you could see her plane leaving for Seattle. You already missed her. All of a sudden you felt miserably alone.
There was no time to drown yourself in self-pity; you had to hurry to catch the next bus at the intersection of the mall. Trying to ignore your hammering headache, you found a seat and leaned against the window, resting your temple on the cool glass.
“Buenos dias,” you said twenty minutes later, arriving at the park. “Sorry, the bus was late.”
“They are ready for you,” said the director with a heavy accent, pointing at the two women in summer clothing, surrounded by the crew and their artificial lights. You nodded and stepped to the fountain, grabbing your camera from your bag.
Being a photographer was the best decision you had made in your life, and coming to Colombia was the second best. You loved your job and loved the country that you were able to work in. The culture, the people, the food and basically everything just drew you to itself, and you happily let it take you away. Sarah - your sister - didn’t understand. She said you’d have hundreds of places in the U.S. where you could work as a photographer. She said living here was dangerous, especially with everything that was going on all over the country. But you didn’t care. You loved it. You had only been here for a year and a half, but you felt like you never wanted to leave. Not without a good reason, anyway.
You were working in deep concentration, taking a break every now and then to wait for the models to change outfits. Now, as it was close to noon, more and more people started to gather around, just watching what you were doing, or sitting down onto benches, enjoying the sunlight. Children were playing, dogs were barking and you just couldn’t feel happier in that moment.
While the crew made some tidying touches on the models’ make up, you lifted your camera again and started taking pictures of the liveliness. You took a picture of the fountain with some birds drinking from its water, then turned around and took a quick shot of two kids playing swordfight with some sticks. You laughed to yourself and kept taking pictures; an old couple walking hand in hand, two men next to a car shaking hands, a dog sniffing something on the ground then running away, and a bald guy with kind smile handing out ice cream from a foodtruck.
“Take a break Liz, or you’ll exhaust yourself with all that work.”
Hearing the familiar voice, you turned around with a small smile on your lips.
“Danilo!” you laughed at the man. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I’m not on duty today. I thought I’d take a walk,” he said, and pointed at the camera. “Anything good?”
“Just the usual,” you answered and nodded towards the models, who were almost ready. Danilo took one short look at them and snorted.
“Not the ideal beauty if you ask me.”
You raised and eyebrow.
“Why, what’s the ideal beauty for you?”
As soon as you asked the question, you regretted it. You had met Danilo the day you moved to Bogotá, and it was clear from the first moment that he fancied you. There had been some misunderstanding with your papers, so you had gone to the police station to clear up the case. That’s were you had seen each other for the first time. He had been working there for a time now, and since that day he asked you out several times. It always ended with you saying no. You didn’t know what it was, but you didn’t feel the same way towards him. You liked him, but not romantically. He was a nice friend.
“I’m just saying…” he continued, half jokingly, “…that I know a very nice restaurant around the corner. Maybe we could —”
“I’m sorry,” you said, casting down your eyes. “But I…”
“Don’t have the time?” he guessed. You could see that he was disappointed. You nodded, this time looking into his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
He locked eyes with you for a moment, then something changed on his face and he was smiling again.
“Well, I guess I just have to wait for my time.”
You swallowed. You knew his time would never come. And you had told him that several times before.
“Yeah… Listen, I’ve got to go back to work,” you said, heading towards the returning models. “See you around, okay?”
Danilo nodded. He squeezed your shoulder, then waved goodbye with a smile.
“See you around, Liz.”
Then he left, his hands in his pockets.
——
At home you went over the negatives first, holding them in front of the window. Then, you put them in a little container and walked to a nearby shop to have them developed. You always liked to see the pictures before sending them in to the magazine; it just gave you certainty that you had done a great job.
After getting back to the house, you talked with Sarah on the phone, then tidied up the house a little bit before making some dinner. Then, you just sat on the couch and ate undercooked pasta while watching some soap opera on the TV. It was in Spanish, naturally. You groaned to yourself. All these months that you had spent here and you still didn’t learn Spanish. You knew basic words, but you just simply didn’t have the time to put more effort into it. You felt ashamed and switched the channel.
It was the evening news, and they were talking about a plane crash that happened not a long time ago. You sat in quiet, glued to the screen. They showed footage; the iron pieces of a plane. Clothes lying on the ground. Bodies. You couldn’t blink. The reporter was saying something else. You could only understand one thing of what she was saying: Pablo Escobar.
Then, the footage changed and two man was talking in a studio. At once, a mugshot-like picture of a young man appeared on the screen, with a text and an amount of money printed under his name. You didn’t need a translation to know that he was associated with the crimes happening in the country. He also seemed oddly familiar to you.
You turned off the TV and tried to get some sleep. Tomorrow you would get the photos and send the really nice ones to your boss. You yawned. You could only hope that he’d like them. Maybe then you’d be able to get a raise and buy a new couch. The old one was a bit lumpy…
You slept and dreamed about planes and models.
——
When you woke up in the morning, you were more tired than ever. You hadn’t slept well, and you couldn’t forget that man in the news, who was so familiar to you. You didn’t know how, and there was a chance that you didn’t even want to know. You just wanted to forget his face and live on.
After lunch you went to get the photographs and the negatives, then getting some snacks and turning on the TV again for some background noise, you started looking over your yesterday’s work. It was pretty good… well, it was actually great. You liked the colors and the background, and you liked the style of the dresses the women wore. After putting the best ones separately and sealing the envelope, you turned to the TV only to see the that mistery man again. You frowned and reached for the remote to turn it off, but something stopped you. They were showing now pictures of hundreds of white packages. Pure cocaine. Then they were showing a map, a certain area marked with red. You recognized the area as the park from yesterday. Then, they showed the same young man as yesterday.
Something hit you and you felt electricity coursing through your body. You jumped back to the table, hastily shuffling the remaining pictures around. Yes! You found it. It was a picture of the two men that you shot yesterday, while randomly taking pictures of your surroundings before Danilo showed up. They were there; two men, standing next to a blue car. The licence plate of the car was perfectly captured, and only now did you relize that what you had thought to be a handshake between the two men carried some deeper meaning. Their face was visible - one of them was the man shown in the news. He was the one that they were looking for.
Sitting in fearful silence, your whole apartment felt uneasy. What should you do? You didn’t know much about policework, but you knew that you have something very valuable in your hands. You quickly turned the picture facing down as if someone could see it from the street outside. You swallowed nervously. What should you do?
——
“I’m here to see Danilo López,” you said to the receptionist at the police station and hoped that you would be able to get things over with quickly. Your hand was shaking nervously and you were craving for cigarettes.
“Liz! What are you doing here?” Danilo’s face darkened as he saw your anxious expression. “Is everything okay?”
“I… I need to talk to you,” you said, quickly glancing around. “Can I talk to you?”
“Of course,” he nodded and luckily didn’t ask any more questions until he stepped into a small room with only one table. “So, what’s happening?”
“This,” you said and took a carefully wrapped envelope from your bag and handed it to him. He opened it and took a look at the picture. For a moment he stared at it, then frowned.
“What am I seeing, exactly?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“Them. I saw them in the news. I mean, him,” you pointed at the man on the right. “And I’m sure he is the one that they’re looking for.”
“What makes you so certain?” he asked. It made you nervous, him not understanding what you just discovered. You gave out a shaky chuckle.
“Look at him! His face was all over the news. They showed pictures of cocaine and were talking about Escobar!” You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, then continued. “I think this is serious evidence. I think this other man should be investigated.”
You tried to sound determined, but you knew that Danilo could read the nervousness in your voice. He nodded.
“I agree. But why did you bring this to me? Why didn’t you show this to a captain?”
You stared at him, then glanced towards the doorway. You whispered.
“You said once that there are a lot of dirty cops.”
He stared back and you had no idea what was on his mind. Then, his face softened.
“You did right. Hey, Liz…” he gently grabbed your shoulder and made you turn to him again. “You did great. Don’t be afraid. I’ll make sure… I’ll make sure to get this to the right people.”
He looked at the picture again, but you were too scared to let it go out of your hands. You took it back with a sudden move, crinkling it a little in the middle.
“How about I’ll keep it safe? Just… Just until you’ll know exactly what to do with it.”
Danilo looked at you with some sort of caring in his eyes. He was thinking for a long time, then finally nodded.
“That’s also fine with me. But be careful. Don’t show this to anyone else, do you understand? No one.”
“Okay. I won’t.”
“Good,” he said, then took your arm and gently guided you towards the hallway. “I can come over tomorrow if you’d like. I might figure out something by then.”
“Sure,” you answered, but your stomach was in a knot. “Thanks, Danilo.”
“Anytime,” he said, squeezing your shoulder before letting you go.
You left the police station with great relief. When inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that all eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. Outside was a bit better. You gently touched your bag, making sure that the envelope with the picture was there, then started walking on the street. You didn’t want to go home just yet; you wanted to walk off this tension in your body. And mostly, you wanted to think.
You liked Danilo and he was a good cop, but letting the picture out of your hands was out of the question. You had stached the negatives at home, hiding them under the cupboard in the living room, just in case. You were scared, and intimitated by the amount of power you suddenly had by this tiny photograph.
You were scared to use it. You knew how many were fighting against druglords and smugglers. And you knew that the fight against Escobar was still heavy. You were scared of what that picture might do to you. But you also felt shame when considered doing nothing with it.
And suddenly, you knew exactly what you needed to do.
——
Javier was not having a good day. Ever since the Avianca plane was bombed, the morale of the DEA was in serious decline. Gaviria was in constant danger, fires and vandalism was the daily routine of the country, and now the kidnapping of Colombia’s most famous reporter was the news that everyone was talking about. Javier took one long look at the board filled with names and pictures of Escobar’s suspected associates, then sighed to himself and closed his eyes for a moment. He was in serious need of some sleep. Or some alcohol.
There was a knock on the door and he looked up, the sudden brightness of the vibrant lightbulbs huring his eyes. There was a young man, Acosta standing there, peaking in the room.
“Agent Peña! There’s someone here for you,” he said in Spanish and Javier groaned.
“For me? Who is it?”
Acosta shook his head.
“She said she wants to talk to an agent. She won’t say why. She’s American.”
“Send Murphy.”
“Agent Murphy’s already left, sir.”
That son of a bitch.
“Where is she?”
“Delirio.”
Javier closed his eyes again and massaged the throbbing point in his temple.
“Fine. I’ll be right there.”
Acosta left and Javier was left alone with his board. He did not want to talk to any American. He was not interested in anything other than putting a bullet into each of the heads of the men on the board.
He stood up, grabbed his packet of cigarettes, then stepped out to the hallway. He headed for a tiny room which was kept up for especially cases like this. At the DEA they called it la oficina de delirio. The office of delusion. The name had stuck, because most of the time they would question people there who came in from the streets, claiming to have important information, then proceeding to tell a gossip that was the biggest bullshit the DEA had ever heard.
Javier stopped in front of the office and glanced through the window while placing a cigarette in his mouth. She was a nervous looking young woman, maybe in her late twenties. She was holding on to a small bag, squeezing it while staring at the table she was sitting at. Her right leg was shaking. Javier inhaled the smoke and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
“So…” he started out in English, locking eyes with the woman. “What do we have here?”
Summary: As Liz starts working at the DEA she and Peña are getting to know each other a bit more.
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 2K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“And just a signiture there,” said the woman, pointing at the bottom of the page. You signed it. “And we’re done. Welcome to the DEA.”
You sighed and put down the pen. The last two weeks had been the most unusual period of your life. Peña had to arrange millions of things, had to talk to the right people and basically create a new title of work, that you could use on your papers. According to this, you were ‘Elizabeth Landon - DEA Associate, Evidence Photographer Assistant.’ Yes, it was a mouthful. The last of the paperworks lied in front of you on the table, from where a woman with grey hair collected them. She sent another smile towards you, then left.
“So?” a familiar voice came from behind you. “Everything all right?”
“Hey,” the tense feeling in your stomach loosened a bit. It was good to see someone you had actually met before.
Peña walked in and grabbed your brand new ID badge from the table.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“I… have no idea. Really.” You looked at the badge. “I still have a part-time job at the magazine. I won’t be doing much around here. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a piece of plastic.”
“A very valuable piece of plastic,” he sat on the table and looked up at you from there. “We filed the photograph. Thank you.”
You nodded and casted down your eyes. You knew you made the right decision. It was still frightening. Peña probably felt your mood change, because he stood up.
“Want me to show you around?”
You nodded thankfully.
“Sure!”
“Come on,” he indicated towards the door with his head, then followed you outside. “This way.”
You went through a wide hallway and ended up in a big room with a bunch of tables and agents talking or running around. Phone were ringing, printers were buzzing, and someone laughed loudly in the moment that you stepped in.
“All cramped up here,” Peña nodded and walked further in. “That’s Gonzáles, that’s Muñoz and Valencia. That’s my table and this - this handsome gentleman is Murphy. My second. Definitely under me in rank.”
“Fuck off, Peña,” said Murphy. He was buried in some paperwork. You chuckled and he looked up. “Oh, hey. Evidence Photographer, am I right?”
“Something like that,” you said. “Elizabeth Landon. Liz.”
You shook hands.
“I was just showing her around,” Peña said, looking over Murphy’s shoulder and checking out what he was doing. “We already have the riport of this.”
“Yeah, I’m just looking for something.”
“What?”
“Something we might haven’t noticed before.”
Peña looked over the papers himself. His face was in deep concentration and you started to understand, why was he chosen for the job he was doing. He nodded to himself, then patted Murphy on the back.
“Save a few pages for me as well. Come on, Landon. Over there.”
You were glad that you could continue the tour, because you didn’t want to be a burden while they were looking over staff.
“So, you’re starting tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” you said, following him on the corridor.
“Good. This is the darkroom, on the left. Unfortunately you’ll actually have to work sometimes,” he smirked to himself. Then the two of you turned right. “And this is your office. Well, not only yours, I guess.”
You stepped into the small room which was three size smaller than the one Peña, Murphy and all those other agents had. This one had only one window, and had three tables in it, of which two was already occupied. There was no one sitting at the tables at the moment, but they were packed with all kinds of papers and folders.
“Well, that’s it, basically,” Peña said, looking around, not exactly impressed. “I’m afraid I cannot show you the rest.”
“Out of my jurisdiction as Evidence Photographer Assistant?” you nodded with a grimace. “No, I get it. I mean, this is nice. If we just… throw away all this garbage, get new chair and tables, and hit an other whole in the wall as window, then I think that would really cheer up the place.”
Peña let out a small and short laugh. Then he looked at his watch.
“I’ll be heading out soon.”
“Oh…,” you said awkwardly. “Sure. Fine. Thank you for this.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “You know what, let’s mention it. You’ll owe me one, how ‘bout that?”
You smiled.
“I might be owing you much more than just one.”
“Yeah… we’ll see.”
The two of you stared at each other, not sure how to end the conversation. Finally Peña cleared his throat and turned halfway away awkwardly.
“Well… See you around.”
“Yeah. See you around.”
He waved and then left. You went to check out the only table in the office that didn’t have personal belongings on it, only garbage. You picked up some files and sneezing from the dust put them into one huge pile. This way you could at least put down your bag.
“Landon!”
You jumped and turned towards the door. Peña was back, hastily leaning against the doorframe.
“You wanna grab a drink later?”
“S…sure” you said, being a bit surprised, but didn’t mind the offer.
“Good.”
“What…What time?” you asked as he was already turning away. He turned back awkwardly.
“What?”
“What time?”
“Oh… Seven?”
“Okay.”
“All right. Meet you outside?”
“Sure.”
——
“No seriously, I swear that I cannot even look at a watermelon anymore,” he said and finished his drink with a restrained smile on his lips. “Not after that summer, anyway.”
You snorted.
“I don’t know if I should laugh or cry at that.”
“How about both?” he asked and raised his glass, signing for another round. “You’re good?”
“I could do with another one,” you nodded towards the bartender and he appeared with new drinks for the two of you.
The bar Peña took you to was a quiet one, with lots of small tables and an open area above which if you looked up, you could see the sky with its shiny stars. There were a few people around, but it wasn’t crowded. There was chatter in Spanish everywhere around you, and you were genuinely having a good time.
Peña was now looking up at the small television in the corner. In the news, they were showing a building in the distance, a building that you knew was the prison that was keeping Escobar locked away. You glanced at Peña; he finished his drink with a sudden move and ordered another one.
“Do you think you’ll get ‘im?” you asked him quietly. He looked at you, then back to the TV, then at his refilled drink. It took him a long time to answer.
“That motherfucker deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his life.”
“I…I’ve heard that the people still love him.”
He scoffed.
“They love him because he makes them love him. If he gives money to the poor, wouldn’t you stand next to him?”
“It doesn’t matter what he’s done? All those deaths… bombings… that plane and that reporter… why don’t people care about that?”
“They do. But when he appears with bags full of money, people tend to forget.”
He drank and you watched. You felt a horrible taste in your mouth.
“It’s a shame, because anyone could see that people love this country.”
“Yeah… Real shame he preaches about it while he’s the one destroying it.” He hesitated for a moment while he searched for money in his wallet. “There was this kid… Me and Murphy were trying to get one of Escobar’s hitmans. And I almost got him. I was this close. And then this… ten year old runs out of nowhere and holds a gun at my head.”
“What?” you said, your full attention on him. Peña had a bittersweet smile on his face.
“Of course he ran away. The hitman, too. We didn’t get shit. Before we got there, they killed a girl. She had a baby. Murphy has her now, with his wife.”
You realized that your mouth was open. Peña seemed to get lost in his own thoughts.
“There’s a standing bounty of 350 000 US dollars on any DEA down here. Not you, of course,” he smirked at you, but there was nothing happy about it. “Evidence photographer.”
“Assistant,” you said, to at least cheer him up a bit. He chuckled darkly.
“Assistant. Yeah.” Then he was back in his dark thoughts. “There’s a reason we worth that much. We’d do anything to stop him. Carillo… he’s the best soldier I’ve ever met.”
“I’ve seen him on TV,” you said, remembering a tall figure. “It’s good to have someone you trust. After what Danilo said… you know, my cop friend… I guess it cannot be easy to work in the system when the system is dirty.”
He turned to you and looked deeply in your eyes. Even though he had like five drinks in him, his sight was clear and determined, like always.
“You talk like someone who has seen a lot of shit.”
You chuckled.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say that. And I’m not planning on seeing any kind of shit. I want a normal life.”
“That sounds… That sounds nice.”
He turned away and looked down at his hands, holding the glass. There was something on his face that made you think, and all of a sudden you realized that you felt sorry for him. His life was hunting for Escobar. He chose this; but it came with so many things that tied him down, that a normal life probably seemed impossible for him. Even if he didn’t necessary want it, it is always nice to have an option.
“I’m sorry I called you an asshole,” you said to him. He looked up.
“You’re not to first and not the last, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”
“And I don’t like it when you call me a sweetheart.” You raised your eyebrows, but you were not being rude about it. He smiled to himself, and you realized that you might just seen him smile for the first time. It looked… incredibly good on him.
“All right then,” he nodded ceremoniously. “Cariño”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked, pretending to be offended. He was taken aback.
“Don’t tell me you don’t speak Spanish. How did you survive down here is a mystery to me.”
“All right, fuck off,” you said and drank. He was still smiling.
“So why did you come here? Of all places where they speak English?”
“To be honest I just randomly chose a place in an advertisement calendar. It really didn’t matter where I’d go. Until it’s not home,” you added under your breath.
“Why?”
You looked up. He seemed genuinely interested. He wasn’t smiling anymore and you found yourself looking for words before you were able to answer.
“I just… I come from Seattle. I have a sister who’s a kindergarten teacher, I have a mom who’s a professor, I have a dad who’s a doctor… and I’m doing photography,” you tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “I got tired of their nagging. My sister’s not so bad, but… jesus, my parents were just on about it forever. So I decided to leave. I saw a picture of Bogotá in a calendar. And… here I am,” you finished awkwardly.
“There’s nothing wrong with doing what you love.”
“Yeah, look where it got me,” you said darkly. Peña chuckled.
“It’s not so bad, Cariño”
“Oh, my God, are you going to try and teach me Spanish now?” you laughed and rolled your eyes.
“If you want me,” he shrugged and you drank.
“I’ve been trying, by the way,” you said, pointing a finger at him. You started to feel the alcohol. “And I want you to know this before you think I’m just some lousy idiot who expects everyone to speak English, just because she cannot learn another language. But I just haven’t got the time. Or the energy. Or the company to talk with.”
“What about your friend?” there was a certain way how he said the word friend. You shook your head.
“Danilo’s fine. A bit much sometimes. Asks me out weekly. I wish he would stop.”
“Why don’t you tell him to stop?”
“Well, that’s a good question, isn’t it?” you said melancholically and finished your drink.
Summary: Liz is undecided about helping the DEA, until Peña comes up with an offer that she cannot refuse
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 1.8K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“What are you doing here?” you looked at the man in surprise. You were just arriving home from another photoshoot.
“Finally,” Peña looked at you with the utmost impatience. He was standing at the door, his hand reaching for the doorbell. Now he took off his sunglasses, looking straight into the your eyes. “Where the hell were you?”
You raised an eyebrow.
“I have to work you know. For how long were you trying to get into my house?”
He cleared his throat awkwardly and squinted.
“Not long.”
“Uh-huh. So why are you here?”
“You didn’t give me your number.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your phone number,” Peña looked around the street as if checking the scene. “I had to come all the way to talk to you.”
“Oh,” you retreated. “Right.” Then you remembered. “Is this about your promise?”
He locked eyes with you and said:
“We really shouldn’t discuss this outside.”
He was way too serious and that made you uneasy. Did he manage to find a way to help you? You were chewing on your tongue, then nodded.
“All right. Come in.”
Once in your apartment, you dropped your bag onto the small table next to the TV and went to the kitchen to have a glass of water.
“Do you want anything?” you asked, rather to be polite than to please him. He was checking out your pictures on your table. He looked up.
“No. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Okay. So what is it?”
You walked over to him but you didn’t sit down and neither did he. All of it felt really formal. You took a sip from your water just to do something. Peña started to speak.
“The DEA doesn’t provide protection unless they get something in return. And it has to be valuable. A tip from someone is not enough.”
“What do you mean it’s not enough?” you asked suspiciously.
“We get tips from the street every day. It doesn’t worth shit. And they won’t let us go after the car, unless we can prove that it does worth the trouble.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t sound like he meant it.
“So… now what?” you asked, not sure what to do. “That’s it? You just won’t investigate?”
He stared at you, thinking. His face was unreadable, and you found yourself wishing that you could understand him.
“They won’t give us a team without evidence. We really need that picture.”
There was a certain tone in his voice that made you feel on edge.
“What if I give it to you?” you asked carefully. “What would happen then? Would the DEA care enough to keep me safe?”
“If you give us the picture, we can buy you a plane ticket straight home.”
“Home?”
“The U.S.”
Your mouth opened. Then, you frowned.
“This is home. I moved here to start over. I’m not leaving.”
“You won’t be safe if you stay here. Not if that picture leaks.”
“This is confidential information, who says it will…”
“We cannot guarantee your safety if you stay here.”
“Good. Then I burn the fucking picture and this whole nonsense will end.”
This was the first time you actually saw something different on his face than annoyance or boredom. He was alarmed.
“Do not do that.”
“Why? If I don’t give it to you, you won’t do anything. If I give it to you I’ll be in danger. There is no benefit in it for me. I should’ve just burn it the moment I realized what it was.”
“I thought you wanted to help,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, me too. But not if it costs me my life.”
You went to the TV stand and reached under the table cover. You held the picture in front of him and were ready to tear it apart.
“Don’t!” he jumped at once, holding out his hand towards you. His whole attitude changed and you could see at once how important that picture was to him. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“Now I believe that I’ll regret if I don’t do it,” you said and started tearing the picture. Peña raised his voice. He was panicking.
“Don’t! Let’s just talk about this! Landon!”
Hearing your name cleared your head a little. You felt a shortage of air. You wanted to do the right thing. You wanted to help. But you did not ask for this.
“Put down the picture, and let’s talk about this,” Peña was still reaching out to you, not taking his eyes off your face.
“I don’t wanna get involved in this…” you shook your head desperately. “I…”
The doorbell rang and both of you fell silent. You looked at Peña, unsure of what to do.
“Put that away!” he said and grabbed his gun. He leapt to the window and peaked out from behind the curtains. “Dark skin, black hair, green backpack. Do you know him?”
“Danilo!” you said and looked out as well. The man was waiting at the downstairs door, leaning against the fence. You looked at Peña.” He’s a friend of mine. I’d appreciate if you didn’t shoot him.”
He nodded and put the gun away, but was still eyeing Danilo. Then he turned to you and spoke quickly.
“I need to go, but I’ll call you later. Don’t do anything just yet.”
“Peña…”
“Please. Let me find an option that works for both of us.”
The desperation in his voice made you stop in mid sentence. You looked him in the eye. He had really nice eyes.
“Fine,” you said finally, giving in. You and your good heart…“Here’s my number.” You wrote down your phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to him. “Call me tonight. If you don’t call me, I’ll burn the fucking picture.”
“That would be a real shame sweetheart,” he said and put the paper in his pocket. Then he headed for the door. The doorbell rang again. “Don’t make your friend wait too long.”
——
“Who was that?” Danilo asked five minutes later after Peña left. You looked out the window into the direction where the man and his car disappeared.
“No one.”
“Really?”
You could hear jealousy in Danilo’s voice and you rolled your eyes. You really didn’t have the mental capacity for this.
“Yeah. Really. I just met him. He’s connected to the magazine.”
You weren’t sure wether he believed you or not; nevertheless, he didn’t ask more questions about him.
“Well, anyway. I told you I would ask around.”
“What?” you said dreamily. You were still staring outside the window.
“About the photograph.”
Realization came to you and you turned to face Danilo.
“You didn’t tell about it to everyone, right?”
“Only the people I trust.”
“Oh. Okay. And?”
“We all think it would be better for you to let it slide.”
“Let it slide?” you said, confused. “I don’t know about that. It seems kinda important to me.”
“Yeah, well. It can be dangerous as well. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
You stared.
“Sometimes I feel like you’re a bit overprotective of me.”
“No shit.”
He sat down on your couch, leaned back and closed his eyes. You casted down your eyes and whispered.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“It’s… complicated.”
It was complicated. You wanted to help. The people in this country have been through so much pain. And you loved this country. If handing over the picture meant that you can help their cause in any way, you’d do it instantly. But you had also heard strories. You were afraid. Danilo sometimes talked about murders and shootings that happened all over the city. And if you had to choose between you and other people, you’d choose yourself.
It made you feel guilt and shame, though. You felt like a bad person. You didn’t want to be a bad person. But you were still afraid.
“You wanna go for a coffee?” Danilo offered. “Think about something else for a bit?”
“Sure,” you shrugged. “Why not.”
——
It was almost ten in the evening and Peña had still not called. You couldn’t go to sleep because of the nervousness, and you did not leave the vicinity of the phone even for a second. The afternoon with Danilo was at least good for one thing - getting your mind off of things. But as you got home, you had not been able to relax. And the phone call had still not arrived.
It was about ten thirty and you started to think about your options. If Peña was not willing to help you, then what were you supposed to do? Danilo had said not to share the picture. But Danilo had poor judgement when it came to you. You did not want to burn the picture, not for real. You wanted to help.
You wanted to help.
Fucking Peña.
You groaned and decided to rest your eyes for a second. The phone woke you up, at half past two.
“Yes?” you sounded drunk and ill.
“It’s Peña.”
“Oh…” you said smartly, then looked at the clock. “Do you realize what time is it?!”
“It took me a bit longer than expected,” he said. He didn’t sound tired at all. “But there might be a way that’s beneficial for everyone.”
“Yeah?” you said, starting to be more awake. “What is it?”
“Do you wanna work for the DEA?”
You remained silent for a second. Then spoke sharply.
“What?”
“Yeah. Evidence photographer.”
“Are you in serious need of an evidence photographer?”
“Not really.”
“Then?”
“You’d be handling the negatives. Nothing serious. It’s the title that counts.”
“Why?”
“As part of the DEA office, you’d have the right to claim and use protective services.”
“They… How many favours did you ask for this one?”
He didn’t answer.
“They won’t hire me.”
“They will,” he said.
“Is this a promise?”
He stayed silent. Then said, “yes.”
You nodded to yourself.
“Let… let me think about it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
“Give me your number.”
You wrote down his number and hang up. Your leg was shaking anxiously and you couldn’t stay still. You stood up and walked around the living room, thinking.
You loved your recent job. You didn’t want to give it up. But you wanted to help.
You also wanted to stay alive.
“But I wanna help,” you murmured.
But I also wanna stay alive, said a voice in your head.
What about Peña’s offer? It seemed so ridiculous. It was ridiculous.
But what if that was the only way to help?
You sat back down on the couch and reached for the phone, dialing the number he gave you. The paper was already wrinkled and soggy from your continuous folding.
“Peña,” said a sleepy voice. You felt a little bit of pleasure knowing that you gave him a taste of his own medicine.
“How bad do you want that picture?” you asked. There was a shuffling sound at his end, then he answered in the clearest voice you had ever heard over a phone.
“I want it more than anything. I want to go after that motherfucker in any way possible.”
“Okay,” you said and you gladly welcomed the determination in your voice.
Summary: Liz’s first encounter with a certain DEA Agent, but things do not exactly start out smoothly between the two of them.
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 1.5K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“So… What do we have here?”
You looked up at the man and instantly squeezed your bag tighter. He sat down, put his cigarette in an ashtray and leaned back in his chair. He seemed utterly annoyed to be here.
“Who are you?” you asked, determined to keep steadiness in your voice.
“The name’s Agent Peña. I’m DEA. You asked for an agent, am I correct?”
You silently nodded. He held his cigarette to his mouth.
“Then go ahead and tell us why you’re here sweetheart. I’m kinda busy.”
You frowned. You didn’t like how he called you sweetheart.
“Can you put out your cigarette first?” annoyance made you find your voice again. “I’m trying to quit.”
He chuckled darkly.
“Aren’t we all?”
“I’m serious.”
He examined your face for a second then shrugged and did as you asked. The smoke from the ashtray rose to the air and was hanging between the two of you. You let yourself have one long look at him. He was dark haired, olive skinned and had deep brown eyes. His nose was big, but it made his face look sharp and determined. Above a mouth, that was impatienly chewing his tongue, he had a mustache. You decided to get down to business.
“I have something. I really don’t know what to do with it.”
You reached inside the bag and got the envelope out. Peña was looking at it without the slightest interest. He lazily held out his hand to grab it, but you pulled back.
“Before I give it to you, can you promise me to guarantee my safety?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Your safety?” he glanced at the envelope in suspicion. “Why? What do you have there?”
You swallowed and opened the envelop. You stared at the picture for a moment, then holding on to it tight, you turned it towards Peña.
His expression changed immediately. He hastily adjusted himself in the chair and leaned closer. His eyes were sharp, and he had his full attention on the photograph. He seemed shocked. He looked at you with restrained anticipation. He spoke in a very low voice, almost whispering.
“Where did you get this?”
“I’m a photographer,” you whispered back, feeling tense again.
“So what, you just happened to take a picture of a wanted hitman?”
“That’s exactly what happened.” You put the picture down to the table, turning it towards Peña. You pointed at the man you saw in the news. “That’s… That’s La Quica, right?”
He didn’t answer. His eyes were skanning every inch of the photograph; the blue car with the license plate, La Quica and the other man.
“Who is he?” you pointed at the other. Peña ignored the question.
“Did you show this to anyone else?”
You shook your head.
“I wanted to give it to the police.”
He stared.
“What stopped you?”
“I know someone there. He told me to be careful. A lot of policemen are dirty.”
He nodded to himself - maybe wasn’t even aware of doing it. Then he quickly turned the photograph and checked the glass walls behind his back.
“Put this away,” he said, and turned back to you. “This picture can cause you a great deal of trouble.”
“I figured,” you said, sealing the envelope. “This is why I wanted to talk to someone from the DEA. Did you memorize the licence plate?”
He scowled. “Why?”
You frowned. Wasn’t it obvous?
“Well, I’m not going to give you the picture.”
He raised his head and pointed at the envelope.
“Hold on a second. This is serious lead to…”
“You just said it can cause me a great deal of trouble!” You tried to keep your voice down, but you were nervous. “I’m willing to help, but I’m not risking my life for your cause.”
“Our cause?” he looked as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. You tried to sit straight.
“So, can you provide some kind of protection for me?”
“Protection?” he looked surprised. “If you’re not givin us the picture, then what for?”
“I just showed you a car probably full of drugs and two people connected to Pablo Escobar,” it was outrageous. Why didn’t he understand?! “Don’t you think I should be concerned?”
He squinted his eyes.
“What was your name again?”
“Elizabeth Landon,” you said impatiently. Peña leaned closer and started talking fast.
“Listen here Elizabeth Landon. I’m not saying that I cannot help you, but it will be a lot more difficult to get your protection if I don’t have anything to show to the Ambassador.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that without the picture there is no reason for the DEA to help you.”
“But you saw the picture!”
“And I’m just only one man,” he shook head said slightly, still looking deeply in your eyes. “If you don’t feel safe, don’t give us the picture. Without it, I can say that I have a tip from a local about a car that transfers narcotics around the city to smaller dealers. I have the plate number. We can work with that.”
“But?”
“But… it would give a lot more ground to the cases of these two. It’s perfect evidence. If we find the car, it’ll worth even more.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble for this.”
Suddenly, you felt really scared. You knew he saw it, too. His hand moved in a certain way that you thought he will hold onto your arm. But then he stopped and retreated.
“I’ll try and put in a few words. Maybe we can find a way to provide protection for the intel.”
You didn’t take your eyes off him. He seemed honest, but how could you be sure? Was it all a mistake? Coming here?
“Why didn’t just mail it to us?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m a photographer. I shot this during work. A local magazine I work for will include my name and my other pictures with date. If this photograph leaks… Do you think I’m in danger?”
The question came out in a shaky voice, in which you barely recognized your own. Peña stared, then silently took the sealed envelope and held it towards you. You took it.
“I’ll ask around tomorrow. Maybe we can help you for the tip alone.”
You nodded. Your throat was dry.
“Can I have a glass of water, please?”
He stood up and walked out the room, where a water tank stood at the wall. He poured you a glass and returned.
“Anything else?”
“Yes,” you said suddenly. “Can you… Can you take me home?”
That took him by surprise. You stood up, zipping your bag.
“My car is towed away. And it’s already dark outside.”
He glanced through the glass into the hallway. There was no one there.
“How far?”
“It’s not far,” you said. Then quickly added, “Please.”
——
“You said it was not far.”
“Well, I didn’t calculate traffic.”
“Well, you should have. I’m not a taxi service.”
You two had been sitting in the middle of a traffic jam for twenty minutes. Peña seemed annoyed, and that made you unfomfortable. It was incredibly awkward. Now you regretted that you had asked him to take you. You would be home by now for sure.
“We’re not far, I can just walk now,” you said, determined to get out of this embarrassing car ride. Peña grunted.
“No fucking way. I’ve taken you this far. I don’t need you walking around in the dark streets of Bogotá.”
“How thoughtful of you,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.
“Yeah. I don’t want that picture to get lost.”
You looked at him in dismay. Even in the dull light of the evening traffic, you could see a sarcastic little smile on his face. Like it was just a joke to him.
“You’re an asshole,” you burst out. His smile faded and he turned to you, his face expressionless. Silent. Serious.
The line of cars moved and someone from behind honked. Peña turned his attention back to the road and you turned away from him for the rest of the journey. You two were sitting in complete silence, and you were staring outside, seeing young people with friends, elders walking their dogs, moms pushing their strollers. You closed your eyes. You couldn’t believe that the last thirty six hours really happened. It was surreal.
“It’s me,” you said finally ten minutes later, and Peña stopped in front of a house with white walls. He was still silent and did not look at you. It made you angry. You had every right to be offended. Not him. You stepped out of the car without saying a word to him. Then, when you almost closed the door, you looked back. “You said you’ll ask around tomorrow about my protection. I really hope that you keep your promise.”
He turned to you, ready to say something, but you shot the door. Now, being out of that gloomy office, his promise seemed vague and quickly made. It filled you with guilty pleasure that you didn’t give the photograph to him.
You found your keys and stepped inside. You only heard his car leave, when you closed the door behind you.
