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Outpace Us All - Ch. 4 - Santiago Fic

A/N: Set two years after the mission in Colombia. The boys walked away with enough money to begin new lives back home. Santiago divides his time between being an investigator and a short-term foster care provider with the state. He begins to question himself and his ability to do good after he has several run-ins with a young boy in a delicate situation. As he is trying his best to help this kid through a tragedy, he begins to rely heavily on his complicated relationship with Frankie.

Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Original child character. Frankie is a single dad who owns a diner. Santiago and Will are cops. Benny is Benny.

Rating: Adult

Word Count : 11,000

Warnings: Men loving men. Sex. Cursing. Mentions blood and violence. Mentions drug use. Some lines of Spanish dialogue, which I include as a warning only because I am a non-native speaker.

Masterlist

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 7:45 AM

They were only four days in, but the situation of Samuel and his mother still remained mysterious. Hardly any of the questions brought up that night at the police station had answers.

All Santiago did know was that the kid was cleared to stay at his place for at least another week. Depending on how things developed over the next few days, the duration could be prolonged. For the moment, a week’s worth of visibility was the only bit of clarity they had.

Santiago recognized that there was a high possibility of Samuel's stay in care being stretched to two or three weeks. The longest emergency foster he had ever hosted was a little over two months. There was no official timeline or exact definitions given by the state of California, but emergency stays that lasted much longer than a couple months usually started to bleed into a different category. If Sonia's situation didn’t begin to show signs of improvement, then their case would inevitably change in the eyes of the law. If that were to happen, Sam would formally enter the foster system and require a placement in a more long-term setting. Santiago's home would need to be made available once more for other emergency cases. In the best of circumstances, Sam would go live with another family. In the event that there wasn’t an available home that was a good fit for him, he could also be sent to a group facility.

Thinking about either outcome didn't feel particularly great, so Santi decided to stay focused on what was currently in his control. For the time being, he could provide Samuel with a roof and a bit of stability. The rest was outside of his sphere of influence.

As it currently stood, things with his mother were complicated.

Even though Santiago left his number with Sonia and encouraged her to call or text whenever, all of their communication continued to pass through Dana.

They were still set to have a phone call with her later that evening, but in the back of his mind, Santiago was wary of the possibility that it might not happen. Sam's confession to fearing his mother abruptly leaving him still rang fresh in his memory, but he still felt that it was important to look at things objectively. There was still so much he didn't know, and this situation didn't quite feel like other cases he had seen. This woman didn't fit the profile of someone who abruptly abandons a child, even if her young son seemed convinced that she was going to try.

Despite everything, there had been an update the night before that was positive.

Dana explained to Santi in a text that Sonia was already pre-approved for public housing. They would just have to wait for her paperwork to be processed and for whenever the next unit would become available. She was also in the early interviewing process for a new job, in what field exactly Dana hadn’t specified, but things were progressing. She still wouldn’t give any answers about what happened in the weeks and months leading up to her eviction. Dana and the staff at the shelter tried their best to coax any amount of details out of her, but she held strong to giving them only vague non-answers.

They were being led to believe that everything about her situation was simply due to hard luck. Nothing more.

Samuel was their only other potential source for information, and he was just about as tight-lipped as Sonia.

Santiago was already beginning to see the impact of everything on the boy. He wore the markers of someone who carried an unabated stress, like something under the surface was quietly eating away at him.

Samuel was undeniably well-behaved, but not in a easy going, mild-mannered way. He displayed a level of discipline that was disconcerting for a boy his age. His bed was always made. He knew to put his things away and how to fold his clothes nicely. Every day it looked like he was making a conscious effort to leave as little a trace as possible of his existence in the house.

He regularly picked and chewed at his fingers, to a point where his cuticles were irritated and red. Saturday evening when they went to the supermarket, Santiago turned around from looking at cereal to find dried blood caking Samuel’s fingertips. With a fair amount of difficulty, he managed to fight the urge to scold the behavior. Instead, he found the public restrooms at the back of the store and sent him to go wash his hands. They later made their way to the check-out line with a couple boxes of band-aids thrown into the cart.

Sleep seemed to be another issue for him. The hushed sounds Santiago thought he imagined coming from across the hall the first evening were now a nightly occurrence. He would lay there in his own room, listening to Sam's bed creak from tossing and turning, only to be interrupted by noises that hovered between sobs and whispered pleas. It was impossible to be sure, but it was almost like muffled prayers being spoken into the dark.

Over the last few days they struggled to find something close to a routine. Santi took him to school in the mornings, picked him up in the afternoons. Later that day he planned to surprise him with a stop by Frankie's on the way home.

Sam seemed torn between absolutely hating Santiago while simultaneously needing to follow his every move around the house. He spent a lot of time glaring and trying to look angry, but couldn't hide the fact that he didn't seem okay with being left alone. He would always try to hover in or around whatever room Santi was in, pretending to ignore him. It wasn't necessarily bothersome, but Santiago did find himself growing slightly exasperated by having suddenly acquired this disgruntled and mute second shadow.

The only times Sam really spoke at length were during the rides to and from school. For whatever reason, there in the back seat of the truck, he felt comfortable enough to voice a small part of whatever was passing through his mind. He would often ask several questions in a row - usually about his mother, but sometimes there were surprises.

Is my mom staying at someone's house or in a hotel?

Is she in trouble? Is it kind of like a jail?

Does she get to go outside?

Are there animals?

Is there a pool?

Why don't you have any animals?

Why can't I take the bus to school?

In the space of a single car ride, it was impressive just how many questions he could fire out. Santi figured that it was maybe his way of trying to make sense of what was happening in his world - a grasp for some semblance of control.

That Wednesday was no exception. They were slowly crawling along in the thick morning traffic. The unusually heavy rain from the weekend was gone, leaving only crisp autumn air and a starkly clean blue sky. The song "Don't Fear the Reaper" was coming to an end on the radio. During the brief lull between each track in the DJ's morning mix, Santiago could hear the sound of Sam steadily picking at his fingers.

They were about to exit off of the freeway when a voice piped up from the back seat.

"Santiago?"

He glanced briefly at the rearview mirror to find the kid staring in his direction.

"Yeah?"

There was a stretch of silence where he sensed that Sam was working up the courage to ask whatever was on his mind, but what finally came out took him by surprise.

"Are you a cop?"

It was asked in a manner that wasn't at all spontaneous, it was clear that he'd been thinking carefully about the matter for some time. The boy sat back with the seatbelt crossed over his chest, looking down at his lap as he awaited the response.

"Kind of..." Santiago began to thoughtfully chew at the inside of his cheek as he came to a stop at a red light. The conversation about what he did for a living was one he was used to having around other adults. It was surprising that he felt just as defensive about his choice of work even here in the presence of a child.

"So, I'm a detective." He started. "Which means that I help lead investigations. Do you know what the difference is between me and most of the police you see?"

He caught sight of Sam once again in the rearview mirror.

The boy frowned as he shook his head. "No."

"Cops usually patrol out on the street. They're the ones you see in black and white squad cars." Santi explained as he turned onto the last street before Sam's school. A quiet groan left him the moment he caught sight of the long stretch of cars and school busses sat between them and the drop off point. His fingers restlessly drummed against the steering wheel.

He reached over and cut the radio before turning around to look directly at Sam.

"Those cops drive around looking to stop crime from happening. Detectives like me don't really do that. We sit at a desk most of the day. We only really go out when there is something to investigate, so that means that the crime has already happened."

Samuel seemed to think over his words for several moments. He stared out the window, watching as older children advanced up the street on foot towards the school.

"But you've got a badge like a cop." He rebutted.

"I do." Santi agreed as he craned his neck to try and see past the long line of cars. He toyed with the idea of parking on a side street and walking Sam up himself.

"I don't like cops."

Samuel's confession was stated plainly, with no anger or malice. His tone of voice carried the same level of indifference as if he were talking about a vegetable that he doesn't eat.

"Oh yeah?" Santiago considered him through the rearview mirror, watching the way he disinterestedly fidgeted with the nylon straps of his backpack. "Why's that?"

He thought back to the night he picked him up at the police station, to the scene he found taking place in that hallway. He began to wonder about the likelihood that maybe the encounter hadn't been Sam's first bad experience with police.

"Cause..." He began with a shrug, only the dark curls at the crown of his head were visible while his eyes remained trained down at his hands. "They ask too many questions."

Santi never had the chance to ask for any further clarification. The carpool line had progressed rapidly, effectively bringing the conversation to a swift close. He managed to quickly exchange a one-sided goodbye before Sam jumped out from the backseat. He watched for a few seconds as his blue backpack marched off toward the steps of the school.

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 1:00 PM.

The office had a certain level of noise going at all times. Phones ringing. Tapping keys while someone typed. Chairs rolling across the floor. It was an open concept workspace. People were constantly walking in and out. The adjacent hallway was always reverberating the loud clanking doors on either end.

Will's concentration flourished in that sort of environment. His mind was able to soften all the individual noises to a dull roar, turning it all into soft static that played in the background while he filled out reports and progressed through his schedule.

He and Santiago worked side by side. Their desks were back to back just outside of their head of unit's office. Santi was the exact opposite in that he hated the office noise. Often he would ask for Will's help to fill out paperwork because he couldn't string coherent sentences together with all the distractions happening around them - the chatter that would build up near the office coffee machine, the people randomly filing in and out of the meeting rooms, the phone they shared between their two desks ringing every other hour. All that time he spent following cartel activity out in the jungle had changed his threshold for sensory input. Two years later and he still struggled to recalibrate.

There were times when it bordered on overload. In those moments, Santiago would push away from his desk in frustration, announcing that he needed air before getting up and taking aimless strolls through the hallways and stairwells to clear his mind. He often needed those breaks. From the moment he joined on with the narcotics division, he always preferred to take his lunches outside. He was far from the only one, certainly, but Will couldn't think of one time where Santi chose to bring in leftovers or a sandwich from home. He always went out to grab food, run errands, or go to a nearby park to walk.

Sitting in the breakroom and shooting the shit with other colleagues wasn't ever going to be his thing, and that was okay. Will didn't talk him in to joining the force because he needed him to socialize.

It was precisely 1 o'clock when he came strolling back in from his lunch break. A takeaway coffee was securely nestled in one of his hands, a large shopping bag dangled from the other.

Will didn’t look up in his direction, but could still hear the moment he paused mid-step as he spied the cream colored envelope left sitting on his keyboard. It bore the official seal of the Sacramento police department’s bureau of professional standards.

“Came in while you were at lunch.” Will explained over his shoulder.

Santiago’s eyes squinted to read the label as he took the envelope into his hands. There was an official looking gold and blue seal embossed over the back, with his name and desk number clearly addressed on the front.

"You mind sharing why the Lieutenant of Professional Standards is noticing you?”

Will's voice was calm as he presented the question, but he felt the beginnings of a familiar anger rising up within him. He had brought Santiago on with Narcotics not just because he knew that he was overqualified for the job, but also because he knew how badly he needed the distraction. They all noticed how he closed in on himself after Colombia, but Frankie had been the one to see first hand just how deep Santiago's spiral went.

Will never wanted to know the details of what transpired between the two of them that one weekend, but he was able to deduce enough for himself. Whatever shit that had been brewing off in the distance must have come to shore, because ever since they seemed to be silently weathering that storm together- silently in front of everyone. Will didn't need to ask any questions. He just saw that Santi needed to be saved from himself, so he tried to do his part and talked him into the job as a means of protecting him, as a means of keeping him close.

But Santiago was one of those people who couldn't be kept out of trouble. He had an innate desire to go searching for it himself, always under the premise of some self-righteous bullshit.

“Shit, this came today?” He whispered in disbelief as he looked down at the envelope.

With a gentle thud, he settled down onto his own desk chair, attention fixed to where his name, office floor, and desk number were neatly printed across the front. His finger quickly slid underneath the flap to break the adhesive seal. A few pieces of stapled paper were neatly folded inside.

Santiago left Will’s question to hang in the air between them as he began to read over the documents. There were several lines of formalities before he finally arrived at the essential information.

"This letter is to inform you that a unique system tracking number has been allocated to your filed report. You will be notified by the department as soon as report #10D53335F8296 has been assigned an investigator and upon the completion of the initial preliminary review..."

Santi ripped his eyes away from the papers to find Will staring at him, one eyebrow threatening to arch in a silent demand that he be filled in.

"On Monday I filed a complaint about an officer." He supplied, his voice kept purposefully to a murmur as he continued to scan over everything.

Attached were several similarly worded documents informing him that over the course of three days his complaint had astonishingly progressed through the first steps outlined in the opening letter. A civilian investigator had officially been matched to his case and had already begun the preliminary review. He was given a time and date to be interviewed about the incident.

Will dragged a hand over his mouth. He took a slow inhale before looking back at the man still intently reading over the stapled documents.

“You filed a complaint for what?”

“Improper force." Santiago responded while promptly re-folding everything and neatly fitting it back inside the envelope. "The cop on duty the night I picked up Sam was out of line. So I notified the supervisor of his unit. She advised me to formally file a complaint so it would be on record.”

Will's eyes narrowed as he listened.

“You filed this Monday and they responded today? That doesn't seem right."

He sat forward in his seat, nodding over to the envelope in his hands.

"Mind if I take a look?"

Santi shrugged before handing over the documents. “They just want me to attend a meeting. Give my side of the story...”

Will silently read over each page, seeming unable to accept Santiago's dismissal of the situation. His expression remained neutral as he analyzed the details, convinced that there should be some sort of error. He knew well enough how these things worked. Normally it was a question of months before anything went anywhere, not days.

"What's the officer's name?" He whispered, still intently reading.

“Powell.” Santiago replied before draining the last of his coffee. "Some young rookie who was on patrol the night Sam was picked up."

There was a minute twitch in Will's features before he let out a low whistle.

Santi couldn't pretend to have missed his friend's reaction. "What's that look?" He insisted while taking the letters back.

Their eyes met. Will could only shake his head as he settled back in his chair.

“For your sake, Pope, I hope he's not related to Deputy Chief Powell.”

"So what if he is?"

Santiago wore a mirthless smirk before he turned around to face his own desk. Powell could be related to the head of the CIA for all he cared. He would still go to that stupid formality of a meeting, give his version of what happened, maybe get Dana to corroborate if necessary, and then it would stop there. Powell would at most get a slap on the wrist, but there would at least be documentation of his conduct somewhere. Maybe it could serve the next person who might need to report him for something.

Will didn't entertain his question. He recognized that it wasn't worth the back and forth. Santiago's bleeding heart and his need for the last word were things that he knew too fucking well.

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 3:30 PM.

Every day so far after school, Santiago had taken to picking up Samuel at the park directly across the street. While he waited for the dismissal bell to chime, he found himself reflecting on their conversation from that morning. Currently, there was a general feeling of mistrust hanging over his house, and he was fairly certain that the sentiment went both ways.

The first few months after returning from Colombia, he lived on edge. The money they stole belonged to more people than just Lorea. The list of dangerous individuals who would be looking for answers was long. Despite how careful he had been in-country to destroy any trace pointing to him or the boys, he couldn’t shake the paranoia that followed him home. Every night he would make the rounds in his own house, checking all of the windows and locks. He installed a security system with cameras. He looked frequently in the rearview mirror while driving. Whenever he couldn’t sleep, he peered through the blinds to survey the street outside.

Even though the paranoia began to fade after the first six months, Santiago never really lost those habits.

After the kid tried to run away on Saturday, he found himself once more making the rounds to make sure that all windows and doors leading outside were properly secured. Santi had no choice but to keep his house keys either in his pocket or locked in his nightstand. It only seemed to further cement their roles as jailor and detainee, but for the sake of Sam’s safety he couldn't risk making the same mistake twice.

Due to the abrupt nature of how most placements were brought to his home, Santi regretted how difficult it was to build a rapport with them. The past few days with Sam were proving to only be more of the same. Most of their interactions so far felt like forms of interrogation, so he couldn't exactly blame the kid for not liking him.

He worried that staying in a foster home while his mother was in a shelter felt like something akin to punishment.

The afternoon sun blazed down onto the concrete and the rooftops of cars. The crisp autumn air from that morning was gone, as the heat of summer desperately tried to make one of its last appearances before the cold weather officially took over everything. All of the kids walking up to their respective rides had abandoned their morning jackets for short sleeves. They were chatting happily, buzzing with energy as they shoved at each other and ran around.

As he scanned through the crowd for signs of Samuel, Santiago couldn't keep from thinking about how different he was from these children. Their steps seemed light and easy, their sleep at night was probably unburdened and peaceful.

Amongst the throngs of pupils walking along to find their parents, Samuel abruptly appeared alone. With his head bowed, he slipped between the small packs of kids to hurry towards the truck. His movements were quick, his sneakers pushed off hard against the sidewalk as soon as he caught sight of Santiago's truck. The moment he yanked the door open and clambered up into the backseat, he skipped right past saying hello.

"-When are we going to call?"

A gentle scoff escaped Santiago as he turned back to the front to readjust his seatbelt. He could only shake his head while shifting the truck into reverse.

"I told you already this morning, Sam. Not until after dinner. She's still busy during the day."

The boy's face visibly soured at the answer. His backpack was promptly shrugged off and allowed to drop to the floorboards before he twisted around to grab his seatbelt. Since yesterday afternoon, he had been repeatedly reconfirming with Santiago the timing of the phone call. Whenever the subject crossed his mind, his body began to fidget with impatience. It had likely consumed his thoughts all day while at school, which only made Santi worry that he was potentially getting set up for another big disappointment.

He had seen one too many times how phone calls with parents could fall through. It was a small, disruptive blow that could be so cruelly devastating for a kid in care. Having that dangling carrot ripped away unexpectedly just made their already difficult situation that much more unbearable.

Even the announcement of stopping by Frankie's didn't seem to lift Samuel's mood. That afternoon there were no unexpected questions fired from the backseat. They drove along listening to only the radio.

The moment they pulled into the parking lot of the diner, a garish red instantly caught Santiago's eye.

Parked in the very first spot by the front door, sat Benjamin Miller's pride and joy. Against the deep charcoal of the asphalt and the cool metal of the building's exterior, the gaudy paint job almost appeared to be glowing.

Even Sam seemed to perk up in the back seat. As they slowly drove past, his head turned to continue peering out at the sportscar, his expression showing just how perplexed he was by the vehicle. It was easy enough to understand why. Next to all of the humble sedans and pick-up trucks, Benny's Ferrari looked like it descended from another planet.

Maybe he likes cars, Santi quietly thought to himself as he found parking a few spaces down.

They slid out from the truck into the balmy heat. Before he could properly close the door to the driver's seat, Sam was already scurrying past him.

The boy balanced restlessly on the outer edges of his sneakers.

“How long are we staying here?” He squinted against the harsh late-day sun.

Santiago shot a dry look in his direction. He shook his head once more before locking the truck and joining him up on the curb.

“Not too long. Thirty minutes, maybe.”

Sam’s face fell at his answer.

“Why?” Santiago demanded with a smirk. “You’ve got somewhere to be that I don’t know about? You got a part time job somewhere?”

Even for a seven year-old, the rhetorical nature of the question didn’t go unnoticed. The boy was still a bit too young to master the art of rolling his eyes, but his stony expression conveyed the same message. He ignored the joke and turned on his heel.

Just before he could fully face away, an odd shaped hole at the collar of his t-shirt caught Santiago's eye.

“Hey! What happened to your shirt?"

Sam didn’t turn back to him, but his head dipped forward as his hand reached up to press against the rip at his collar. It was a plain dark red t-shirt, one of the new things that he bought him recently. After a couple seconds of reflection, it dawned on Santiago that Sam had been wearing it every day to school since Monday. He hadn't been able to notice in the mornings because Sam was usually wearing his jacket.

"Kid, have you been wearing the same shirt all week?"

Santi felt almost guilty, wondering if the teacher at school had noticed him arriving every day in the same clothes. Instead of answering the question, Sam looked at him with the expression of a child who is trying to judge just how angry the adult confronting them might be. Santiago could once again feel their conversation hurtling towards that interrogation pattern of cop against fugitive, and he knew that he needed to back off. The last thing he wanted was to make a kid feel guilty over a seven dollar t-shirt.

"Do you like that one a lot or something?" He asked easily.

Sam continued to look unsure, but he nodded his head faintly.

Santiago didn't really know if he was being truthful or not, but it didn't matter. The truth surrounding why he didn't change his clothes for three days wasn't the real issue. He needed to find a way to help him stop feeling so wary around him.

He only shook his head as he tsked in quiet disapproval. "What is that face for? C'mon, you're not in trouble."

He lifted his baseball cap and pushed back some of the curls off his forehead before he walked over. "Look, it's fine. I ripped my jeans about every week when I was your age- drove my mom absolutely insane. I can buy you more in that color if you like it, but try to wear a different shirt every day, alright? People are going to think that I don't take care of you."

His hand dropped down onto the boy's shoulder, he gently steered him towards the diner.

"C'mon, I'll let you meet the guy who drives that car."

Together they began to head for the front door.

The late afternoon sun cast its glow through the windows of the bustling diner, covering the space with a warm autumn light. The air hummed with a mix of sounds. Conversations intermingled with the scraping of silverware, the clatter of dishes, all while the staff hurried back and forth from behind the bar to the tables. Unlike the last time when Santi brought Sam in the wee hours of the morning, the place was now packed. The entire neighborhood seemed to have the same idea to swing by after work and school. Patrons filled the cozy booths and the worn counter stools, the aroma of the sizzling grill, coffee, and homemade pies wafted through the air.

Dead in the middle of the buzzing diner, Santiago's eyes honed in on the familiar figure of Benjamin Miller. He was sitting perched on a barstool at the counter, a basket of half-eaten onion rings set out in front of him. He wore a smile as he joked with someone standing on the other side of the kitchen window, probably Frankie.

Despite himself, Santiago felt a grin crack his features the moment Benny spotted him.

He quickly stood from his barstool, loud voice booming over the dull roar surrounding them.

“Ahh, there he is!” Benny brightly called. His tall figure was dressed in a sweat damp t-shirt and Carhartt work pants, a faded baseball cap turned backwards over his damp blond hair. He was no doubt fresh off from some project, probably flipping another house to sell.

Sam paused mid-step, unsure where to go in the busy space packed with people. Before Santiago's legs could collide into his back, his hands easily dropped down onto his shoulders. Silently, he guided the boy forward, steering them both in the direction of the counter.

“Hola, Santiago… ”

Santi’s head spun at the familiar sound of a woman’s voice.

Carla, Frankie’s second in command was shooting him a grin as she carried plates of food over to a table.

“Oye, Carla, que tal? ” He brightly greeted over his shoulder.

They reached where the younger Miller brother stood waiting for them at the counter, just across from the opening where orders were passed up from the back of the kitchen.

“Where the hell have you been?” Benny grinned before firmly drawing Santi close. His large hand clapped hard against his back, making a hollow thumping noise that warmed his insides.

He pulled a face of amused disbelief as he pulled away. “Ah, c’mon, we saw each other like three weeks ago.”

In his defense, it was true. Three weeks of absence was nothing at all compared to his previous track record, but now that he was stateside for good, his friends and family demanded more of him. His old excuse of working on the other side of the world didn’t fly anymore.

Santi craned his neck to glance around at the filled tables. “Jesus, Ben, did you invite the entire block to come here with you?”

“Yeah, told them Fish was paying.” Benny deadpanned before his eyes fell to Samuel. “Who's the kid?”

Sam’s hands held onto the straps of his backpack as he looked around to watch the bustle of the diner.

“This is Sam. He’s staying with me for a while.”

Benny's eyebrows rose minutely before he could catch himself. He didn’t quite know what to make of the pair. He’d seen Santiago take in older boys, most of them old enough to at least have a learner’s permit. This one looked like he just learned to ride a bike without training wheels.

"This is my friend Benny." Santi explained down to the boy planted in front of him. "He's the one who drives the red Ferrari outside."

Samuel's gaze traveled slowly from Benny's work boots up to his face, seeming torn between being impressed and feeling some mild disbelief.

For years Santiago had witnessed Benny have that effect on people. He didn't know him before their time together in the army, but Will always swore that he came into the world with that magnetic pull, and never for a second did Santi doubt it. Everything about Benny drew attention - his height, his loud voice, his ice blue eyes and disarming smile. The flashy car parked out front was just another cherry atop what was already a well-decorated cake.

"Is Frankie around?" He asked, eyes already scanning for him amongst the kitchen staff.

As a direct answer to his question, Frankie's broad back suddenly appeared through the door to the kitchen. He was busy lifting a white cook's apron over his head. Both his stride and posture read like he had been having a rough afternoon.

It was all but confirmed when his mouth formed a tight apologetic smile the moment he caught sight of Santiago. He made his way over.

"Two cooks called out today." He quickly offered. "Go ahead and sit down. Let me bus this table in the corner and I'll be right there."

His eyes never lifted to properly greet Santiago's, instead his hand only squeezed his bicep as he slipped past.

"Y'alright, Fish?" Benny demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Rush is almost over." He waved dismissively, speeding away to the other end of the diner. "Carla, you tell Angel that I got the dishwasher working again. No excuses for the dishes being backed up anymore!"

"Sure thing, Frank." Carla sighed from where she stood at the cash register. "He's been like that all damn day."

She looked up at Santiago as she muttered the last part. He craned his neck to follow Frankie, teeth gently worrying the inside of his cheek while he studied him.

Benny didn't say anything, choosing instead to busy himself with clearing away his empty basket of onion rings. He stood and moved easily behind the counter like he was no different than any of the people actually on Frankie's payroll. He disposed of his trash and dropped the plastic basket with the others, only pausing to serve himself a glass of ice tea from the beverage fountain.

“Hey, kid..." He called over his shoulder to Samuel. "Why's there a hole in your shirt?”

Santiago watched as Sam slightly straightened in surprise, caught off guard to be suddenly the topic of conversation for Benny. Like before, his hand moved to defensively touch the aforementioned rip.

"Nothing." He mumbled.

“Nothing, huh?" Benny repeated before taking a mouthful of ice-tea, the familiar shine of amusement never leaving his eyes. "Sounds fake. What really happened? Did you get in a fight?”

A short pause fell between them, where Samuel only stared at the man with a furrowed brow. Not sure that Benny's playful teasing landed, Santiago nearly opened his mouth to intervene before a faint half-smile slowly broke across the boy's face.

“No!” He quietly insisted.

“Uh-huh. Did you at least win?” Benny demanded, playfully wiggling his eyebrows as he munched on a piece of ice.

"No!" Samuel looked down at the counter to conceal what could only be described as a bashful sort of grin.

“Aha!" Benny quickly exclaimed. "You did win, didn’t you!”

Sam tried to make an exasperated face, but couldn't suppress his own urge to laugh.

It was the only time Santiago could recall seeing him smile. Before he could even begin to dwell much on that realization, Frankie was making his way back over to where they were sitting.

"Cómo te va, Samuelito ?" He lightly nudged the boy's shoulder as he walked past.

He expertly slipped behind the counter, immediately beginning to search all around before brandishing a silver ice cream scoop. “How about some ice cream? I’ve got chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla.”

Sam blinked at the new proposal. His mouth parted with initial hesitation, unsure of what he was supposed to say. There was a faint creak of the barstool as he turned to look at Santiago, his sable brown eyes asking if he had permission.

“Yeah, it’s alright, go ahead.” Santi nodded to him. “-But just one scoop, Frank!” He quickly added, already familiar with the diner’s generous portion sizes. “I need him to eat dinner tonight.”

Frankie audibly scoffed at the proposal, mumbling "who eats just one scoop?" under his breath.

“Sociopaths.” Benny easily chimed in, never looking up from his phone.

Much to Santiago’s dismay, his protests only fell on deaf ears. He watched as two large balls of strawberry ice cream were scooped into a small bowl. They were dressed with a few jets of whipped cream and a wafer cookie before being promptly delivered to the space in front of his young charge.

His disapproval quietly dissolved into the back of his mind as he watched the way Samuel dug into his free dessert, his feet swinging in the air ever so slightly. By the time Santi looked over to issue a silent thank you to Frankie, the man had already disappeared back to the kitchen.

“Are you coming to the cookout at Will’s this weekend?” Benny asked as he settled down on the open stool next to him.

Confused, Santi sharply twisted around to face him. “I just spent all afternoon next to your brother. Since when is he grilling?”

“Since I just texted him to say that we’re cooking at his place this weekend.”

The explanation didn’t come as a surprise, but Santiago only gestured his head vaguely in Samuel’s direction.

“I don’t know, Ben. I'm not exactly free.”

“So what? Bring him.” Benny declared before standing on the foot rest of his stool. He abruptly craned over to peer through the open window to the kitchen. “Fish! Tell him he should bring the kid to Will’s!”

“Jesus-” Santi whispered, his hand softly hitting the counter top in exasperation. Discretion was a quality Benny seemed to abandon once in the civilian world.

“You should bring him.” Frankie replied from the kitchen, never looking up from the order of food he was plating. “It’ll do you some good to have a break.”

It didn't take long for him to finally agree to stop by Will's place on Saturday. He didn't truthfully have a good enough reason not to go and the idea of sipping a beer on the immaculate deck in his buddy's backyard didn't sound too terrible. He didn't quite know what he would do to keep Sam entertained around a bunch of adults, but he half-suspected that Benny would take care of it for him.

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 7:30 PM.

It took everything he had to keep Samuel occupied before they were meant to call Sonia. The boy rushed through his homework and through eating dinner. For the entire evening, his eyes never once stopped following Santi around - looking for any sign that it was finally time. The unvoiced question of "when" sat plainly between them.

Santiago didn't know what to do with him in these moments. He didn't seem interested in TV. Multiple times he tried to sit Samuel down in front of cartoons while he went to do things around the house, but without fail he would abandon the bright colors and flashing lights to come find him. He would try sending him to go play, but that was an even bigger failure, though for reasons that admittedly weren't Samuel's fault. The only things remotely resembling toys lying around the house were several decks of playing cards and an old football that was too big for the kid's child-sized hands.

His only remedy to Samuel following him around was to give him little chores. Part of him worried that it would come across like a punishment, but to his surprise Sam was strangely eager to work alongside him. Things like sending him outside to pick up sticks in the yard while dinner cooked, getting him to help unload the dishwasher, setting the table - he was visibly content to have little jobs to perform, to be useful.

Santiago made a note to call his own mother and ask if she had any of his old toys in storage. Even if it was a solution to make the time pass, giving the kid chores to occupy him felt a little too much like something out of a Dickens novel. He didn't know where that obedient part of his personality came from, but further exploiting it wasn't something he wanted to make a habit.

A half-hour after dinner they finally went to the back bedroom to call Sonia.

Samuel climbed up on to the desk chair this time, while Santiago sat down on the foot of the bed.

His number must have been registered on a pre-approved list since the last call, because they were put directly through by the shelter. Much to Santiago's surprise, Sonia picked up on the very first ring.

She sounded better than the last time they spoke with her. Her voice was lighter, less tired. Immediately she wanted to share good news with them. A new job had been offered to her at an insurance company. She would be able to start in a couple of weeks. They just needed to wait for the city housing office to place her and Samuel in an apartment.

"It won't be long." She promised him repeatedly. "Just another week, sweetheart."

After answering his many questions, she happily demanded to know everything about school and how we was doing.

Santiago sat back and watched Sam as he began to recount the last three days in great detail. The good news had clearly lifted his spirits, but something about having his mother's undivided attention made him positively beam. Sides of himself that he never showed before began to peak their way through. He seemed to drop his serious demeanor as he talked about what they were learning at school and how he got to help feed the class pet that day. For once he began to sound like almost any other seven year-old.

It made Santi think back to himself as a little boy. He could remember having some of the very same reactions and mannerisms- speaking animatedly with his hands while he told stories, using the occasional word in English when he couldn't quickly find what he wanted to say in Spanish.

Sonia let Samuel rattle on for twenty-five minutes, lightly laughing as she listened and only ever stopping him to briefly ask one or two questions.

Hearing his voice seemed to have the same effect on her as it did on him - it was both a source of comfort and sadness.

Before long she made a quick excuse about needing to go. The way she said goodbye to her son and wished him goodnight was inexplicably rushed.

___________________________________

Saturday, October 12th, 2021. 3:00 PM

Will’s backyard was impressive compared to the mix of patchy grass and dirt behind Santiago's house.

It was a space that was designed for a family, for entertaining lots of guests. Will didn't yet have the wife and kids element locked down, but Santiago knew he was working on it. Out of all of them, he was maybe the most cut out for that kind of life. He didn't ever talk about those sorts of things with him or Frankie, but Benny probably knew his plans for the future. They all used their shares of the Colombia money in various ways to rebuild their lives back home - each of them trying to construct something closer to what they had imagined for themselves - each with varying levels of success. Maybe for Will, using his time and money to carefully curate and care for this big house with a magazine-worthy backyard was a way of manifesting.

For now, it hosted their boys' nights and get-togethers with Will & Benny's extended family.

The grass was perfectly maintained, soft enough to comfortably walk on barefoot, with absolutely no prickly weeds or sharp little stones. There were large oak trees in the very back near the fence, the kind with low branches perfect for hanging a tire swing. There was a stainless steel double grill for large cookouts, a sand pit for playing horseshoes, even a built-in seating area on the deck that held a fire pit.

Samuel and Santiago were the last ones to arrive.

There was no bright red Ferrari in the driveway, but Santi recognized the black SUV out front as one of Benny's back-up vehicles. Frankie's truck was parked along the curb.

Following the usual protocol, he led Samuel along the side of the house toward the back gate. Even Will’s side lawn was perfectly mowed, the tall wooden privacy fence stained an HOA-approved color. While balancing a small cooler of drinks under one arm, Santiago easily reached over the fence and unlatched the wooden door with his free hand.

Sam stayed close behind him as they entered the backyard, dutifully carrying the grocery store bag of burger buns they were tasked with bringing.

Already, he could hear the sounds of Benny’s laughter and Creedence Clearwater Revival from the outdoor speakers. The smell of grilled meat hung in the air, ambient mosquito lamps were lit around the back porch.

Will was unsurprisingly manning the grill when they walked up to the back deck. He was dressed in cargo shorts and flip-flops despite the autumn chill that was guaranteed to arrive once the sun went down.

“So this is your plus one?” He asked over his shoulder. The burgers sizzling away were left briefly unattended as he turned around to face them.

Santiago ushered Sam to stand in front of him. “Go ahead, say hi to Will.” He pressed.

Sam looked up from the plastic sack of buns he held against his belly, obediently mumbling a quick hi just loud enough to be heard.

“How’s it going, kid?” Will nodded to him before pointing to the table at the center of the deck. “Go set those over on the table for me, will you?”

The boy moved to follow his instructions. As Santiago worked at transferring his beers into the bigger communal cooler, he watched Samuel from behind, his gaze needlessly supervising while he went about the simple task.

Will couldn’t keep himself from smirking. It was always the same with every new placement Santi took in. In the beginning he was always hypervigilant, needing to establish order so he could pass as a reliable authority figure. When most of the teenage boys he took in stood a full head taller than him, he had to play the bad cop over the first few days and make them earn his trust through curfews and chore lists. But before long he always eased up.

Seeing him with a child seemed to have completely morphed that old strategy. He stared after Samuel with the same energy as a mother hen, always looking to be a split second away from fretting over him.

Santiago caught Will watching him the moment he straightened up from filling the main cooler. His eyes narrowed as he craned his head to the side.

“What is your deal, Miller?”

Will could only shrug and shake his head before he turned back to the grill.

Frankie and Benny came out from the sliding glass door, a young black Labrador eagerly following behind them. The dog was just about at adult size, easily weighing over 60 pounds. His nails clicked across the deck as he scurried over to greet the newcomers.

His deep bark reverberated throughout the backyard before he suddenly lunged toward Samuel. Instinctively, Santiago’s hand gripped the boy’s shoulder. He abruptly stood up, ready to move himself in front to intercept, but Benny already had a firm hold on the dog’s leather collar.

"Bo, settle down!" Will sharply called his dog's name.

"He's fine. I've got him." Benny easily calmed the situation. “Big guy's just a little excited.”

Sam didn't back away from the overly energetic dog. He stood squarely planted in the same spot, grinning as he offered out a hand for him to smell.

“Atta boy, Sam.” Benny quietly praised, his grip still steady on the dog's collar. “Let him smell you first. When he sits down then you can pet him.”

Santiago watched as Bo finally dropped into a sitting position. Sam reached up to scratch at his ears.

“You like dogs?” He asked him.

Sam nodded at the question. He leaned back as the dog’s pink tongue tried to lick his face, softly laughing as he attempted to dodge the overgrown puppy's affection.

Santi thought back to conversations they held in his truck on the way to school in the mornings. Multiple times the kid had asked him why he didn't have any pets. Watching him confidently interact with Will’s dog showed that he clearly had grown up around animals.

A strange tension in his jaw slowly melted away, one that he hadn't even realized he was holding. A single corner of his mouth ticked upward in a hesitant smile. He began to wonder if maybe he overreacted a bit. In truth there had been no real danger. Will's dog was young but he was well trained. Even if that weren't the case, in this backyard surrounded by these four men, nothing bad would have ever happened to Samuel.

He hadn't even noticed Frankie digging out a beer for him from the cooler. Cool and wet fingertips suddenly wrapped around his elbow, still dripping from the ice water. Santiago felt his chest deflate some as the frigid glass bottle was pushed against his open palm. He tried to lean into the man's touch, turning his head slightly in hopes that they would graze one another, but Frankie slipped away just as quickly as he came.

The brief contact still caused something in Santiago's chest to buzz, like the quickest flash of static electricity. He tried to meet Frankie's eyes as he set about grabbing drinks for everyone, but his brow was obscured under the brim of his hat.

His body language was the same as in the diner a few days ago. He may have been physically present with them in the backyard, but mentally he was so clearly elsewhere.

Santiago only swallowed and nodded to himself. With the help of a nearby lighter sitting on the table, he popped open his beer with ease. He tried not to mull over any hidden meaning in that fleeting touch as he took his first swig.

The afternoon sun warmed the air around them. For the next few hours, Sam chose to stay close, quietly hanging off to the side and listening as the adults talked. Conversation was principally dominated by the Miller brothers. Benny had a fight in Vegas coming up. Will wanted to organize a boys hike in a couple of weeks.

Samuel sat between Frankie and Santiago, happily eating whatever was offered to him. Ever since their last telephone call to his mother, Sam seemed to be eating and sleeping much better. Santiago was relieved to see for the last few evenings that there was hardly any food left on his plate. Late at night when he would finally to bed, there was hardly any noise at all coming from Sam's bedroom across the hall.

As the sun gradually began to set, Sam finally ventured off the deck to play in the yard with Will's dog. He happily chased after the black Lab, chucking his grimy tennis ball up in the air for him to catch.

Happy that the kid was occupied and knowing that they would be staying a while longer, Santiago allowed himself to settle back with a second beer. The sun was beginning to fall already, and Will was starting to gather the supplies to light a fire.

Frankie sat next to him on a folding chair. He hardly spoke the entire afternoon, opting to drink water instead of beer. His shiny black eyes made a point to avoid Santiago as much as possible. He sat with his arms folded, intensely watching Will's very involved technique for placing logs in the metal base of the firepit.

Impatient, Benny reached over to nudge his brother with his foot.

"You playing Lincoln Logs there or what?”

"I’m trying to get the most use out of this wood.” Will retorted as he worked at securing the logs in place. “How many of my fires have kept your asses from freezing out in the field?"

“Hundreds.” Santiago agreed.

“Well now we're freezing our asses off in the middle of civilization. Hurry up, will ya?” Benny replied while tugging a hooded sweatshirt over his head. “The temperature's dropped like 20 degrees.”

The crackling flames soon danced in the firepit, casting a warm glow.

Their collective attention was redirected when Bo came trotting back up onto the deck, sans tennis ball and without Samuel.

Sanitaog scanned the backyard, struggling to locate the boy until he noticed a small dark figure high up in the big oak tree near the back fence.

Thanks to the lights Will had installed on the back of his house, Santiago could see Sam dangling from a thick outstretched limb of the magnolia tree. In one fluid try, he managed to bring his legs upward, wrapping himself entirely around the branch. His skinny arms weren’t covered with much muscle at all, but what little he possessed seemed to be well toned. He was completely at ease while he worked his way comfortably atop the thick branch, settling himself into a sitting position.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a country boy, Pope.” Benny laughed as he looked over his shoulder, one brow raised in amusement.

“That’s definitely a kid that spends time outside.” Will hummed before taking a sip from his beer.

Santiago had to admit that Sam was surprisingly strong for his size. He doubted at age seven that he possessed the necessary core or upper body strength to pull off those maneuvers.

Still, that nagging instinct to keep the boy out of danger remained ever present at the back of his mind. Slowly, he cupped one hand around his mouth.

“Sam, buddy, that’s high enough!” He cautioned across the yard.

“I’m fine!” A small voice eventually called back.

A soft sigh of frustration escaped Santiago when it was clear that his warning went ignored. He set his untouched bottle of beer down beside him.

“I better go make sure he doesn’t fall and break something.”

Before he could even move, Frankie’s hand gripped his shoulder, gently nudging him back down onto his chair. “Stay. I’ll go keep an eye on him.”

They all watched Frankie's broad back traipse across the lawn, his hands in his pockets as he approached the oak tree.

“Does he seem off to anybody else?”

The three of them didn’t look at each other. Santiago let his question hang in the air, spoken softly enough so it couldn’t be heard on the opposite side of the backyard.

Frankie stood at the base of the tree, head tilted back while he mindfully watched Samuel climb. His words weren't entirely clear, but they could hear him speaking in Spanish. His hand moved to point to something once in a while, gesticulating while he gave some sort of direction or encouragement.

“He does.” Will quietly agreed as he lowered himself onto one of the open Adirondack chairs. “I thought maybe things weren't going great at the diner.”

Santiago knew that if things were going poorly at the diner, Frankie would just be stomping around and slamming cabinets while cursing up a storm. This went beyond the dishwasher breaking down and line cooks calling out. The empty look in his eyes for the past few days suggested something much deeper. Even more so, Santiago knew that Will was more astute than that. He had to have the same alarm bells ringing in his head.

“No. You and I can both see that it's something more.”

Will stoked the fire some before settling back into his seat. He looked Santiago in the eyes, his face still remaining neutral.

“Look, we only found out today.”

Santiago's brow knit together as he stared at the two brothers. His attention zeroed in on Benny, catching the moment he began looking uncomfortably down at the beer bottle in his hands. Will may have been known for putting on a stony mask, but his younger brother was never quite able to hide his emotions in the same way.

“What do you know, Ben?”

Benny's lips pressed together into a tight line, but he never lifted his gaze. It wasn't his information to share and he fucking hated being the messenger, but he knew that when it came to Frankie, Santiago could not be talked into backing down.

“Elena is trying for full custody.”

The silence that followed the admission was heavy, and it only set Santiago further on edge as he struggled to process the information. His mind raced to try and find some kind of meaning.

Elena had ample reason to be pissed at Frankie, but their daughter had stood as a no-conflict zone between them. They always co-parented well, despite their differences. And even though she hated Santiago's guts, he didn't know her to be a cruel or vindictive person. Something had to have happened.

“She's gotta be doing this to try and get his attention. Have either of you spoken to her?”

Benny cleared his throat, his eyes still trained down towards the mouth of his beer bottle.

“It's still so fresh, man. He’s only known since Monday.”

Will shook his head before pointing a warning finger at Santiago. “This isn't our fight, Pope. And frankly, of all people, you definitely need to keep your nose out of it.”

Only a year earlier, that sort of comment would have sparked rage deep within Santi. Maybe it was because it was coming from Will, and maybe the 2nd beer had him feeling more relaxed, but he simply nodded.

“Yeah, I'm aware.” He bore a bitter half-smile as he held up a placating hand. “But this isn't fucking right and we all know it.”

Santiago took a sip of his beer, only turning his head so he could verify that Samuel hadn't gone any higher in Will's tree.

Frankie must have succeeded in convincing him to climb down, because he was now hanging upside down by his knees from the lowest branch.

Seemingly eager for a subject change, Benny nodded to the scene taking place on the other side of the backyard.

"What's the story with this kid?"

Santiago shrugged. "Hard to say. His mom's got issues, but she won't talk to anyone. We just know that they were evicted and about to sleep out on the street. It looks like she's running from something. Maybe an ex. Maybe she owes someone money."

Will leaned onto the armrest of his deck chair. "Does she have a record?"

He let the question drift out between them casually. Due to their line of work, they both had access to certain connections and the privileges that went along with them. It was a practice that wasn't discouraged or encouraged, but they both knew that Santiago could have easily obtained her file if Sonia had one with the police.

"Nope. All clear."

"What about the kid?"

Santiago slowly blinked, his dark eyes incredulous.

"Does he have a police record at age seven?"

A smile appeared across Will's face as he looked out across his back lawn. He could so clearly hear the indignation in his friend's voice as he disbelievingly rephrased the question, there was no need to look over to confirm that his eyes were probably narrow slits.

"I meant have you tried asking him for more information, Pope."

An empty laugh pushed its way from Santiago's chest.

"I've tried, but I'm not exactly his favorite person." He sighed, his chair creaking as he leaned back into a long stretch. "We've fallen into this cops and robbers routine somehow. He goes non verbal the second I start asking any questions."

Will's fingers scratched against the stubble growing under his chin, this time a twinge of genuine amusement flashed across his features as he tried to imagine the scene.

"It's only been a few days, right? Don't they usually settle in after a while?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Santi hummed as he began peeling off the foil wrapper around the mouth of his beer bottle, clearly unconvinced. "Most of them do."

Benny leaned forward to chuck another log onto Will’s fire, his face contemplative while he looked for the right spot.

“If something’s really wrong, he’ll eventually talk.” He spoke while a few stray fireflies took off into the air.

Santiago didn't ask for clarification, but he couldn't keep from mulling over how Benny's advice applied to both individuals on the other side of the backyard.

___________________________________

Saturday, October 12th, 2021. 10:15 PM

They left Will's house around 10 PM.

After saying their goodbyes to the Miller brothers, Santiago and Frankie stood between their trucks parked on the edge of the front lawn. Sam was already climbing up into the backseat of Santi's truck while the two men said goodbye to one another. Santiago purposefully lingered in the embrace they shared. His arms held the man against his chest, stopping him from being able to pull away too quickly. It was indulgent, surely, but he needed to feel that contact, for however brief it ultimately would be. The conversation he held with Will and Benny just a few hours earlier still rang fresh in his mind. To say that he was concerned for Frankie didn't come close enough to the worry he was now feeling. Santiago knew that if what Elena was attempting to do was for real, his own heart would break at having to watch such a callous thing be inflicted on the man he loved.

He ghosted his mouth against his warm skin, first finding the shell of his ear, then the plush flesh of his cheek. It was risky behavior, because they’ve always made a point to be lowkey when out in public, but he was reassured when Frankie thankfully didn't tense up.

“Tomemos un café está semana?” (Let's go for a coffee this week?)

Santiago whispered the proposition warmly to him when he pulled back and their eyes met for what felt like the first time all damn night. He was sure to subdue the smile he wore, knowing in the back of his mind that Frankie could suspect something if he played this too strong.

Maybe the two beers he drank that afternoon made him less observant, but if Frankie suspected anything, he didn't let it show. His large hands only lingered on Santiago's waist. He gave an easy nod to the question before his dark eyes flicked downward, seemingly to fixate on his throat.

“Claro, cuando tú quieras.” (Sure, whenever you want.)

It was impossible not to think about the fact that "going for a coffee" used to be their old excuse to sneak off and see each other - when they were both in the army and even when Frankie and Elena were still together. Sometimes it would be just that, a simple coffee and a long talk, but more often than not it was more.

This time, Santi really only wanted to talk to him. Frankie was so damn good at hiding whatever he had going on inside. Being able to speak one on one - that meant without the boys, without the diner chaos around, without one of the foster cases in tow - would probably be the only way he was going to be able to get anything out of him.

The drive back to his house was short. Just after he ushered Samuel inside and sent him back to brush his teeth and change in to pajamas, his phone began to ring in his pocket.

With the boy heading off down the hallway, he pulled the device out and made his way into the kitchen. A frown took over his features as he caught Dana's name across the screen.

"Hey, what's up?"

Even though he could hear the water running in the hallway bathroom, he kept his voice hushed as he answered.

"Sonia didn't return back to the shelter after curfew last night. Her phone has been going straight to voicemail all day."

His footsteps froze in the middle of the tiled kitchen floor. Dana sounded angry as she began to rapidly recount what few details she possessed.

"Even if she did come back, I doubt I can convince the shelter at this point to keep her spot. Not to mention she's also-"

"No, no, hang on." Santi abruptly cut her off. His mind was racing with the slew of information she just fired at him. He already knew what she was suggesting and he didn't want to hear her voice it out loud. "How many hours has she been gone now? Let's not jump ahead before we know what we're dealing with."

"Her phone has been turned off all day, Santiago." Dana repeated. "You know what this looks like. I know what this looks like."

He let out a slow exhale as he tugged off his baseball cap. The faint hum of the fluorescent light over the sink registered in his ears. He tossed his hat onto the counter before his fingers threaded deep into his tangled curls. He began to gingerly pace over the kitchen, making the same brief circuit around his island as he listened to Dana list their options.

"Listen, it's your call." Santiago cut in once she finished. "But maybe we should just ride out the weekend and give Sonia a chance to come back and explain-"

Just as he rounded the island for the umpteenth time, he caught sight of a small figure standing in the kitchen entryway. It immediately brought his words and movement to a direct stop.

Samuel's face was unreadable. He stood stock still as he stared at Santiago, the black darkness of the living room just behind him.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Fuck.

___________________________________

@velocibee @thirstworldproblemss, @ohsomightypeaches, @ellenmunn , @hopeamarsu, @astroboots, @kesskirata , @itspdameronthings , @acdeaky @waywaychuck , @unbelievable-dear , @niki-fromthevoid @songsformonkeys , @duckydanny @rebel-fanfare

#triple frontier fanfiction #santiago pope garcia #santiago x frankie #Triple Frontier #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #santiago fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia fic #francisco catfish morales #santiago imagine #frankie imagine #Triple Frontier hurt/comfort #will miller #benny miller #santiago garcia fanfiction

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grumpyeagleandfriends · 1 month

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Sir, I come to thee on bended knees...

Oscar Isaac Photographed By Josh Olins For "Brioni", 2024

#oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac #brioni #Lord will my weary soul ever know rest #please god i am not your strongest soldier

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grumpyeagleandfriends · 1 month

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This 2017-2019 era right before, during, and after the filming of Triple Frontier will always be my favorite. Real ones just know.

Oscar Isaac attends “Hangmen” Opening Night After Party at Dream Downtown on February 5, 2018 in New York City.

#My lawfully wedded husband #The father of my imaginary children #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac

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grumpyeagleandfriends · 1 month

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grumpyeagleandfriends · 1 month

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He straight up looks like Grimace from McDonald's.

They did our boy a little dirty with this one.

oscar isaac bts of 'fear of god' campaign

#I would still hit it though #Respectfully #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac #fear of god #photo shoot

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grumpyeagleandfriends · 1 month

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Looooooook,

This was so kind and lovely!

I write this story for apparently 4 people on tumblr, but I'm thrilled all the same.

I felt that this chapter was a lot of putting things in place. I had to drop some hints for events that will happen in the next couple of chapters and set up the main drama. It was kind of a bitch for me to write, not gonna lie.

Filler isn't the word I like to use to describe it, but it's definitely a lot of plot maintenance so the next act of the story can finally get going.

The dynamic between Will and Pope is important here, secondary only to what happens between Frankie and Santiago. I'm so giddy that you think what I've tried to establish between them tracks with the dynamic constructed in the film. I love seeing how TF stories start from the source material and then build on in whatever crazy direction. Seeing what people come up with for these 4 compelling, though not very fleshed out, characters is a fucking trip.

All that being said, I wish I had combined chapters 1 and 2 when I first started writing but what can you do 🤷‍♀️.

Outpace Us All - Ch. 4 - Santiago Fic

Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Original child character. Frankie is a single dad who owns a diner. Santiago and Will are cops. Benny is Benny.

Rating: Adult

Word Count : 11,000

Warnings: Men loving men. Sex. Cursing. Mentions blood and violence. Mentions drug use. Some lines of Spanish dialogue, which I include as a warning only because I am a non-native speaker.

Masterlist

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 7:45 AM

___________________________________

They were only four days in, but the situation of Samuel and his mother still remained mysterious. Hardly any of the questions brought up that night at the police station had answers.

All Santiago did know was that the kid was cleared to stay at his place for at least another week. Depending on how things developed over the next few days, the duration could be prolonged. Everything remained tentative, but for the moment, a week’s worth of visibility was the only bit of clarity they had.

Santiago recognized that there was a high possibility of Samuel's stay in care being stretched to two or three weeks. The longest emergency foster he had ever hosted was a little over two months. He wasn’t sure about the official timeline or the exact definitions given by the state of California, but emergency stays that lasted much longer than a couple months usually started to bleed into a different category. If his mother’s situation didn’t begin to show signs of improvement, then their case would inevitably change in the eyes of the law. If that were to happen, Sam would formally enter the foster system and require a placement in a more long-term setting. Santiago's home would need to be made available once more for other emergency cases. In the best of circumstances, Sam would go live with another family. In the event that there wasn’t an available home that was a good fit for him, he could also be sent to a group facility.

As it currently stood, things with his mother were complicated.

Even though Santiago left his number with Sonia and encouraged her to call or text whenever, all of their communication continued to pass through Dana.

They were still set to have a phone call with her later that evening, but in the back of his mind, Santiago was wary of the creeping possibility that it might not happen. Sam's confession to fearing his mother abruptly leaving him still rang fresh in his memory, but he felt that it was important to look at things objectively. There was still so much he didn't know, and this situation didn't quite feel like other cases he had seen. This woman didn't fit the profile of someone who abruptly abandons a child, even if her young son seemed convinced that she was going to try.

Despite everything, there had been an update the night before that was positive.

Dana explained to Santi in a text that Sonia was already pre-approved by the state for public housing. They would just have to wait for her paperwork to be processed and for whenever the next unit would become available. She was also in the early interviewing process for a new job, in what field exactly Dana hadn’t specified, but things were progressing. She still wouldn’t give any answers about what happened in the weeks and months leading up to her eviction. Dana and the staff at the shelter tried their best to coax any amount of details out of her, but she held strong to giving them only vague non-answers.

They were being led to believe that everything about her situation was simply due to hard luck. Nothing more.

Samuel was their only other potential source for information, and he was just about as tight-lipped as his mother.

He was undeniably well-behaved, but not in a easy going, mild-mannered way. Sam displayed a level of discipline that was disconcerting for a boy his age. His bed was always made. He knew to put his things away and how to fold his clothes nicely. Every day it looked like he was making a conscious effort to leave as little a trace as possible of his existence in the house.

Santiago was already beginning to see the impact of everything on him. The boy wore the markers of someone who carried an unabated stress, like something under the surface was quietly eating away at him.

He regularly picked and chewed at his fingers, to a point where his cuticles were irritated and red. Saturday evening when they went to the supermarket, Santiago turned around from looking at cereal to find dried blood caking Samuel’s fingertips. With a fair amount of difficulty, he managed to fight his initial urge to scold the behavior. Instead, he found the public restrooms at the back of the store and sent him to go wash his hands. They later made their way to the check-out line with a couple boxes of band-aids thrown into the cart.

Sam seemed torn between absolutely hating him while simultaneously needing to follow his every move around the house. He spent a lot of time glaring and trying to look angry, but couldn't hide the fact that he didn't seem okay with being left alone. He would always try to hover in or around whatever room he was in, pretending to ignore him. It wasn't necessarily bothersome, but Santiago did find himself growing slightly exasperated by having suddenly acquired this second shadow that was both disgruntled and mute.

The only times Sam really spoke at length were during the rides to and from school. For whatever reason, riding there in the back seat of the truck, he felt comfortable enough to voice a small part of whatever was passing through his mind. He would often ask several questions in a row - usually about his mother, but sometimes there were surprises.

Is my mom staying at someone's house or in a hotel?

Is she in trouble? Is it kind of like a jail?

Does she get to go outside?

Are there animals?

Is there a pool?

Why don't you have any animals?

Why can't I take the bus to school?

They were about to exit off of the freeway when a voice piped up from the back seat.

"Santiago?"

He glanced briefly at the rearview mirror to find the kid staring in his direction.

"Yeah?"

"Are you a cop?"

There was a stretch of silence where he sensed that Sam was working up the courage to ask whatever was on his mind, but what finally came out took him by surprise.

"So, I'm a detective." He started. "Which means that I help lead investigations. Do you know what the difference is between me and most of the police you see?"

"Kind of..." Santiago began to thoughtfully chew at the inside of his cheek as he came to a stop at the red light. The conversation about what he did for a living was one he was used to having around other adults. It was surprising that he felt just as defensive about his choice of work even here in the presence of a child.

He caught sight of Sam once again in the rearview mirror.

The boy frowned as he shook his head. "No."

He reached over and cut the radio before turning around to look directly at Sam.

"But you've got a badge like a cop." He rebutted.

Samuel seemed to think over his words for several moments. He stared out the window, watching as older children advanced up the street on foot towards the school.

"I do." Santi agreed as he craned his neck to try and see past the long line of cars. He toyed with the idea of parking on a side street and walking Sam up himself.

"I don't like cops."

Samuel's confession was stated plainly, with no anger or malice. His tone of voice carried the same level of indifference as if he were talking about a vegetable that he doesn't eat.

"Oh yeah?" Santiago considered him through the rearview mirror, watching the way he disinterestedly fidgeted with the nylon straps of his backpack. "Why's that?"

"Cause..." He began with a shrug, only the dark curls at the crown of his head were visible as his eyes remained trained down at his hands. "They ask too many questions."

___________________________________

Wednesday, October 9th, 2021. 1:00 PM.

The office had a certain level of background noise going at all times. Phones ringing. Tapping keys while someone typed. Chairs rolling across the floor. It was an open concept workspace. People were constantly walking in and out. The adjacent hallway was always reverberating the loud clanking doors on either end.

Will's concentration flourished in that sort of environment. His mind was able to soften all the individual noises to a dull roar, turning it all into soft static that played as a background track while he filled out reports and progressed through his schedule.

He and Santiago worked side by side. Their desks were back to back just outside the office of their head of unit. Santi was the opposite of him. He hated the office noise. Often he would ask for Will's help to fill out paperwork because he couldn't string coherent sentences together with all the distractions happening around them - the chatter that would build up near the office coffee machine, people randomly filing in and out of the meeting rooms, the phone they shared between their two desks ringing every other hour. All that time he spent following cartel activity out in the jungle had changed his threshold for sensory input. Two years later and he still struggled to recalibrate.

Will didn’t look up in his direction, but could still hear the moment he paused in mid-step as he spied the cream colored envelope left sitting on his keyboard. It bore the official seal of the Sacramento police department’s bureau of professional standards.

It was precisely 1 o'clock when he came strolling back in from his lunch break. A takeaway coffee was securely nestled in one of his hands, a large shopping bag dangled from the other.

“Came in while you were at lunch.” Will explained over his shoulder.

"You mind sharing why the Lieutenant of Professional Standards is noticing you?”

Will's voice was calm as he presented the question, but he felt the beginnings of a familiar anger rising up within him. He had brought Santiago on with Narcotics not just because he knew that he was overqualified for the job, but also because he knew how badly he needed the distraction. They all noticed when he closed in on himself after Colombia, but Frankie had been the one to see first hand just how deep Santiago's spiral went.

Will never wanted to know the details of what transpired between the two of them that weekend, but he was able to deduce enough for himself. The dark clouds that had been brewing off in the distance finally came to shore. Ever since they seemed to be silently weathering that storm together- silently in front of everyone. Plain as day, but always unspoken. Will didn't need to ask any questions. He just saw that Santi needed to be saved from himself, so he tried to do his part and talked him into the job as a means of protecting him, of keeping him close.