#Partido Nuevo Progresista

[corrupcionenpr]

Diablo, Quiquito, que feo quedaste😂

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

I assure you, I did NOT intend for there to be such a long hiatus since the last update! Life got ridiculous for a while. Hopefully this massive chapter makes up for the wait!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 26,000+

Summary: While Javier's work spins up, preoccupying him, you try to keep your worries after several perplexing occurrences from towing you down into uncertainty. Can you both keep each other feeling grounded and deserving of the hopes you both care to nurture together?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including masturbation and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, sickness, longing, stress, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, family strife, foreboding threats, and uncertainty. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Bossy!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 43: Still

Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Since the 1980s, Puerto Rico had grown into a major gateway to the U.S. for South American drugs. Within the first few years of the early 1990s, though, the small archipelago and U.S. territory functioned as the Caribbean's drug-smuggling hub. The administration in Washington D.C. ranked Puerto Rico and the nearby U.S. Virgin Islands as second to Mexico, in being a corridor for drugs coming into the United States.

With stats like that, and a precarious rise in violence and social ills associated with the drug trade and trafficking on the island, it was no wonder that the federal government had established a larger footprint in the region, encouraged especially by the Partido Nuevo Progresista being the current party in power. The Puerto Rican governor, Pedro Roselló, was a pro-statehood politician who'd been voted into power with lofty promises of curbing the waves of crime and violence, and collaborating with the federal government to get aid and better opportunities for private industry to the island of 3.6 million people.

His Mano Dura initiative was one that will be studied for decades to come. Beginning as a zero-tolerance policy program to combat crime, that some say had the opposite effect when it came to bettering the social standing of the working and poor classes on the island. It included the enactment of policies that increased sentencing periods, reduced rehab-focused initiatives for criminal offenders and promoted aggressive, more proactive – and often invasive – policing tactics. Public safety was touted as the preeminent concern – borne out of the fear and public frustrations across all facets of Puerto Rican society regarding the skyrocketing incidences of carjackings, hold ups, drive-by shootings, and murders fueled by the drug trade.

For all the militarized tactics, most glaring being the use of the National Guard to infiltrate and police public housing and high-crime neighborhoods throughout the metropolitan municipalities on the island, the murder rate only kept rising.

Javier had poured over the data, and saw how crime had exploded on the island as soon as it became a hub for drug trafficking into the U.S. and Europe. It used to be that robberies and the occasional assault were the worst crimes in most towns on the island. But just the year prior, there were 980 homicides on the island, setting a record – with one of the worst massacres reported occurring in a small town west of San Juan. More than 60 percent of the killings were drug-related. And drug-related violence was only getting more pervasive – indiscriminate of victims or the collateral damage.

Needless to say, Javi was done with the crash course phase of things, and wanted to really wrap his arms around the facts at hand. Sadly, the murder and mayhem had no face – no figurehead to pin the wave of crime on, so he was left to pull at threads in the stats and data to try and find the source. Of course, though, he and Steve had their mandate: stopping the flow of drugs, especially of the 10 to 20 percent that ended up remaining in the island for local consumption, creating a criminal industry that smuggles and stores the product, launders money, operates the retail puntos and foments the violence to prevail over competitors. Well, at least that was Javi's goal, since stopping the all-out flow of drugs into the U.S. was a fool's errand.

Getting the DEA running without being as heavy-handed as the National Guard patrolling known points had been difficult in the past, but he and Steve had come up with different tactics and enforcement plans. Organizing everyone, and getting them the necessary training, and into the field office was their current hurdle, one that kept both agents busy.

Working to get the field office set up, splitting travel to and from the U.S. Virgin Islands, being briefed on joint task force operations, and dealing with federal officials assessing their budgetary requests had been occupying a lot of their time. There just aren't many moments for either of them to concentrate on non-DEA-related things longer than the cursory conversations or plans you and Connie make for dinner hangouts, surface 'how was your day' chats, or simply wanting to be in the moment when intimacy was possible. So, having the intuition to ask 'what is wrong?' wasn't in the cards currently.

You commiserate with Connie about it. Between the two of you, though, you don't feel like you have any concerns – you don't feel neglected or burdened. After all, she's the one juggling a full-time job at the V.A., taking care of Isabel and Olivia, and fitting in time to tend to the house. If anything, you feel pretty centered, compared to how things had been before reconciling with Javier.

It's all perspective, and you are a great sounding board for Connie as much as she's a reassuring voice of reason – and a fount of knowledge for living with a stubborn DEA agent.

Really, you enjoy having someone who understands what it's like to be in love with a tenacious, committed and selfless man who throws himself into his work head first, then thinks about the toll that takes much later. As far as you're concerned, it all is put into perspective. So not telling Javier – or anyone – about the threatening note you'd received via a pink carnation bouquet delivery to your condo building, makes perfect sense to you.

Sure, you'd rushed down and asked the attendant specifics – 'Who delivered it? Did they mention the sender at all? Are you sure it was meant for my apartment?' – and gotten no answers or evidence that would help identify the culprit, let alone a means to track possible suspects, had unnerved you. But you just didn't think it was anything worth mentioning to Javier. You didn't want to alarm him when you weren't really sure it was even meant for you or not. No, it didn't seem credible enough to set off unnecessary stress and panic. So, you didn't.

You'd thrown the flowers out, and stored the card into the drawer of the console in the living room.

When Javier had spent the night at your place the following evening, you'd already shoved it to the back of your mind.

He was none the wiser, and you'd enjoyed relaxing with him in bed after stripping each other of your clothes and making passionate love while the air conditioning kept your warm bodies and the room cool.

He'd been beat from work, so much so he'd practically fallen asleep in mid-sentence about his hectic day.

Things for your department were equally busy the next couple of weeks as well with a major server expansion across departments and agencies occurring in stages, so you held no umbrage at the juggling of free time happening, since you were also focusing on your work projects.

The nights he'd work late, you were content with a quick 'goodnight' call and making plans to have a coffee, or lunch date some time the next day. Whenever you both ended up being at the office after hours, due to working late, Javier and you would carpool together in your sleek sedan to his place to spend the night together, and he'd catch a ride the following morning with Kike either to the field office or some task force meeting at the Federal Court Building.

And dinner with the Murphys had seamlessly become a once-a-week routine during this period as well, which was much-needed for blowing off steam and socializing outside of work.

This week's dinner was Saturday night, and it had been wonderful, but not without a lot of chatter between Steve and Javier regarding the drudgery still to come. During this kind of shop-talk lulls, you and Connie would exchange musing looks before leaving the fellas to it, preferring to entertain Olivia and the baby over idle chatter. This time, the precocious girl had made you both come to her room so she could show off the drawings she'd done at school and play with her favorite toy of the week before she had to get in her pjs and get tucked in.

You didn't mind it at all, and Isabel was a sweet baby that always seemed to enjoy your silly muecas and bouncing on your knee.

Javi was apologizing now, on the walk home back to his bungalow, for being so preoccupied, but you reassure him that it didn't bother you.

"—I know how much of a hassle it is to deal with all this stuff, babe. I'm just glad you and Steve have each other, this time," is your understanding retort. "And anyway, you two will make it up to us eventually."

"Oh, yeah?" he drawls, arm around your waist giving you a cheeky squeeze. "Have anything in mind already?"

"Actually, yeah. Earlier today, Connie, Anita and I talked about maybe doing a trip – all of us couples together," you retort simply and slip your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "We could rent a house close to the beach and go for a long weekend."

Pleased, Javi hums, "Sure. I like that plan. Could be fun."

You conceded that you were sure it was a ways-away out, and while you both walk around the corner, keeping to the sidewalk, you muse, "All the Mano Dura stuff is really only revving up too, so I can imagine you're both going to be juggling that as well."

Unintentionally veering him back onto the work topic, Javier ends up talking through his thought process and concerns the rest of the walk to his place. By the time he's unlocking the door and chivalrously holding it open for you, Javi is really on a roll.

"—Once we get things settled, and the extra funding we asked for the field op teams comes in, we'll be able to take a backseat and let our ASACs manage," Javier is remarking as you enter through the entry door through the laundry room before him, allowing him to close and lock it behind himself. "It's time for Segarra to sink or swim, and Steve's guy seems more than capable to handle his end, so we should be finally able to focus on big-picture work. Really, we shouldn't have been doing so much shit ourselves up to this point, especially since we're supposed to be the bosses—"

He's just loped into the main living space and placed his keys onto the counter when his verbal train of thought halts after turning towards the living room. Well, specifically at the sight of you pulling your flouncy pale blue and green floral-patterned bohemian dress off and tossing it onto the chair adjacent the couch before toeing off your favorite leather flats and look over at him alluringly.

You're only in a thin nude lace bra and tanga-style panty now, already undoing the front closure as you brazenly suggest, "Why don't you come over here and show me who's boss, querido?"

It's hot, and oh-so-naughty how you can spin his lust up in a nanosecond and have him simmering with incandescent urge, especially with this kind of taunt delivered as an appeal for him to dominate you. And the sultry smile in your eyes as you shed your bra and toss it over at him to land on his shoulder, for good measure? Proceeded by the spritely way you fold your arms behind yourself and jut your bare breasts out proudly at him?

Rapacious desire ignites in his gut and has him rushing over to sweep you up into his arms. A delighted squeal bubbles out of you as he carries you to bed, making you laugh infectiously from his nippy nuzzling – impishly grazing his moustache along your neck and collarbone before he tosses you onto the soft surface. You bounce and giggle as you prop up onto your elbows to bat your lashes sultrily at him.

"You wanna get bossed around, do you?" he rumbles in a velvety tone as he takes his boots off and quickly divests of his belongings before unbuckling his belt and showily yanking his dark blue and white vertical pinstriped shirt – the one you love because it clings to his shoulders and pecs perfectly and accentuates his muscled biceps deliciously – out of his jeans waistband before swiftly beginning to undo the top three buttons.

Giving him a salacious smirk, you purr, "Mmhmm, that's right, mi patrón—"

"Fuck…" he eyes you with that smoldering, chiseled regard that always makes you tingly, before he growls, "Take those panties off right now, then, you little tease," as he deftly works the rest of the buttons undone and shrugs out of the shirt before pausing at plucking the button on his jeans when you defiantly remain sat up on your elbows and do not strip your underwear off as he'd ordered. Raising a challenging brow at you, he puts his hands on his hips and grumbles, "Are you really going to defy me, malcriada?"

You give him a mischievous grin and lilt, "Maybe?"

He grunts, giving you a snarky look as he leans over and yanks you down to the end of the bed by your ankles. Your squeal of surprise and the way you bite your lower lip makes him smirk before roguishly husking, "Do I need to tear them off of you and bend you over my knee for a spanking, traviesa?"

"I really like these, so no – no tearing, please," you chime as you draw your knees up and plant your soles flat to the bed, splaying your legs wide open as you toy with the waistband suggestively while his gaze hones in on the damp spot your arousal has soaked into the crotch of your panties.

The way he flicks his dark brewed eyes up at you sends an excited tickle up your spine and makes your pussy throb when he stares assertively at you before ordering, "Take them off, and show me what's mine."

Arousal pulses at your center at his command, and heat zings along your nerve endings to harden your nipples while anticipation flutters in your tummy as you slowly work your panties down and off. You discard them to the floor and lay back so you can spread your legs open and caress your hands along your thighs.

Javi hums in approval, and you expect him to finish undressing and have his way with you, but instead his smoldering gaze intensifies as he keeps his hands at his sides and murmurs gruffly, "I told you to show me what's mine, tentadora."

Your breath skitters excitedly, and Javi's gaze holds yours before admiringly returning to your cunt, now flushed with arousal. The desire he stokes in you has your seam slick and clitoris thrumming with need. He doesn't have to elaborate what he means, and seeing as you started this little game, you're aching to have him, and are tantalized by him flexing his dominance.

Breathily, you part your legs more and glide your hands down to touch yourself, slick dampening your folds as you run your fingers down and part them like dewy petals. You use the fingers of one hand to spread yourself open while the eager digits of the other dip into your aching pussy wetly before tracing back up to rub delicious pressure over your thrumming clitoris.

The sight of you pleasuring yourself has Javi throbbing wantonly in the confines of his jeans, but he keeps his now clenched hands at his sides as you whimper impatiently for his touch.

"Javi—please," you whine, your touch not enough, and desire making you needy for him to be naked and pressed against you.

He doesn't budge, even when you arch your hips up slightly and squeeze your bare breasts together. No, he wants to hear the magic words before he continues stripping.

"Please…what?"

Your blush sears the apples of your cheeks and you bite your bottom lip hard before exhaling a frustrated huff.

"Please, take what's yours," you beg, slick fingers gliding through your damp sex before you caress your palms up to your apex, as you murmur, "Give me what you want, mi amor."

He feels that rapacious urge scorch up in him at your needy words, and with how you butterfly your thighs open to show him how soaked your pussy is now, Javier can't keep his controlling façade up – not with how quickly his hands move to undo the button of his jeans and zip down his fly before slipping his thumbs into the waistbands of both the denim and his cotton underwear to yank them both in one swoop down.

Watching him strip makes you smile. He catches it when he stands from shedding the last of his clothes and tossing them in a pile by the dresser.

"Hm, take what's mine, eh?" he drawls in that honeyed baritone that makes delight tickle in your core, especially when he stands with his hard cock to loom over you, like he's contemplating what to do to you first.

All you can do to not grin up at him is to nod as demurely as you can muster as you hum, "Mmhmm."

With a shameless smile, Javi suddenly scoops you up and prowls onto the bed with you squealing a silly sound as he stays propped up on his knees so you're only recourse is to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to his shoulders.

He loves how mirth lights your eyes while your expression quirks with delight against your will – how your pursing lips can't fight back the smile tugging them up, so with a faux-admonishing cluck of his tongue, Javi coos, "Why am I getting the distinct impression that you're really giving me what you want, and not the other way around, hmm?"

You snicker and daringly buck against him so he has to catch his balance by propping his arm sidelong, which allows you to use the momentum to topple him onto the bed so you can playfully roughhouse with him for dominance, as you chime seductively, "Because that's exactly the case, mi patroncito. It gets me hot when you get all bossy—"

"Oh yeah?" Javier croons as he easily pivots you both so you're on your back and his big hands have cuffed your wrists and pressed them down on either side of your head. The weight of him crowding you makes you shiver, and the exquisite heft of his cock nestled flush against your crotch makes you mewl involuntarily.

"Yes," you admit airily and smile when his soulful eyes crinkle affectionately at you, full lips pursing out cockily. Deciding to pluck at a naughty string in him, you purr, "And it makes me ache for your cock when you think you can command me, bebito."

That has Javier giving you that incandescent look just as he steals your breath with a voracious kiss. Your arousal hazes your mind just as his hand moves to cuff your wrists together above your head while the other possessively cups your cunt and grinds your clit with the pad of his thumb. Hips bucking at the contact, you mewl into his mouth when his tongue plunders it while you arch up into his warm, muscled torso.

Your brain is swimming in the pleasure of Javi dominating the hell out of you, so much so that you don't even feel shame when he breaks the kiss and leaves you gasping from the sudden thwack of his deft fingers wrapping around his cock and tapping it lewdly onto your drenched pussy in a very lascivious show of dominance.

"When I think I can command you?" is Javier's gruff croon, dark brewed eyes molten with conviction as he makes his point again by gliding just the head of his cock through your folds before guiding it to slap wetly against your mound, deviously close to the hood of your clit.

You moan and writhe at the electrifying contact, so Javi purrs, "I think the ache you got for my cock has you forgetting who the boss is, querida. I'm gonna need you to use your words and beg for it, or else I'll just give you everything but my cock tonight."

Your skin is scalding from how crass-yet-authoritative he's being with you, winding your lust up into a tangle of desires that has you vibrating with arousal and pulsing with debauched delight.

"Please, mi amor—give it to me. Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya—will do whatever you command, just let me have it," you ramble with needy allure, eyes shimmering with how earnestly you're begging for him not to deny you the pleasure only he can give you.

Pleased beyond belief, Javi caresses his hand up to cup your chin to ground you to focus on his smoldering stare as he leans forward and husks, "Good girl," before kissing you chastely on the lips.

He lets you wrap your arms around his torso as he settles between your thighs and rolls his hips with delectable prowess to drive his cock into your pulsing sheath.

It feels so amazing to have him fuck into you – to stretch you open onto his thick, throbbing cock with every thrust, especially after all the foreplay and dirty talk. This feeling of passionate ecstasy always fills you, and the way you cling to Javi with every desperate stroke of him into you tethers him into being both grounded and alight. Nothing matters when you're both spun up like this, except for the ruinous euphoria you each feel build and build as the lovemaking crescendos.

There's nothing more gratifying to his pride than when you climax, going molten around his cock and frantic in his arms to cling to the sensations he's unleashed in you. You're so wild from the throes of pleasure that you muffle your sobbed moan into his neck before ferally suckling a greedy bite into the delectable spot.

"Fuck," Javier groans and feels his thoughts melt as his orgasm barrels loose from the knot of pleasure in his apex and has him clutching your waist as he pounds his cock into you before his thrusts stutter in rhythm and his release empties into your fluttering sheath.

Your toes curl at the sensation of his climax filling that deep, tender part of you only he can reach, leveling you to fall apart in his arms as all the strength dissolves in your body.

The warm and fuzzy heat of post-coital relief has you uncaring that you're warm, slick and sweaty under Javier while he lies on top of you in a spent heap.

"Eres pinche gloriosa," is Javi's husky, albeit drowsy praise as he props himself up on a shaky elbow before laboriously rolling off of you with an exhausted grunt.

All you can muster is an affectionate nudge of your forehead into his shoulder before Javi rumbles something wordlessly and encircles his arm to your waist in order to pull you to sidle against him.

The cool air from the undulating ceiling fan caressing your dewy forms helps lull you into a calm repose, where only Javier's warm skin and heady scent occupy your attention, until he nuzzles the top of your hairline and presses a kiss there.

"You feel good, querida?"

"Feel divine, chavón," you sigh, kissing his collarbone before you murmur, "I love you."

He exhales an approving grunt before patting your thigh encouragingly for you to tilt your face up to him. When you do, he caresses your cheek and swipes his thumb to wipe away at the perspiration that beaded along the edge of your orbital bone.

"I love you too, corazón."

Dreamily, you smile up at him unselfconsciously. Your eyes are glossy, lashes damp and lids heavy, so Javi curls his fingers to crook under your chin so he can admire your flushed features before he peppers soft kisses along your warm skin. You are content to simply bask in his doting grace.

Eventually, when you regain your wits and start to fidget, Javier gets out of bed to retrieve a damp washcloth and returns to give you his loving aftercare. And when he pulls the covers back for you to be tucked under them, you hold onto his forearm and tug him to slide in after you rather than be apart from him the few seconds it would've taken him to round the bed to his side and climb in.

Feeling too accomplished to care that you're in the spot closer to the doorway than he'd normally like, Javi stretches out next to you and happily lets you lounge curled up against him, with your head on his shoulder and hand caressing languidly along his chest.

"So…at the risk of sounding clingy, I'm really going to miss you," you find yourself volunteering in a murmur, already frowning at yourself as you amend it by rationalizing softly, "I mean, the other trips were much shorter—"

Javi cups your jaw and makes you melt when he kisses you, snuffing the insecure ramble before it could start.

Resting his forehead to yours, he sighs, "I know, since I feel the same way," before stating flatly, "It's gonna be a lot of meetings. Hell, all the damn travel from island to island will be the worst of it. Not to mention all the political jockeying and face-to-face conferences with officials. Wish I could just delegate it to someone else."

You pout, seeing the weariness in the corners of his eyes, so you sit up and caress your touch over his brow, murmuring as you trace your fingertips over his forehead, "Those are the pitfalls of being the boss man, hermoso."

He exhales deeply out his nose and closes his eyes, letting you soothe him with your affectionate touch before he mumbles, "I'm going to miss you so much, it's ridiculous."

When he opens his eyes again, he relaxes visibly when you lean forward and kiss his full lips tenderly before playfully scratching into his unruly hair, while you lilt in a singsong, "You'll just have to be a good boy, get your work done, and hurry back so I can have my way with you."

His laugh is warm and raspy as he loops his arms around you to roll down into the pillows together so he can shower you with ticklish, moustache-grazing kisses to your cheeks, jaw and neck while you giggle and try to fend him off by tickling his sides.

After you both settle down in the warm bed together for the night, Javier conks right out, breathing deep and calmly on his back while you're snuggled at his side, with your head on his chest. The quiet of the room and the undulating breeze coming from the curtain-covered windows helps your mind wander for a bit, still charged with wayward thoughts. The ones that keep looping back for consideration revolve around Javier unperturbedly falling back into the chase – of being hungry for the hunt. He couldn't seem to quit the DEA for good, let alone sit back and relax in his position of authority. You remember his promises, both from when he was a field agent and when he was the Special Agent in-Charge in Bogotá. How he'd been unable to keep any of them, no matter how hard he tried.

And now here you are, recalling the ones he'd made to you when he'd begged for another chance.

"I came here for you."

He'd professed coming to Puerto Rico to be with you. That he didn't give a damn about the job, and if you wanted, he'd quit. How he'd do whatever necessary to earn your trust. That all that mattered to him, was you.

You don't want him to quit, or to not give a damn about his work. But you'd be lying if you weren't worried that old habits were intent to die hard when it came to him getting swept up in the politicking and the disappointment – that he would fall prey again to the corrupt jockeying and manipulation of compromised leaders, both here and stateside.

Still…in your heart, you felt things were different, and didn't want to give up the peace of being with him, on both your own terms.

"Everything we wanted is still possible…I want it all, with you…"

An effervescent palpitation has your heart skipping a beat at the echo of his words, and you feel centered.

With a smile, you close your eyes and let the strong thrum of his heartbeat help lull you into sleep.

Early the next morning, you wake up to Javi sitting on the foot of the bed with a cup of coffee he's nursing while in only a pair of blue-striped pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips. From how his shoulders are slumped, you can tell he's half asleep, so you maneuver up to crawl over to him in order to slink up against his bare back. He grunts sleepily and takes a deep inhale before reaching his free hand backwards to hold you while you loop your arms around his midriff and kiss the nape of his neck.

"Want me to make you something to eat?" you whisper as you nuzzle the side of his head when he tilts it back and leans more into you.

"I'd rather have you," he tells you unabashedly as he turns to kiss you softly on the lips.

You hum into his coffee-flavored mouth before leaning back to sassily pet your hand over his tousled hair as you order, "You're going to have both, and you're going to like it, guapito."

Javier has no objection to that.

You both get in the shower together, have a great quickie under the hot water and against the warm tiles, and let the water rinse over your sated forms of the soap and sinfulness.

When you get back to the bedroom, you dry off and lie in bed to relish the little time you have left until Kike pulls up to get Javi before swinging over to Steve's.

Skin to skin, you savor his kisses and lovingly cuddle him, knowing how lonely – and empty your bed – going so long without him will be. Javier feels the longing building up in him already, and all he wants to do is get lost in this sensual moment, even though he doesn't have the time for it. You know it too, and prolong it for as long as you can.

It's only when you insistingly nudge him to start getting ready a few minutes later, that Javi begrudgingly goes to his dresser to grab his clothes. His things were already packed and waiting in the laundry room, thanks to you having surprised him with a respectable suitcase you'd purchased earlier the day before. When he'd come home from the gym and met you at his driveway after you'd dropped off Connie, Javi had been curious about the sleek piece of luggage as you carried it to his bedroom. You'd opened it as you'd razzed him about needing to level up from his well-traveled duffle bag, and had proceeded to iron an arrangement of suits and shirts for him. He'd been more than happy to enjoy your domestic doting, and had smirked when you'd shooed him away into the shower so you could continue picking out the ties and other garments he'd need.

Right now, though, he doesn't feel the need to rush to get ready, even when you're done pulling on your jeans and are tugging your shirt down as you head for the kitchen.

By the time he trudges down the back hall into the main room, dressed in dark blue jeans and a nice white button-down shirt with a breast pocket his aviators are currently folded in, you have a generous breakfast sandwich and a refreshed cup of coffee waiting for him at the kitchen's bar top.

His stomach growls, spiting him, and you smirk as he sits at the stool and eats with gusto while eyeing you ruefully.

"You know, you're cute when you're grumpy," you can't help tease as you lean into the counter, opposite him.

Polishing off his meal, he quickly dabs at his mouth with the napkin before picking the dishes up and rounding the countertop, deliberately breezing by you to place them in the sink, as he gripes, "We had enough time to fool around some more, and you shot me down."

You scoff irreverently before whirling around just in time to catch him off guard and press him back against the sink's counter. Hands boxing him in so you can lean into him commandingly, you bossily tell him, "Javier Peña, you better not be getting surly with me before you're about to leave for over a week. You know how much I want to roll around naked in bed with you. Now quit being a brat, and give me a kiss."

He can't even stay surly, not at that, or the sultry look you're giving him.

His lips quirk into a smirk while he lets his moodiness out in a huff through his nose, then leans in to kiss you obediently on the mouth.

You suck on his bottom lip before grazing your teeth on the plump morsel, enjoying how he gasps excitedly and grips your waist as you pull back and imperiously smile up at his flushed expression.

Just as you're deliberating whether you can get away with kissing on him some more, you hear Kike pull up in the SUV outside, so you sigh and wrap your arms around him for a fortifying hug.

Once you've taken care of the remaining dishes and Javier's disposed of the garbage in the receptacle outside for trash pickup, you go to the bedroom to retrieve your scrunchie in order to swiftly put your hair up.

Javi's booted footfalls over the tiled floor approach from the hall just before he comes in and wraps his arms around you from behind. Exhaling, he kisses the top of your head before asking, "You're still spending the day with your dad?"

You nod, leaning into him before affectionately turning in his embrace and nuzzling his neck, humming before reluctantly stepping back so you can both exit back to the living room. "Yeah. He's going to D.C. for a while, so I was going to go food shopping and make dinner at his place," you remark and sigh whilst putting your hair in a ponytail.

He ogles your neck, and considers delaying leaving by pulling you against him so he can kiss from your jaw down the column of delicate skin. To nip a matching hickey like the one you left on him, and feel you shiver and cling to him. But you're hustling to get your shoes on and grab your purse, so he stows his raunchy desires and gets his keys, cellular phone, and wallet.

"That sounds nice," Javi muses, making you smile when his hand caresses your lower back as he escorts you through the laundry room, grabbing his suitcase and opening the door for you. "No Camille?"

"Nope, thankfully," you retort and watch as he locks up before smiling when he turns and quirks a derisive brow at you. "It's for both their benefits! I cannot stand her, and she has finally learned her place, is all," you insist, and Javi nods judiciously at your rationale while he takes your hand and escorts you out of the marquesina to lope over to the front curb where Kike is parked.

"Well, it sounds like it'll be a better time spent than what I'll be doing," is his deadpan before approaching the driver's side window that's rolled down, patting the frame to get the young officer's attention from the local tabloid magazine he's engrossed in, as he greets, "Morning, Kike!"

"Good morning, sir!" the jovial plainclothes officer retorts warmly before hastily folding up the magazine and stowing it in the door's cubby, then waves while greeting, "And good morning, Ms. Celina—"

"Ay, Kike. Just call me Celina," you razz him as you lean up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek through the open window. "Deja con las formalidades, ya," is your amused order.

"Okay-okay, se me olvidó," he chuckles as Javier opens the backseat door and places his suitcase in. "Did you like the mix tape?"

"Yeah, it had some cool tracks!" you retort and smile at Javi when he grunts and raises his brows curiously as he shuts the car door. "Kike gave me a mix tape with all the latest reggaetoneros that are hot right now."

"Ah," is his drawl as he loops your waist and pulls you close. "When are we going to perrear?"

"Javier!" you admonishingly hiss and swat his bicep haughtily, scoffing at his unabashed leer whilst Kike tries to hide his wry grin.

"Oh, that's right – you said when I take you to a club that actually plays reggaetón," he drawls as if you're talking about something innocuous, before he turns to Kike and remarks, "You'll have to tell me what the hot reggaetón clubs are so I can finally get her to dance perreo with me—"

"Alright, enough, beyako," you chastise sardonically and pinch his sides, grinning when Javier frowns at you using the naughty nickname in front of Kike, who is doing everything he can not to burst with a guffaw at his expense. You distract his umbrage by standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips before lilting, "Pórtate bien, y llámame."

He smirks at being told 'Be good, and call me.'

"I will," he murmurs and kisses you amorously before cupping your cheek and muttering, "You behave too, now."

Snickering, you kiss his palm and pull him in for a hug.

Once Kike has turned the SUV around while Javier walked you to your car, you two lock lips one more time before you hop in and pull out of the driveway to the street. You wave at Javi in the rearview once you see him get into the front passenger seat, and then drive away to head to your early morning errands.

Javier watches your little sedan drive off before Kike pulls away to coax down the block and turn the corner en route for Steve's house. He already misses you, and finds himself scenting his collar for the whiff of your perfume that clings to it.

"I gotta warn you, sir. Ms. Celina is going to have cacos drooling after her when you take her to bailar perreo," Kike remarks musingly, causing Javi to arch a brow dubiously at him. "Ella es una mamita sabrocita – all eyes will be on her at any reggaetón club, is all I mean."

With a dry grunt, Javier furrows his brow amusedly. "Trust me. I'm very aware," is his dry mutter, before he sarcastically warns, "And do not let her hear you refer to her as a mamita. Speaking from experience, she will let you have it and you'll have whiplash."

"Claro que no," Kike snickers and shakes his head sagely. "She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa, so I would never pasarme así, sir. Definitely don't wanna offend her!"

Javier nods, picking up the gist of the slang-filled statement. After all, he's really had a run for his money in deciphering the bulk of the Puerto Rican slang Kike and Wilmer would fire off at each other in rapid conversation, and being out with you and witnessing your parrying of local colloquialisms you'd not used before in Colombia would often or not leave him inferring meanings, if not straight up asking you what a word meant.

Still, though, he'd heard bichote used to reference a drug dealer or criminal kingpin-type, so he had to ask, "¿Bichota?"

"Ah! Bichota as in a boss lady. A big shot woman – like, she's a cool, important lady," the younger officer explains as he pulls up to the front curb of the Murphy residence.

"I'm gonna need to find a 'Puerto Rican-isms' dictionary, for sure," Javier quips, smirking when the other man blows a raspberry and grunts in the affirmative.

He's not completely joking. Especially after the weeks of prep and briefs from undercover agents, who'd documented hours of audio recordings from dealers, traffickers, gatilleros and more throughout all their surveillance targets on the island. Thankfully Wilmer or Kike were always available to run questions by, and had been great helps to all local info for Javier and Steve.

The opening of the backseat door pulls Javi from his internal cataloguing. He turns to watch Steve chuck his suitcase in before climbing in and shutting the door while greeting, "Mornin', fellas. You been waiting long?"

"No, sir!" Kike assures as he pulls away from the curb once Steve's settled.

"Yeah, Kike here was just warning me about how I'll have to keep Celina close when I take her dancing here," Javier glibly jokes as he retrieves his aviators from his breast pocket and slips them on.

"Really? You do know Jav here is a real surly jealous type, right? So telling him something like that's only gonna get him stewing," Steve chuckles good naturedly as he leans forward to pat Javier's shoulder, and drawls, "We do not need a repeat of the Danvers incident, bud."

Javier scoffs and crosses his arms to keep his right hand from fidgeting with his exasperation at the mere reference. "Don't be an ass. That wasn't because I was jealous—"

"I'm sorry for mentioning it, sir," Kike genuinely offers as he drives, adding, "I didn't mean to sobrepasarme —"

With a reassuring pat of his shoulder, Javier assures, "Nah, you didn't. Don't worry. Murphy solo le gusta hablar mierda—"

"Hey, I don't talk shit," Steve interjects in a goading drawl.

"Oh, you're finally learning Spanish. Good for you, and about fuckin' time, hillbilly."

"Some of us are still capable of learning new things, pendejo. And do you kiss Celina with that filthy mouth?"

"She loves my filthy mouth. Maybe you should try it some time with your poor long-suffering wife—"

"Hey! My wife's off limits to your snarky remarks—"

"And Celina is off limits to your shit-talking commentary—"

"She ain't your wife yet, buddy. Once she is, then she's off limits."

Javier exhales testily and flips Steve the bird over his shoulder while glaring at the grinning blond in the rearview mirror. He arches his brow when Steve sits back and basks in having gotten the last word, or so he thinks.

"Look at him. Sitting so pleased with himself like he accomplished something," Javi deadpans to Kike in Spanish, who had managed to stifle his laughter during their juvenile back and forth. "Just loves to bust balls because his get busted at home."

Steve glowers at Javier's profile when Kike snorts amusedly at what he said, so he decides to prod his buddy some more. "Speaking of Celina," he drawls lyrically before remarking aloofly, "Wilmer told me he overheard Bozzi telling Vernon that she caught his eye."

That has the desired reaction.

Javier slowly turns around and tucks his chin down so he can glower at Steve over the rims of his sunglasses. "What?! When was this, and why are you only telling me now?" he grounds out from clenched jaw and tight lips.

Seeing the hickey barely concealed by Javier's shirt collar, he flicks his gaze up to see that dark fury start to fill his eyes, so, Steve dismisses, "Ah, because it ain't the first nor will it be the last time that anyone has the hots for your girl, Javi. No point in bringing it up—"

"Except to wind me up, you mean," Javi snaps back and huffily returns to sit facing forward in the front passenger seat.

"…All right, dick move on my part. I agree," Steve relents and busies himself with smoothening out the wrinkle in his green and white-striped polo shirt's collar.

"…What did Vernon respond to that asshole?" is the gravelly inquiry from Javier.

Steve looks at Javi's stare reflected in the rearview mirror before glancing at Kike, who's now just as invested in the gossip as Javi, so he exhales gruffly before answering, "Vernon told him something like, 'I'm pretty sure she's spoken for already. Or so go the rumors,' and Bozzi scoffed that there's no ring on her finger so she was fair game, as far as he was concerned."

That boils Javier's blood. But he only shows it with the hard etch of his scowling features and the way his biceps flex when he crosses his arms tightly across his chest.

"Acho, que canto cabrón," Kike remarks indignantly, not even batting an eye when Javi looks over at him, surprised. "Ms. Celina would never like that guy, so he's a pendejo for saying shit like that."

Chuckling in agreement, Steve cosigns, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Javier cracks a lopsided smirk at that. He appreciates Kike being protective of you, and was glad when you both had struck up a platonic friendship after meeting when they'd picked you up from the dealership where you'd left your car to get serviced one morning. Since then, you would both chat buoyantly whenever you'd see each other and he'd given you his cell phone number in case you ever needed to get ahold of him if you couldn't reach Javier.

While he thinks about you the rest of the way they drive to the airport, you're leaving the video rental store now and hopping in your car to go spend the day with your father at his home.

You'd already stopped at the supermarket that carried Colombian food staples and picked up items for the meals you'd promised to make, so after a half hour drive to Dorado, you pulled into his driveway and parked across the open third-car garage. You confirmed with a quick peek as you rounded the car to get the groceries that Camille's luxury sedan wasn't in the garage, so with a relieved exhale, you retrieved the bag with the movie rentals and headed up to the front entrance.

The door was already open and your father was meeting you on the tiled front step to help you with the bags.

"How are you doing, tesoro?" he greets and kisses you on the cheek before taking the bags into the kitchen while you shut the door behind yourself before following.

"I'm good. How about you? Looking forward to going to D.C. for the big meeting?" is your retort.

He grunts wryly. "It's just a meeting. But I'll be there on lots of other business. What've you got there?"

At him gesturing to the bag in your hand, you reach into it and retrieve the three VHS rental movies and show him the stack so the labels are facing him. "I thought we could have a movie night. I haven't watched the third one yet."

The three movies are The Godfather, parts one through three.

Smiling broadly, your father is visibly pleased as he muses, "That'll take us the rest of the day to watch. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"Well we have to rewatch the first two parts to be reminded of everything before going into part three. It can also play in the background while I cook, no?" is your affable reasoning as you place the movies on the coffee table in the living room before returning to the kitchen to start unbagging the groceries.

He agrees, and soon you're both spending quality time together.

By nightfall, you're both engrossed with the final film while partaking in the leftover empanadas you'd made earlier.

You're on your fourth rum and coke, which pairs great with the empanada you're currently dabbing some hot sauce on while watching the drama, unaware of your father's pensive glance.

"I had the maid turn down the guest bed," he mentions as innocuously as he can.

You chew your bite and shift in your seat to look over at him. Swallowing, you retort, "I wasn't planning on spending the night, Pá."

You can see the furrow in his brow smoothen as he tries to not look judgmental. "I don't want you driving home so late. You've been drinking—"

Realizing why he's worrying, you wave him off, assuring, "I'm perfectly capable of driving. And I don't want to overstay my welcome."

He pauses the movie and frowns before weighing his options in how to respond. He seems to settle for, "I'd feel more comfortable if you spent the night, mija."

Finishing your empanada, you ruefully shake your head before washing it down with a sip of your drink.

"Unless Javier could come pick you up?"

Being a few drinks in, the indignant fire doesn't reach your eyes as quickly as it would've had he made the suggestion earlier. Deciding to relent, just a little, though, you muse impassively, "He's on a business trip."

Humming, he takes a long sip of his own drink before exhaling and attempting to capitalize on not being rebuffed on the topic like you'd done occasions prior. "Things are going well, then?"

You can't help sigh, because you truly do not want to argue with or snap at your father, but his constant need to broach the subject of your personal life aggravates you. So, you try to count to ten before placing your drink glass back onto the coaster on the coffee table before you answer him.

"I take it you haven't been able to get a rundown from anyone else on the matter?"

You turn to look at him directly, eyes frank as your brows quirk upwards in query.

He frowns, before responding in a mild baritone, "I'd rather ask my daughter about her life. Is that so wrong of me?"

You take a cleansing breath through your nose and let it out slowly before answering carefully, "Pá, I just don't want to end up arguing with you about my life. I don't want to be browbeaten by you, or feel like I have to defend myself—"

"I'm not asking you to, tesoro," he grumbles in a low tone, before pressing, "I just want to know you're all right."

"I am. But I know that's not all you want to ask, and I don't want to go down this road and end up with us getting upset," you tell him bluntly, crossing your arms and leaning back.

His jaw squares in impatience with you, but instead of snapping crossly like he would've in your youth, your father huffs and crosses his own arms to stare at you keenly.

"Just tell me one thing, and I won't broach the subject anymore," he proposes in his deep, raspy pitch. When you nod, his features relax minutely as he asks, "Does he make you happy?"

"Yes."

You responded without an ounce of hesitation, and the way your expressive gaze lit up with clear affection for this Javier Peña who makes you happy – as if he'd flashed across your mind's eye as you answered, made it easy for him to surrender.

With a hum, he presses the button on the remote so the VCR resumes the movie.

"Good."

You're pleasantly surprised.

When the movie ends a short while later, you surprise your father by agreeing to spend the night. So once you've packed the leftovers and washed the dishes, you kiss him on the cheek and go down the hall to the back guest bedroom.

Around the same time you're exiting the shower to get into a flowy nightgown and slip under the cool covers of the plush bed, Javier is just getting into his hotel room on St. Thomas.

After landing and spending most of the day getting shown around by Steve's ASAC, Sam Petersen, he was bone tired, and looking forward to just crashing. Tossing his suitcase onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, Javi tiredly empties his pockets and places everything on the night stand before dropping down onto the mattress and kicking his boots off in order to lie back and stretch his aching muscles. Lulling his head to the side, he sees the alarm clock lists it being just after 11:45pm.

Even though he'd warned you he probably would get in too late to call tonight, he wished he could hear your voice before bed. Deciding he didn't want to risk waking you up, he lumbers up off the bed and starts stripping on his way to the bathroom. One nice hot shower a few minutes later, and he's trekking back into the cool airconditioned room in just a towel, yawning noisily as he unzips the suitcase and flips the top open in search for some boxers or pajama bottoms to wear to bed.

The exhaustion clears from his eyes when he sees just how neatly you've packed everything. His toiletry bag is snug in the center while two pairs of suits are crisp and folded just right that all he need do is put them on hangers, the dress shoes were buffed and shined, and everything else was tucked and rolled for easy arranging. Even the soft cotton dark gray boxers you packed were arranged right on top of the main folded pile, so he wouldn't have to rifle for them.

Seeing as St. Thomas would be their base of operations for the next few days, Javi goes to work unpacking the items you took the time to iron and steam for him.

When he gets to the assortment of button-down shirts you packed for more casual workdays, he's surprised to find a square envelope hidden underneath them. Placing the shirts on the dresser, he picks up the envelope, opening it and finding a crisply folded sheet that looks like was carefully pulled from the planner he's seen you write reminders in.

Unfolding it, he finds a note, written in your lovely handwriting.

Javier,

Since you'll be busy and likely unable to chat much while you're away, I figured I'd write you an important reminder: I love you, with all my heart. And everything you do, it matters. I'm proud of you, and I'll be thinking about you, and wondering how I got so lucky to have you.

Please, be careful, and give yourself grace. Especially if you find yourself in a moment of frustration. I know how invested you can get when you're on the case, so just remember that you're not alone in it. And let Steve take on some of the stressing!

Missing you, chulito.

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito.

Love,

Celina

Heat fills his chest, making his heart feel full and immense at your words. It's then, when he's about to tuck the note back into the envelope, that he notices there's something else inside of it. Slipping it out, he ends up staring at the snapshot.

It's a photo of you, posed sultrily – sat at the foot of your bed, in only the nighty with the slit up the thigh. And from the looks of the angle the photo was taken, he realizes you must've found a timer on the Polaroid camera and set it on the dresser to snap you while you struck the sexy pose.

Completely floored, he's so lovestruck that it takes him a second to realize that the soft garment that the envelope was placed on is actually the silky nighty you have on in the photo.

He picks it up and brings the delicate garment to his nose. It's laced with the scent of your skin, with hints of your sweat and the fragrance of your body lotion, as well as the lingering traces of your soap, fresh smelling laundry detergent and fabric softener. A smile warms his face when he realizes that's what you meant. That he can dream of you because he'll have your alluring scent with him as he drifts off to sleep.

Tossing the towel away from his waist to plop into the bathroom's tiled floor, he quickly pulls on his boxers and goes to stretch out on the bed with the treasures you slipped into his suitcase. The look in your eyes in the photo is dazzling and flirty, and your smile is cheeky yet sexy.

Javi wonders when you would've taken it, and his mind whirs through the recent moments that have passed between you both – suddenly remembering you'd been wearing the silky nighty the late evening he'd come to spend the night at your place after a very long day of being holed up with tax officials in Hacienda, the Department of Treasury of Puerto Rico.

The local government had cleared the DEA's request to review any and all flagged income tax accounts suspected of possibly acting as shell corporations for money laundering, as well as the list out of those that had come up in property seizure documents across the Caribbean region that had so far been catalogued by the forensic accountants. He'd spent almost twelve hours in the building, and during one of the coffee breaks, he'd called you to check in. You'd managed to cajole him to come spend the night at your place since it was much closer to Hacienda. And since he'd driven himself that day, he was more than happy to agree.

You'd been in your silky robe when you'd answered the door late that night, and he'd been so exhausted that you'd towed him to your room, stripped him of his clothes, and herded him to bed. With the lights shut, you'd curled up against him under the covers when he'd looped his arm around you and held you close, and your warm skin and the soft scent of your hair had lulled him into a deep slumber. He hadn't realized you were in the sexy nighty that had become his favorite of them all until the next morning when you'd stirred him awake with a gentle kiss to his forehead before lovingly caressing his relaxed features and liltingly murmuring his name. His eyes had dreamily gazed up at you, focusing on your mussed hair and how the early morning rays spilling in from the hall framed you, sat at the edge of the bed.

"Javi, it's almost 7. Do you have any early meetings?" you'd murmured, gliding your palm along his deltoid, bright eyes and fresh features bare, with only affection radiating down at him.

He'd stretched to roll onto his back, reaching his hand to cup your knee as he shifted up on his elbow and stifled a yawn before mumbling in a raspy husk, "Mmmph, yeah. A very important one," before seamlessly whisking you up and over him to sprawl onto the bed. You squeaked in surprise and then giggled when he rolled on top of you before crooning, "That is, if you can pencil me in, jefa."

"Oh, I just so happen to have some time right now, agente," you purred teasingly as you'd wrapped your arms around him and kissed his smiling lips.

When you'd both gotten hot and heavy, you'd tried to shimmy the nighty up and off, but he'd stopped you. "No, keep it on," he recalls rumbling before kissing a path down your body in order to bury his head between your welcoming thighs.

Arousal curls hotly down into his loins at the memory of you crying out and gripping his hair when you'd orgasmed on his tongue and sobbed his name in a breathy whimper.

Javier had to slam the proverbial breaks on his raunchy thoughts racing off into reliving how you'd stopped him from smugly leaving you sprawled on the bed to instead order him to strip his boxers off before you pushed him down onto the rumpled covers and yanked your nighty off, climbed on top of him, and rode his cock while squeezing his hands after interlacing your fingers with his and holding on as you rocked each other into an incandescent climax.

Shimmying under the blanket, Javi shuts the night table lamp off and stretches out with your nighty draped over the adjacent pillow, and drifts off to sleep with your scent soothing him and the photo tucked against his palm and the silky garment.

It's the best night of sleep he's ever had while away from you.

You, on the other hand, did not sleep very well.

Waking up with a slight hangover, thanks to how stiff your father pours drinks, you'd slithered out of bed and took a hot shower to try and revive yourself. Thankfully, by the time you'd wandered down to the kitchen, he'd already made a pot of coffee and there were an assortment of pastries and fruit to choose from on the grand island counter. He was sat at the nice eat-in table by the wide window, reading his morning paper.

"Doña Lana can make you anything you'd like for breakfast. She's just running the washer," he remarks without glancing away from the Op-ed he's skimming.

"That's alright. The coffee and this pastelillo de guayaba will be more than enough," you retort smoothly as you pour yourself a cup and pick up the pastry to go sit at the table with him. "What time is your flight?"

"Just before noon," he answers and folds up the newspaper to set it aside so he can sip from his own mug, eyeing you over the rim.

The respite of having a nice cup of strong coffee and a deliciously flaky and sweet pastry in a comfortable silence is short lived when he clears his throat and finally says what he's wanted to say for a while now.

"I'm really glad we've been spending more time together, tesoro. I was hoping you'd be open to getting together when I get back? Perhaps a dinner or outing, that doesn't exclude Camille?"

You silently seethe and count to ten as you finish your last bite. Washing it down with a long sip of coffee, you busily dab the napkin to your lips and use it to dust the powdered sugar from your fingertips.

"I'd like to keep this up, Pá. But I can't agree to that and be expected to grin and bear her," you tell him honestly, trying to keep all emotion from your tone.

He absorbs that, before crossing his arms and giving you an intense stare.

"All she's wanted is to be considered family, and she's done nothing but be supportive of us catching up for lost time…but I can tell it's begun to upset her, being excluded. It would mean a lot to me," is his bass-filled petition, his brows furrowing hopefully when you don't immediately scoff or shake your head. "You could invite Javier along—"

"Let's not get carried away," you finally sigh and idly brush the rogue strands of hair back from your face. You see a flicker of disappointment etch his features, so you dramatically huff before deflating back in your chair, then clear your throat before graveling, "Hmph…"just when I thought I was out, you pull me back in!""

Your father cracks a broad smile at that before chuckling, "That movie was terrible."

"Right?! I was so surprised by how bad it was," is your irreverent comment, snickering as you lean forward to prop your elbow on the table, "It did have some decent one-liners, though."

He grunts, before quoting, "Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment."

Laughing, you quote back, "Never let anyone know what you're thinking."

He laughs along, but then surprises you when he reaches his hand out to affectionately squeeze your propped up forearm, before gazing warmly at you, as he quotes, "A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."

It takes you off guard, to hear him quote that line. Truthfully, it disarms you, so you lean back and take his hand.

Just like when you were little, his hand dwarfs yours, and a heartstring tugs in your chest as you remember how much you'd loved walking with your father, holding his hand.

"Ok. I'll think about it," you murmur and give his hand a squeeze.

When you hug him goodbye a short while later, you wish him luck on his meetings, and he promises to call you once he's back on the island.

Both you and Javier have such hectic days that you don't get to check in with each other until very late that evening.

He's just returned to his hotel room and begins eagerly stripping his blazer and yanking his tie loose when his cell phone starts ringing in his pocket.

Retrieving it and pressing the button to answer, he props the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he toes off his dress shoes and empties his pockets. "Hello?"

"Hey, hermoso. It's not too late to chat?" your smooth lilting voice queries over the line.

"No, I actually just got back to my room," he assures as he sits to lounge back against the headboard of the bed. Stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, he exhales relaxedly before asking, "You missing me as much as I miss you, preciosa?"

He hears you snicker flirtatiously before musing, "Depends on how much you're missing me."

"Ah, if you're gonna be that way, I'm just gonna get ready for my date with the sexy little thing I got waiting in bed with me then," Javi tauntingly croons as he pulls out your photo from his wallet left on the nightstand and smirks when you make a grumpy little sound of disapproval.

"Well, stud, go right ahead. I have my own date in bed too," you counter sarcastically.

Grunting, Javier mutters flatly, "See, when you say it, it's way too believable—"

Snickering dismissively, you deride, "Hah, mira quien habla. I told you they used to call you el guapo descarado around the embassy. I never got such an apodo—"

Quippingly, Javi cuts in, "No, you were 'that ferocious little minx' and 'a knockout', oh and 'drop-dead gorgeous'—"

Your dramatic sigh has him pausing to grin, then chuckling when you grumble, "Tan chavón."

Humming innocently, he drawls in a gravelly murmur, "The only thing I got a date with, is your sexy nighty. I slept like a rock last night thanks to it."

"Ah, so you found it," you chime coolly, and he can hear the shifting of the covers as you pull the quilt back and slide under it. "I'm hoping to have a better night's sleep thanks to cuddling your shirt tonight."

"You spent the night at your dad's?" he queries as he unbuttons his dress shirt open and pulls the tails loose from the waistband of his slacks.

"Yeah. I ended up having a bit too much to drink, so I crashed in the guest room," you reply before redirecting, "So, how's St. Thomas?"

"It's alright. Sunny, but hot. Luckily, we've spent a lot of time indoors, dealing with CBP's Office of Field Operations here," is his smooth reply, hand idly brushing the curls of hair fanning over his forehead back as he grouses, "They're being pains in the ass."

"Oh?" you query curiously.

"Yeah, there's always been inter-agency static between DEA and CBP. They're wanting to red tape us to a point of impatience. But really, they're just trying to keep all the action for themselves, and don't want DEA oversight," he explains before huffing his aggravation from his tone, to add, "Anyway, we got one more day here, then it's off to St. John."

"Hang in there, boss man," you quip impishly, before asking, "Did you find the envelope?"

"Yes, I did. And you're a wicked little tease for slipping that photo in," he retorts with a smooth, canela-dipped rumble in his voice.

You giggle, and it makes that funny tickle flutter heat in that spot behind his sternum.

"Just a little reminder of what you have to come home to, guapito," is your smug purr before you end up stifling a yawn. "So you know, I meant everything I wrote. And I really miss you, Javi."

That radiating feeling throbs in his chest at your words. He's carried your letter in his pocket all day, sneaking it out of the envelope to skim it whenever he had a free moment. Picking it up from where he placed it down on the nightstand, he rests it over his chest as he stares at your photo.

You hear some rustling on his end of the line, and wonder if he's even read the letter, when he clears his throat and husks, "It means a lot. No one…I've never…It just means everything to me." Obviously fumbling with articulating his feelings, Javier huffs at himself before declaring, "When I get back, I'll do a better job, showing you how much it means to me, querida."

Clutching his pillow to your chest, you smile whimsically as you tell him, "I love you, Javi."

"I love you too, corazón," is his raspy murmur, before he purrs, "Dulces sueños, mi amor."

Feeling effervescently besotted, you susurrate, "Soñaré de ti, mi cariñito."

You both wish each other goodnight before hanging up, and sleep finds you both easily thanks to each other's scent lulling you into sweet slumber.

You do dream of Javier.

The sound of the tropical night filters into your dream as you're sitting in the passenger seat of the Cadillac. Javier is in the driver's seat, with one hand steering the wheel while his other arm is draped over the back of the bench. The scenery through the front windshield is of a winding, Puerto Rican rural mountain road at early twilight, but in the back windshield, it's the sunset sky over the Medellín cityscape. Javier's hand moves from the back of the seat to rest on your thigh, and when you look down at it, you're surprised to see your belly is swollen under a flowy black peasant dress with red embroidery on the hem and down the front collar.

You look over to find Javi smiling at you as the orange and blush-toned hues of twilight illuminate his profile. When you go to lean close to him for a kiss, you're suddenly jolted awake by your alarm clock blaring.

Scrambling over to shut it off, you flop onto your back and sigh confusedly up at the ceiling.

No dawdling. Doctor's appointment awaits.

The details of the dream were already fading into the fuzzy recesses of your mind by the time you're arriving to the waiting room. Signing into the log sheet at the front desk, you entered and found the space filled with a lot of other patients waiting their turn. You were surprised the office was busy so early first thing in the morning, but quickly abandoned wondering about it to instead let your anxious thoughts preoccupy you.

Another lab screening is due, so bloodwork as well as the usual checkup. Nothing's come back since the last one, so not likely to have any changes until the specialist reviews—

They call your name, and you snap out of your internal worrying to get up from the seat you were able to snag nearest the door.

It was for the best, you thought, to continue not mentioning your health concerns to Javi. You figured that until they were able to give you a definitive diagnosis, it would be pointless to make him worry. Sure, you also didn't want to spend too much time fretting about all the 'what ifs' that had already plagued you for months, but there was a small part of you that was already settling into being resigned towards what seemed like an inevitable outcome.

You didn't want to say it out loud, though. Not yet.

After taking several vials of blood and tagging them for analysis, your doctor charted your current weight and asked you about any irregularities in diet, if you'd been fatigued or feeling off.

Confirming that aside from still not menstruating, you felt fine, she asked, "And you're still sexually active?"

"Yes," you answer, worrying the leather strap of your purse between your hands.

"And it's been with the same partner?" she inquires, and at your nod, she neutrally asks, "Unprotected sex?"

"Yes," you confirm, tone a little tight.

"Hmm, well, I'd like to test to make sure you're not pregnant. I'll note it on the lab form as well," she clinically details as she scribbles just that on the form. "As usual, I'll call you with the results. In the meantime, keep your routine, and be sure to take plenty of vitamins. Especially with this flu that's going around."

You nod and thank her, still on autopilot from compartmentalizing the anxiety and dread the visit whips up inside of you.

A few minutes later and you're back in your car, feeling the pressure from worrying all morning begin to dissipate. Driving out of the parking lot, you cruise through the increasing street traffic as rush hour starts to congest the metropolitan roadways.

The radio is on your favorite station, and the morning program is recapping the latest local news when you notice that the car is starting to shake oddly.

Suddenly, just as you pass the traffic light of the intersection, you feel a sharp lurch before the undercarriage of the car slams roughly down on the pavement, as if you'd just hit the mother of all potholes. But then you hear metal grinding against asphalt, and immediately stop the car, only to find you can't turn the wheel to try and pull off to the nearest curb and out of the way of traffic.

Frantically, you keep trying to force the wheel, but it isn't until a bystander on the sidewalk rushes over and waves at you that you lower your window and hear him tell you that you're driving on the axel because your driver's side tire came off.

The next few minutes is pure chaos as car horns blare at you and impatient drivers zoom around your disabled vehicle into the opposite lane, which then causes a traffic bottleneck in the opposite direction you were driving.

After climbing over your center console to exit through the front passenger door, you manage to see the damage for yourself.

"Oh my god," you gasp at seeing that indeed, your entire tire – rim and all – came off the axel and was flung at the corner of the intersection.

Several calls later, and the police are detouring traffic while a tow struck is hitching your car to its flatbed to be transported to your dealership. With your work tote, workout bag, and purse in hand, you accept the tow truck driver's ride to the dealership. Realizing you're going to be very late for the manager's meeting, you get your cell phone from your purse and call Ellis.

"—Holy shit! Are you ok?!"

"Yeah, just a little thrown off. It doesn't look like I'll make it in time, so could you do me a favor and take any notes for me? Devon is in the Operations review so I—"

"No worries, kid. I got you. It sounds like it's gonna be another budgetary thing anyway," he assures and promises to give word to Olga so she can relay the news to Devon once he's back in your department.

The dealership is baffled when you explain to them what happened, and insist there's no way your recent service could've caused such an issue with your tire. Still, they agree to expedite the repairs and do a full diagnosis to see if anything else is wrong with your vehicle.

Unfortunately for you, they don't have any loaner vehicles available, so you're just about to ask them if they can call you a taxi when you remember that Kike had given you his cell phone number.

The congenial plainclothes officer is pulling up to the dealership not even twenty minutes later.

"Chacho, that sounds very scary!" he remarks, shaking his head empathetically after you tell him what happened. "If you need a ride later, I can take you home—"

"No, don't worry. While I waited, I called my friend to cancel plans we had for tonight, but she didn't let me and offered to pick me up," you reassure, smiling as you thank, "I appreciate it, though! I promise to call if I'm stuck for real."

"Ok, very good," he intones, as if satisfied, driving through morning traffic all the way to La Avenida Chardón where the U.S. Courthouse and Federal building are. During the drive, you ask him about how his training exercises went, and he jovially tells you how he's progressing and should be snagging the tactical ops certification in a month or so.

While you're hearing about the training Kike has yet to complete, Javier is standing under the shady canopy in front of the luxury store's display window, admiring the different, glitzy jewelry options arranged on the shelves and stands. The promenade is busy with tourists and locals alike, out enjoying the balmy Caribbean morning.

Just like that previous time wandering the jewelry district in Bogotá, Javier was perplexed by the variety of options – at the daunting number of rings one could possibly choose from. He was just internally admonishing himself for not having peeked into your jewelry box prior to see what kinds of rings – if any – you wore, for inspiration, when Steve approached his right side and hummed in goading wonder to get his attention.

"Well? Any of 'em catch your fancy?" he drawls as he squints at a very gaudy canary yellow diamond ring.

Grunting, Javi pushes his sunglasses back into place over the bridge of his nose before glancing over at Steve. "That's the thing: I haven't seen anything that feels like 'the one' – which as I say it out loud, sounds dumb," Javi mutters before looking back at the display.

Cocking a brow curiously, Steve remarks, "I mean, you were engaged once before—?"

"I didn't pick out that ring," Javi cuts in matter-of-factly, and Steve raises his brows in confusion, so he explains, "When we'd decided on needing to get hitched, Lorraine showed me an ad for the engagement ring she saw at the local jeweler's that she liked, so I got it and went to ask her father for permission. Showed him I already had the ring, so no one would suspect," he trails off before absently brushing the perspiration beading at his forehead. Running his hand to sweep his rogue curls back, he ends up shrugging, deadpanning, "I have no clue what she would like."

"I mean, when in doubt, a simple, big ole diamond ring should do the trick," Steve razzes and claps Javi on the back good-naturedly.

"No shit," Javier scoffs, griping, "But gold band? What shape diamond? I just don't know…"

Humming sympathetically, Steve was going to suggest maybe asking one of your close friends for help ring shopping, when a car pulled up to the curb and honked at them.

"Our ride's here," Javi mumbles as he walks by Steve, gesturing for him to hop to it. "Let's get this nonsense over with."

They both get in the SUV to be driven over to the U.S. Customs field office, and all the rings and twinkling diamonds fill his head as they drive to their appointment.

You're in desperate need for a break.

Once you'd gotten to the building, you'd spent the rest of the workday playing catchup. All your meetings had to be rescheduled and you hadn't had a moment to even grab coffee or a snack for lunch, so by the time 2pm rolls around, you're famished. Luckily, the conference call you had with a counterpart at the D.C. federal office got rescheduled for later in the week, so you decided to rush down to the cafeteria and get something to hold you over until dinner.

You've just sat down with your little tray at the table closest to the floor-to-ceiling-length windows that overlook the interior courtyard between the Federal and U.S. Courthouse buildings when you here a pair of leather-soled shoes clomping towards you.

"Well now, having a late lunch, signorina?"

You turn to see Agent Bozzi in a light gray suit and pale teal dress shirt, sans a tie. His hair is swept back and his beard is groomed differently than you remembered, but that smug smile and his cunning gaze is still filled with promise of ulterior motives. He's holding a big cup of to-go coffee, and is standing in that obvious way someone would to nonverbally fish for an invite to sit.

"Yes, it's been a hectic day, so just needed a snack," you reply pleasantly as you can, without trying to be inviting or obviously aloof. After all, you really just want to eat your salad and fruit—

Bozzi goes ahead and slides into the empty chair across from you, nodding towards your meal as he muses charismatically, "Pretty disciplined snack. Never would've guessed you for enjoying the forbidden fruit."

Arching a brow, you retort, "This is a pear. No apples today, although, the pomegranate is believed to be the more historically accurate 'forbidden fruit' of legend."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Bozzi drawls in a bass-filled reply, thick brows knitting together almost bemusedly while you begin to eat your salad.

You can see the gears turning for him to try and come up with something else to continue in conversation, so you decide to redirect, "Well, I hope I'm not holding you up from whatever required you to get that big caffeine boost."

His eyes crinkle at his cup and he admits, "Nah, I just needed an excuse to kill some time before heading back over to the Courthouse building—"

Of course… you acerbically think to yourself.

"—been burning the candle at both ends with this task force operation. Never seen anything like it. I've heard of a neighborhood being run by the drug dealers in Jamaica, but in a U.S. territory?" Bozzi prods your interest then, so you pay attention to his unfiltered remarking of, "Can't trust local PD to get the job done, so gotta let the experts take back the block."

"A block?" you ask.

Bozzi is pleased with himself, that he was able to pique your interest with that. "Yeah. It's classified, so I can't say too much, but a small-time gang took over a whole neighborhood, and even drew a white line in front of a specific block as a point of no return for the residents and outsiders. No one can cross it but the gang," he explains boldly before shifting the topic. "Anyway, the whole thing reminds me of a ride along I did once with the Italian special forces team the FBI partnered with outside of Rome. You ever been to Italy?"

You have to do everything to not roll your eyes at him. He was laying it on thick, and you'd fallen in the conversational trap, so you relented and answered, "Yes. I spent a season in Naples while my father trained at the U.S. Naval base there."

"Ah, long enough to pick up enough Italian?" he flirts, brows smugly cresting up as he smirks charmingly.

"Enough to get by, yes," you reply and take a bite of your salad.

He seems to decide then to give up reeling you in, at least for the time being.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair. I'll see yah around, director," Bozzi remarks and seamlessly vacates the seat as quickly as he'd taken it, and smiles at you as he exits with, "Maybe we can grab a real snack sometime."

You watch him stroll towards the lobby with that cocky swagger, and internally glower. How presumptuous!

The Bozzi drive-by has you rolling your eyes as you finish your snack, taking the pear with you up to your office so you can nibble on it in peace.

If Javier knew the FBI special agent in-charge had tried to flirt you up, he would be in an even worse mood than he was currently.

U.S. Customs had agreed to let them review their own surveillance findings for the investigation into the drop sites found in remote strips of beach, but had insisted they wouldn't compromise their UC's or the targets they were currently embedded with.

"—For the last time: I don't give a shit about their aliases. All we want are leads on the local players so we can trace any of them back to the surveillance targets DEA has in Puerto Rico," Javi impatiently snaps, eyeing the official across the table like he's an obstacle begging to be moved with force.

Steve, on the other hand, is sat next to Javier and is rubbing his temples, shoulders squared in aggravation. "What Agent Peña here is saying, is we're not looking to mess with your undercover agents. We're just looking for cooperation on whether any of the contacts they've made have mentioned any partnerships with the trafficking players running the trade in Puerto Rico," is his patient insistence.

The irony of all this, which they wouldn't find out about until way after the fact, was that U.S. Customs didn't have a real foothold with the supposed underlings to the traffickers, because the targets were acting as decoys.

Junior Capsula had learned from the mistakes of Escobar, and he wasn't as big of a come mierda as the Cali Godfathers. So, he knew to insulate himself and his real partners away from public view. And after that clusterfuck of a bust back in 1988 during that Operation C-Chase, it became more obvious that no one was to ever penetrate the smoke screen created to shield true leadership of the Familia.

Then again, though, his syndicate wasn't technically part of it.

Still, that meant creating not only dummy corporations, but decoy bag men and trafficking liaisons. The days of smugglers using banks to launder money, as far as he was concerned, were over. And with the current setup he was slowly building, he was sure to grow his empire and remain incognito.

After spending all day chipping away at the red tape, Javier and Steve got the intel needed and a commitment from CBP to keep them in the loop.

By the time he got back to his room, Javi needed a shower to wash the exasperation and angst off. Steve had agreed to skip dinner in favor of unwinding over room service and a long-distance call with Connie, so Javi took the opportunity to pack his suitcase for the early flight in the morning to St. John before tossing himself onto the bed and popping the kinks out of his back.

Picking up your nighty from where he'd folded it on the pile of clothes going into the suitcase, Javi drapes it over his face and takes a deep inhale through the garment. Your scent warms his blood, and makes his impulses itch.

The cool air in the room caresses across his bare skin as he lies there in just the towel, eyes closed and thoughts going lustful.

You've just gotten home after being dropped off by Zoraida. Your muscles ache from the kooky workout you'd tried out before dinner, and now full, you feel like you're in desperate need for a nice hot soaking bath before crawling under the covers.

The bathtub is halfway full and you're just about to climb in to sit on the ledge and let your feet dip into the warm water when your cell phone starts ringing.

Rushing to retrieve it from the bedside charger, you answer it while adjusting the fluffy towel around your torso.

"Hello?"

"I really wish you'd packed a pair of your panties along with the nighty."

Scoffing a simpering laugh, you go lean back against the doorway so you can keep watch of the tub while it continues to fill. "As if I'd pack skanky panties into your luggage and run the mortifying risk of them searching your suitcase at customs!" you deride sassily, grinning when he grumbles contrarily at that.

"Tan chingona," he deadpans, before letting loose a ruminating exhale.

Humming curiously, you ask, "Something on your mind?" then add, "Bad day?"

"Just a ball-busting kind of day. Nothing worth mentioning," is his monotone gripe, before he queries, "How was your day, cariño?"

You don't really want to tell him about the chaotic day, especially the incidents with the car and Agent Bozzi, so you simply respond, "It was busy! And I capped it off by going with Zoraida to try out this Pilates thing, so after I finish this hot bath, I'm taking my tired ass to bed."

"Pilates?" he remarks on a grunt.

"Yeah, it's the latest workout, I guess. All about precise ranges of motion and they use this machine that kind of looks like a torture rack to stretch your muscles and make you hold into positions to strengthen your core," you tell him as you walk over and turn the faucet of the tub off. "I'm probably going to feel like I was beaten with a stick in the morning."

"Jesus, don't overdo it, baby," is his rumbling tut, but you can hear the lopsided smile in his voice when he adds, "I think you should just stick to our special regiment and let me work you into positions that'll have you feeling good, instead."

You snicker, "Beyako," and smirk when he chuckles cockily at your ribbing. "You guys are flying out to St John in the morning still?"

"Yep. We'll be there a few days. Steve's ASAC has a lot of meetings set up for us," he replies on a huffy sigh.

Pouting, you chime, "You can do it, gruñón. I believe in you."

Javi blows a raspberry at that. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, bravita. Now, go have your bath. I'll call you tomorrow night," is his rugged murmur that has electricity zinging through you and into your core. "Goodnight, mi amor."

"Goodnight. Love you, chulito," you croon sweetly before telling him goodbye.

Setting the phone aside, you toss the towel onto the floor and slip carefully into the warm bath water. You practically melt as the heat seeps into your aching muscles, as you luxuriate with the fragrant soap you lather yourself up with before dipping below the surface and popping up for breath before lounging backwards against the tub.

When you get into bed and fall asleep, you're hugging Javier's pillow, with his college shirt tucked around it. Your slumber is sound and soothing.

For Javi, however, his night's sleep is filled with sexy dreams of you.

Needless to say, he's ridiculously horny when he wakes up early the following morning. The urge lingers in his core, even after he takes the edge off in the shower. Sure, it doesn't help that his salacious mind can't stop thinking about you. That when he brushes his teeth, the image of you smiling brilliantly at him fills his mind's eye. And when he shaves, the hickey you left on his neck, while mostly healed, still taunts him with the memory of how wild you got as you reached bliss and reveled in the throes of pleasure that he gave you.

By the time he was riding down in the elevator with Steve to check out, he felt like an animal in a rut. And once they were waiting at the gate to board their hour-long flight, Javi was craving a cigarette bad.

"Fuck, you got any nicotine gum?" Javier asks Steve as he rifles through the front zip pockets of his suitcase.

"Yeah," Steve goes into his pocket for the pack he keeps on him. "Here, take 'em. I'm on the patch."

Javi takes the pack and immediately pops one of the gums out of the tray packaging. Tossing it into his mouth, he chews and pockets the rest in his jeans. "Thanks. I knew I forgot to pack something," he grumbles as he sits back and absently scrubs his hand along his jaw, exhaling soothingly when the familiar tingle disperses from the gum.

"Technically you didn't pack the suitcase though, right?" Steve jibes, twirling the pen he's plucked from his polo's breast pocket.

The smile crests his lips before he can even try to feign coolness. "She surprised me with it, then packed everything immaculately for me. But I haven't been relying on the gum as much lately, so I didn't have any lying around," he replies as he tucks the gum into his cheek and checks his watch. "How're Connie and the kids?"

Steve grunts lamentingly. "Olivia caught the flu from school, so Connie picked her up early and took today off to stay home with the girls. She's keeping Isabel away to avoid her catching it, which you can imagine isn't easy," he explains, frowning. "She said flu cases have been spiking the last week."

"Shit, that's rough. You're gonna have to make it up to her big time when you get back," Javi states the obvious and nods sagely at Steve, which always gets the gringo's goat.

"Says the guy who came down here to marry the girl he let get away, and he hasn't even gotten his shit together to pick out a ring," Steve instigates right back and cocks his eyebrow snootily at him. Seeing the comment needle Javier enough that he broodingly crosses his arms and huffs crossly out of his nose before staring at the terminal's foot traffic, Steve sticks his lower lip out as he grunts, before divulging, "I think you're overcomplicating the ring thing. Celina is not a flashy lady. I'm sure a nice, classic ring with a simple diamond in the middle will make her more than happy. And anyway, you can get fancy on the actual wedding band later on."

Absorbing that, Javi ruminates on it the rest of the day.

You, on the other hand, are doing anything but thinking straight right now. Not with how run down and sick you feel.

It started as a lethargic fatigue in your muscles that morning. One you easily chalked up to being sore from the workout the night before. You ignored it and went about your day.

The car insurance company was nice enough to expedite getting you a rental car to use while yours was still at the dealership getting repaired, and once in the vehicle, you'd commuted to the office. By noon, though, you'd started getting a congestion headache. You managed to make it to 3pm before you had to call it a day, feeling lousy and begrudgingly frowning when Devon had poked his head in to see you listlessly packing your tote as he remarked, "Oh no, you too, huh. Noreen caught the flu last week, and it's slowly been working its way through the building."

With your purse slung across your shoulder and tote hanging in your hand, you waved him away as you croaked, "I'm going to go home before I pass out. Now, stay away so I don't infect you—"

"Ah, I never get sick. I've been around everyone who's gotten the flu so far," he'd stated like it was irrefutable, before shrugging and insisting, "I'll cover that meeting at 4pm and have Olga adjust your calendar for tomorrow. You're definitely going to need bedrest."

You'd groaned, but thanked him before schlepping out as quickly as your aching body could. However, you'd gotten to your apartment and barely made it into your room before realizing you'd forgotten to finish an efficiency report due the beginning of the following week, and you hadn't packed your laptop.

Too drained to come up with a solution, you undressed and got into an oversized baggy t-shirt and crawled into bed. You had taken a dose of the medicine that was sure to knock you out soon, so you were hoping to get the ginger tea down to help settle your stomach before that happened. The chills had just started wracking through your frame as the house phone rang while you stood wrapped up in your throw blanket by the kitchen as the tea kettle heated up on the stove.

Croakily, you answer, "Hello?"

"Ay, no, you're sick too?!" Zoraida's dramatic lamentation sounds harried and raspy. "I woke up con la monga—"

"Join the club," you grouse, shivering. "And I was just at the doctor when she mentioned watching out to not catch it—"

"Ah! So you must've caught it and given it to me," Zoraida sarcastically chastises before breaking out into a coughing fit.

"Nena, it's flu season! Plus, wasn't that instructor last night sniffling?!" you lob right back, jolting when the kettle starts to whistle.

"Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda," Zoraida huffs over the line. "Anyway, I was calling to tell you I have to cancel going to the salon—"

"Obviamente," you laconically drawl as you steep the tea bag in the piping hot water you just poured before taking the mug back to your bedroom. "I was really looking forward to some pampering, too," is your gruff complaint. Once you've pressed the phone to your ear and gotten yourself situated in your blanket cocoon, you add, "This week ha sido una mierda, and it's not even over yet."

"Oh yeah?" your friend queries.

With the medicine cruising through your bloodstream, you're too sick to want to keep your guard up. Most of your energy was zapped out of you, so you end up venting about your week so far, not realizing how brashly detailed you're being.

"—Anyway, I'll stop ranting. Once we both feel better, we'll do the salon," you end up musing before you both wish each other speedy recovery so you can finish your tea and try to get some rest.

Javier tries to call you later that night, but you are dead to the world thanks to the medicine you took making you groggy. He figures you must've had a long day and fallen asleep early. But when he calls your cell phone, then your office line the next morning and gets no response? He starts to worry, and your home phone goes to voicemail after ringing for several beats. So, he calls Ellis.

The man picks up as he stifles a sneeze. "Hello?"

"Hey, It's Javier. Sorry to call out of the blue, but I haven't been able to get a hold of Celina," he explains, pacing the length of the hall just outside of the CBP conference room he and Steve had been in most of the morning. "Is everything ok?"

"Hey, Jav. One sec—" Ellis begins before being interrupted by another sneeze. "Ugh, sorry. Anyway, she's out with the flu. Probably sleeping it off. It's been running rampant in the building. Think I'm catching it too," is his congested explanation, before adding, "Poor girl's had a hell of a week as it is. I was planning on stopping by her place to drop off her laptop, so I can let her know to give you a call, if you want."

"Shit. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. Hope you feel better soon too," Javi answers before they exchange goodbyes.

He's puzzled by the other man's comment, though. When you call him back later on that night, he's relieved to hear your voice and doesn't immediately remember to ask you about your week.

"—Hi, mi amor. I'm sorry I missed your calls!"

"It's ok, querida. Heard you're not feeling great," he replies, leaning against the banister of the patio he's currently stood on while the sun sets in the horizon across the way.

"I caught the flu. Minus Devon and Olga, almost everyone I know at the Federal office has been sick," you tell him in a tinny voice before coughing.

"Pobrecita," is his lament. "Olivia's been sick too. Shit's going around."

"Aww, bendito," you chime sympathetically. "The medicine I've been taking makes me drowsy, but I do feel much better than I did yesterday. Ellis came by a little while ago to drop off my laptop," is your comment before adding cheekily, "He told me you called him all worried about me."

"I did," Javi admits easily. "I'm glad you're feeling a little better—"

"Hey, Jav! You want another drink?" Steve interrupts as he shouts over from inside the house they're visiting.

"Babe, are you and Steve on a date?" you jibe impishly.

"No, you loquita," Javi snorts as he turns and gestures to Steve that he's still good with his half-filled glass of whiskey. "We're at his ASAC's place. Sam and his wife invited us over for dinner. I'm actually out on their patio. It's got a great view of the beach shore."

"Ah, that's nice! I won't keep you then—"

"When are you and I going to go to the beach together, eh?" Javi cuts in charmingly, before drawling, "Any secret playas we can go lay out on, just the two of us?"

You snicker, "Yes, there are a few, chavón. Hurry back so I can pack a beach tote and drag you along on a seashore adventure!"

"I'm holding you to that, preciosa. Now get some rest. Love you."

"Love you too, hermoso. Take care."

By the weekend, you're feeling almost 70 percent back to normal, with only a cough lingering now.

Your doctor had called with the lab results, and you were miffed to hear yet again that the results were 'normal' and requiring more observation, since none of the markers for thyroid, PCOS or pituitary issues were coming up that could explain the amenorrhea.

After also confirming you were not pregnant either, she surprised you when she asked, "Have you been feeling stressed lately?"

You'd been thrown off, but replied that you were of course stressed, but not in any significant way you felt was abnormal.

Deciding to schedule another checkup in a few months, she recommended you find ways to lower your stress, relax on exerting yourself in your fitness routine, and continue with vitamins to help build up your hormonal balance since you were probably still coming off being on birth control for such a protracted period of time.

The whole thing was aggravating you, which obviously wasn't helping lower any stress. Still, you compartmentalized the news and continued with your day, which was filled with playing catchup from your disastrous week previous, and looking forward to having that pampering session with Zoraida after work.

When you're finally basking in the lounge with Zoraida post-services, sipping your complimentary champagne, she decides to hit you with her nosy interrogating.

"So, when's your jevo back from his work trip?"

"He's flying back tomorrow night."

"When are we gonna meet him, hm?"

"Soon."

"Are we going to meet him before your dad does?"

"Probably."

"Are things progressing to him eventually meeting him, though?"

Scoffing after swallowing your sip, you gripe, "Girl, I don't know! I'm not following an itinerary or anything—"

"You said your dad's been insisting on meeting him, so I was just wondering," she defensively retorts, shrugging.

"…I did?" is your confused remark, brows furrowing.

"Yeah. The other night? You said your dad has been fishing for you to open up about him, and that he even suggested inviting him over to dinner—"

You truly don't remember that, and it's plain on your face.

"Coño, nena – no te recuerdas," she snickers, elaborating, "You were venting about how he's pulling on your heartstrings about it? Something about quoting The Godfather?"

"Hah, yeah, ok. Jeez, I'm telling you, that stuff had me groggy and drowsy," you ruefully shake your head and finish your last sip.

"So…does Javier know?"

"About my dad jodiendo? No—"

"No, not that. Does he know about the doctor's checkups?"

Blinking in shock, you realize you must've just rambled in your grogginess about everything that was front of mind for you.

"No. I haven't told him because there's nothing to really tell," you answer, sitting back in the lounge chair and running your manicured fingers over your freshly trimmed and styled hair absently as you confide, "I was hoping to know by now whether it's just residual hormonal imbalance from being on the pill for so long, but they think it's this condition—well, they don't know if it is because they haven't diagnosed any underlying causes—"

"I mean, you've been with only Javi this whole time, right?" Zoraida interrupts, and at your vacant nod, she presses, "Pues, since you've gone off the birth control. He's the only guy you've had sex with?"

"Zory, you know he's been the only one," you scoff, shifting in your seat while glowering at her.

"Well? Then maybe he's shooting blanks," she states like it's no big deal.

"…Zory," you begin, but then huff, "I'm the one not having a normal menstrual cycle—"

"Which your doctor said isn't totally abnormal—"

"Why are we even talking about this?!"

"Because! You are with this man who could get you pregnant any minute—"

"Por Dios—no he's not, because I'm more than likely infertile!"

You realize you've blurted it out and now sit there, feeling moored to the scary reality you've not wanted to acknowledge out loud.

Leaning forward and empathetically rubbing your arm, Zoraida assures in an unwavering tone, "You don't know that yet. Until you do, there's no point stressing yourself out over it."

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you feel guilty. You're unsure why.

"Anyway…did I tell you, that I think Rafa is going to propose to Naida?"

The new topic overrides the mounting rumination in your head and refocuses you.

It's a perfect distraction that carries you to the end of the hangout.

By the time you get home, you feel wrung out. Sleep comes easily, and the next morning as you prepare to go into work, you're feeling recharged – albeit still dealing with the lingering respiratory stuffiness.

You get completely caught up at work, and even have time to plan for the upcoming projects that will require you to travel in the next month or so.

When the dealership finally calls about your car the following day, you're hopeful that you can get back to your normal routine. However, you're surprised when they ask for you to come down so they can speak with you in person.

After work, you commute over to the busy avenue the dealership and its auto shop are.

You are brought into what would be used as a leasing agreement room, and are perplexed when the assistant manager and the lead technician enter the room with a bunch of documents.

They talk through all the repairs, show you photos of all the damage they documented when the car was dropped off by the tow company, and show you after photos. Then, they hit you with it.

"…You're saying that the tire was tampered with?"

"Well, we can't say that for sure—"

"Señorita, I'm going to be frank. I have been arguing that the kind of damage cannot be from negligence on our part. If when you'd gotten your tune up, we'd improperly tightened the lugnuts, you'd have noticed first thing. The fact that the incident occurred almost a week after the service? In my professional opinion, someone loosened those nuts—"

Truly flummoxed, you continue to listen to them, and make arrangements for the insurance rep to meet with them in order to review their findings so they can document their case. Said rep contacts you, explaining since there is no police report detailing suspicion of the car being tampered with, they would write it off as a sudden mechanical failure, with the cause as inconclusive.

Still, the rep can't help joke, "After something like this? I'd kick all the tires before I get in the car."

You'd dropped off the rental and gotten your vehicle from the dealership, finding that it drove fine the whole way to work.

The entire ordeal is so jarring and filled with judicious paper trailing that you end up not realizing you hadn't heard from Javi until that afternoon.

Going to the floor the DEA department was on, you loped down in the direction of Javier's office, hoping to at least pop in and say hello if he's too busy. However, when you round the corner and head towards his office door, you're surprised to be stopped by his admin, who clears her throat before stating curtly, "Agent Peña isn't in today."

You turn, internally wondering if you were misinterpreting the edge of her tone when Steve comes around the corner from his own office, spotting you.

"Hey, hun! Got a minute?" Steve greets and asks, gesturing with a point over his shoulder for you to step into his office for privacy.

Nodding, you stride coolly over and make it a point not to look in the admin's direction.

Once you're in the tall blond's office, he closes the door and accepts your hug and kiss on the cheek hello. "Is Javi at the field office today?"

"Nope. He's out sick," Steve drawls in his sarcastic twanging tone. At your gasp, he puts his hands on his hips and shrugs comically. "I know. He was complaining about having a headache before we got on the flight last night, and then this morning he called saying he felt like absolute shit, so I sent Segarra to the field office while I cover stuff here," is his explanation. "I told him to stay in bed, because he did sound like complete crud."

Crud was an understatement for how Javier was feeling right now.

He'd cursed himself the entire plane ride to San Juan for stopping into the duty-free shops in the terminal before boarding the flight with Steve, certain that tourist in front of him getting rung up passed his germs onto him after coughing in his direction. By the time Wilmer drove him and Steve to their gated neighborhood, Javi's head felt foggy and his throat started aching.

Dead-tired, he'd dropped everything in his room before going to shower. He'd put on pajama bottoms and gotten into bed with the intention of calling you, but ended up rolling onto his side and passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Shivering under his sheets now, with cold sweat clinging to his feverish brow, he gritted his jaw with exhausted aggravation. He was thirsty, but too tired and achy to get out of bed and go to the kitchen. Aside from ibuprofen in his medicine cabinet, he didn't have anything to take for his fluish symptoms.

Just as he began to doze off again, the distant sound of the deadbolt lock on the front door being jiggled mutedly caught in his hearing. It wasn't until he heard it definitively unlock that he jolted up in bed and instinctively rushed to get up and retrieve his gun. Unholstering his service weapon where it was sat at the top of his dresser, he stealthily moved on feverishly trembling limbs down the hallway towards the source of entry for the intruder.

His shivering makes his shoulders quake as he stalks cautiously over, and just as he's about to switch the safety off once he's made it to the kitchen's bar top counter corner, the door opens.

You fumble over the threshold with your arms incumbered by several big paper shopping bags laden in your arms and plastic pharmacy bags hanging beyond your wrists.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

You squeak in surprise at Javier's alarmed exclamation, and nearly drop one of the bigger bags.

Quickly placing the gun on the counter, facing away from you with the safety still on, Javi shakily scrubs his hand over his feverish features.

"Javi, you scared me!" you haughtily grumble as you kick the front door shut and rush to put the bags down in the kitchen. "What're you doing out of bed—?" you begin but end up getting hit with a coughing fit.

Scowling almost pitifully, Javi grouses, "I thought someone was breaking in—"

"With a key?" you mockingly sass after clearing your throat, eyeing him sardonically as you toss your purse off from over your shoulders and place the keychain down on the counter before rounding the bar top towards him. In the low light of the entry, you hadn't seen more than his silhouette but now up close, you see how clammy his bare chest is and how worn with fever his features are, so you frown and fret, "Ay, pobrecito. Come, you have to get back to bed."

He doesn't even have the energy to argue, and is actually feeling a bit dizzy, so he is more than grateful when you loop your arm around his waist and lead the way.

Once you've helped him back into bed and pulled the sheet up to tuck him in, you sit on the edge of the mattress and take his temperature with the back of your palm to his sweltering forehead.

"You're burning up," you lament.

Tiredly, he smiles as he reaches for your cheek before he affectionately brushes his warm fingertips to tuck your swaying strands of hair behind your ear.

"You changed your hair," he points out in a gravelly murmur, eyes creasing softly as he drawls, "It looks nice."

Snickering, you cup his flushed cheek and comically sigh, "Ever the charmer."

He grunts humorously. "Steve told you I was sick," is his raspy comment, parched lips pouty when you rush up to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom so you can fold and drape it over his forehead after you brush his matted hair back from his sweaty brow.

"He did. So, I picked up a few things from the store, and stopped at their house to get your spare key from Connie," you tell him gently, caressing his cheek and brushing your thumb caringly across his dark stubble. "Have you taken anything?"

"No," he answers hoarsely, throat starting to burn from talking. "Mmmph, feel like shit."

"I know, mi amor. Stay here," you murmur and quickly go get him some medicine and a big glass of water, stifling your cough along the way.

Once he's taken the dosage and drained the glass, you make another trip to return with all the pharmacy supplies.

"Ok, sit up for me," you instruct as you retrieve the container of Vick's from one of the bags.

"C'mon, I hate that stuff," Javi complains and laboriously sits up, scowling. "I just need water and to stay in bed. No need to baby me—"

"What're your symptoms, tough guy?" you counter, looming over him with authority. When he stubbornly shrugs, you resolutely state, "Quit being a brat, or I'll make you go to the doctor."

Too tired for that, Javi grumbles in defeat, "Fever, sore throat, my body aches, and my head hurts."

"I'm putting this on you, and it's going to help with all of that. Then you're going to rest and let the medicine take effect. I'll make you some soup, and you'll drink plenty of this stuff too," you're instructing as you place the Vick's on the nightstand in order to retrieve the electrolyte drinks you picked up.

"I don't want you to get sick—" Javi grouses as he tries to suppress a shiver.

"I'm still getting over what I had, so I should be fine," you counter smoothly as you open the bottle of orange-colored electrolytes and offer it to him. He raises his brows, almost goadingly, so you sit on the edge of the mattress again and press the bottle to his lips to feed him slow sips. "Malcriado," you playfully chastise after he's drank his fill, and set the bottle aside to then open the container of vaporub ointment. Dipping your fingers in and scooping a generous amount of the ointment, you judiciously start to rub and massage it into his chest, then up into his neck, as you teasingly chide, "Your latino card is gonna get revoked for saying you hate this stuff—"

"Burlona," he grouses, corner of his mouth tugging into a smile as he holds the cool compress in place on his brow while you continue to rub the ointment along his back now.

His frame shivers from the chills caused by the fever, so you prop the pillows up for him and have him lean back. "I know you feel cold, but it's actually hot and stuffy in here, so I'm going to turn the air on," you're telling him as you pull his coverlet up from the foot of the bed in order to tuck him in before getting up to turn the air conditioner wall-mounted console on, then retrieving the boxed thermometer from the pharmacy bag.

Javi's eyes are heavy lidded and his cheeks are flushed while the thermometer tucked under his tongue takes his temperature as you go run the washcloth under cool water in the bathroom sink again. He can't help feel like an overgrown baby for some reason, but a small part of him is indulging in your doting treatment.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed to place the compress to his forehead, you take the thermometer from his lips and read the temperature with a frown.

"100.5," you tut before setting the thermometer aside and affectionately caressing your thumb along his cheekbone to swipe away the droplets that have dripped down from the washcloth. "You're going to start feeling groggy from the medicine, so rest while I make you some soup. I'll wake you up once it's ready—"

His warm hand reaches for your wrist to keep your palm cupping his cheek, as he rasps, "You don't have to stay and baby me, querida—"

"No seas tan terco, and let me take care of you, Javier," you bossily cut in, smiling when he exhales humorously and purses his lips out at you. "Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien."

He nods obediently, so you kiss his nose cutely and set everything he may need on the nightstand, including a box of tissues, before letting him rest in the cooling bedroom.

It isn't until you're coming in the dark room with a tray balanced in your hands that he realizes he must've dozed off for a while. His sinuses are stuffy, but he can see the piping tendrils of heat coming off the large bowl of soup, and his mouth starts watering.

Shuffling up to sit with his back against the headboard, he drowsily rubs at his face as he yawns, "How long was I out?"

You manage to place the serving tray so that the legs bracket up to stand on either side of his lap before placing the cold glass of water on the nightstand for him. "About an hour. Here, let me know if it's too hot, and I'll put some ice cubes in," you answer and instruct as you dip the spoon in and raise it to feed the sip of soup to him.

It is incandescently hot, but in the best way, so Javi helps himself once you've handed him the utensil. Along with the large bowl of noodle-rich, flavorful soup with giant chunks of potato in it, he has a nice piece of crunchy pan you must've gotten from the bakery at the supermarket.

"Mmm, thanks. I was starving and didn't even know it," he rumbles with his mouth full.

"Well, there's plenty more if you get hungry later," you tell him serenely as you go to tidy up the clutter in his bedroom from where he'd just tossed his open suitcase and things from the night before. You notice a big shopping bag with the logo of the duty-free shops printed on the side of it, but don't move it or ask him about it. Instead, you arrange the rest of the medicine to be laid out on his nightstand as you remark, "I'm going back to the office to finish a few things, but I'll be back after work, ok? Be sure to take the next dose after you eat."

He grunts while slurping up more of the noodles before murmuring, "Thanks, cariño."

With his dark soulful eyes twinkling at you like that, you can't help lean down and kiss him on the forehead. "Call me if you need anything," you tell him as you walk to the hallway.

Once you've closed the door, Javi picks up the bowl and drinks up the remaining broth straight from it, having not wanted to be too much of a boor in your presence. With his hunger more than sated, he drains a bottle of the electrolytes before moving the tray to the unoccupied side of the bed so he can lie back down, tucked under the covers. The rest of the pharmacy supplies you bought that don't fit on the nightstand are arranged on his dresser for him, along with the holstered gun you must've returned while he was asleep. The sound of the front door closing and locking echoes from the main room, so he relaxes and closes his eyes.

He falls asleep easily to the ambient hum of the consola and the soothing chill of the cool air fanning in a slow undulation around the room.

Hours later, after finishing your work day, you grab your things and head back to Javier's. You're eager to spend time with him, and actually are looking forward to taking care of him for the night, knowing he cannot be trusted to not try to use whiskey to "sweat it all out" as Steve had told you he'd not-so-jokingly grumbled after getting dropped off from the airport the night before.

You park in his driveway this time and use the second key on the ring to enter the laundry room door entrance since you weren't burdened with groceries, hoping it wouldn't rouse your sick lover to come gun drawn again.

When you come into the main living space, you're surprised to find Javier wrapped up in a blanket like a human burrito, curled up on the couch and watching TV. The coffee table is cluttered with bottles of electrolytes, an empty glass of water, a half-empty box of tissues with the used ones crumbled all over, and the tray you'd brought the soup on stood up with what looks to be several bowlfuls of remnants on it, while the bowl itself is licked clean.

"Javier Felipe Peña, I told you to stay in bed!" you admonish imperiously as you march over and loom over him.

His stubble-covered features pout up at you, disheveled hair flopping across his brow as he clumsily tries to sit up while still keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around him. "I couldn't stay asleep and got hungry, so I came out to get more soup, but got too tired to go all the way back with it, so I parked here. It was supposed to be until I finished eating, but then I fell asleep again, and then woke up and figured I should just stay here," Javi rambles, and your smile gets harder and harder to repress the more he tries to justify and appease you.

Shaking your head sardonically at him, you put your purse and tote aside on the nearby chair and come over to sit next to him and feel his forehead for his temperature.

"Hm, well you clearly still have a fever, so c'mon – back to bed," you tell him as you brush his mussed hair back from his forehead before caressing your touch along his brow, then down to cup his cheek as you give him a quick peck on the lips.

He lets you help him up and maneuver around the tray to go down the hall and back to being tucked under the covers. You fluff his pillows, prop them up behind his back for him, and retrieve the next dose of medicine he should've taken hours earlier.

"Sorry you have to put up with this," Javi croaks after clearing his sore throat.

"It's fine. I knew you would be a little shit and not obey me," is your irreverent singsong, chuckling when he glowers at you, so you angelically smile as you feed him his medicine, before asking, "Did you like the soup?"

Grunting, he finishes swallowing before drawling, "I got some of my taste and smell back after the first bowl. It was really delicious. That wasn't chicken soup, though, right?"

"Nope. That was sopa de jamón. It was my Puerto Rican grandma's recipe. It's less prep, but just as hearty and flavorful. The saltiness of the ham and the sofrito gets sucked up by the noodles, and it forces you to drink lots of fluids," you pleasantly explain as you pick up the vaporub and open it in order to scoop ointment out to massage his chest with it. "Once the medicine kicks in, I'll go start dinner."

I could really get used to being spoiled like this, Javi thinks to himself, enjoying your massage, even if it's with the heavily fragrant eucalyptus-smelling ointment. But he can't deny how it's helped his muscles ache less and his airways open up more, and he easily dozes off to you rubbing your thumbs in slow circles along the spot where his lymph nodes are on either side of his neck.

When he wakes up next, he realizes that you'd found the portable TV that was in the spare bedroom and had rolled it into his room. The ambient glow from the screen helped stir him to adjust in a sitting position, where he turned to find you lounging on your side, napping next to him.

With your eyes closed and your head lulled on the pillow this way, he could see how tired you still look from kicking the remnants of the flu, and something aches in his chest at the realization that he'd not been around to take care of you, the way you so deserved and did so easily for him.

The early evening news is playing on the TV, but the volume is set low, so he sits up and tries to pull the throw blanket up to cover your shoulders.

"Mmm," you mumble and curl closer to him, before stirring and stretching your legs out while yawning, "Ugh, sorry. I didn't mean to conk out—"

Snorting, he leans over and kisses your cheek before murmuring in a gravelly husk, "Quédate dormida."

"Nope. Too late. I'm up now," you lilt as you stretch out your limbs before sitting up, stifling a cough into the pit of your elbow. Once the bleariness is blinked away from your eyes, you see that the feverish flush has dissipated from his cheeks, so you sidle up to him to take his temperature with your hand to his forehead. "Hm, think the fever has gone down a bit."

His dark eyes look dreamy as he gazes at you before he leans forward and nuzzles your cheek. "You're actually getting me hot right now," is his purr, and you snicker when he keeps nuzzling down your jaw and to the base of your neck.

"You're not getting any until you're feeling better, Javi," you murmur with irrevocable authority as you nudge him back and make him lie down so you can climb over him while you announce, "Dinner's been ready. Are you hungry?"

Javier loops your waist with his arm and hauls you back into bed. "I'm starving for you, mandona," he croons as he cuddles you and grazes mustachioed kisses into your neck. "Let me show you just how much better I feel—"

"Ah, Javi—your lips are all crackly and dry," you object goofily and wrestle him onto his back so you can straddle his lap and thwart his sexy advances. His mouth frowns woefully, so you snicker and coo, "Ay, no me mires así, bebito."

"Ugh, fine," Javi huffs in defeat and flops grumpily under you.

However, your dazzling smile and loving caress along his forearms makes it hard for him to keep the brooding façade up. And when you lean down and pepper soft kisses along his face, he relaxes totally. So much so, you're able to go plate dinner and bring it back on the serving tray you set up on the center of the bed so you can eat together.

While in mid-chew, you notice the duty-free shopping bag tucked in the corner again, so after you swallow, you ask him, "What's in the bag?"

He follows your glance, and smirks around his current mouthful. Washing it down with a gulp of water, he replies, "That, is a gift for you. And the likely cause for this fucking flu I caught."

When he gestures with his chin for you to go ahead and take a look, you amble off the bed and retrieve the bag. You pull out a very large and elegant rattan beach tote with smooth tan leather handle straps and tropical-patterned linen-lined interior.

"Figured it would make for a perfect beach tote for that seashore adventure you promised," Javier charmingly muses when you smile over at him.

"This is lovely," you gush, leaning over and kissing him sultrily on the lips. "Thank you."

With a smug grunt, he grumbles daringly, "I thought my lips were too crackly—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you, malcriado."

And you do, kissing him on his lips, cheeks, and all over while he chuckles.

After finishing dinner, you join Javi for a quick hot shower, surprising him with the bouquet of dried eucalyptus stems you've hung from the nozzle. It's an old rustic remedy – using eucalyptus in a hot bath or steamy shower to diffuse the invigorating scent to help with nasal congestion and increasing blood flow in blood vessels. But Javi had never been a fan of it, especially when he was a kid and every woman in his family would slather the stuff on him over any ailment.

"Ugh, c'mon!"

"They'll help with your congestion!"

"Are you feeling congested still?"

"Yes, actually—"

"Ok. Fine—"

"I promise it will help, gruñón," is your flirty assurance as you tow him into the shower stall with you once the hot water and steam is going.

His surly grumble was softened by his smirk and irreverent head shake.

In the end, you were right, and the fragrant steam saturated his skin and made it easy to take deep breaths in without coughing or sneezing. The pressure in his sinuses decreased, and he was definitely enjoying you soaping him up and rubbing his tired muscles. It did wonders for you too, relieving the congestion still lingering in your chest and alleviating your coughing for the rest of the night.

Afterwards, while he's getting into a gray pair of sleep bottoms, you strip the bed and dress it with fresh sheets before getting out a nice blue quilt from the closet. He comes over and helps you toss it onto the bed so it's arranged evenly on the surface. Pleased, you go over and playfully guide him backward to sit on his side of the bed before dutifully giving him the next dose of medicine that will help him sleep. You then return from the bathroom with your container of Vaseline and glide a dab-size of it with your little finger over his chapped lips before tucking him under the comforter. He caresses down the curve of your waist to squeeze your nightgown-clad hip, smiling when you lean down and kiss his forehead.

"Be right back," you tell him before going to shut the lights off and make sure the doors are locked. You return to the cool bedroom, with another glass of water for him and a backup box of tissues, to find him rummaging under the comforter in search for the TV remote. Snickering, you walk over and pick it up from the top of the TV set and walk over to hand it to him.

"What would I ever do without you," he schmoozes in that honeyed baritone way that always makes you grin girlishly, especially combined with his flirty caress of your tush before giving it a squeeze.

Pursing your lips saucily at him, you set the glass down on the remaining free corner within reach for him on the nightstand, as you simper, "According to Steve? Probably starve and 'sweat out the flu with whiskey', among other things."

"He's such a narc," Javi laconically sneers, but his mischievous smile widens when you playfully swat his hand.

Shaking your head amusedly, you go to open the drawer to store the tissue box. "I think it's great how you two are a platonic married couple at this point—" your wry joke skids to a halt when you look in the open drawer and see a small bottle of lube and a long-lost pair of your panties within easy reach. Gasping, you snatch the used garment out and exclaim incredulously, "Oh my fucking god, Javier! Are you serious?!" His big brown eyes widen as you hold the offending prize up for judgment, comically haranguing, "You freaking puerco! How long have you had this nasty thing, you beyako pervertido?!"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" Javi sheepishly drawls, hands going up defensively when your narrow glare sharpens in that commanding way that promises something wicked his way will come if he keeps being naughty. "Since around that time we went to that fancy steakhouse with Sasha, I think," is his answer, and he gives you those damned puppy eyes when he leans over to try and coax you closer so he can take them back, while begging, "Please, let me keep them?"

Scoffing, you place the box of tissues in the drawer, shut it and pointedly turn on your heel to march over to the hamper in the corner by the closet to ceremoniously dump the panties in. Javier groans in huffy disappointment, scowling as he flops back into the pillows. He glowers as you snootily strut to your side of the bed, shut the nightstand lamp off, and crawl under the quilt.

Only, you don't maneuver to lie next to him. Instead, you prowl under the covers to lay between his legs before answering with snarky authority, "That means those were over a year old, you fresco. And, that you pilfered them when you were under the comforter – just like this – and went down on me that one time. Right?"

Before he can answer, Javi feels you blow cool air on his clothed crotch, making his semi twitch eagerly, and getting a gasp out of him. "Sounds about right, yeah," he croaks gruffly, hands gripping the sheets.

Dramatically tossing the quilt away so you can quickly straddle him, you impishly lean close until your lips are a whisper apart before purring, "Good. So you'll be a good boy and earn another pair by behaving and letting me take care of you, right?"

Javi's running hot now, and not just from fever. "Sí, mi patrona," is his cheeky husk, relishing how you bat your lashes and smile, appeased.

Reaching to turn his nightstand lamp off, you hum alluringly for him to kiss you.

His lips brush yours covetously before he rolls you both into the bed, making a happy giggle bubble free from your chest.

After some savvy coaxing on your part, you both end up tucked close under the blanket. The ambient glow of the TV screen illuminates his relaxed features as you soothingly run your fingers through his hair, helping lull him into the drowsy haze provided by the medicine hitting his bloodstream while you watch the late-night comedy show. Even in the chilly room, his body temperature is still running hot, so you make sure not to press up against his form and overheat him.

By the time he's snoring in deep slumber, you turn the TV off, and curl up to sleep.

The next morning, Javier's temperature is down to 99.3 degrees, so after you shower and get ready for work, you make him breakfast and serve it to him in bed. Begrudgingly, Javier had called out sick for the day, and you'd insisted that he take the medicine and sleep, but ended up compromising with him to take at least one more dose, and that he stay in bed resting.

"—Ok, I'll come around lunch time," you're telling him now as you pull on your heels and go to his dresser to hurriedly brush your hair up into a chic twist. "Need me to pick up anything while I'm out?"

"Not a thing. You've done more than enough, guapita," he responds from where he's cozily resting in bed, head propped up by fluffed pillows. The angle helps him appreciatively ogle you as you smoothen your white with black trim Georgette v-neckline with a spread collar and button cuffs blouse after tucking the hemline into the waistband of your stylish black slacks. "You look fucking sexy, so you know."

Smiling, you turn and abandon putting on lipstick to go over and sit on the edge of the bed so you can sultrily glide your touch from his bare chest to cup his chin before leaning forward and kissing him, then pulling back cockily to leave him wanting as you hum, "You're a sweet talker, but you better be a good boy like you promised, me entiendes, bebito?"

His eyes darken with want as he nods and husks, "I will, jefa."

With a gloating smile, you let him pull you back down for a long kiss before you say goodbye and head out.

Javi keeps his word, takes his medicine, and has a relaxing sleep for the rest of the morning.

Thankfully, your morning schedule is fairly light, so you're able to leave the federal building campus earlier than you'd originally planned for your lunch break. When you come into the house and do not find Javier sprawled on the couch again, you smile triumphantly, before heading down the back hall to open the door to his bedroom.

You find him watching the afternoon variety show, lounging with his back against the headboard and a pillow tucked behind his head.

"Well, I can't believe it. You actually behaved," you chortle as you toe off your heels and flounce over to sit on the side of the bed before feeling his forehead.

"You got so furiosa, there was no way I was going to chance incurring your wrath," he jokes, sounding a bit stuffed up, but clearly feeling better.

He smiles when you scoff and kiss his cheek. "You feel even less feverish than this morning. Is your throat still sore?" you ask as you stand in order to take off your tight slacks so you can get more comfortable.

Appreciatively, Javi leers at your perfect ass in the pink cotton panties as you slide your pants on a hanger so they don't get wrinkled. "No, just dealing with a stuffy nose now," he answers as he retrieves a tissue. "I might take something for it, though."

"Ok, good. I'll make lunch so you don't take it on an empty stomach," you're pleasantly retorting as you pull on a pair of lavender drawstring shorts and go to the hamper to quickly separate garments. "Might as well start some laundry while I'm here," you remark while digging into it to pile whites, darks and items for dry-cleaning onto the foot of the bed. "Is everything in your suitcase dirty? I can take your dress shirts and drop them off at the dry cleaners on my way back to the office—"

You pause as you keenly eye the three piles and notice something missing. Laconically, you stare over at Javier like he's a rambunctious puppy you just caught trying to hide a toy.

"Um, yeah, everything in the suitcase is dirty—" he begins to answer as he starts to get up from bed to go retrieve it for you.

"Uh-uh. Park it," you order saucily as you put your hand on your hip and gesture with the other, demanding, "Give them to me, right now, chavón."

His poker face is pretty good when he feigns confusion while he drawls, "I don't know what you mean—"

"Hand over the skanky panties you squirreled away, or you're gonna get it, Javier."

The lewd thrill your smoky command stirs in his core cracks his composure and gives him up before he huffs in surrender and reaches his hand down between the mattress and box spring on his side of the bed. The undies are withdrawn swiftly before he makes a big show of sitting up and shuffling along his knees towards the foot of the bed to cockily place them in your expectantly outstretched palm.

Humming glibly, you tut, "Caripela'o," while tossing the panties in the pile before playfully shoving him to lay back down on the bed.

He has a faux pout on his lips, but you can see the way his soulful eyes are crinkled that he likes when you sexily chastise him. You like getting a rise out of him, too, and really enjoy that he's going out of his way to comply, albeit smugly. Still, he behaves while you go through his suitcase for the rest of the laundry, and only grins when you retrieve your silk nighty from the pile and toss it at him before placing all the sorted clothes in the laundry basket and taking it to the wash.

While the first load goes through its cycle, you make a pot of rice and your Grandma's recipe for Puerto Rican corn beef, quickly plating the meal and putting a hefty slice of aguacate to go with it before taking the tray to the bedroom to serve Javi.

His attention is riveted on the afternoon news segment about the latest crime statistics on the island that the anchor is citing in reference to a spree of carjackings and muggings that had occurred earlier in the week.

"Here, mi amor," you place the tray to stand on the mattress adjacent to where he's currently sat, on the foot of the bed. "Hope you like it—"

The sound of his cell phone ringing interrupts as it buzzes loudly on the nightstand, threatening to topple the pharmacy items now haphazardly stacked next to it.

Shit—" Javi tries to maneuver to reach for it, but you're actually closer, so you go to the nightstand and grab it. "It must be the office—"

"Well, you're out sick, so they shouldn't be calling you at all," is your curt remark before you press the button to answer it with a professional greeting. "Hello, you've reached Special Agent Javier Peña's mobile phone line. Can I take a message?"

Javier balks at you, stunned that you would answer, but also overawed with exhilarated admiration for you and your chingona confidence – that you would unabashedly do something so flashy when not so long ago you would've avoided doing anything remotely similar.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. I should've considered that he would be too busy to answer the phone," a raspy baritone with an earthy southern cadence to it that sounded distantly familiar to you answers sheepishly. "I don't want to bother him, so I'll call back later—"

Smiling brilliantly, you turn to Javi as you answer, "Ah, Javier's got plenty of time to prioritize a phone call from his Pop. If that's who I may direct as the person reaching him?"

The surprise melts into instant delight on Javi's face when he can make out his father's warm chuckle. "Yes, that's right. And I take it that I'm finally speaking to the famous Celina?" Chucho rumbles jovially back, making you laugh brightly in the affirmative. "Well if you're answering, I'm sure that means Javier is indisposed—"

"Ah, actually, he's home sick, so I commandeered answering his phone in case it was the office bothering him when they should be respectful and let him rest," you assure in a spritely tone. You go to sit beside Javi as you add, "Anyway, here he is," before handing him the phone.

The endearing warmth shining in Javi's dark eyes for you as he takes the phone and leans in to kiss you adoringly makes you tingle, but you flirtatiously snicker and nudge him playfully from getting carried away and neglecting the call further.

"Hey, Pop. Everything ok?" he greets and asks, watching you maneuver to sit on your side of the bed with your own plate of lunch you picked up from the serving tray.

"Yes, yes! I just, well…it's my and your mother's anniversary today, and I guess I was wanting to see how you were," Chucho's baritone rationalizing is pensive, yet lonely, and Javi internally swears and clenches his eyes shut in upset with himself. "Anyway, you not feeling well?"

You see Javi's shoulders droop before he answers tightly, "Pop…I'm sorry. I should've called earlier. The last few days have been hectic; traveling, getting the flu—"

"No-no, it's all right, mijo. You are busy and living your life. And, from the sounds of it, you're living it well," is Chucho's easygoing rasp, proudly adding, "You have a feisty, loving woman looking after you, so relish it, and don't take her for granted. And live in the moment together. You deserve to be happy, Javier."

The lump in his throat manages to get pushed down when he looks over at you and sees you attentively reading his expression, curious as to what has his dark chocolate eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thanks. I will. And I promise to come visit soon—"

"Don't worry about that. I know you're busy. Just try to keep in touch a bit more, ok?"

"I definitely will. Cuídate, Papá."

"You too, mijo. But before you hang up, put her back on the phone?" Chucho cajoles, and Javi snickers in agreement before offering it to you.

Smiling, you set your plate aside on the nightstand to take it. "So you know, you can rest easy that I will make sure Javi calls more," is your affable remark, squinting your eyes impishly at Javi giving you a deriding stare.

"I know you will, mija. And when you can, have him bring you for a visit. It's been long overdue that I haven't gotten to meet and thank you for taking care of my son. He really loves you, and as far as I'm concerned, you're already part of the family," Chucho charmingly extols. "All he wants to do is make you as happy as you make him, sabes?"

Feeling your heart summersault in your chest, you chime, "Well, he takes care of me too, and he does make me happy, so I feel the same way." You see Javier's expression soften at your words. Fearlessly, you add, "I love him with all my heart."

"I'm glad, and will keep you both in my prayers. Take care, Celina. Dios los bendiga."

"You too. Goodbye."

Once you place the phone down on the bed, you can see Javi is buzzing with curiosity, so you coolly return to your plate of food before musing, "Eat, before it gets cold, chulito."

He blows a raspberry before obeying, and ends up scarfing the meal down with gusto, savoring the fresh avocado he mixes in with the rice and criollo-style corn beef. Once he's washed it all down by guzzling the glass of water until it's empty, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he sets the serving tray aside so he can stretch out to sidle up close to you.

"I'm such an asshole. I forgot that today's my parent's wedding anniversary…" he unburdens himself, tone self-reproachful. "I had my head in my ass—"

"Javi, you've been running around for days, then you got sick. It just slipped your mind," you console as you rub his bare back. "Your dad is sweet and kind. I'm sure he just wanted to hear from you. He didn't sound disappointed or anything. And, from now on, I'll badger you to call him more so he and I can chat away."

That feeling of radiating heat fills his chest and makes his bones ache with how much your words comfort him.

"You're too good to me," Javi murmurs with genuine feeling, and it makes you shake your head drolly. "I know it annoys you when I say so, but I mean it."

"Javi, it only annoys me, because it's like you're saying you don't deserve to be treated right," you explain, frowning when he tucks his chin in to hide his self-loathing expression, clearly annoyed with himself for saying what he thinks was the wrong thing. You shift to face him and cup his chin in order to tip his face up so he can look into your eyes as you profess tenderly, "You are the love of my life, and you're worthy, and I mean it when I tell you this: You make me happy, and make me feel deserving of love. I only ever want you to feel the same, so when you say I'm too good to you, it makes me sad, because it means I'm doing the opposite…that I haven't made you feel deserving enough."

He's never thought about it that way, and now that you've told him how you feel, all the self-doubt – the feeling unworthy – gets blasted away like shadows being banished by the light of the sun.

You see it etching plainly on his handsome features, so you kiss him lovingly on the lips before nuzzling him affectionately.

The way your incandescent grace fills him up has him hugging you tight, and you smile at his murmured sweet nothings he pours into your ear.

"…Te amo hasta mi alma. You're my everything, querida…"

Your heart sores, and you bask in his passionate embrace, cherishing the moment of serenity with him.

Once you've both become settled, you end up having to rush to turn over the laundry loads, then hurry back to get dressed again for work.

"Get some rest, hermoso. I love you," you susurrate, and kiss him goodbye on the lips.

"Love you too, querida," he rumbles and playfully glides his touch down your arm to clasp your hand as if he's not going to let you go before trailing his fingers away.

You snicker and wink at him before heading out.

More than content to lie back down and rest until you get back from work, Javi lets his thoughts run wild with the exhilarating promise of plans he's intent on making reality sooner rather than later.

Hours later, after a staff meeting to get progress reports regarding the different program initiatives everyone is working on, you're in your office finalizing some reports. It's close to the end of the day, and you're eager to wrap things up so you can head home to Javier.

Your cell phone starts to ring, so you answer it and multitask as you scan your report on the computer's screen. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Reinosa. My name's Ned Fuller, and I'm a CIFI for your auto insurance provider. I'm calling in regards to your automotive accident earlier this week. Do you have a second to chat?"

Thrown off, you lean back in your chair and focus on your desk, already retrieving the folder with all the paperwork from your tote as you answer, "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, CIFI?"

"Oh, my apologies! That's short for Certified Insurance Fraud Investigator. I'm actually a case manager who helps flag cases submitted by our insurance offices out in the Caribbean region," the man explains good naturedly, while still managing to fill you with dread. "Anyway, I wanted to call and alert you that while at the local level, there was no way to prove the vehicle malfunctioned without an external cause, when I read the case report, it alarmed me, as it was very reminiscent to a case I worked on in the Florida Keys a few years back."

"Huh…in what way?" you ask, pulling over a notepad and grabbing a pen to jot down any details.

"Well, it was a doozy. Basically, a wealthy financier was driving his vehicle towards the interstate on-ramp, when his tire failed and sent the vehicle careening into the guardrail and almost jettisoned it over the barrier. On closer inspection by the tech lab, they found the tire's strut mount had been tampered with. Turns out the fella was in a contentious divorce battle, and authorities arrested his wife," the investigator retells, before getting back to the topic at hand. "Anyway, while not part of protocol, I figured it would only be right to inform you of the red flag this raised for me, and caution you that if not caused by your dealership's negligence, there was this possibility—"

"I'm sorry. Are you saying that there's a suspicion—that there's evidence that my car was deliberately tampered with in order to cause the accident?" you inquire, flummoxed.

"…Well, on the record, there was significant damage done that it made it difficult to conclude the tire was tampered with," he begins, before confiding, "Off the record? I would say it's suspicious."

The man explains a bit more to you, but you're floored and completely caught up in a ruminating whirlpool.

Did someone…could someone have purposely rigged the tire in order for me to crash the car?!

As the thought builds up an ominous pit in your stomach, yet another makes you worry.

Who would go through the trouble of doing it…and why?

To be continued…

  ________________

Read Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Spanish-English Glossary:

Partido Nuevo Progresista = New Progressive Party

Puntos = Points, as in drug points

Muecas = Making faces; grimaces

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi patrón = My master/boss

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl

Tentadora = Temptress

Mi amor = My love

Mi patroncito = My little patron

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya = I need it. I beg you. Please, my king. I'll be yours

Eres pinche gloriosa = You're fucking glorious

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Deja con las formalidades, ya = Quit it with the formalities, already

Se me olvidó = I forgot

Reggaetoneros = Reggaetón artists

Perrear = Doing it doggystyle, aka referring to sex

Perreo = Dance style associated with reggaetón; doggystyle, twerking dance

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Pórtate bien, y llámame = Be good, and call me

Cacos = Term referring to hardcore reggaetón fans, who are mostly men

Bailar = Dance

Ella es una mamita sabrocita = She is a tasty foxy woman

Claro que no = Of course not

She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa = She's a charming gal, a real big shot lady that's real feisty

Pasarme así = Overstep like that

Gatilleros = Triggermen

Sobrepasarme = To overstep; to go too far

Solo le gusta hablar mierda = Only likes to talk shit

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Acho, que canto cabrón = Man, what an asshole

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito = I'll dream of you, my love. Dream of me, my sweet little darling

Jefa = Boss lady

Doña = A Spanish honorific, referring to a respectable woman; equivalent to Missus

Pastelillo de guayaba = Guava pastry; similar to a turnover

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

El guapo descarado = The handsome cad

Apodo = Nickname

Tan chavón = Such a pain

Canela = Cinnamon

Dulces sueños, mi amor = Sweet dreams, my love

Chacho = Jeez

Come mierda = Slang for a stuck up, moronic person; literally means 'shit eater'

Tan chingona = Such a badass lady

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Ay, no = Oh, no

Con la monga = With the flu

Nena = Girl

Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda = Ah, that's true. What a pain in the ass

Obviamente = Obviously

Ha sido una mierda = Has been real shit

Pobrecita/Pobrecito = Poor little thing

Bendito = Blessed simple soul; a hopeful lamentation

Loquita = Crazy girl

Playas = Beaches

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Coño, nena – no te recuerdas = Damn, girl – you don't remember

Pues = Well

Por Dios = God's sake

Burlona = Joker (female)

No seas tan terco = Don't be so stubborn

Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien = Stay put and behave

Consola [de aire acondicionado] = Air conditioning unit/console

Sopa de jamón = Ham soup

Sofrito = Herbs, spices, and vegetables minced into a cooking bouillon paste

Quédate dormida = Stay asleep

Mandona = Bossy lady

Ay, no me mires así, bebito = Aw, don't look at me that way, little baby boy

Puerco = Pig

Beyako pervertido = Horny pervert

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Sí, mi patrona = Yes, my madam/ boss lady/ mistress

Me entiendes, bebito = You understand me, little baby boy

Furiosa = Furious (female)

Caripela'o = Puerto Rican slang for a shameless get over

Aguacate = Avocado

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Cuídate, Papá = Take care, Dad

Dios los bendiga = God bless you both

Te amo hasta mi alma = I love you to my soul; "I love you soul-deep"

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[elpuntodenoretorno]

¿Quiénes son nuestros gobernantes? Monarcas, primeros ministros, presidentes de república… ¡No, no, no! ¿Quiénes nos gobiernan realmente? En esta toma de consciencia de quién está al mando de este tinglado, el ser humano pasa por varios estadios. Se trata de un periplo de desencanto; un proceso de madurez de virgen doncella a vieja alcahueta; el inverso despertar de una ilusoria vigilia a la peor de las pesadillas: somos esclavos, ganado, animales estabulados; siempre lo fuimos; y no tenemos ni idea de quiénes dirigen nuestra vida y eligen nuestra muerte. Hasta encarar esta cruda realidad, se transita por cinco etapas aquí detalladas:

ESTADIO 1.- CANDIDEZ DEMOCRÁTICA

La pueril ingenuidad de quien se creyó todo lo que le dijeron en el colegio, en misa y en la tele: los poderes públicos están al servicio del ciudadano; el Estado garantiza nuestros derechos y libertades; los jueces imparten justicia y la policía existe para detener a los malos. No es un sistema perfecto, -dicen-, pero es el menos malo de los posibles. Trabaja y te premiarán. Esfuérzate y se te compensará. Obedece y nadie te molestará: tendrás empleo, mujer, hijos, fútbol y un mes de vacaciones. Por supuesto, vivimos en una democracia, y a nuestros gobernantes les elegimos como representantes políticos. Nos identificamos en un espectro entre la izquierda y la derecha, conservador o progresista, socialista o liberal. Votamos. Claro que votamos. Y volvemos a votar. Pagamos impuestos para que haya autopistas, escuelas y hospitales. Las fuerzas armadas nos protegen. El Estado nos defiende.

ESTADIO 2.- INCOMPETENCIA POLÍTICA

Cuando se percibe la primera incongruencia sistémica, el ciudadano tiende a pensar que fue él quien no supo elegir de manera correcta. En este estadio, el mal político nunca lo es en una dimensión moral o espiritual, sino técnica o de competencia: no estaba bien preparado, no tenía formación adecuada, no supo gestionar de manera eficiente… Se sigue creyendo en el dogma de la representación política: si alguien no lo hizo bien, dentro de cuatro años votas a otro, y solucionado. Siempre se puede cambiar de ideología, partido, movimiento revolucionario, o en última instancia radicalizar el discurso hacia una extrema la que sea. Si se vive en la injusticia e iniquidad, la culpa es de la población, que no escoge bien a sus gobernantes, que no se interesa por lo público, que no tiene cultura política, conciencia de clase o carácter emprendedor.

Si en el primer estadio se negaba el mal, en el segundo se le reconoce siempre y cuando se valore como lapsus corregible, error reparable, fallo de excepción. En el más iluso de los casos, se argumenta pretender mejorar el sistema desde dentro del mismo. Antes de entrar en el siguiente estadio, se agota la esperanza de que un nuevo partido, un nuevo movimiento, un nuevo personaje oportunista venga a mejorar las cosas.

ESTADIO 3.- LA EXCUSA DE LA CORRUPCIÓN

Se consuma la calamidad sistémica y se da un diagnóstico: la clase política se ha corrompido. No se contempla la posibilidad de que esa podredumbre moral sea precisamente el requisito de acceso a la casta gobernante. La corrupción resulta ser la causa del desastre general, y no el efecto buscado con alevosía. Se dan las explicaciones pertinentes insertadas con calzador en una ya dudosa versión oficial: las crisis económicas son periódicas e inevitables; la deuda pública es una mal necesario; los bancos han sido gestionados de manera irresponsable. A fin de cuentas, los políticos sólo siguen sus ambiciones personales de poder y dinero. Se instala el falaz axioma de que la élite global impone un orden político injusto a la población, para aumentar su riqueza e influencia política. Los ricos roban para ser más ricos; los poderosos matan para ser más poderosos.

Se simplifica la cuestión con el mantra. Todos los políticos son iguales, como si el origen de todas las atrocidades que sufre el ser humano fuera la naturaleza egoísta de sus gobernantes. Si malversan fondos, es para enriquecerse. Si invaden un país, es para apropiarse de sus recursos. Si envenenan a la población a traición con sus medicinas, es para que el lobby farmacéutico facture millones. Si hacen atentados terroristas de falsa bandera, es para iniciar lucrativas guerras. Si se involucran en escándalos sexuales y pederastia, es por su carácter crápula y pervertido. Aun en el infierno en el que el ser humano vive, entre guerras, enfermedades, genocidios, hambrunas y sequías, este todavía no consigue atisbar la raíz de su desgracia: no es que en el orden político existan males, sino que ese mismo orden político se cimenta en el mal mayúsculo, en lo malévolo en sí, en la maldad pura.

Hasta que un día, abres los ojos: la agenda política que se impone es una sofisticada y eficiente maquinaria de tortura sobre los seres humanos. No era ni tu voto, ni tu dinero, ni tu poder lo que buscaban obtener, robarte, arrebatarte. Buscan tu sufrimiento. Te gobiernan para hacerte sufrir más y más, de forma neta, optimizada, maximizada, despiadada. Ese es el objetivo del Nuevo Orden Mundial: tu dolor, tu miseria, tu sufrimiento, elevado a cotas que ninguno de los nuestros puede concebir.

ESTADIO 4.- LA CAÍDA DE LAS MÁSCARAS

¿Cuándo nos dimos cuenta? Pues varía de sujeto a sujeto: unos nacen ya conscientes, y otros lo hacen solo justo antes de morir. Pero muchos de ellos se percataron de que las cosas no funcionan como deberían en el año 2020. ¿Qué ocurrió aquel año? Pues que a los que en verdad gobiernan se les vio el plumero.

Tuvieron que ejecutar el encierro domiciliario de toda la población, de manera ilegal, y de espalda a las cartas de libertades constitucionales de las naciones. Y no ocurrió nada: ningún juez hizo justicia. Impusieron delirantes e ineficaces medidas sanitarias a millones de seres humanos con devastadoras consecuencias para su salud y economía. Y no ocurrió nada: no hubo responsables. Obligaron a protocolos médicos asesinos con los que murieron miles de personas en hospitales y residencias. Y no ocurrió nada: nadie pagó por ello. Se enloqueció a la población con una propaganda esquizofrénica de nuevos virus y sus variantes, mascarillas y sus obligaciones, expertos y sus malditos estudios científicos contradictorios. Y no ocurrió nada: ningún político rectificó, ningún periodista retiró lo dicho, ningún médico se disculpó por lo hecho.

Finalmente, se dictó una criminal y fraudulenta campaña de vacunación con la que se condenó a las naciones a un continuo exceso de mortalidad, una explosión de enfermedades neuro cardiovasculares, un genocidio por goteo. Y no ocurrió nada: nadie detuvo tal monstruosidad ni aun dejando constatación del envenenamiento masivo de toda la población con derivados de un material tóxico utilizado en nanotecnología. A partir de 2020 todo cambió: la agenda se aceleró; el horror se intensificó; se cayeron las máscaras. ¿Y cómo es el rostro de quienes perpetran todo esto?

Resulta obvio verificar que nuestros reales gobernantes no comparten interés con el ser humano que somos. A nadie que conozcamos les gusta verse envuelto en guerras, bombardeos, tiranías, censuras, represiones, epidemias, persecuciones, masacres… y, sin embargo, a todo eso en exceso nos conducen sus políticas, con regular frecuencia e intensidad in crescendo.

Quienes nos gobiernan tienen otro interés, no sólo diferente sino contrario al nuestro. Nuestro mal les favorece.

Nuestra desgracia les congratula. Nuestro sufrimiento les motiva hasta el punto de parecer alimentarse de él.

Promueven todo aquello que nos hace sentir mal: formas de arte aberrante, culto a lo feo, exaltación del bajo sentimiento, tráfico de drogas adictivas, perversiones sexuales contra niños, odio entre sexos, desunión familiar, conflicto entre naciones, mentiras y engaños periodísticos, enfermedades crónicas, abortos, locura, suicidio, ruido en las ciudades, infertilidad en el campo, terror en las calles, incomunicación en las casas, alimentación asquerosa, aire irrespirable, clima extremo, censura al discrepante, marginación al divergente, exterminio del que piensa diferente.

Todo sin excepción dentro de la política impuesta de manera global desde 2020, conduce a sentirse infeliz y miserable. Respondiendo a este sencillo y espontáneo interrogante se entra al estadio final: ¿Quién es capaz de todo esto?

ESTADIO 5.- NOS GOBIERNAN NUESTROS PEORES ENEMIGOS

¿Quiénes son capaces de todo esto? Quienes necesiten de nuestro mal para su supervivencia. ¿Y quiénes necesitarían tal cosa? Pues seres con una naturaleza diferente a la humana. ¿Y qué naturaleza sería esa? La que dependiera de permanecer ocultos a nuestros ojos, como un depredador que se esconde de la presa, como un parásito que se mimetiza en su huésped, como un zorro que no se deja ver antes de entrar a matar al gallinero.

No podemos entender su extrema crueldad, pero sí podemos evaluar su grado tras observar sus actos. ¿Cómo de sádicos pueden llegar a ser? Matan millones y responsabilizan de las muertes a los propios muertos. Mienten en ráfaga para, acto seguido, llamar mentiroso al que dice la verdad. Difaman, calumnian, aíslan a todo aquel que se les opone. Torturan en masa para después, con desfachatez, alegar hacerlo por el bien del torturado. Intoxican con falsas medicinas en las que reside la causa de la enfermedad que dicen curar. Ejecutan una sofisticada demolición de tres rascacielos matando miles, y culpan de ello a una patética cuadrilla de moros. Vuelan cuatro trenes de manera simultánea segando la vida de inocentes, y condenan a un tendero a miles de años de prisión por ello. Sufragan actos terroristas, atrocidades paramilitares, horrendas revoluciones, y después te denuncian a ti por discurso de odio.

Modifican el clima a su interés, provocando sequías, propagando incendios…para luego prohibirte emitir más gases bajo sanción. Siembran las ciudades de antenas de telecomunicaciones que dañan todos los tejidos de nuestro cuerpo, y después con sorna te aseguran que son inocuas. Te dicen que protegen el medioambiente impidiéndote criar pollos o vacas, y después te hacen comer grillos y escarabajos por el bien del planeta. Hibridan tu biología con tecnología que nadie ha demandado, con vistas al engendro que justifica su agenda transhumanista. Manipulan la historia, la arqueología, la ciencia. Te amenazan constantemente con meteoritos, pandemias, crisis climáticas. Escenifican ridículas carreras espaciales que requieren presupuestos anuales astronómicos, y luego te dicen que en 2023 no se puede regresar a la luna. Montan guerras mundiales, conflictos religiosos, crisis financieras. Te seducen con fantoches de ventrílocuo que te presentan como candidatos políticos. Te enloquecen con una televisión de propaganda, violencia, cotilleos, y reality shows cada vez más deleznables. Te lavan el cerebro con cine, series, deporte, música pop, pornografía. Te sobornan con su estatus social de mierda, su éxito de pacotilla, su dinerucho manchado de sangre, para que desoigas estas palabras, desdeñes la verdad que eres, se pudra tu corazón, y sigas con tu miserable vida, cabizbajo, cínico, cobarde.

¿Acaso puedo ser más claro? Nos gobiernan nuestros peores enemigos. Son implacables, responden solo a sus propios intereses, y no van a mostrar ninguna compasión por nosotros. Al contrario: cuanto más nos hagan sufrir, cuanto más ignorantes permanezcamos, cuanto más inconscientes seamos de su existencia, más se regodearán en nuestra tortura y miseria. Si crees que ahora estás en paz, te engañas: es sólo una falsa tregua para volver a embestir enseguida con más fuerza. Si crees que lo peor ya ha pasado, te equivocas: volverán con otro ataque, más virulento si cabe, cuanto menos te lo esperes. Si crees que esos seres no están aquí entre nosotros, no puedes estar más errado: nunca se fueron, siempre estuvieron aquí, no vinieron de ningún lejano lugar. Y no descansarán hasta doblegarnos en cuerpo y alma. De que seas consciente de ello, depende la única, última y remota oportunidad que tenemos de librarnos de ellos. Si no la aprovechamos, ya estamos condenados.

[impaler665]

No todos buscan que un dios resuelva sus problemas. De hecho, muchos que critican a ese tipo de gente, busca lo mismo del estado, lo cual es igual de estúpido. Más estúpido aún es acusar a creyentes de la matanza de millones solo por su condición de creyentes negando así miles de condiciones y razones (más NO justificaciones) que se dieron durante los siglos de la humanidad. Es lo mismo como si un creyente condenara el ateísmo solo porque los 2 de los mayores genocidas de la historia fueron ateos, y ni hablar de la lista de atrocidades creadas por dictadores ateos en un pequeño espacio de la historia (siglo 20 para ser exacto).

Sin embargo, es innegable el mercadeo que se ha creado bajo la figura del Jesús blanco, rubio y de ojos azules. Pero, nuevamente, una cosa es el mensaje de dicho Jesús, y otra la deformación que se le ha dado a dicho hombre.

Una cosa no está NECESARIAMENTE adherida a la otra.

Dicho presupuesto es equivalente a decir:

Político = corrupto

Policía = abusador

Soldado= asesino

Sacerdote= Pedófilo

Feminista= Feminazi

Empleados del gobierno = vagos sobrepagados

Médicos= Mata sanos que viven de los planes

Maestros= Vagos que lloran por más días libres

Independentistas en Puerto Rico= Socialistas/Comunistas pelús, terroristas (y cuanta idiotez se han inventado los pnps)

Partido Nuevo Progresista=Partido donde TODOS son unos pillos, chanchulleros o gente de baja educación que son fáciles de coger de idiotas (aunque aquí sea más difícil verlo, hay unos pocos que puede que no lo sean).

Pod= partido que solo busca el mantengo (a diferencia del pnp que busca que seamos un estado de mantengo)

…y la lista sigue.

De todos esos grupos que mencioné hay mucha gente que se comporta de la forma que los señalan, más ese no es el distintivo por el cual la profesión o grupo está llamada, y sé que la mayoría no es así (aunque en los políticos quizás sea más difícil verlo), y hay que luchar porque no sea así.

Finalmente distinguido caballero, lo importante es la educación, en el tema pertinente, de los creyentes. Que aprendan que ninguna religión está por encima de valores universales como : la Vida, el Amor, la Unidad, el Respeto, la Justicia, la Verdad y la Dignidad. Como ve, esos valores son ejemplos que nos sirven como creyentes o como no creyentes. De que han habido atrocidades y desgraciados manipuladores USTED TIENE TODA LA RAZÓN; sin embargo, no es atacando las instituciones que no nos gusten o no comulgamos, es educando a la gente para que de una vez sepa distinguir quien es honesto y quien es un desgraciado que viene a engañarlos.

Que tenga un excelente día.

[betanoca]

¿Cuál fue el resultado del escrutinio en Las Palmas de Gran Canaria durante las elecciones pasadas?

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¿Cuál fue el resultado del escrutinio en Las Palmas de Gran Canaria durante las elecciones pasadas?

Resultado electoral Las Palmas de Gran Canaria

Las elecciones locales en Las Palmas de Gran Canaria han sido un tema candente en los últimos días, con los ciudadanos esperando ansiosamente los resultados electorales. Tras un proceso electoral reñido y lleno de emoción, finalmente se han revelado los resultados y se ha proclamado al nuevo alcalde de la ciudad.

Los resultados electorales de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria muestran un cambio significativo en la configuración política de la ciudad. El partido A ha logrado obtener la mayoría de los votos, lo que le convierte en el partido dominante en el ayuntamiento. Esto marca un cambio histórico en la política local, ya que el partido B ha perdido su posición predominante en la ciudad después de varios años en el poder.

Los ciudadanos de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria han expresado sus opiniones y preferencias a través de las urnas, y los resultados electorales reflejan el deseo de cambio y renovación en la ciudad. El nuevo alcalde, que pertenece al partido A, ha prometido trabajar arduamente para abordar los desafíos y necesidades de la comunidad, así como para promover el desarrollo sostenible y el bienestar de todos los ciudadanos.

En resumen, los resultados electorales en Las Palmas de Gran Canaria marcan el comienzo de una nueva etapa política en la ciudad, con la esperanza de un futuro más próspero y equitativo para todos sus habitantes.

Votos por partido Las Palmas

En Las Palmas, al igual que en el resto de España, los ciudadanos ejercen su derecho al voto para elegir a sus representantes políticos a nivel local, regional y nacional. Durante las elecciones, los partidos políticos presentan sus propuestas y candidatos, buscando el apoyo de la población para ocupar cargos de responsabilidad.

En Las Palmas, son varios los partidos políticos que han logrado captar la atención de los votantes a lo largo de los años. Entre ellos se encuentran opciones ideológicas diversas, que van desde partidos de corte liberal o conservador, hasta formaciones progresistas o nacionalistas. Cada uno de estos partidos cuenta con un programa político propio y defiende unas ideas y valores concretos, lo que les permite conectar con diferentes segmentos de la sociedad.

En las elecciones, los votantes analizan las propuestas de cada partido y deciden cuál es la opción que mejor representa sus intereses y aspiraciones. A través del voto, los ciudadanos expresan su voluntad y contribuyen a la configuración del panorama político local y nacional. Los resultados de las elecciones reflejan la diversidad de opiniones y preferencias de la sociedad, así como la fuerza política de cada formación en Las Palmas.

En resumen, los votos por partido en Las Palmas son el reflejo de la pluralidad política y del ejercicio democrático de la ciudadanía en la toma de decisiones. Cada voto cuenta y contribuye a la formación de un gobierno representativo y al desarrollo de la comunidad local.

Escrutinio elecciones Las Palmas

En el marco de las elecciones en Las Palmas, el escrutinio juega un papel fundamental en el proceso democrático. El escrutinio electoral se refiere al análisis detallado de los votos emitidos durante las elecciones para determinar los resultados finales y la distribución de escaños. Este proceso es clave para garantizar la transparencia y la legitimidad de los comicios, ya que permite verificar que la voluntad de los ciudadanos se refleje correctamente en los resultados.

Durante el escrutinio de las elecciones en Las Palmas, se lleva a cabo la revisión minuciosa de las actas de votación, el recuento de votos y la verificación de la legalidad de todo el proceso electoral. Este proceso suele ser supervisado por representantes de los distintos partidos políticos y por organismos electorales para garantizar su imparcialidad y corrección.

Es importante destacar que el escrutinio de las elecciones en Las Palmas es un proceso que puede llevar tiempo, especialmente en elecciones disputadas o con un alto número de participantes. Sin embargo, es fundamental para asegurar la legitimidad de los resultados y la democracia en la región.

En resumen, el escrutinio de las elecciones en Las Palmas es un proceso esencial para garantizar la transparencia y la justicia en los comicios. A través de un escrutinio riguroso y meticuloso, se puede asegurar que la voluntad de los ciudadanos sea respetada y que los resultados electorales sean legítimos.

Resultados candidatos Las Palmas

Los resultados de las elecciones para los candidatos en Las Palmas son de interés primordial para los ciudadanos de la región. Con un total de votos emitidos, los candidatos compiten para obtener el mayor apoyo de la comunidad. Estas elecciones son un reflejo de la democracia en acción, donde se ejerce el derecho al voto y se eligen a los representantes del pueblo.

Los resultados de los candidatos en Las Palmas pueden variar en función de diversos factores, como la popularidad, las propuestas políticas y el historial de cada candidato. Es importante para los ciudadanos informarse sobre cada uno de los candidatos y sus programas para tomar una decisión informada en las urnas.

El proceso electoral en Las Palmas es vigilado de cerca por las autoridades electorales para garantizar su transparencia y legitimidad. Los resultados de los candidatos se publican de manera oficial y se difunden a través de diversos medios de comunicación para que la población esté al tanto de los resultados.

En resumen, los resultados de los candidatos en Las Palmas son un reflejo de la participación cívica y democrática de los ciudadanos. Es fundamental estar informados y participar activamente en el proceso electoral para elegir a los representantes que mejor respondan a las necesidades de la comunidad.

Participación ciudadana elecciones Las Palmas

La participación ciudadana en las elecciones de Las Palmas es de vital importancia para el desarrollo democrático de la región. A través del acto de votar, los ciudadanos tienen la oportunidad de expresar sus opiniones y preferencias, contribuyendo así a la formación de un gobierno representativo y transparente.

Las elecciones en Las Palmas son un momento crucial para la sociedad, ya que permiten a los habitantes de la región elegir a sus representantes políticos y decidir el rumbo de su comunidad. La participación ciudadana en este proceso es fundamental para garantizar la legitimidad y la equidad de los resultados electorales.

Además de votar, los ciudadanos pueden participar activamente en las elecciones de Las Palmas a través de diversas acciones, como informarse sobre las propuestas de los diferentes candidatos, asistir a debates y manifestaciones políticas, y fomentar el diálogo y el intercambio de ideas entre la comunidad.

La participación ciudadana en las elecciones de Las Palmas también es fundamental para promover la transparencia y la rendición de cuentas en la gestión pública. Al involucrarse en el proceso electoral, los ciudadanos pueden ejercer presión sobre sus representantes para que actúen de manera honesta, responsable y en beneficio de toda la sociedad.

En resumen, la participación ciudadana en las elecciones de Las Palmas es un derecho y un deber de todos los ciudadanos comprometidos con la democracia y el bienestar de su comunidad. Es a través de este proceso que se construye un sistema político más inclusivo, justo y participativo. ¡Tu voto cuenta!

[jesusespino]

El ‘cliffhanger’ de Pedro Sánchez

La excesiva carta del presidente del Gobierno completa la asimilación del discurso de Podemos por parte del PSOE y trata a todos como espectadores enfurecidos

Unos meses antes de las elecciones municipales y autonómicas del 28 de mayo, las encuestas mostraban que el principal partido de España era “el antisanchismo” (sic), como explicaban expertos en demoscopia –no necesariamente antisanchistas– al analizar sus números con ojos limpios. Aquellos comicios tuvieron un resultado demoledor para el PSOE, cuyo poder territorial se contrajo hasta mínimos históricos. El presidente Sánchez, en su enésimo movimiento táctico, adelantó desesperadamente las elecciones generales al 23 de julio para detener la hemorragia. Pese a ganar Feijóo, el torniquete funcionó. Aunque salvar al paciente requirió un amargo tratamiento coagulante: tragarse el venenoso sapo de la amnistía, validar el relato del independentismo supremacista, hacer lo contrario de lo que dijo –una vez más– y tensionar la conversación pública hasta el tope.

Para lograr y retener el poder ya es más importante no generar rechazo que cosechar adhesión –véase el caso Juanma Moreno en Andalucía–. Por eso, Sánchez vio una oportunidad en las negociaciones para formar los gobiernos autonómicos: había que imponer, en ese periodo, otro rechazo capaz de disipar el rechazo previo; había que agitar el miedo a todo lo que no fuera la izquierda y meterlo en el saco de Vox; había que levantar el “muro” al que luego aludió en el Congreso. Porque, en la lógica de Sánchez, es legítimo gobernar con la ultraizquierda e ilegítimo todo lo demás; cabe hablar, conteniendo la risa, de “mayoría progresista” incluyendo en la suma los escaños del PNV ¡y Junts!; y procede acusar a los demás de trumpistas mientras se usan con desparpajo las más toscas técnicas populistas –el eterno doble rasero–.

La proclamación del falso dilema democracia-fascismo devino en la definición de la fachosfera: si no estás conmigo, eres un fascista y aquí se termina el debate. Todo lo que no fuera Sánchez se situaba en terreno antidemocrático, un marco burdo apuntalado por el persistente eco de los opinadores sincronizados. Y así fue como el PSOE aceleró la asimilación del discurso de Podemos, un proceso que se completa con la carta de Sánchez. No olvidemos que, hace casi seis años, Pablo Iglesias e Irene Montero enviaron una misiva a su militancia a través de las redes sociales y convocaron una consulta sobre su célebre chalé. Con idéntico procedimiento, Iglesias y Montero buscaban entonces lo mismo que Sánchez pretende ahora: medir visceralmente el apoyo popular, hacer política con las tripas, enardecer.

El cliffhanger de Sánchez –consistente en subordinar un país a su estado de ánimo– no parece una posición responsable, seria ni madura por parte de alguien que ocupa nada menos que la Presidencia del Gobierno. Porque la política no es una serie de televisión y trasladarla a la dramatización permanente es ficcionar la realidad, ofrecer un sucedáneo en lugar del producto que la sociedad necesita.

La carta es excesiva y victimista porque lo publicado en El Confidencial resulta relevante y merece ser investigado, lo denuncie quien lo denuncie. Es agria, simple y polarizadora. Lo es intencionadamente, con un objetivo evidente. El líder del PSOE ha entendido como pocos el nuevo paradigma de la comunicación. Sabe que ahora, en la era de las pantallas personales, se demanda más entretenimiento que información. Y así nos tiene, entretenidos, especulando sobre su anunciada comparecencia de mañana, esperando el inminente estreno de la siguiente temporada mientras comentamos el trepidante final del capítulo anterior en calidad de espectadores enfurecidos –concepto de Manuel Arias Maldonado, extraído de La democracia sentimental–. Enfurecidos todos, sea en el rechazo o en la adhesión, lo cual es un tristísimo (de)mérito de Sánchez. Cuando se marche, sea en las próximas horas o más adelante, dejará España enfrentada como nunca desde la Transición. Menudo legado.

[juanjoseojedadiaz]

Llaman a habilitar partidos políticos ilegalmente inhabilitados

MAS: El CNE está obligado a hacer viable la ruta electoral

Caracas 22/04/24. (PS).- Felipe Mujica, secretario general del MAS, aseguró este lunes que la escogencia de Edmundo González como abanderado de la Plataforma Unitaria “es una contribución muy grande que saludamos, así como también saludamos la actuación de varios factores políticos, además de la conducta y la decisión asumida por Manuel Rosales, quien había dicho que estaba dispuesto a declinar su candidatura si finalmente se producía un acuerdo unánime en la plataforma”.

Recordó que aunque la tolda naranja no forma parte de la Plataforma unitaria, han acompañado temas en común como la ruta electoral, buscar la concreción un candidato unitario y dejar de lado la abstención como política de un sector de la oposición, “que como el país sabe, es el sector mayoritario y donde buena parte de las posibilidades de terminar de consolidar una opción victoriosa, está referido a las decisiones que allí se tomen”.

CNE no responde

Felipe Mujica advirtió que a pesar de la prórroga para la sustitución de candidatos anunciada por el ente comicial y que vence este martes 23 que daría oportunidad a los partidos Un Nuevo Tiempo, Movimiento Progresista y Fuerza Vecinal, que postularon a Manuel Rosales, cambiar su nombre por el de Edmundo González, acudieron a órgano electoral, no pudiendo hacer el cambio porque la página del CNE no se lo permitió. “A estas alturas, todavía la página del CNE no abre y aunque pudiera existir algún tipo de problema técnico, el asunto es que el organismo electoral no dice nada”.

“Esto es una cosa insólita, es algo que verdaderamente el país debe rechazar porque ningún organismo electoral del mundo puede comportarse de esa manera. Ellos dan la prórroga y deberían explicar por qué la dan, pero en este caso dan la prórroga, dicen que será hasta tal dia, después no responden, no abren la página, no dicen nada, lo cual hace que se produzca cualquier cantidad de conjeturas sobre lo que pudiera estar pasando”, enfatizó.

Aseguró que no caerán en especulaciones e insistirán que todo se pueda resolver de la forma correcta y coherente tal como lo señalan las leyes correspondientes, “para que el CNE pueda terminar de darle paso a unas organizaciones políticas se adhieran a la candidatura acordada, postulada, no objetada de Edmundo González ante la declinación de la candidatura de Manuel Rosales”.

Destacó que la candidatura de Edmundo González “luce en este momento como la opción más importante frente a la candidatura del gobierno” considerando además que este hecho político debe ser evaluado por todo el país. “Así como en el pasado, equivocaciones de la oposición como abstenerse tuvo un costo político, evidentemente si el gobierno comete errores de tipo autoritario, eso también tendrá un costo político, la historia de la humanidad está llena de ejemplos”.

Gaceta electoral ¿perdida?

Felipe Mujica mostró copia de la Gaceta electoral número 48 (extraordinario) de fecha 15 de marzo de 2024 que apareció publicada en la página del CNE este lunes donde en donde el Poder electoral resuelve en su numeral cuarto, que el MAS quedó excluido de participar en el proceso electoral de este 28 de julio, al no cumplir con lo establecido en la normativa legal vigente junto a otras trece organizaciones políticas.

“En aquel momento (15 de marzo) nadie tenía a la mano cuál fue la resolución, nadie sabía por qué un partido podía postular y por qué otro no, lo que finalmente aparece escrito en esta gaceta como algo que supuestamente se tomó ese día y no se sabe cómo, lo que se decidió en esa reunión, que terminó a las 11 de la noche del día viernes 15, aparece en una gaceta que tiene como fecha de publicación el mismo día”, precisó.

Mostró sus dudas acerca de cómo pudieron publicar en menos de una hora antes que terminara el día. “Esto tiene una manipulación como todas las cosas relacionadas con este caso” en razón de que la misma gaceta señala que los interesados podrán imponer un recurso contencioso electoral previsto en el artículo 213 dentro de los 15 días hábiles siguientes.

En su opinión, esta acción sería diseñada de manera autoritaria y sin formalidades legales. “Todo lo que se dice en relación del MAS a no poder postular es mentira, el CNE le está mintiendo al país, a la sociedad venezolana y a los organismos internacionales. ¿Cómo hace alguien que tiene que utilizar como referencia la fecha de la resolución y su publicación en gaceta si resulta que la gaceta aparece hoy?”.

Juan José Ojeda Díaz / Prensa de Solidaridad

X (antes Twitter): @juanjoseojeda

Instagram: @juanjoseojedadiaz

[jgmail]

India pretende imitar la estrategia china

Por Alexander Dugin

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

Para sorpresa de muchos, la India se ha convertido en la economía de más rápido crecimiento del mundo: su PIB creció en un 8,4% en 2023, por lo que para el 2027 podría convertirse en la tercera economía del mundo y si esta tendencia se mantiene es posible que la India llegue a superar a los Estados Unidos e incluso a China para la década del 2030. India ya es considerado el país más poblado del mundo, así como uno de los pioneros en tecnología de la información. De hecho, la diáspora india controla un segmento bastante grande de Silicon Valley, además de que el primer ministro británico, Rishi Sunak, firme partidario del liberalismo globalista, es de etnia india. Curiosamente, otro político de origen indio, Vivek Ramaswamy, que es muy influyente dentro del Partido Republicano, apoya a Trump, por lo que podemos decir que se encuentra a las antípodas ideológicas de Sunak.  En cualquier caso, podemos decir que la emigración india tiene mucha influencia en el mundo, lo que nos lleva a afirmar que estamos ante un fenómeno completamente nuevo: el nacimiento ante nuestros ojos de un nuevo centro de toma de decisiones global.

La India debe gran parte de su actual éxito al giro político que supuso la llegada al poder del partido conservador Bharatiya Janata Party. Hasta hace muy poco, la India moderna fue fundada y gobernada después del proceso de descolonización por el progresista e izquierdista Congreso Nacional Indio. Para la mayor parte de los indios la independencia de Gran Bretaña era una prioridad, pero bajo el gobierno del Congreso Nacional Indio la India siguió siendo un miembro de la Commonwealth británica y siguió imitando el sistema de gobierno democrático impuesto por ellos, hasta el punto de que se enorgullecía de ser “la mayor democracia del mundo”. El Congreso Nacional Indio se conformó con que su país obtuviera la independencia política de sus antiguos amos coloniales, pero se comprometió con la imitación de todos los paradigmas sociopolíticos, económicos y culturales occidentales. El monopolio del poder del Congreso Nacional Indio se vio socavado por primera vez por la victoria en las elecciones de 1996 en la cámara baja del parlamento (Lok Sabha) del partido conservador de derechas Bharatiya Janata Party. Bharatiya Janata Party fue fundado por el político de derecha Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh en 1980. Narendra Modi se convirtió en el primer ministro del Bharatiya Janata Party en el 2014 y sigue en ese puesto hasta el día de hoy. Según muchos analistas Modi tiene suficiente influencia para seguir conservando ese puesto en las elecciones que se llevarán a cabo desde el 19 de abril hasta el 1 de junio del 2024. Tanto el gobierno del Bharatiya Janata Party como el carisma de Modi han cambiado profundamente a la India, hasta el punto de que bajo Modi la India pasó a ser conocida bajo su nombre sánscrito Bharat, lo que indica que él se basa en una ideología completamente diferente a la que impulsaba al Congreso Nacional Indio.

Durante la época de la lucha por la independencia de la India existían dos corrientes que se oponían a los británicos: una pacifista y moderada basada en la resistencia no violenta encarnada por Mahatma Gandhi y otra más militante e intransigente que se basaba en los escritos del tradicionalista indio Bal Gangadhar Tilak, el fundador del Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, Keshav Hedgewar, y el nacionalista Vinayak Savarkar. Al final, los británicos se fueron, pero no sin antes quitarle a la India gran parte de sus territorios habitados por musulmanes y budistas (Pakistán, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Bután y Nepal) y entregarle el poder al Congreso Nacional Indio con la esperanza de que este país se mantendría bajo la influencia anglosajona, modernizándolo y occidentalizándolo según sus características regionales específicas, conservando de ese modo Gran Bretaña alguna especie de control colonial sobre la India. Ahora bien, muchos de los oponentes del Congreso Nacional Indio no solo consideraban que la India era un país o una antigua colonia, sino que afirmaban que se trataba de un extenso territorio habitado por una civilización particular muy influyente que hoy denominaríamos como Estado-civilización. El primero en afirmar esto fue Kanaiyalal Munshi quien lo llamó “Akhand Bharat”, que puede traducirse como “India indivisible” o “Gran India”. Narendra Modi consideró que el principal objetivo del año 2022 era la “descolonización de la mente india”, dando nacimiento a una India que no conocíamos hasta entonces: un Estado-civilización védico y conservador de derecha. La Gran India por fin se convirtió en una civilización soberana.

Ahora bien, cualquier observador superficial dirá que existe una contradicción en el hecho de que la India se convierta en un polo independiente y al mismo tiempo se esté acercando geopolíticamente a Estados Unidos e Israel, además de sus crecientes conflictos fronterizos con China (su participación en varios bloques antichinos, como, por ejemplo, el QUAD, etc.) y el creciente deterioro de sus relaciones con el mundo islámico, especialmente dentro de sus fronteras y Pakistán. Por lo tanto, si a los tradicionalistas indios les preocupa la “descolonización de la mente india” y luchar contra la civilización materialista occidental, ¿por qué se alían con los Estados Unidos? Tal ambigüedad se explica si nos fijamos en el ejemplo del ascenso actual de China: uno de los representantes del Consejo de Relaciones Exteriores de Estados Unidos (CFR), Henry Kissinger, sugirió en 1970 el acercamiento a China y la creación de una asociación bilateral con este país como una forma de debilitar el campo socialista liderado por la URSS. China, bajo el liderazgo de Deng Xiaping, aprovechó este tratado y después de 40 años de estar al servicio de los Estados Unidos ahora se ha convertido en un polo independiente que ha entrado en competencia con su antiguo benefactor hasta el punto de encontrarse en una guerra comercial a toda regla. Y el escalamiento del conflicto con Taiwán nos lleva a prever que pronto se convertirá en un conflicto militar. Ahora mismo estamos presenciando como las fuerzas globalistas occidentales han decidido apoyar a la India en contra de China, pero Modi ha decidido adoptar la estrategia que antes usó China para adquirir más poder. China utilizó la globalización para sus propios fines y evitó perder su soberanía. Ahora la Gran India pretende hacer lo mismo: primero, teniendo en cuenta las realidades objetivas de la política internacional actual, India intentará aumentar su poder mediante un mejoramiento del bienestar de su enorme población, el aumento de su mercado interior, además de su poder militar y tecnológico para que, en el momento adecuado, emerja como un polo plenamente independiente y soberano. Esta estrategia es conocido por los globalistas y no sorprende que Georges Soros y la Open Society, prohibida en Rusia, han declarado abiertamente la guerra contra todas las formas de tradición, soberanía, culturas y sociedades independientes hasta el punto de considerar a Narendra Modi y el Bharatiya Janata Party como uno de los mayores males. Es por eso que Soros ha respaldado la oposición liderada por el Congreso Nacional Indio y busca explotar los problemas sociales y étnicos de la India haciendo un llamado a los dalits (una casta inferior muy extendida en ese país) a rebelarse contra Modi. Todo esto no se trata sino de una especie de “revolución de colores” impulsada por los globalistas.

Rusia debe darse cuenta de los cambios fundamentales que se están produciendo en la India, pues se trata de un país muy diferente a aquel con el que construimos una relación bastante estrecha durante la época soviética. En la India siguen siendo muy comprensivos y nostálgicos con los rusos, lo cual se aplica tanto a la izquierda (donde en el Congreso Nacional Indio tenemos aliados a pesar de que cada vez suena con más fuerza la voz de los rusófobos financiados por Soros) como entre los tradicionalistas de derecha. Es por eso que la inercia no puede desempeñar un papel fundamental aquí, pues Rusia debe comprende de forma muy clara que al declararse como un Estado-civilización debe promover la construcción de un mundo multipolar y apostar por una “descolonización de la consciencia” de todos los pueblos. Mientras que la India tiene graves conflictos, especialmente fronterizos, con China, otro Estado-civilización y polo del mundo multipolar, no existe nada parecido con Rusia ni siquiera en un futuro lejano. Es por eso que no debemos tener miedo de acercarnos a la India a pesar de nuestra estrecha asociación estratégica con China, por el contrario, tenemos un interés vital en resolver los graves problemas en estas dos potencias, pues en caso de que estalle un conflicto entre ellas (el cual esta siendo impulsado por Occidente) el nacimiento de un mundo multipolar se retrasará indefinidamente. Rusia defiende los valores tradicionales y por eso debemos apoyar a todos los que se han levantado para defender sus propios principios. La asociación energética, así como los planes estratégicos para un corredor de transporte Norte-Sur, la integración eurasiática, la cooperación en la esfera de la alta tecnología (la India es uno de los lideres mundiales en TI) y la esfera financiera deben tener una dimensión ideológica: los tradicionalistas son los primeros interesados en preservar la soberanía de todas civilizaciones como un medio para detener la expansión de la hegemonía occidental.

[notihatillo]

@NotiHatillo

El Hatillo, 26 de Febrero del 2024

Buenos días, a pesar de las fallas en el suministro de agua qué trastocan el ritmo diario, nuestro resumen de noticias llega a ustedes gracias a @NotiHatillo /Alcaldía de El Hatillo /Redes Sociales

TITULARES

MUNICIPALES

-- Yolanda Moya Agradecemos la paciencia y comprensión de los vecinos afectados por esta situación. #SeguimosTrabajando para restablecer el servicio de agua lo antes posible. Seguiremos informando

-- @HidroCapital2 Continúan los trabajos de reparación de la avería de la tubería matriz en el sector La Toma.

-- Una vez culminada la reparación y realizadas las pruebas necesarias se reiniciaria suministro de agua en el Hatillo.

NACIONALES

Internacional Socialista pide elecciones libres en Venezuela

"Comanditos" se multiplican en el país para acompañar candidatura de María Corina

Acompañado por Pedro Sánchez, presidente de España y de la Internacional Socialista, el secretario general de la facción de la AD «en resistencia», Henry Ramos Allup, celebró el apoyo que recibió la propuesta que exige la posibilidad de organizar unas elecciones justas en Venezuela, sin partidos intervenidos ni políticos inhabilitados.

La Internacional Socialista pide elecciones libres en Venezuela, asegura "Ramos Allup" .

AD y UNT participan en reunión del organismo que reúne a los partidos socialdemócratas del mundo.

Los 132 partidos socialdemócratas, socialistas y laboristas del mundo que pertenece a la Internacional Socialista, aprobaron la solicitud de Acción Democrática y Un Nuevo Tiempo (UNT), que forman parte de esta instancia.

Internacional Socialista expulsa a Voluntad Popular: Ha cambiado sus posturas a la derecha. Yon Goicoechea les responde: De mejores sitios me han botado.

La tolda naranja había sido aceptada como miembro de la organización en diciembre de 2015, cinco años después de su fundación, al definirse desde su creación como un partido de centro izquierda, con tendencia progresista y socialdemócrata.

María Corina Machado pidió alzar la voz contra la persecución y criminalización en Venezuela.

AD Caracas ratificó su respaldo a María Corina Machado durante un acto de campaña en El Paraíso.

Biagio Pilieri juramentó comanditos en Siquisique: “En Venezuela renació la esperanza con María Corina”.

«Estamos en Siquisique, municipio Urdaneta, y vemos con alegría muchísima gente emprendedora, entusiasta. Vinimos a darle un mensaje en nombre de la próxima presidenta de Venezuela, vinimos a traerles un mensaje en nombre de todo el comando nacional de campaña, un mensaje de cambio, esperanza, fe y optimismo. La gente de Urdaneta también quiere cambio y que María Corina sea la próxima presidenta de todos los venezolanos», subrayó Pilieri

Durante la asamblea de juramentación de los Comanditos, Pilieri destacó que en cada rincón del país se encuentran trabajando en la aglutinación de fuerza ciudadana para lograr la victoria en las venideras presidenciales.

En el Edo Bolívar. Jóvenes viajan hasta 8 horas para inscribirse en el único punto de registro electoral.

De Barbados al cronograma electoral: así avanza el chavismo hacia las presidenciales 2024. Mientras oposición asegura que seguirá en negociaciones, el poder político parece avanzar en vía contraria.

Analista Tamara Taraciuk: el gobierno de Maduro busca cambiar el punto de partida de las negociaciones.

“Expulsión de la Oficina del Alto Comisionado podría tener efecto en el Consejo de Derechos Humanos”, advierte Alí Daniels.

TSJ mantiene intervención del PCV al rechazar solicitud de Oscar Figuera.

La Sala Constitucional del Tribunal Supremo de Justicia (TSJ) declaró «improponible en derecho» una solicitud de revocatoria de la sentencia Nº 1.160 documento que sustentó la intervención judicial del Partido Comunista de Venezuela (PCV) elevada por el Comité Central de la tolda del gallo rojo, encabezado por Oscar Figuera.

El PCV denunció que «se acentúa deriva autoritaria y antidemocrática» en Venezuela.

Declaraciones de Saab sobre Rocío San Miguel contravienen presunción de inocencia, opinan expertos.

Ataques contra la sociedad civil se profundizan con una represión "sistemática".

Venezolanos en España, Francia, Bélgica y Chile exigieron la liberación de los presos políticos.

Número de mineros heridos por derrumbe en «bulla loca» sube a 36.

Táchira. ONG Una Ventana a la Libertad denuncia hacinamiento de presos en un contenedor. Los detenidos están hacinados en el destacamento 215 de la Guardia Nacional, en La Pedrera, municipio Libertador.

Un grupo de aproximadamente 30 detenidos grabó un video denunciando las deplorables condiciones en las que permanecen encerrados en un centro penitenciario en Táchira, sin acceso a luz o a comida y con apenas espacio para caminar.

Venezuela no recibirá más vuelos de migrantes deportados de EEUU y México.

De acuerdo con cifras de Aduanas y Protección Fronteriza, en octubre, noviembre y diciembre Estados Unidos enviaba entre seis y siete mil personas cada mes en vuelos de repatriación; sin embargo, las cifras muestran que en enero esa cifra se redujo a 2.727 personas.

Con esta medida, el gobierno de Maduro anula el acuerdo suscrito en octubre de 2023 para permitir estos vuelos de repatriación, y que estaba ligado al aliviamiento de las sanciones impuestas por la administración de Joe Biden sobre Venezuela.

INTERNACIONALES

Más de 68.400 migrantes han cruzado el Darién en 2024, 22.000 más que un año antes.

La frontera sur de México resiente la agudización del éxodo de Venezuela, tras un incremento de 131,8% de la migración irregular de ese país en 2023 hasta casi 223.000 personas, más de la cuarta parte del total de migrantes detectados por el Gobierno mexicano.

Venezuela fue el principal país de origen de los migrantes indocumentados que detectó en 2023 el Instituto Nacional de Migración (INM), que reportó una subida anual de más de 77% en la migración irregular al superar más de 782.000 personas.

Detienen a funcionaria del Ministerio de Defensa de Uruguay por red de trata que explotaba a 28 migrantes venezolanos.

Hermano del acusado de matar a estudiante de enfermería tenía papeles migratorios falsos.

El hermano del hombre señalado de matar a una estudiante de enfermería de Georgia ha sido acusado de presentar una tarjeta de residencia falsa a la policía cuando se investiga la muerte de la mujer, según autoridades federales. Los hermanos José y Diego Ibarra son venezolanos, informó en un comunicado de prensa la Fiscalía del Distrito Medio de Georgia.

Agentes del Buró de Investigaciones de Georgia registran un contenedor de basura al otro lado de la calle de los apartamentos Cielo Azulak, el viernes 23 de febrero de 2024, en Athens, Georgia.

Un video de las cámaras de seguridad del campus y otras herramientas tecnológicas condujeron a la policía hasta José Ibarra, que vivía en uno de los apartamentos, informó la policía.

Canadá apoya la soberanía de Guyana y pide una solución diplomática con Venezuela.

Guyana es soberana pero el Esequibo es totalmente Venezolano

EEUU dice que ya hay un acuerdo con Israel para las “líneas básicas” de una tregua en Gaza.

Estados Unidos, Israel, Egipto y Catar ya alcanzaron un acuerdo sobre “las líneas básicas” para facilitar un alto el fuego en la Franja de Gaza y el intercambio de rehenes israelíes por prisioneros palestinos, afirmó este domingo la Casa Blanca.

Cientos de personas huyen del hambre en el norte de Gaza.

Netanyahu dice que ofensiva en Rafah podría “retrasarse un poco” si hay acuerdo de cese de fuego.

Los hutíes anuncian un nuevo ataque contra un petrolero y efectivos navales de EEUU en el mar Rojo.

La victoria de Ucrania sobre Rusia depende de Occidente, afirma Zelenski.

Zelenski cifra en 31.000 los soldados muertos y admite que Ucrania se encuentra “en su momento más difícil”.

Ministro de Defensa de Ucrania: Retrasos de ayuda militar de Occidente están costando vidas.

“Putin y Trump aún no han ganado, pero pueden ganar; Europa tiene que despertar”.

Serbia protesta luego que funcionario croata llamó al presidente serbio un siervo de Rusia.

Dos opositores rusos inhabilitados para las elecciones presidenciales pidieron el fin de la guerra en Ucrania.

Dos aspirantes a la Presidencia rusa vetados por las autoridades electorales, Yekaterina Duntsova y Boris Nadezhdin, pidieron en sendos comunicados el fin de la guerra del régimen de Vladimir Putin en Ucrania, coincidiendo con su segundo aniversario.

Haley sigue adelante pese al favoritismo de Trump.

La red Koch, respaldada por multimillonarios, dejará de financiar a Nikki Haley tras su derrota.

Biden y gobernador de Utah abogan por mayor colaboración bipartidista.

Bolsonaro hace demostración de fuerza al reunir a una multitud en Sao Paulo.

Masivas protestas en Sao Paulo en apoyo a Bolsonaro.

El expresidente convocó la concentración, que denominó de "reunión pacífica en favor del Estado de derecho y de nuestra libertad, familias y futuro".

Los partidarios del ex presidente de Brasil, Jair Bolsonaro, participan en una protesta en la Avenida Paulista, mientras la policía lo investiga a él y a su gabinete por presuntamente planear un golpe de estado después de las elecciones de 2022, en Sao Paulo, Brasil, el 25 de febrero de 2024.

El Gobierno de Cuba anticipa que faltará la harina para el pan de la canasta básica por desabastecimiento.

Milei ahoga a los comedores populares en Argentina: “Antes era difícil, ahora es peor”. Al menos cinco millones de personas en Argentina dependen de la comida que brindan estos espacios.

Colombia expresa "enérgico rechazo" a "irresponsables declaraciones" de Milei quien se refirió a su homólogo colombiano, Gustavo Petro, como "una plaga" en el segundo incidente de ese tipo en un mes.

Evo Morales el ex presidente cocalero tilda de «enemigo» a su ex vicepresidente Álvaro García Linera por pedir renovación en el MAS.

Lukashenko también quiere eternizarse en el poder en Bielorrusia.

"Díganles [a la oposición exiliada] que me presentaré", afirmó desafiante en su colegio electoral. Este domingo ha habido elecciones parlamentarias.

El Papa aparece en la ventana sobre Plaza de San Pedro después de padecer gripe.

El Mobile World Congress ya está en marcha en Barcelona: “Creemos en la tecnología como motor del progreso”.

España desarrollará un modelo de lenguaje de inteligencia artificial en castellano.

El director ejecutivo de AT&T se disculpa con miles clientes por interrupción del servicio.

Un triunfo de Trump, bomba de relojería para el mercado de bonos.

La receta económica del aspirante republicano a la Casa Blanca, de más aranceles y menos impuestos, augura más inflación justo cuando se vislumbra un ciclo de rebajas de tipos.

El principal índice de la Bolsa de Tokio, el Nikkei, continuó subiendo en la sesión de este lunes y avanzaba un 0,54% en el descanso de media sesión, tras renovar su máximo nivel intradía y encaminándose hacia un nuevo cierre récord.

Kenneth Mitchell, actor de "Star Trek" y "Marvel", muere a los 49 años.

Muere actor Kenneth Mitchell, quien apareció en las series "Star Trek: Discovery" y "Captain Marvel", tras luchar contra la esclerosis.

Asientos de estadios para París 2024 están hechos con plástico reciclado. Los organizadores buscan reducir la huella de carbono con esta medida.

Venezolano Junior Alvarado ganó la carrera de caballos más cara del mundo.

La carrera se disputó en el hipódromo Rey Abdulaziz en Riyadh, Arabia Saudita. Foto: The Saudi Cup.

Real Madrid amplía su ventaja en LaLiga con un golazo de Modric.

Modric entra de cambio para darle la victoria al Real Madrid, 1-0 sobre Sevilla.

Liverpool conquista la Copa de la Liga con gol 'in extremis' de Van Dijk.

El Liverpool ganó en los últimos instantes de la prórroga por 1-0 al Chelsea, este domingo en Wembley, y conquistó así la Copa de la Liga inglesa, el primer trofeo para los 'Reds' desde 2022. El entrenador del Liverpool, Jurgen Klopp, levanta el trofeo de la Copa de la Liga junto a sus jugadores.

Cristiano Ronaldo es criticado por hacer un gesto obsceno en partido de la liga saudita. De fondo, se oían cánticos de "Messi", en referencia al argentino Lionel Messi, rival futbolístico de Ronaldo desde hace muchos años.

PSG se salva de encajar su segunda derrota de la temporada, Mbappé sustituido.

El PSG debe "ACOSTUMBRARSE a jugar sin Mbappé", admite Luis Enrique.

TAL DÍA COMO HOY

747 a.C. Nabonasar se convierte en rey de Asiria. El astrónomo griego-egipcio Claudio Ptolomeo (100-170 d. C.) eligió esta fecha (registrada por los egipcios) como comienzo de la era Nabonassar.

1266 en Italia se produce la batalla de Benevento en la que se enfrentaron los sicilianos de Manfredo de Honhenstaufen con los franceses de Carlos I de Anjou, que saldrían victoriosos.

1498 en Alcalá de Henares (España) el cardenal Gonzalo Jiménez de Cisneros coloca la primera piedra de la Universidad Complutense.

1554 en Chile, el jefe araucano Lautaro vence en la Batalla de Marihueñu a las tropas de Francisco de Villagra (teniente general de la gobernación desde 1547 y jefe de la campaña española contra los araucanos).

1561 a orillas del arroyo Sutó en la serranía de Chiquitos (Bolivia) el conquistador español Ñuflo de Chaves funda la ciudad de Santa Cruz de la Sierra.

1658 se firma la Paz de Roskilde entre Suecia y Dinamarca, por la que se pone fin a la guerra de los Belt.

1815 en Francia, Napoleón Bonaparte se fuga de la isla de Elba, dando inicio al Gobierno de cien días.

1817 en Chile, aparece La Gaceta del Supremo Gobierno de Chile, primera publicación chilena después de la independencia.

1869 en Cuba, la Asamblea Patriótica de Camagüey declara abolida la esclavitud.

1871 tras la guerra franco-prusiana, se firman los preliminares de la paz entre Francia y el nuevo Imperio alemán.

1901 en España, dimite el gobierno de Marcelo Azcárraga, tras los sangrientos choques entre fuerzas armadas y el pueblo madrileño con motivo del entierro del poeta Ramón de Campoamor.

1902 en Sevilla prosiguen las lluvias y las aguas del Guadalquivir alcanzan cinco metros por encima de su nivel habitual.

1904 en España, el Congreso de los Diputados aprueba el proyecto de ley sobre el servicio militar obligatorio.

1908 en Barcelona se inaugura el Palacio de la Música Catalana con las obras Catalanesques, de Lluís Millet, y la cantata Glosa, de Felipe Pedrell (con letra de Joan Maragall).

1909 el Imperio austrohúngaro y el Imperio otomano llegan a un acuerdo sobre Bosnia y Herzegovina.

1909 las Cortes españolas aprueban un proyecto de ley para la creación de un Teatro Nacional con subvención del Estado.

1910 en el Teatro de la Comedia de Madrid se estrena La difunta, de Miguel de Unamuno.

1913 el Congreso de los Estados Unidos aprueba los gastos de la Armada, que prevé la construcción de nuevas unidades.

1914 la nave gemela del RMS Titanic, el HMHS Britannic es botado del astillero de Harland & Wolf.

1916 en Francia, el mariscal Joseph Joffre pone a Philippe Pétain al frente del Segundo Ejército francés.

1924 en Alemania se abre el proceso contra Adolf Hitler y Erich Ludendorff a consecuencia del Putsch de Múnich.

1925 en España, se abre la causa contra el catedrático español de la Universidad de Granada, Fernando de los Ríos.

1927 en Nueva York, el púgil español Paulino Uzcudun vence por puntos al danés Hansen.

1930 en la República Dominicana se extiende el movimiento revolucionario y los rebeldes se hacen dueños del norte y centro del país.

1932 en España, entra en vigor la ley del divorcio.

1936 en Alemania, Hitler implementa un nuevo vehículo, práctico y de bajo costo: el escarabajo Volkswagen.

1936 en Japón se realiza un frustrado golpe de Estado en el que son asesinados Okada (jefe del Gobierno) y varios ministros.

1940 en el marco de la Segunda Guerra Mundial, el destructor británico Cossak aborda al buque-tanque alemán Altmark y libera a los 300 prisioneros ingleses que transportaba.

1944 ataque aéreo soviético sobre Helsinki.

1945 fuerzas soviéticas atacan por Pomerania y llegan al Mar Báltico.

1946 el presidente de México Miguel Alemán Valdés crea el acuerdo presidencial por el cual surge la Comisión del Papaloapan.

1947 la Comisión del Papaloapan es aprobada en el Congreso de la Unión, junto con la Comisión de Tesechoacán.

1948 se constituye en España el Consejo del Reino, establecido por la ley de Sucesión a la Jefatura del Estado.

1949 en Paraguay es depuesto el presidente el general Raimundo Rolón.

1951 en EE. UU. se ratifica la XXIII enmienda de la Constitución estadounidense, que prohíbe a un presidente mantenerse en el cargo más de dos mandatos consecutivos.

1952 en Barcelona se estrena la película Lola la piconera, protagonizada por Juanita Reina.

1954 en Moscú, el líder chino Mao Zedong mantiene conversaciones con dirigentes comunistas.

1956 en México, D. F. se inaugura el palacio deportivo Arena México, con capacidad para 18.500 personas sentadas.

1958 en España, el Ministerio de Obras Públicas ordena que todos los vehículos motorizados deben estar provistos, en carretera, de espejo retrovisor.

1960 en Inglaterra, la princesa Margaret Rose, hermana de la reina Isabel II del Reino Unido, da a conocer su compromiso con el fotógrafo de la corte, Anthony Armstrong-Jones.

1961 en Marruecos, el príncipe heredero Muley Hassan es nombrado rey de Marruecos al morir su padre, Mohammed V.

1963 en Múnich, servicios especiales franceses raptan al excoronel Antoine Argoud, dirigente de la OAS.

1976 Evacuación española del Sáhara Occidental.

1977 en EE. UU., la nave espacial estadounidense Space Shuttle es transportada en el dorso de un Boeing 747 modificado.

1978 en China se inaugura el V Congreso Popular Nacional.

1978 en Colombia, el partido liberal vence las elecciones generales, con Julio César Turbay como candidato a la presidencia.

1978 en Senegal, el presidente Léopold Sédar Senghor es reelegido.

1980 en España concluye el juicio por la matanza de Atocha.

1981 en España, Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo toma posesión de la presidencia del gobierno de España.

1983 el ajedrecista ruso Boris Spassky vence a su compatriota Anatoli Kárpov y se adjudica el Torneo de Linares.

1984 elecciones al Parlamento vasco, en las que el Partido Nacionalista Vasco (PNV) obtiene el 41,69% de los votos, seguido del Partido Socialista Obrero Español (PSOE), con el 23,22%.

1985 el grupo de thrash metal Metallica graba el disco Master Of Puppets.

1986 el director español Jaime Chávarri estrena la película El río de oro.

1986 en Japón se estrena el animé Dragon Ball.

1987 José Antonio Ardanza es reelegido lehendakari del Gobierno vasco por mayoría absoluta en la primera votación del Parlamento.

1989 el británico Colin Jackson logra el récord mundial de los 60 metros vallas, con un crono de 7"41, en Sindelfingen (RFA).

1989 el luxemburgués Marc Girardelli se adjudica en Whistler Mountain (Canadá) su tercera Copa del mundo de esquí alpino.

1989 la policía china impide al astrofísico disidente Fang Lizhi reunirse con el presidente estadounidense George Bush, durante la visita de éste último a Pekín.

1990 al menos 79 personas pierden la vida a causa de los huracanes desatados en Europa central.

1990 en Nicaragua, los sandinistas son derrotados en las elecciones generales.

1991 el Partido Nacionalista de Bangladés gana las primeras elecciones libres en este país tras catorce años de Gobierno militar.

1991 Estados Unidos, Tim Berners-Lee presenta el navegador para internet.

1991 fuerzas estadounidenses y kuwaitíes entran en Kuwait City, abandonada por las invasoras tropas iraquíes.

1991 la policía española decomisa en Canarias dos toneladas de cocaína en un barco en alta mar, procedente de Colombia y con destino final en Galicia y su red de narcotráfico.

1992 en Irlanda, el Tribunal Supremo permite a una muchacha, que quedó embarazada a causa de una violación, que viaje fuera del país para interrumpir su embarazo.

1992 en la ciudad de Joyalí (en Azerbaiyán), en el marco de la guerra de Nagorno Karabaj, fuerzas armadas de Armenia y Rusia matan a cientos de civiles azerbaiyanos. (Masacre de Jochalí).

1993 en Nueva York se produce una explosión en las Torres Gemelas.

1995 el G-7 acuerda en Bruselas los principios comunes que conducirán a la creación de "la sociedad de la información" a escala mundial.

1998 el Tribunal Supremo de España condena al expresidente de Banesto, Mario Conde, a 4 años y seis meses de prisión por un delito de apropiación indebida, mientras la Audiencia Nacional de Madrid, condena al exdirector de la Guardia Civil, Luis Roldán, a 28 años de cárcel por malversación de caudales públicos, estafa, cohecho y cinco delitos contra la Hacienda Pública.

2001 el ministro de Interior español, Jaime Mayor Oreja, abandona el ministerio de Interior para presentar su candidatura a lehendakari.

2001 los ministros de Exteriores de los quince países miembros de la Unión Europea suscriben el Tratado de Niza, acordado en diciembre de 2000, para permitir la adaptación de las instituciones comunitarias a la ampliación prevista de la organización.

2002 ACNUR y la ONG Save the Children denuncian que al menos sesenta cooperantes abusaron sexualmente de menores mientras desarrollaban presuntas labores humanitarias en Liberia, Guinea y Sierra Leona.

2003 en las montañas colombianas se estrella un avión militar con 26 ocupantes.

2004 Estados Unidos, el gobierno elimina una prohibición de viajes a Libia que duró 23 años.

2004 Europa y Rusia llegan a un acuerdo para lanzar cohetes Soyuz desde la base espacial de la Agencia Espacial Europea situada en Kourou (Guayana Francesa).

2004 se inaugura en Valladolid una exposición para conmemorar el quinto centenario de la muerte de Isabel la Católica.

2004 todos los partidos democráticos, salvo el PP, respaldan una manifestación contra ETA en Barcelona.

2005 en Taiwán se incendia un rascacielos; mueren cuatro personas.

2005 los Mossos d'Esquadra detienen en Barcelona a Rafaelle Amato, jefe de uno de los clanes de la Camorra.

2006 en Bilbao, la policía española detiene a un miembro de los GRAPO buscado por el asesinato de una empresaria en Zaragoza el 6 de febrero.

2006 en Caquetá (Colombia) las FARC atacan un autobús de civiles; mueren nueve pasajeros.

2006 en un mercadillo a las afueras de El Cairo situado sobre la antigua Heliópolis se descubre un templo solar con varias estatuas monumentales, una de las cuales podría pertenecer a Ramsés II.

2006 en un penal de alta seguridad en Afganistán se amotinan 1500 presos talibanes y de Al Qaeda.

2006 junto a una sucursal bancaria en Vitoria (España) estalla una bomba casera y causa heridas leves a dos personas.

2009 tras una serie de polémicas con sus habitantes, el gobierno de Chile decide reconstruir Chaitén, ciudad devastada por una erupción volcánica, en Santa Bárbara, 12 km al norte.

2010 La Corte Constitucional de Colombia declaró inexequible la ley de referendo reeleccionista, la cual pretendía habilitar al entonces presidente Álvaro Uribe Vélez a un eventual tercer mandato consecutivo.

SABIAS QUE

Es imposible estornudar con los ojos abiertos. Por mucho que lo intentes, no lo lograrás.

LA CITA DE HOY

El sabio no dice todo lo que piensa, pero siempre piensa todo lo que dice.

Aristóteles

(384 AC-322 AC) Filósofo griego.

[corrupcionenpr]

16 casos de corrupción en el gobierno de Puerto Rico para no olvidar

En nuestra historia política han ocurrido sucesos que han sacudido la confianza en los políticos y han afectado enormemente el desarrollo y crecimiento de nuestro país.

1) Miguel Ortiz Vélez: exalcalde de Sabana Grande, afiliado al PPD, fue separado de su puesto en 2018 por robo y mal manejo de fondos federales. Está en espera de juicio.

2) Fernando Tonos: exrepresentante PPD convicto en 1994 de apropiación ilegal agravada, tres cargos de soborno y tres de aprovechamiento de funcionarios y servicios. Condenado a cumplir 17 años de cárcel.

3) Ángel “Buzo” Rodríguez: ex-alcalde de Toa Alta, bajo el PNP, fue sentenciado en 1999 a cinco años de prisión por cargos de soborno por pretender obtener $2.5 millones de fondos federales asignados por FEMA luego del paso del huracán Georges.

4) Víctor Marrero “El Búho”: ex-senador por el PNP fue encarcelado en el 2000 por apropiarse de $600 del erario.

5) Víctor Fajardo: ex-secretario de Educación convicto en 2000 por desviar sobre $4 millones hacia su propio bolsillo y a las arcas del PNP.

6) Edison Misla Aldarondo: ex-representante PNP hallado culpable en 2004 por 15 cargos de corrupción por la venta fraudulenta del Hospital de Manatí. Se encontraba en prisión por por delitos sexuales, así como por corrupción gubernamental y luego, incluso, fue penalizado por violación a normas correccionales al implicársele en el uso de un teléfono celular en prisión.

7) José Granados Navedo: exvicepresidente de la Cámara por el PNP condenado en 2007 a 24 meses de cárcel por su participación en esquema de conspiración, extorsión y lavado de dinero del Superacueducto del Norte.

8) Jorge de Castro Font: exsenador arrestado en 2008 bajo cargos de fraude y conspiración. El año siguiente se declaró culpable de 21 cargos. Fue sentenciado en 2011.

9) Iván Rodríguez Traverzo: ex-representante del PNP sentenciado en 2013 a tres años de cárcel por utilizar a cuatro empleados de su oficina de distrito en Isabela para limpiar y pintar un potrero en Quebradillas de cara a un evento de recaudación de fondos.

10) Antonio Soto “El Chuchin”: ex-senador del PNP, se declaró culpable en 2015 de delitos de evasión contributiva y de enriquecimiento ilícito, por cobrar dietas legislativas de forma ilegal.

11) Anaudi Hernández: recaudador de dinero del PPD, se declaró culpable en 2016 de 14 cargos de corrupción gubernamental a cambio de un acuerdo de sentencia.

12) Instituto del Sida: el médico cubano Yamil Kourí (foto), la empresaria Jeannette Sotomayor y el también empresario Armando Borel fueron acusados en 1999 de conspiración contra el gobierno estadounidense por dirigir un fraude de $2.2 millones al Instituto.

13) Freddy Valentín Acevedo: ex-senador PNP, declaró culpable en 2004 de extorsión a contratistas del Gobierno y de conspirar para lavar dinero. Fue sentenciado a 33 meses de cárcel, pero su pena fue rebajada a 18 meses de encierro por su cooperación con las autoridades.

14) Sol Luis Fontanes: en 2013, el xalcalde de Barceloneta bajo el PPD se declaró culpable en la esfera federal por corrupción, con dos cargos de soborno.

15) Ramón Orta: exsecretario del Departamento de Recreación y Deportes bajo el PPD, fue arrestado en 2017 por el FBI por un alegado esquema millonario de enriquecimiento ilícito a través de propuestas con fondos federales.

[jrlrc]

Mitos sobre AMLO

Como he seguido el fenómeno Milei he seguido más lo que hacen los medios argentinos (los leía desde antes) y he encontrado que la gran mayoría de sus periodistas saben muy poco o casi nada sobre la historia mexicana y el presente mexicano. Creer que saben, como pasa con algunos, no es saber. Claro, los periodistas mexicanos están en la misma situación sobre la historia y el presente de Argentina -y de México…

Esa falta de conocimiento, es decir, esa superficialidad “informativa”, limitada además a lo inmediato, influyó para que periodistas mexicanos defendieran a Milei como gran noticia frente al desastre kirchnerista. No sólo es que sean periodistas de derecha sino que son periodistas superficiales: no encontré ningún periodista mexicano proMilei que “explicara” Argentina incluyendo la crisis de 2001, con su relación con el neoliberal Cavallo, ni la crisis del gobierno de Macri, gobierno de derecha preFernández en que ocurrió todo lo que se critica a los kirchneristas (explosión de deuda e inflación). Creen lo que les acomoda creer y ahí se estacionan, así que para ellos no había males antes del gobierno de Alberto Fernández y todo se solucionaba con Milei -por no ser kirchnerista… aunque sí era y es populista.

Pero el mismo problema se da entre periodistas argentinos de izquierda sobre México: todo estaba mal, sólo por el neoliberalismo, antes de que gobernara AMLO, a quien suponen de izquierda, y todo mejora con el “nuevo” gobierno y si no mejora es porque AMLO no pudo porque no lo dejaron aunque intentó, por ser de izquierda… Esto es totalmente falso y se debe no sólo a que son periodistas izquierdistas sino a que saben poco o casi nada sobre la realidad mexicana y tampoco quieren molestarse sabiendo más.

Hay que decir que tampoco es un problema exclusivo del periodismo, pues lo vemos también en la academia. Ahí está la propensión de académicos a incluir SIN NINGUNA BASE QUE NO SEA EL DISCURSO a López Obrador en “la ola rosa” o serie de gobiernos de izquierda de los últimos años en Sudamérica. No es más que un prejuicio (a favor de AMLO) basado en la retórica político-electoral y en los dichos que circulan entre redes académicas, dichos llevados hacia Sudamérica por académicos obradoristas y aceptados acríticamente por académicos sudamericanos. Es un prejuicio: pre-juzgan, juzgan antes de conocer los hechos (limitándose a los dichos) o sin conocer los hechos a profundidad, toman partido por AMLO en automático, y no hacen nada por revisar su “conclusión” previa. Aceptan lo que reciben de académicos comprometidos de alguna manera con AMLO y que no están haciendo análisis sino intentos de racionalización. De ahí los pésimos textos que Pablo Steffanoni ha dejado llegar por años a la revista Nueva Sociedad, o actitudes como la del académico brasileño Fabricio Pereira, a quien tres veces he pedido (ante tres declaraciones suyas de que AMLO es parte de la izquierda progresista de Latinoamérica) que revise su posición y me envíe las pruebas de lo que dice, a lo que tres veces me ha respondido “gracias, vamos a repensarlo” -evidentemente no repensó nada nunca porque si lo hubiera repensado, y por tanto hubiera ido más allá de tomar partes del discurso de AMLO, no habría existido ni la segunda ni la tercera “promesas” de repensar el caso.

El problema subsiste en la academia latinoamericana y en el periodismo argentino: se creen y reproducen mitos sobre AMLO. Examinándolo estos días pude ver que, además de las inercias y derrames académicos, esto es, lo que una academia tramposa o desinformada deja pegado en ciertos periodistas, dos factores son muy relevantes: Twitter y YouTube. Hay muchos canales de videos NO MEXICANOS muy vistos que presentan constantemente a López Obrador como un gran gobernante de izquierda o como un infiltrado comunista, por lo que estos canales de la histeria derechista (incluido el de Jaime Bayly) “confirman” y endurecen (hacen más creíble y más necia) la narrativa de los opuestos. Muchos periodistas digitales quedan atrapados en lo que domina el ambiente que los domina: quedan condicionados por lo que suelen ver, y lo que los suele tranquilizar o entusiasmar, en el mundo digital al que pertenecen y al que sobrevaloran; lo que suelen ver es una gran cantidad de “información” presentada con mucha seguridad personal que dice que AMLO gobierna contra los empresarios y “la libertad” o contra el neoliberalismo y “con el pueblo”. El correlato es que no hay ninguna conexión o coincidencia o continuidad intencionales respecto a los gobiernos anteriores al de AMLO.

Llegamos ya al ejemplo más reciente: en estas semanas he seguido el trabajo del medio “El Destape”, que bajo las circunstancias me parece de los mejores (“La Nación” tiende, a veces grotescamente, a la propaganda mileiana), pero uno que otro de sus colaboradores repite los mitos sobre AMLO. En uno de sus programas del 10 de enero, sobre la violencia delincuencial en Ecuador, una comentarista intentaba alertar sobre el problema de recurrir a los militares para labores de seguridad, problema realmente existente y sobre el que hay que alertar tanto a Ecuador como a Argentina, pero que erróneamente quiso basar en una lección mexicana: según ella, AMLO quiso desmilitarizar la seguridad pero dejó a los militares en la labor porque lo intentó pero no pudo, no lo dejaron. Dicho de otro modo, antes de AMLO metieron a los militares y luego AMLO no pudo quitarlos porque se habían vuelto muy poderosos; por eso mejor no meter a los militares… Es cierta la recomendación pero lo demás es una construcción absolutamente ficticia.

AMLO nunca quiso lo que dice la comentarista que quiso hacer, y eso consta incluso en documentos filtrados de la embajada gringa; nunca lo quiso y nunca lo intentó, y lo prueban los grandes hechos: no sólo no mantuvo la participación militar “seguritaria” en el nivel que estaba sino que la aumentó y llevó a los militares a muchas más áreas del Estado. AMLO, repito, no quiso sacar a los militares, no intentó sacarlos, no dejó a los militares donde estaban como estaban, AMLO metió más a los militares en la seguridad pública y los metió en construcción de infraestructura y administración de empresas, un aumento de participación militar tal que significa que AMLO no actuó ni por amenaza ni por resignación, como implica la comentarista argentina. AMLO decidió, ÉL DECIDIÓ, POR CONVENIENCIA POLÍTICA Y PERSONAL, expandir la presencia y el poder militares.

Es un mito que AMLO sólo haya tolerado y contenido (de contención) la participación militar en el Estado. Es un mito que AMLO esté resistiendo al poder militar. Es un mito que AMLO haya quedado a merced del ejército, sin margen de maniobra, gracias a los presidentes anteriores. Es un mito que AMLO haya querido e intentado reducir el poder militar. Es un mito que AMLO no haya militarizado más a México. Es un mito que AMLO no haya dado más poder en seguridad y economía a los militares. Y por lo mismo hay un mito relacionado: es un mito que AMLO haya enfrentado y desactivado así un riesgo de golpe de Estado militar. Lo cierto es que los militares ya estaban en la seguridad pública pero no debían estarlo ni debían estarlo más, que ni intentaron ni planearon un golpe contra AMLO, y que ayer no tenían el poder para dar el golpe y hoy lo tienen. Pero no lo darán. O no en los próximos años. No lo darán pero no gracias a AMLO, gracias a AMLO pueden darlo, no lo darán porque son ya uno de los más grandes empresarios del país. Este hecho empresarial no es el que impidió o hace imposible el golpe sino uno de los que lo hace posible pero al mismo tiempo inconveniente, e improbable. En otra palabras y para resumir, la peor situación militar de México se debe a López Obrador. Lo demás es mito. Ojalá se aprendiera en México y en Argentina.

[blog-oscar-iglesias-casado-23675]

Izquierda Española, un nuevo partido progresista y no nacionalista se presenta a las elecciones europeas como alternativa al PSOE

Bajo el nombre de Izquierda Española, los promotores del think tank político El Jacobino han inscrito un nuevo partido que concurrirá a las próximas elecciones. — Leer en www.20minutos.es/noticia/5205426/0/izquierda-espanola-nuevo-partido-progresista-elecciones-europeas-alternativa-psoe/

[eurekadiario]

China dice que el objetivo de sus ejercicios cerca de Taiwán es combatir la "arrogancia" de los separatistas

Los recientes ejercicios de China cerca de Taiwán tienen como objetivo combatir la "arrogancia" de las fuerzas separatistas, dijo el gobierno chino el miércoles, después de que Taipei informara de un aumento de la actividad militar en las últimas semanas, incluidos ejercicios en tierra frente a la isla.

Taiwán, que China reclama como su propio territorio, dijo este mes que había observado decenas de cazas, drones, bombarderos y otros aviones, así como buques de guerra y el portaaviones chino Shandong, operando cerca.

La creciente frecuencia de las actividades militares de China ha aumentado el riesgo de que los acontecimientos "se salgan de control" y provoquen un enfrentamiento accidental, dijo el sábado el ministro de Defensa de la isla.

Cuando se le preguntó en una rueda de prensa periódica en Beijing sobre el aumento de los ejercicios chinos y las preocupaciones de Taiwán sobre el aumento del riesgo, la portavoz de la Oficina de Asuntos de Taiwán de China, Zhu Fenglian, dijo que el Ejército Popular de Liberación había llevado a cabo una "serie" de ejercicios.

"El propósito es combatir resueltamente la arrogancia de las fuerzas separatistas independentistas de Taiwán y sus acciones para buscar la independencia", dijo Zhu.

"La provocación a la independencia de Taiwán continúa durante todo el día y las acciones del Ejército Popular de Liberación para defender la soberanía nacional y la integridad territorial siempre están en curso", añadió. "Espero que la mayoría de los compatriotas taiwaneses distingan claramente entre el bien y el mal, se opongan resueltamente a la independencia de Taiwán y trabajen con nosotros para mantener la paz y la estabilidad en el Estrecho de Taiwán".

El gobierno democráticamente elegido de Taiwán dice que sólo el pueblo de la isla puede decidir su futuro y ha ofrecido repetidamente conversaciones con China, lo que Beijing ha rechazado.

El Ministerio de Defensa de Taiwán informó el miércoles de nuevos movimientos militares chinos, diciendo que en las 24 horas anteriores había detectado y respondido a 16 aviones chinos que ingresaban a la zona de identificación de defensa aérea de la isla.

De ellos, 12 cruzaron la línea media del estrecho de Taiwán, que había servido como barrera no oficial entre las dos partes hasta que China comenzó a cruzarla regularmente en agosto del año pasado.

El jueves, Taiwán lanzará el primero de ocho submarinos de fabricación nacional como parte de sus planes para reforzar las defensas contra China.

Cuando se le preguntó sobre los submarinos, Zhu dijo que los esfuerzos del gobernante Partido Democrático Progresista de Taiwán para "buscar la independencia por la fuerza" sólo exacerbarían las tensiones y "empujarían al pueblo taiwanés a una situación peligrosa".

Información de la sala de redacción de Beijing; Escrito por Ben Blanchard; Edición de Himani Sarkar y Gerry Doyle

[insurgentepress]

Anuncia Ebrard creación de Movimiento Progresista en pos de candidatura presidencial

Agencias/Ciudad de México.- El excanciller mexicano Marcelo Ebrard anunció ayer la creación de un nuevo movimiento político, luego del desacuerdo que tuvo con Movimiento Regeneración Nacional (MORENA) rena tras haber perdido las internas frente a Claudia Sheinbaum, quien prácticamente se encamina a ser la candidata presidencial del partido de Estado para las elecciones de 2024. Después de una…

[laguaridadelnagual]

Ebrard esperará a que Morena resuelva su impugnación antes de decidir su futuro político

Lanza ultimátum a Morena: si no se resuelve la impugnación que presentó ante la Comisión Nacional de Honestidad y Justicia, abandonará el partido   Marcelo Ebrard enfrenta una encrucijada política y espera una respuesta de Morena antes de tomar una decisión sobre su futuro político, incluyendo la posibilidad de abandonar el partido. "Considero que, si estas diferentes circunstancias e incidencias que se dieron no se corrigen, ya no tendría interés en permanecer en Morena. ¿Por qué razón? Porque si se permite la intervención de gobernadores y alcaldes, ¿por qué debería yo quedarme? Desde mi punto de vista, es un asunto de gran relevancia", declaró. Su impugnación se basa en presuntas irregularidades en el proceso interno, y ha anunciado la creación de un movimiento político nacional llamado "Movimiento Progresista". Su relación con el presidente López Obrador sigue siendo sólida. “Esto tiene que ver con el papel que jugó la Comisión de Encuestas, con los testimonios que dicen que se promovió a Claudia Sheinbaum desde la comisión. Tiene que ver con las actuaciones de diferentes áreas de gobierno, de la Secretaría de Bienestar, de gobiernos estatales. Tiene que ver con lo que observamos en el proceso”, enumeró. Marcelo reiteró que él y su equipo siempre fueron la parte más responsable de la contienda interna: “Yo solamente les recuerdo a ustedes que desde el año pasado señalábamos que era muy importante que el proceso mostrara la superioridad ética de nosotros, de Morena. Y también a fines del año pasado quedó el presidente del partido, Mario Delgado, de investigar y aclarar lo que estábamos diciéndoles”. El excanciller mencionó que su decisión tendrá un impacto significativo en el futuro de Morena, ya que cuestionó si este tipo de prácticas se repetirán en todas las encuestas del partido para seleccionar a sus candidatos a cargos públicos. "No se trata de un arrebato, sino de una convicción. Estamos esperando la respuesta de Morena, la cual debe ser dada en estos días. Si, desde su perspectiva, todas las irregularidades que hemos señalado no ocurrieron, entonces mi decisión será dejar de participar, porque no apoyo estas conductas", afirmó. Ebrard mencionó que los legisladores que lo respaldan le han pedido que no tome una decisión hasta que reciba una respuesta de la CNHJ. Sin embargo, reiteró que, si no se toman medidas para abordar la intervención de gobernadores, alcaldes y el uso de programas sociales en el proceso de selección del coordinador de la Cuarta Transformación, él dejará Morena. Además, Ebrard anunció que el 18 de septiembre formalizará su movimiento político nacional, al que llamará "Movimiento Progresista". Este movimiento incluirá a miembros de Morena, el PT y el PVEM. También mencionó que, de septiembre a octubre, recorrerá todo el país para encontrarse con quienes lo apoyaron, respaldaron y votaron por él, y para explicarles la situación actual. Al final de su mensaje, se refirió al presidente Andrés Manuel López Obrador, enfatizando que ha sido su colaborador más leal y que nunca le causaría daño por motivos políticos. Ayer por la noche, Ebrard presentó su impugnación ante la CNHJ, basada en un documento presentado por la senadora Malú Mícher ante Morena, en el que se denunciaron 62 irregularidades, incluyendo la alteración de urnas, la intervención de funcionarios de la Secretaría del Bienestar y el conocimiento de la ubicación de las encuestas por parte del equipo de Claudia Sheinbaum. Marcelo Ebrard se ha reunido con al menos 30 diputados de Morena en San Lázaro para discutir su futuro político, y se ha planteado la posibilidad de crear un nuevo partido. La semana pasada, Ebrard convocó a una asamblea en la que se discutió esta opción y se estableció un plazo hasta el 18 de septiembre para que sus seguidores decidan si lo acompañan en la formación de un Movimiento Progresista o respaldan a Morena. Aunque algunos expertos sugieren que Ebrard podría buscar la candidatura por Movimiento Ciudadano, también es posible que anuncie públicamente la impugnación del proceso interno y tome medidas legales al respecto. En su cuenta de la red social X (anteriormente Twitter), Marcelo Ebrard compartió lo siguiente: "No he considerado la posibilidad de una candidatura independiente, ya que no creo que sea la forma de contribuir al futuro de México que deseamos. El lunes tendré un encuentro con nuestros compañeros y compañeras de todo el país para decidir nuestros próximos pasos. Los mantendré informados". Read the full article