#1994 stamps

[irldenji]

hiiiii could you make blinkies + stamps of The Crow (1994) please :>>> ty 🩷🩷🩷

Haaaiiii sorry for such the long wait but I hope you like these!!!!

[littlestampcollection]

[pillarboxstudio]

[augustusaugustus]

10.153 Stuffed

QUINNAN: Oh, sensational, she was, Tone. Even June said so. ACKLAND: I did not. I said it was better than you two taking your clothes off at the nick party.

Ray Ashcroft in his second pre-Geoff Daly guest appearance as a burglar whose small children are taking after dad. The other, more amusing, plot is the station Christmas party, with Tony organizing a lap dance for Cato and Reg caring more about the Indian turkey dinner he’s ordered.

[dedibelyegei]

No hát egy egészen nagyszabású sorozat egy részét vesszük górcső alá, mely évtizedeken, államalakulatokon és pénznemeken is átívelt. Németországról van szó, annak is - egy darabig - a nyugati feléről. 1986-ban indították el az NSZK-ban a 'Híres német nők', vagy 'Német nők a történelemben' sorozatot (mindkét néven hivatkoznak rá), melyet egészen 2003-ig adtak ki, mindig új és új hölgyekkel, de változó intenzitással és darabokkal. Volt amikor kimaradt egy év, például '90-ben, volt hogy három is a '90-es évek második felében. Jellemzően 2-6 bélyeg jelent meg egy évben. Ezek amik nekem vannak is mind különböző évjáratból származnak. Érdekesség még, hogy ugye a Német Egység mellett, történt más is: átállt az ország a vége felé az euróra. Így tehát '86-tól 2000-ig a németeknél megszokott pfenningben feltüntetett értékek szerepelnek a bélyegeken a pénznem jelzés nélkül, 2000 és 2001-ben már kettős értékek voltak, pfenningben és euróban is feltüntették, míg 2002-től jöttek az eurós bélyegek. Ez a sorozat hatalmas példányszámban készült, szóval jórészt nem nagyon értékesek a példányok, bár vannak azért különbségek, illetve azért egyben a teljes gyűjtemény már értékest képvisel. Kicsit nézzük az enyémeimet részletesebben:

Dorothea Erxleben (60 pf) - 1987

Ő nem más, mint az első német orvosnő, édesapja is orvos volt és hamar észrevette lánya érzékét és érdeklődését a természettudományok iránt, így együtt tanította fivérével aki orvosnak készült. Ekkoriban nők még nem járhattak hivatalosan egyetemre. A fivér, Christian 1731-ben el is ment a hallei egyetemre, Dorothea pedig apja mellett maradt, és a gyakorlatban már kezelte az egyszerűbb eseteket. 1742-ben aztán kiadott egy értekezést, mely amelett érvelt, hogy a nők is járhassanak felsőoktatásba. Végül II. Nagy Frigyes porosz királytól kapott kivételt, és 1754-ben első nőként elvégezte a hallei egyetem orvosi szakát. 1761-es haláláig kiterjedt praxist folytatott szülővárosában, Quedlinburgban.

Bélyegügyben együtt 'jelent meg' egy 40 pfenninges darabbal melyen Maria Sibylla Merian illusztrátor látható.

Luise Henriette von Oranien (100pf) - 1994

Azaz magyarul Lujza Henrietta orániai hercegnő. Holland származású, Hágában született 1627-ben, az Orániai-Nassaui királyi ház leszármazottja. 19 évesen hozzáadják Frigyes Vilmos brandenburgi választófejedelemhez, annak ellenére hogy másba szerelmes :( Házasságuk első évei után költöznek Brandenburgba a fejedelem székhelyére. Henrietta minden utazására és hadjáratára követte a férjét, férje politikai tanácsadójává vált az évek során, például ő maga érte el a lengyel királynővel való levelezés útján, hogy Lengyelország ismerje el Poroszországot, cserébe ők is elismerik a Lengyel Szövetséget. Származása miatt szövetségi szempontból is értékes volt a házasság, pl. a holland támogatás Pomeránia elfoglalásához, vagy a francia-holland háborúban történő közös fellépés okán. Kortárs iratokban így hivatkoznak rá: 'Kevés fejedelemasszonynak volt ekkora befolyása.' A munka mellett szerencsére jutott idő másra is, habár nem szerelemnek indult, végülis a leírások szerint példás házasságban élt a pár, és hat gyermekük is született, köztük I. Frigyes porosz király is. Sajnos a többiek még kisgyermekként/babaként, vagy kora 20-as éveikben meghaltak. Etéren Henrietta sem volt nagyon szerencsés, mindössze 39 éves volt mikor elhunyt, a Berlini Dómban temették el, és a mai napig ott nyugszik. Agaras képet hoztam viszont:

Őt is párban adták ki egy 80 pfenninges Rahel Varnhagen von Ense írónővel együtt.

Therese Giehse (100 pf) - 1988

Müncheni zsidó-német családból származó színésznő, eredetileg Therese Gift néven született 1898-ban. 1920-ban lépett először színpadra, hamar Németország szerte (el)ismert sztárrá vált, a '20-as évek végétől egészen 1933-ig mind színpadon, filmen mitöbb a politikai kabaré műfajában is. A nácik hatalomra kerülése után rögtön Zürichbe távozik, és itt folytatja karrierjét elsősorban. '36-ban hozzámegy John Hampson homoszexuális angol íróhoz, így hozzájutván a brit útlevélhez, mely miatt a nácik nem tudják elhurcolni. 1941-ben a zürichi színházban ő játssza először Kurázsi mamát Bertolt Brecht híres darabjában. '45-ben a háború után aztán visszatér Németországba, és a vasfüggöny mindkét oldalán játszik, de legtöbbet szülőföldjén, Bajorországban. A számtalan színházi fellépés mellett több mint 20 filmben, és tv műsorokban is játszott. Otthonában, Münchenben éri a halál három nappal 77-edik születésnapja előtt.

'88-ban három ütemben is adtak ki Híres német nős sorozatokat, Giehse egy négyesbe került, együtt Hannah Arendt filozófussal, Mathilde Franziska Anneke valamint Hedwig Dransfeld írónővel.

[commiepinkofag]

[chaplinfortheages]

Image from his 1915 Essanay film "Shanghaied".

On April 27th 1994, the United States Postal Service issued stamps and post cards commemorating “Legends of the Silent Screen”.

[stamp-it-to-me]

a 1994 Palestinian stamp depicting Palestinian flags

[id: a postage stamp with an illustration of three Palestinian flags flapping in the wind. there is a decorative border around the illustration. the stamp has a face value of 150 Palestine mil. end id]

[bebemoon]

look for the name ROWAN (requsted by anonymous) | vivienne westwood red sheepskin and floral velvet jacket (a/w 1994), miu miu suede nappa leather micro mini skort, thistlethistle "phaser" ear cuff in bronze, miu miu leather and wood floral-detail open-toe platform heels, freckle farm "green + red" handmade necklace, freckle farm "twig" moonstone and opal handmade earrings, diptyque paris "tempo" eau de parfum, anna sui black leather sling bag, unearthen brass signet ring, unearthen brass measuring spoon set, hans christian andersen fairy tales first edition hardback (c. 1912), versus by gianni versace metal plate leather belt (c. 199o's) + vintage gold-tone orchid heart belt buckle, baserange "lima" rib over-ankle socks, gold-tone anklet w/ bells, beeswaxrubberstamps (on etsy) "bullfrog in water" mounted rubber stamp

[littlestampcollection]

[pillarboxstudio]

[augustusaugustus]

10.125 Taken on Trust

MONROE: According to the officer, it’s a 250 kilogram bomb. CRYER: What’s that in old money? MONROE: Quite big enough for my taste.

HOLLIS: Actually, I rather fancied it myself. Bomb disposal, that is. I’ve got very steady hands, if you notice. Yeah, it was a toss up between that and the police. LOXTON: Who won?

MONROE: 100 metres in that direction, is a German bomb. Here, are five oil tanks. Between them, they’ll make a hell of a big bang. I wish you luck.

[dedibelyegei]

Szerintem francia bélyeg még talán nem is szerepelt a blogon, legfeljebb közvetetten. Na de most, ráadásul egy egész érdekes, szerintem kevesen hallottak itthon az illetőről. Ez egy 1994-es emlékbélyeg Laurent Mourgouet halálának 150. évfordulójára. Na de ki is volt ő? Egyrészt a fickó a bélyeg bal alsó sarkában, de amúgy meg híres bábjátékos ÉS fogász. Ehhez jó a sztori mindjárt mondom, viszont ami fontos, hogy nem szimplán csak játszott, hanem bábokat, egyedi karaketereket készített, melyből a leghíresebb a bélyegen jobb felén nagyban látható Guignol, aki egy selyemművest formáz meg. Na de, hogy is történt ez?

Mourgouet Lyonban született, szerény selyemműves családban 1769-ben. Hamar befogták, sokáig még olvasni sem tanult meg, aztán a Francia Forradalom kitörésekor a selyemkereskedelem nehéz helyzetbe került, így házaló ügynök lett. Aztán a század végén kitanult a fogász mesterséget, ami ekkoriban lényegében csak a foghúzást jelentette, a pénzt a fájdalomcsillapítókból keresték az 'orvosok'. Ekkor jött az ötlete, hogy a szerencsétlen delikvenseket bábjátékkal szórakoztassa, elterelvén kicsit a figyelműket. Egyre ügyesebb lett, és 1804-ben teljesen otthagyta a fogász szakmát, és csak a bábelőadásokra koncentrált. Eleinte olasz karaktereket 'vett kölcsön' és franciásított, de aztán fokozatosan fejlesztette ki saját karaktereit a lyoni mindennapok emberéből. Guignol 1808-ban jelent meg és vált a legikonikusabb karakterré, kicsik és nagyok körében egyaránt, és idővel Lyon egyik helyi szimbólumává is. Laurent örökségét számtalan leszármazottja vitte tovább generációkon keresztül, az utolsó Mourgouet aki a Guignolról elnevezett bábszínházat üzemeltette Lyonban, 2012-ben hunyt el, természetesen mások viszik tovább az örökséget, és a mai napig vannak előadások.

A bélyeg tehát az 1844-ben bekövetkezett halál kerek évfordulójára készült majd 14,5 millió példányban, ennek megfelelően, bár szerintem kifejezetten jól néz ki és különleges, nem képvisel nagy értéket, így használtan 50-100 forintért kapható.

[nobrashfestivity]

Michael Kenna Moving Tree, Prague, Czechoslovakia, 1992 Gelatin silver print, printed 1994; numbered and signed '11/45…Michael Kenna 1992' in pencil on the mount and stamped in ink, titled, annotated, and signed in pencil on the verso; mounted and matted.

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 10 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: Thank you @janaispunk for always beta reading for me. I love you!

Words: 3956

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry September 4th, 1994 Dear Javi,

So it’s been a month since you left. I’m trying not to be hurt by the lack of communication. Dad said you’re alive. The reports out of Colombia sound like you’re doing well even. I know you called your dad. He mentioned it at Ale’s riding lesson. 

School is kicking my ass. Passing the GED and actually going to class is a huge fucking difference. For the most part, I’ve managed the social situations fine. Classes are small, I can sit in the back. People don’t notice the old lady in the back. I’m pretty sure I’m only retaining a quarter of what I need to. I’m on too high of alert. I knew it would be hard, but it feels like my anxiety has gotten worse again. I feel like I’m moving backward. 

Standing outside the Embassy, Javier lit a cigarette. The habit had returned in full as he fought to manage the stress of the day and ghosts of the night. He’d managed to keep his bed empty and his ashtray full. It felt like the better option of the two. 

He still hadn’t called home. His voicemail still held last week’s message from Alejandra. He fought with himself every night. The push and the pull to talk to Emily, but every night ended the same, drowning in smoke and whiskey. He wasn’t clean enough to have her or the kids. It was better this way. 

He felt useless down here. What good was the DEA if they weren’t going to actually do any enforcing. He and the whole agency were just expensive window dressing here to make it look like everything was above board, to get the DEA stamp of approval on this surrender deal. Javier hated it all.  

“Can I get one of those?” A woman appeared next to him, her dirty blond curls threaded with the soft grays and white of aging. Javier offered one up in a silence. “I quit four months ago.” She smiled before bringing it to her lips.

Javier cocked his head to the side, still assessing her motives. He hadn’t seen her around before. She wanted something, Javier just couldn’t decide what. He lit the cigarette for her as they both took a drag, sizing one another up as they did. 

He briefly wondered if her hair style was what Emily had in mind when she mentioned cutting it shorter. He still preferred the idea of her long curls. His chest tightened. Not that he had any right to a say in that. 

The woman squared up to him. “Carolina Alvarez, El Tiempo.” She held out her hand.

Just what he needed, the press. He let her hand hang in the air just long enough to make her feel uneasy before taking it with an admittedly poor handshake. As he suspected, it didn’t take long for her to launch into whatever introduction she had planned, pulling up his history with Los Pepes and the current politics happening with Cali’s plea deal. 

It was a power play. Javier refused to let her win. “You can call the press office if you want a comment, Miss Alvarez.”

“Carolina, please,” she said.

In another life, Javier wouldn’t give her the time of day. Of course, he didn’t have to deal with the press last time. That had been above his pay grade. He tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, stomping it out with his foot. Of course, he didn’t have to deal with her now. That was what the press office was for. “Have a nice day.” He turned, started to walk away. 

“Have you heard much about the Cali accident?” she asked. His steps slowed down. He turned back around. “Four more people dead. Children. Dozens more sick.” She stepped toward him. “An empty chlorine gas canister was found nearby.”

Javier kept his face straight. His shoulders tensed. He’d seen the initial report, but hadn’t thought too much about it. 

Caroline continued, taking his silence for permission. “There’s a rumor its manufacturer is linked to a front company operated by the Cali Cartel.”

“It’s like you said, it was an accident,” Javier said, expression etched in stone, not giving anything away. 

Carolina let out a humorless chuckle. “By the end of the day it will be. No matter what the truth is.” She met his eye, giving it a second for emphasis before lapsing into Spanish. “Thank you for the cigarette.” 

She walked away, leaving Javier in the same place, same expression on his face. He fought against his surging emotions. He wasn’t going to let some journalist use him to do her research. Even so, it nagged on him throughout the day. He found himself taking extra smoke breaks.  

When he found himself watching the evening news, the investigator calling it an accident, caused by a natural gas leak, Javier felt anger surge through him. How many families had to be torn apart to protect these men? Innocent children had died. Mothers had children to bury. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t justice. 

Pictures flashed across the screen, the children killed by the exposure. He’d seen children die before. He’d watched a man he respected shoot a teenager in the head as a warning. He’d held a gun to a kid. Those incidents had messed with his head enough, but these kids were in their homes, tucked into their beds. They were supposed to be safe. How many times had Javier watched as Emily ushered her children to bed, kissed their heads, and trusted that they'd be safe in their bed. That they would wake up. 

Javier was never good at guessing the ages of kids, but each face that flashes across the screen seems to remind him of them. Miguelito. Alejandra. Mateo. Children he’d grown to know, to love even…

This wasn’t right. Cali didn’t get to get away with it. Not this time. He shut the TV off, walking over to Chris Feistl’s desk. He leaned against the wall. “You got a partner, right?”

Chris looked up at him, confused and a little shocked. “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

Maybe it could be different this time. Maybe he could still bring justice. 

“Good, you’re going to Cali.” He walked away before Feistl could respond. 

This time would be different.

Journal Entry September 18th, 1994 Dear Javi,

It hurts not to hear from you. Dad said all reports from Colombia have been good. I’m sure you’re getting restless. 

I had a panic attack in class this week. I had to leave ten minutes into the class. I hadn’t had one since Escobar was killed. That’s the longest I’d been without one since I came home. I was starting to think maybe I’d never have one again. 

I feel… disappointed. 

Javier met Carolina at a cafe. She gave him information about Cali's money launderer, Franklin Jurado. She pushed him in a way he needed just as she had in their first meeting. It seemed weird that perhaps his moral compass would come in the form of a nosy journalist. 

“Are you going to take these men on or what?” she asked.

Javier let out a quick breath, formulating his answer very carefully. “I’m going to do my job.”

“And your bosses?” Her gaze was piercing, like she was trying to see his soul or haunt his dreams until the job was done. “Do they know what you’re doing?”

His eyes drifted to his coffee. “No comment,” he said, putting the cup to his lips, pinning her with a soft glare he was sure she saw right through. 

She called him with the address an hour after he left.

Javier didn’t have to sit long before Franklin appeared on the steps, bags in tow. He was going somewhere, but where was the question. A driver appeared, helping the man with his bags and once they were packed, a woman walked toward him. Javier watched from his SUV as Franklin took her hand. She didn’t look happy to be saying goodbye, and then he held her tight. 

A pang shot through Javier’s chest as the blonde woman folded into her husband’s arms. She didn’t want him to go, but she was there to say goodbye anyway. An image of Emily flashed through his mind. The night before he left, she hadn’t cried, but he saw it in her eyes, felt it in the way she hugged him. He wondered if his coldness had made her cry since that night. This was better for her. She would be better off without him. He let out a sigh as he turned the ignition to follow Franklin’s, cutting off the thought before it wracked his body with guilt. 

After following Jurado to the airport, Javier headed for his own flight to follow him. Stechner blocked it, pulling him into the jungle with a couple of senators to rub elbows, to take him out like a show pony, the man who brought down Escobar, except he wasn’t even in the country when that happened. Everyone seems to ignore that part. 

He seethed on the helicopter ride in, feigning a broken headset to avoid talking. There were plenty of other places Javier would rather be, anywhere else really. He was supposed to be taking down Cali, despite what his orders were. Hell, he’d rather run for his life through the communas again than take a couple of stuffy senators on a stroll through the jungle. 

Humidity hung heavy in the air as sweat soaked his shirt. He was used to the weather, but in dress shoes and slacks it was hell. To make it all worse, it was apparent from the get go that it was a set up, a fancy, high tailed lie to raise support for whatever the CIA was gunning for, fighting communists or whatever. Javier found the whole pursuit to be a gigantic waste of time. He’d smuggled a communist out of the country once, he’d do it again without a second thought, but one thing became abundantly clear. Cali’s surrender had nothing to do with the war on drugs and everything to do with fundraising. 

Javier’s blood boiled the entire ride home, replaying his conversation with Stechner. The way the CIA agent had laughed about the drug war as if it was a joke. Maybe it was, but Javier wasn’t ready to let this one go. 

“The drug war? We lost it. You were there!”

It echoed on a fucking loop, driving him crazy as he made his way back home. There weren’t enough cigarettes in the world to numb the blows and they kept coming. 

“Did you ever stop to think that someone who takes this as personally as you do, is doing it wrong?”

He stubbed out the bud against his truck door as he got out, marching up the steps as he knocked on the door. 

This was personal. He couldn’t go home empty handed. He couldn’t face her without knowing he’d made an impact on this fight, brought down men like the one who’d inflicted such scars on her.  

Colonel Martinez opened the door, breaking Javier from his thoughts. He looked surprised to see him. 

Javier cut to the chase. “Want to go after Gilberto Rodriguez?”

Journal Entry October 2nd, 1994 Javi,

Where the fuck are you? It feels like my best friend abandoned me. You abandoned me. 

The day they arrested Gilberto Rodriguez, Javier went through the wringer, the emotional ups and downs. The DEA was excited. The bullpen had given him a round of applause, wanted to toast him. He didn’t like that. The ambassador had torn him a new one. Javier wasn’t a fan of that either. A meeting of high ranking Colombian officials with the American representatives showed the scope. Some felt this gave them more leverage while others feared it would make things worse, but the president ordered that Gilberto go through the same process as any other citizen. Javier considered that a win. He didn’t take pleasure in the press conference. 

By the time he made it back to the office, he had a killer headache, but it was thankfully empty by then. Javier pulled out the whiskey and the cigarettes. He didn’t necessarily feel happy, but he felt as if he’d done something finally.

Javier didn’t stop to celebrate or rest. He turned focus right back to Franklin Jurado, refocusing his attention on the launderer, but not before stopping to put a big, red X through Gilberto’s picture. That brought him a moment of happiness, but he paused to wonder.

He wondered if she had heard the news, seen the press conference. Did Emily know how much of a driving force she was to him? How much he wanted to clear the earth of every single cartel and drug boss, to make her feel safe again. For a second, he contemplated calling her. Could he know? Had he atoned enough? He shook his head at the thought, gripping the marker tightly in his hand. He would never atone enough. 

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP

“Mr. Javi. It’s me. Alejandrina.”

“I’m here too!” Mateo’s voice called out, sounding more distant than his sister’s. 

“Miguelito is here too. Mom is working in the yard.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” Miguelito said. “Grandpa is going to see it on the phone bill.”

“You never called me back.” Alejandra continued. “I saw you on the news in grandpa’s office. He didn’t know I saw. It sounded like you caught the bad guys. Can you come home now?”

“There’s more than one bad guy.” Miguelito reminded her. 

Alejandra sighed frustratedly as she went off in Spanish at her older brother. There was static on the receiver and then Mateo started talking as his older siblings fought in the background. 

“Mr. Javi. Stay safe. We love you. Bye.” The machine clicked off. 

Javier spent the next week in meetings getting berated or praised for the DEA’s actions, but mostly the berated. The doubt crept in at times. Maybe he should have left well enough alone, but it never stayed for long. He’d done the right thing. He was certain of that. 

Neil spent most of his time listening to the Jurado tapes in search of a location of Franklin. Nothing was turning up yet, but he still held out hope. Each conversation Franklin and his wife had tugged on something in Javier’s heart. Maybe it was the way she begged him to turn himself in, her worry, the anxiety. 

Even as he sat at the end of the bar, eyes pinned to Christina Jurado, Javier felt the guilt ebbing at him. Last year, he wouldn’t have thought twice about using Christina’s situation to get the information. It was easy enough, buy her a drink, pull out the charm, trick her into telling him where Franklin was. So why did he feel so damn bad about it? Why could he only picture Emily in the same position? 

Her situation had been nothing like this. They were two separate people in two separate realities. So why was he struggling with this? Why couldn’t he separate the two women? He should call her. 

Javier shook his head, waving the bartender over. He ordered a drink for Christina, clearing his head and dusting off the charm as he waited for the drink to be delivered. 

She looked annoyed at first, but the moment his English caught her ears, he watched her entire demeanor change. Javier knew he had it in the bag, but it didn’t feel as good as it used to. And then the words slipped out, almost like his mouth had a mind of its own. 

“You reminded me of someone. Someone from home.”

She liked that line, but he wanted to shower the moment he said it. What right did he have to utter even her existence in this place? None, but he’d done it anyway. Further evidence that he’d done the right thing by not calling her. 

Even through the guilt gnawing at him, Javier played the dutiful flirt. Almost lost himself in it, almost dared to enjoy it.

“So what could pull him away from-” He looked her up and down. “From all this.”

The words repeated in his mind. What could pull him away from her? In both cases the answer was the same. The Drug War. This all powerful thing that had left him battered and bruised yet kept drawing him back in. 

Christina paused, gave him another once over and then slid from her seat. “Say hi to Texas for me.”

Javi gave her credit, she was committed to her husband, or maybe his flirting skills weren’t as good as they used to be, either way, it was plan B. He called out the name she’d never told him, told her who he was, and she all but spit in his face. 

When Javier showed up at her front door later that day, she didn’t turn him away. He may not have learned where Franklin was, but she gave him the time of day. She listened. She all but told him she would try to convince her husband to turn himself in. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t look at him as he set his card on the coffee table, a far away look in her eyes, no doubt replaying the past, just like Emily when- Javier cut the thought off. This wasn’t her. This was different. 

He reasoned that he was doing this to help Christina, to keep her safe, but he knew that wasn’t true, his own selfish motives landing in the forefront of his mind. It was for the greater good, but how many people had he harmed for the greater good? 

Before he left, Javier vowed to keep Christina out of harm’s way. It was the least he could do. This time would be different.

It worked. Christina called Franklin almost as soon as he left. By the grace of god, the tap caught the man thanking someone in the language, specific enough to track him down to Curaçao. 

Before the night was over, Javier sat at the airport bar tapping his fingers against the smooth surface. He still couldn’t shake the feeling, the deceit of it all. He was caught off guard when his SAT phone rang. He answered, keeping an eye out at the bar around him. 

“Peña,” He answered, taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“Uh, it’s me… Christina Jurado.”

“I’m glad you called… You okay?”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Christina said. She sounded nervous, worried. “If I do this- if I get my husband to- you can protect us? We can go home?”

Javier’s chest tightened. He finished off his drink. “You have my word.” But he didn’t know how much his word carried these days.

She hesitated before answering. “I talked to him.”

“You did? That’s good.”

“He’s gonna cooperate.”

“He said that?” Javier picked up his duffel bag.

“No, not yet- but he will. I just… I need a little time.”

“That’s fine.” Javier walked down the terminal. “You take all the time you need.” 

He hung up without another exchange, just before his flight was announced over the intercom. Internally, he repeated his early promise. He’d keep her safe. 

Journal Entry October 15th, 1994

I dropped my classes today. I haven’t been able to make it to class. I thought I could do it. You thought I could do it…

Javier had almost forgotten the adrenaline rush of chasing down the bad guys. The hunt for Gilberto had been one thing, but the thrill of actually chasing someone down, weaving through the crowds, finally getting him. It felt good. It felt like a win when even his wins felt like losses these days. 

In all of Javier’s days in law enforcement, he’d never had someone ask about their wife. Never had anyone worried for anyone’s safety but their own, and he assured Franklin that she would meet them in Miami. 

Javier couldn’t help but admire the Jurado’s commitment to one another. For one, it made it a lot easier to get his witness, yet there was something about them. Tangled up in this mess, but still committed, still loving each other. 

As they landed, his phone rang again. Christina called him, freaking out about the men at her apartment. He had to tell her they’d arrested him. She reacted as he expected, upset and anxious, and surprisingly, his guilt had subsided. Maybe it was because they had Franklin. Maybe it was because he knew if she could get herself to the embassy, she would be safe. He’d done it. He’d brought Franklin in, and he hadn’t destroyed a family in the process. She just needed to get herself a couple miles before they found out Franklin was in custody.

“Christina, you want it, this is it.” He cut off her rambling firmly. “As soon as we hang up the phone, you get yourself to the American embassy. You don’t talk to anyone. You don’t call anyone. You get yourself there.”

He caught the whispers of her agreement before the line went dead. 

He paused a second after the call ended, staring at the keypad. Maybe it was the American soil. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually starting to feel good about this. He thought about calling for real, so close to punching the numbers he had memorized. Then he was reminded that he was on the tarmac. The job wasn’t done, but afterward, maybe he would call her. Except, Christina never made it to the embassy. 

An envelope with Emily’s handwriting greeted Javier when he got back to his apartment in Colombia. The return address confirmed it as he stared at it in the dim light of his apartment, rereading the address like he might catch a clue to its contents in the ink strokes. He debated opening it. The kids’ secret phone call to him from a couple weeks ago, the only message that accompanied Emily’s on his answering machine, ran through his mind. 

It was too late for this. It had been a long couple of days. The guilt that had returned tenfold since he left Miami without calling Emily, with Christina’s whereabouts unknown, but he ripped the seal open anyway. 

It was likely Emily ripping him apart, angry with him for abandoning her. Even the kids’ voicemail hadn’t been enough to make him call. He didn’t deserve them. Any of them. He was better off out of their lives.

He rubbed his forehead as he unfolded the paper, but it wasn’t words that greeted him, but bright colors and advanced stick figures drawn in crayon, five people. He furrowed his brow, looking back at the envelope. In the corner was Alejandra’s name atop the return address. In the picture, two adults, three kids, and a couple of horses all smiled back at him. He couldn’t help his own smile that ghosted his lips. Paz and Hurricane. His heart clenched. He hoped that Ale was still taking lessons at the ranch, and the boys practicing with the lasso. Alejandra had written their names above each person. 

He’d been a dick. Hadn’t returned calls like he said he would, promised he would, but Ale still wanted him to have this, Emily still sent it. She didn’t have to. She could have lied and thrown it in the trash instead. 

Javier cleared his throat as the page began to blur a little bit. He needed to go to sleep. He grabbed the maintenance magnet, using it to pin the drawing to his fridge. 

This time would be different. 

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