#teresaxjames

[notthatgirlfrcmculiacan]

A Gamble

Self-Para Length: 1490 Words Show: Queen of the South Season: 5 Characters: Teresa and James (Also published on AO3 under the penname hedarakoon) Gif credit: @countrysong-x

The moon hung high in the sky that seemed to be otherwise unusually dark. Crickets chirped and somewhere off in the distance a bullfrog croaked loudly. The water from an artificial waterfall fell over the pool it was attached to creating a trickling sound. And the soft breeze that pushed through the night ruffled curtains hanging over the balcony door, blowing them into a room where they were largely ignored by the woman standing on the balcony. 

Dark hues were focused on the glistening water of the pool below. Mind set adrift to everything that had happened that day and in the days previous. Betraying Dumas, giving the order to kill Gamble, sending Boaz back to Miami. She could explain away everything she had done. It was all thought out, nothing was decided on quickly. It was a game she was playing, a game she had gotten exceptionally good at in the last year. And that, that scared her. It all scared her. She had sworn to do things a different way, but those morals were being pushed away quicker and quicker as the days dragged on. She had never wanted to be like Camila, yet she felt herself slipping that way.

Teresa looked up when she heard someone approaching from behind, almost jerking back to the present. Her jaw set when she realized it was James, gaze turning back to the pool. She wasn’t letting herself get close to him again. She couldn’t let herself get close to him again. Everyone she loved died. And second most to that was the fact he was always the one to question her, always the one to act as a sort of moral compass to guide her back to that promise she’d made herself. But now… now was not the time. She was already questioning herself, she didn’t need his questions as well. 

James came to stand beside her on the balcony, arms resting on the railing as he followed her gaze out to the pool. He didn’t speak and she wasn’t going to break the silence either. Let them both enjoy it. After a moment, James moved to retrieve a cigarette and put it to his lips. He lit the end, taking an inhale before offering the lit cigarette to Teresa. She hesitated a moment before taking it, raising it to her own lips. 

“You asked if I had a problem with it now,” James spoke, glancing over at Teresa who steadfastly kept her gaze cast to the pool even as she offered the cigarette back, “with carrying out the hit on Gamble. The honest answer, Teresa, is that I do.”  

The silence lingered between them for a moment, neither speaking, for what felt to be several seconds. James thought perhaps she was too lost in her own thoughts, maybe she hadn’t heard him. Or better yet, maybe she was ignoring the question. She had always been the one that would assure that she would do things differently and it was why he had agreed to work for her in Phoenix. He was getting to a point in his life where he no longer wanted to carry out orders blindly. Camila had used him as nothing more than a weapon, Teresa had at one point been different. Now, James wasn’t so sure. 

He pushed away from the railing, stubbing out the half-finished cigarette. Teresa finally looked over to him and James could see the pain reflected back at him through her eyes despite the fact that her face remained impassive. 

“You did this type of work for the CIA,” she reminded, a repetition of what she’d told him earlier in the day. What she had told him right before leaving the conversation. That was what she did best anymore, leave before anyone could question her, leave before guilt could get the better of her and make her second guess herself or before her morals could swell back up. 

This time it was his turn to fall quiet as he leaned backwards against the railing and folded his arms over his chest. He stared at her and she could see the cogs turning over in his head. He was thinking hard and she was sure it was about what to say or what not to say. She turned her gaze back over the pool. 

He dragged a hand over his face as he let out a sigh, “you say that as if you think I chose to work for Finch for the hell of it, Teresa. I didn’t want to, but I did. I did for you. To protect you. To keep the CIA and DEA from sniffing around in your business. None of it was for me. And this… Gamble, it was an unnecessary risk.” 

James watched her, noticing the way her shoulders tensed. That wasn’t what bothered him though, instead it was the lack of anything that he found in her gaze when she looked back to him. He could read her better than anyone, even when she put up all her walls and hid behind an emotionless mask. He knew what to look for in her eyes. It had been the way they had communicated without words when in the thickest of dangers Camila had sent them into. But now… now there was nothing and it concerned him. 

“Then keep doing it,” she replied, rubbing her nose between pointer finger and thumb and then sniffing. She looked over her shoulder, up at the house a moment before meeting his gaze with a level stare. “You chose to stay. I told you that you were free to leave. The offer still stands, you can leave at any time.” Though she didn’t want him to. She wanted him to stay, but she wouldn’t voice that want again. “But if you stay, you need to know shit has happened and things are run differently now.” No matter the guilt it placed on Teresa or the weight on her shoulders. “He would have gone to the DEA or the CIA for the right amount of money.

James didn’t miss the motion, pushing it off on perhaps an itch due to allergies. He put the thought away for later evaluation before mulling over what she said. Things were indeed different. She was different and it was never more obvious than in that moment. Was she becoming like Camila? Ruthless with a thirst for blood and power? He hoped not, but he couldn’t help but to think about the man he’d killed and his wife’s screams, or the fact Boaz was still alive when he had beheaded the judge. 

“Why’s Boaz still alive, Teresa? He directly defied you. He is a liability.” 

It was Teresa’s turn to push away from the railing. She was tired of being question. Tired of the emotions it brought up. She’d sworn to kill Lafayette. He’d killed Tony. But she didn’t want it drawn back to herself or her familia and the beheading was clearly not something Americans did - the Russians, the Italians, even the Chinese preferred a clean hit, a bullet to the head. The beheading was so obviously tied back to the Mexican cartels. She should have killed Boaz, but at the same time she couldn’t. 

“I need him alive. He halted everything in Sinaloa with a word. And with a ten second phone call got Sinaloa running again. If I loose Sinaloa, I loose the corridor. I can’t loose the corridor.” Not yet. Not with so much business left unfinished. Not when she had no one else to put into power in Sinaloa or Miami. 

It was only when James let out a scoff that Teresa broke the stare she’d leveled on him. “Lafayette deserved to die.” Was her last response before she turned on her heel and made her way back into the house. 

James watched her in silence, not moving to follow her with anything but his eyes. He watched as her fingers were dragged through her hair as she walked across the open living room. He didn’t miss the way her hand then dragged over her face, rubbing at her nose once more. He couldn’t help but feel a little helpless. She didn’t want his help unless it was to use him in the same way Camila had, but it was so obvious that she needed someone. She needed someone to question her and her motives, question where her morals lie before she lost herself. And the little twitch, the itch at her nose - he’d been in the game long enough to put the pieces of the puzzle that was Teresa Mendoza together. He watched her disappear up the stairs and then turned his gaze back out to the pool. He relit his cigarette and let himself get lost in his thoughts. He’d promised he would do whatever it took to protect them, to protect her, and he was a man of his word.