#waiting patiently for santi lovers to murder me tbh

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part III

Word Count: 1,810 Warnings: Mentions of drug use. PTSD. Guns. Ben Affleck. As always, if I missed anything, please send me a message and I'll amend this warning ASAP. A/N: As you can tell, I'm a slut for dialogue.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

gif by: @santigogarcia.

“Francisco,” she’s swaying back and forth with a sleeping Luna in her arms and he can hear the pleading in her voice, “please don’t do this.”

He waited until the absolute last second to tell her but she knew as soon as she got his text—

Pope’s here. I’m gonna bring him by tomorrow to meet Luna, okay?

“Baby,” he catches her hip and pulls her into him, “it’s just a couple of days, consulting work. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“No,” she’s shaking her head, tears threatening to spill over, “you promised me. You looked me in the eye and you said, Leah, I’m done with this shit. Why are you going?”

He licks his lips and looks to Santi in the hallway, pretending to be lost in his phone. He knows he’s not.

“I’ll call you when we get to Colombia. I’ll call you every night and again when I’m on the plane home. Te prometo, ay?”

“Stop making promises,” she pulls away from him, hand on his chest to steady her shaking body, “we’ve established you don’t keep them.”

His hands find her shoulders and squeeze, “Baby, it’s almost twenty grand. We can pay off the car or,” he stammers, “your student loans. We can breathe.”

Frankie sees the words trying to formulate in front of him, the cogs of her mind turning behind her eyes. He’s bracing himself for what’s next but all she does is pull away, the only acknowledgement of the fact that she can’t stop him.

She turns on her heel and he watches her walk out the room, stopping as Santi picks up where Frankie left off.

“Stop being so harsh on him, he needs this. Your family needs this.”

Frankie takes in a breath as Leah’s free hand collides with Santi’s cheek and before he can even react, she’s rounding on him again.

“Don't you dare tell me what my family needs, Santiago Garcia. I love you because he loves you but you are nothing but trouble.”

She can feel Frankie coming up behind her, shifting the air again because he’s nothing but nerves but Santi’s too hot to notice.

“He'll be fine, Leah, you worry too goddamn much,” he wants to shout, that’s evident in his demeanor. "He’s a big boy, if he didn’t want to go, he’d tell me.”

“Baby,” Frankie’s hand wraps around her elbow, trying to gently coax her into his arms. He wants to lead her back to the bedroom. Hold her. Convince her.

“No,” she pulls away, eyes still hard on Pope, “the best case scenario is that he comes home alive, Santiago. But he’s not fine. And who’s here picking up the pieces? It’s not you.”

“Leah, I swear. It's just a consultation,” his jaw sets with the lie he fed the rest of them, like his body is finally rebelling to the bullshit but he continues on, “your husband will come home.”

Frankie’s still got one hand wrapped around her elbow, another on her back. Her anger is a hurricane, he can feel it churning deep inside as her voice comes out lower, “He better or—“

“Or what?” Santiago's face splits into a shit eating grin, “you'll try to kill me again? How is your sister by the way?”

“I won’t kill you, Santi, but I will put a bullet through the bad knee and I’ll make sure William gets me the good shit. The kind that shreds through tendon and bone like a blender.”

Nodding, Santi sucks the air through his teeth, “You can try but I honestly think you’re too chicken shi—“

“¡Basta!” Enough!

Frankie’s pulling on Leah again, the hand that was resting on the small of her back making its way to Luna now. Luna, who up until her father’s raised voice—the voice he never wanted her to know—was sleeping perfectly against her mother. Completely, blissfully unaware of the firefight happening around her.

“Pope,” his voice is shaking, “you need to go.”

“Fine,” he pulls his phone back up to his face. “I’ll pick you up for the airport tomorrow.”

“No,” he feels the hope emanating from Leah as he watches Santi’s face fall, “if I come, I’ll meet you there but this isn’t a conversation you’re involved in anymore.”

“Wha—what the fuck does that mean? I started the conversation.”

Leah pads back into the bedroom, heart aching, with Luna in her arms. Frankie watches as she closes the door and rounds on Santiago, slamming his back into the wall behind him with enough force to shake the house and when he speaks again, it’s measured and even. This is the calmest he has been in weeks.

It’s not a threat.

“If you ever speak to my wife like that again, she’s not the one you have to worry about putting a bullet into your body.”

It’s a promise. —————

Fish is most talented pilot I know—

He swings his assault rifle back, opting for the Glock 19 at his side, Santi’s words ringing through his ears.

—and he’s grounded on a bullshit coke rap.

His boots fall heavy through the mansion, he doesn’t give a shit about stealth. Threw every care in the world out the door the moment Tom started digging for more. What they had was more than enough but he could never just have enough. Had to push for more. Every fucking time.

Another lap. Another sweep. Another round.

But he never missed a hard out, Benny was right about that.

Bullshit coke rap. Every misstep Frankie made, every struggle he faced, was just a bullshit mark on a hardened warrior. That’s all they ever saw him as, Tom and Santi. All remorse drained from his soul in the name of God and country.

Frankie squeezes the trigger, eyes lighting up in the muzzle flash. If he was going to take their lives, he was going to see it drain from their faces.

If he was inflicting this horror on his mind again, making Leah puzzle his shit back together again, he was going to earn it.

The gun hangs heavy in his hand as he steps over the bound and gagged body, following the sound of the rain.

"Fish, where are you?” Tom’s voice scratches at the edge of his skull. His nickname is a stark reminder that there is a separation between man and monster and he can find it again.

He’s shaking as he reaches for the button on his collar, “I'm exiting back out to the courtyard.”

She was right, telling him to stop making promises. He said no live fire and he couldn’t even keep that to himself. —————

“Is he right?” She’s quiet as Frankie lifts their daughter from her aching arms, “Is this what you need?”

“Yeah,” it comes out quiet, leveling up to the bouncing he’s now taken over to keep the baby asleep, “I think it is.”

“Why?” It’s not accusatory, she genuinely wants to know.

“I—“ he stops to think, he doesn’t want his words to come out selfish but he knows that’s how they’ll land. “Baby, I know I brought all of this down on myself and I know that I’ve survived it once before but…”

He trails off, his large hand is splayed across Luna’s back to support her as he resettles her in his arms. A small sound of contentedness escapes her and he can’t believe he’s missed this for the last six weeks. Spent months on end higher than any fucking plane he flew just because he was afraid of failing her. He chokes on the lump building in his throat because he already has.

“But what, baby?”

“I fucked up,” he takes a deep breath to steady himself, “this has been the hardest year of my life, the last six weeks especially.”

Bad landing.

She takes a breath, a tiny spark in her eyes but he’s already in front of her, “Mi alma, let me finish. Please.”

She nods, agreeing to his appeal.

"Before, the only thing I had to lose was my license. Now, the license was just the tip of the pyramid. This shit could’ve cost me my life. In more ways than one. I know what they cut the drugs with now and my nightmares are no longer about what I did in the service, Leah. Will and Benny hold me down screaming in the middle of the night as I imagine I’ve left this shit out for you or Luna to find.”

He laughs at the love and concern in her eyes, not feeling he deserves it but he forges on anyway, “I snorted our finances into desolation. We can’t live on a teacher’s salary alone, baby, you know that. How far behind is the car payment?”

“Just a month now,” she whispers, “my sisters helped us catch up.”

“And you hate that! You’re too prideful to ask for help, too full of protection for me. This will set us back on the right track.”

She’s standing now, arms crossed to anchor her own sobs from escaping, “Frankie, we can survive until your drug test—“

“No,” he’s shaking his head, “it’s still another six weeks away.”

“You don’t have to do this, baby, I know you don’t want to.”

"I cannot let you struggle like this,” he’s shifting Luna again, her tiny fists balled into his shirt and he is devastated with his love for her, “I am supposed to provide for and protect this family. It was in my vows and I broke those.”

“For richer or poorer was also in the fucking vows, Francisco.”

He swallows hard, reaching out and pulling her into him. He can’t bear to see her face when he speaks again, his voice low with the confidence of a settled mind.

“I am going to Colombia." —————

He feels the stone falling from beneath him as he loses the mule to the mountainside, last in line of the five.

He should’ve done more. Held on tighter, walked faster. But as Santiago saw an animal and Tom saw money, he could only see himself falling over.

He lost count of the days he hadn’t called. Two? Three? Hadn’t heard her voice or the baby’s babbling as she responds to daddy. He saw himself at the bottom of that mountain. Never enunciating each syllable of Pa-pa for his little girl ever again, convincing himself that he would be her first word. Never pulling Leah into his arms, the scent of coconut and vanilla so profoundly intoxicating that all he could think about was sinking deep into her. All the comfort and clarity the world had to offer found in her arms and between her legs.

She insisted on the nicest sheets they could find and instead of falling into them, he only felt jagged rock at his back.

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