Chapter Text
ABBY
In a world that worked in her favour, Abigail Casteñeda wouldn’t have been stuck working in Colombia. She would have been stationed somewhere colder, closer to her mother and not where the maternal side of her family had come from. Unfortunately for her, the quarterly visits to her long passed abuelita in Medellín were the main reason she'd received the assignment in the first place.
It's not that she regretted joining the DEA, she was actually quite proud of herself for doing so, she just wasn't overly happy with her work so far. There was the weight consistently pressing on her shoulders to remind her of what she'd done to receive information while undercover for two years... and then there was her mother.
Abby had a feeling her mother wasn't overly happy with her assignment because it took her away from the country Elena Castañeda had painstakingly immigrated to. Abby was meant to have the best opportunities available to her there, and she did, but for some reason, working for the American Government but doing so in her mother's birth country, was understood by Elena as a step backwards. It couldn't be further from the truth.
Because Elena had migrated to America, Abby had been able to finish school early and get a scholarship and a double degree in sociology and criminal justice by the time she was nineteen. It was because of Elena that Abby had painstakingly worked full time in her last year of studying. She became a police officer to get some experience under her belt before she applied to the DEA. By the gift of some god that Abby didn't quite believe in, they accepted her application, and she had to work more than twice as hard than her male counterparts to finish in the top tenth percentile of her class.
Her youth mixed with gender and facial symmetry made her a beneficial agent to have on the field for undercover work, and her first assignment was in Miami, where her fluency in Spanish was highly beneficial. After being in Miami for only a year, her skill in undercover work was improved enough to get her headhunted by the unit in Colombia. They wanted her for one reason and one reason only—to get as close as possible to new narco up and comer, Pablo Escobar.
And close she got. Maybe a little too close, in the grand scheme of things.
Maybe if she wasn't so damned competent at her job—even after she got burned almost a year ago—Javier Peña wouldn't be standing at her apartment door. He had a tape recording in hand, one that he'd likely just received from someone in the middle of the night otherwise she would have already known about it.
"Do I even want to know?" She asked as she rubbed her eyes.
Javi let out a slow breath. "The information? Definitely. How I got the lead? Probably not." Well, at least he was honest about it.
Abby let out a deep sigh. "Who was it?"
There was a moment after the question that floated in silence. He raised his eyebrow at her, looking for any sign that she actually didn't want the answer to her question. He wouldn’t find anything to give him that idea, as per normal. She always wanted all the information, no matter if she agreed with how that information was brought to their attention or not.
"Helena, the one with a kid that's trying to get a visa." And him leaving out any other details meant she was one of the prostitutes he slept with on a regular basis. She couldn't blame him, it was a smart thing to do. Sleep with who the cartel sleeps with, because it's likely some of those men had slipped up, or the women had just put together details on their own. They were intelligent in that way—they had to be for survival.
"Alright," she murmured before she moved to the side and let him into the apartment.
To a stranger, having a man walk into her apartment at whatever ungodly hour in the morning it was would probably be viewed as unseemly. Most would assume the worst, especially because Abby was only in her pyjamas, with a bra thrown on underneath for some form of decency. Her hair was hardly acceptable, simply thrown into an untidy bun to hide the curled mess that haunted her head. But this situation was something that happened on a semi-regular basis.
It was probably an even split between them, between going to each other’s apartment doors directly next to each other and passing on information the moment it came into their hands. It was one of the many things they’d agreed on doing over the last eleven months of working together as partners. That, and the initial agreements from when Abby had been undercover and Javi had been her case officer.
Secrets given in trust were to be kept without compromise, and when the code words were given blind trust was to be handed over to the other. It was because of those agreements that Javier knew most everything from her time undercover, and why she was aware of his CIs. It was because of that blind trust that he knew details that weren't in the field reports of her work, and that she knew the names of every woman Javi slept with for information.
“This can’t take too long tonight, we’ve got the newbie coming in tomorrow, remember?” Abby pointed out, and Javi immediately nodded. “Right, and since you’re the one that woke me up at…” She looked to her wrist for her watch but only found her faint tan line instead. She sighed and drew her eyes up to the clock on the outdated 70s wallpaper in her hallway, there so she could triple-check she was leaving on time in the morning for work. “Well, it’s just after two in the morning, so you’re going to be showing him around not me.”
She closed the door behind him and followed down the short hallway to get to the split level open floor area of her apartment. Her bare feet were slightly cold on the vinyl floor of the kitchen, but that was usual for her extremities.
“I thought I’d be the one doing that anyway," Javi stated.
"How very... astute of you." Abby poured two glasses of whiskey as she spoke. While the midnight info dumps were ultimately more common than they should be, that didn't mean they were an alcohol free zone. It tended to be necessary to help them through the new information. "Now, what is it you've found?"
The transition from kitchen to living room wasn't just a change in floor height, but floor texture. While the kitchen was the outdated vinyl, the living room was a carpet she had trained herself to walk barefoot on without cringing too hard at. It was an old cream shag that had lost it's soft texture and colour a few too many tenants ago.
She handed one of the glasses to Javi as he settled onto her brown suede lounge. "A bunch of high-end prostitutes are going to Medellín for a party of some kind this weekend. Figure it's probably tied to our case."
Seemed like a reasonable assumption to make. Drugs, money, men and prostitutes seemed to go hand in hand. It was pretty easy to tie the women to where the money would be, they needed to make a living and that involved cash—the more, the better.
"Okay," Abby whispered as she sat down next to him, immediately tucking her feet onto the couch and away from the carpet. She made sure to take a sip of the whiskey, just to be ready for the rest of what his plan would be.
"Do you think you could convince some of the boys in Mil Group to confirm if M-19 took Marta Ochoa? This could be tied to that too." Javi sipped his whiskey as he set up the recording in the player that lived on her walnut coffee table.
"Depends on if they're having a good day or if they're going to be assholes about confidentiality." The answer was as close to the truth as she could give. While she would do everything she could, sometimes these things were out of her control. "While my charming smile is powerful, it doesn't guarantee anything anymore."
"You could always try scowling instead." Her eyebrow involuntarily raised at the suggestion. "Nothing's hotter than a redhead being pissed at you."
"Are you speaking from experience?" She questioned, trying to figure out if she needed to finish off her drink to finish this line of conversation.
His eyes quickly looked her up and down, lingering a little too long on her bare legs, before he shrugged. "More or less. A low cut shirt probably wouldn't hurt either."
She really should have finished the drink.
"One day, Javier, they're going to find your body. When they do, they'll figure one of Escobar’s sicarios got to you, but they'll be wrong." The threat was empty, and they both knew it.
He smiled at her because of that lack of intention. "I'll leave a note hidden in my apartment: if I'm killed in the line of duty, it was probably Castañeda, and probably deserved."
She sighed. "Just play the damned recording, Peña." He did as he was instructed, which was the norm for their dynamic.
The recording didn't give away too many details, just that there would indeed be a meeting for the narcos at Las Magaritas in Medellín. If her memory served her right it was a relatively high end motel, and working in the field on something this big meant one thing: working with Horacio Carrillo again. At least they'd be working with a man they could trust.
"Alright, how much sleep have you had tonight?" Abby asked as the recording finished. So far they had all the information they needed to move ahead, or to at least convince the Ambassador to give them clearance over this M-19 kidnapping.
"That question is extremely personal and-"
"So none," she cut him off, and he nodded his head in defeat. "Go to bed, you need to get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll likely need to talk to the Ambassador to get clearance to find out if it was Marta Ochoa or not."
"Does that mean you'll come with me to see Noonan?" Javi asked, and she raised her eyebrow again.
"Come on Jav, have some imagination. You'll have the newbie with you, surely you won't need me tailing your every move around Noonan." Abby thought it was a good argument, but judging by his silence he didn't agree. "Come on, you can throw him into the deep end. We need to figure out sooner rather than later if he's going to be the third person in the building to give a fuck about catching Escobar, or if he's just here for the warm weather and the hazard pay."
Abby never cared much for the dress code at the embassy. If anyone wanted to force her into a pantsuit all the time instead of her damned jeans, they would have an ungodly fight on their hands. During meetings she made sure to wear slacks, a blouse and heels, but otherwise she stuck with something more beneficial to her job. Usually jeans, a tucked in shirt of whatever was cleanest when she left the house, and sneakers—the best option for foot chases and the like on the street.
Accessories were only worn during events where they were necessary. Earrings could be ripped from her earlobes, necklaces broken and torn away from her neck. The only extra thing that mattered to her was the leather watch her mother had gifted her when she'd graduated her degree with honours. Well, that and her gun holster for obvious reasons.
In front of her were Javi and the newbie, both in suits so they could go to the meeting with the Ambassador, and possibly just because they chose to comply with the dress code. And in the split second she had before Newbie would introduce himself to her, she made sure to scour everything else he was wearing. Well taken care of shoes, leather watch, wedding band. Something didn't sit right with her, but it wasn't to do with his apparel.
"Steve Murphy." Murphy stuck his hand out to her, which she reluctantly shook.
"Abigail Castañeda, but everyone here calls me Abby. Castañeda is a bit of a mouthful to have to repeat all the time, and sucks on the field," she replied before she took her hand away from his as soon as she could without seeming rude. It wasn't anything to do with him, just her and her avoidance of touch at all costs.
"It's nice to meet you, Abby." His voice was extremely American, the accent and the tone. And he was blond. With blue eyes. He'd stand out like a sore fucking thumb in Bogotá... and that was what didn't sit right with her.
"Don't tell me they sent someone who doesn't speak Spanish..." she whispered, just in case she'd stereotyped him incorrectly. But he grimaced at the request instead of laughing. Great. Not only would he stand out, he didn't know the damned language of the country he'd come to work in. She turned to look at Javi, who was biting his lip to keep his own grimace as small as possible. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." The words slipped from her mouth in the very language Murphy wouldn't understand.
"Just give him a chance, he seems like a competent agent." Had he seriously just said that to her?
"Javi, how can he expect to work here in full capacity if he doesn't speak fucking Spanish?" The question was a valid one that needed to be addressed, but before Javi could give a reply Murphy deemed himself worthy enough to cut into the conversation.
"I got the 'no hablo blah-blah español' bit, so I know you're talking about me." She turned her eyes back to him, just to give him one single chance to defend himself. "I get it. New guy comes in, you don't know if he's here to work or if it's just for the hazard pay or whatever. I want Escobar, and I might not know Spanish but I'm sure as shit motivated to catch him."
She took a moment to look him over again. His suit was a little too clean for him to wear it regularly, it could be new or maybe he actually preferred doing actual work over staying in the office constantly like the other useless fucks they had.
"Alright..." She murmured, nodding her head slowly. "I give you three months before you're putting in for a transfer back to..."
"Miami." This fucker had come from Miami and still didn't know Spanish? For the love of all that is holy...
She took a deep breath. "I give you three months before you want to go back to Miami."
"You want to put money on that?" He asked, and she thought it over for a moment. It had to be the right amount to show how little faith she had but a number she could part with on the off chance she was wrong.
"Two hundred," she replied.
He stuck out his hand again. "Two hundred in three months then." She stared down at that hand. Well, this one was on her so... she shook his hand again, just as briefly as the first time.
"Now, are you two ready to speak to Noonan?" She asked, focused more on Javi than Murphy.
"You won't be coming with us?" Murphy questioned, and she let out a sigh in response.
"If the jeans weren't enough of a tell, I don't know what you're thinking you'll be able to achieve down here." She was possibly being a little too blunt and aggressive with Newbie, but she could blame that on Javi.
After he'd come and gone from her apartment, it had been a struggle to close her eyes so she just gave up. Instead of getting any sleep, she'd spent the night going over her copious notes to try and piece together what the hell Escobar was planning in Medellín. The endeavour had been ultimately useless without knowing if Marta Ochoa had been the one kidnapped, but she at least had a few theories to work with.
"Is there anything specific you'll want me to ask while I'm in there?" Javi questioned, and she shook her head.
"Just get the point across that our ability to do our job is being hindered by this lack of information. And that we probably should have already had access to it. Also mention that I'll go with you to Medellín, because there's no way in hell I'm babysitting the retirees."
Javi nodded slowly. "Okay, we'll see you in a minute."
She nodded in return, but couldn't leave the conversation there. "Just remember, if you don't get that clearance, then don't bother coming back to the office."
"You'd miss me too much, Castañeda."
She didn't confirm or deny his statement. Nor did she give away how much she enjoyed the way he said her last name with the proper accenting. It wasn't something anyone ever needed to know.