#santiago garcia angst
pairing: santiago garcia x y/n
warnings: angst, some swearing, flashbacks, mentions of death and blood, vulnerability, mentions of sex…please read at your own risk
word count: 1.6k
inspired by: ‘epiphany’ - taylor swift
a/n: this is my first time writing for santiago, i hope you enjoy it and it doesn’t suck <3
The mountains were silent as he moved, careful not to make his presence known. The smoke and sound of gunfire had cleared, each of the five men holding their breath as their ears strained for sounds of movement from their attackers. The same thought ran through each of their heads.
Stay alive and get out.
It was a surprise attack, a sudden gunshot from unknown followers as they climbed up the mountains. Their military instincts kicked in and took over, even when Benny got shot in the arm. It was just a flesh wound, nothing that could deter him from shooting when he heard the next gunshot.
There was one man left. Five against one.
And then Tom was hit, a bullseye to the head. There was no way to survive something like that. Santiago shot his assailant twice and fell, blood dripping from the wounds and onto the rocks. A brief moment of silence passed before Benny’s voice pierced the air, yelling for his fallen comrade as he rushed over to him. Santiago felt numb, not acknowledging the next few moves he made. All he heard was Benny mourning over the loss of their friend.
It didn’t even register that the brothers were punching each other until they were nearly falling off the cliff. Santiago jumped into action, Frankie joining him and tearing the brothers apart as ‘stop this shit!’ spewed angrily from his mouth.
A chill ran up Santiago’s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. They were being watched. Movement caught his eye and he looked. Lorea stood a few feet away, a rifle in his hand that was pointed directly at Santiago’s head.
But he was supposed to be dead. Santiago killed him himself.
Ten of his guards stood beside him, each of them pointing a gun at the others. They were surrounded and outnumbered. A wicked smile crossed Lorea’s face.
“Espero que estés listo para morir.”
Santiago’s breaths were shaky and he took as many as he could, not knowing what one would be his last. He didn’t want to die, but there was a brief moment where he caught a single glimpse of relief he would feel if he did. All he’d ever known was the military…how he gave his life over and over and over again and for what? To go back to civilian life without any help from the Colombian or US government? He deserved more, his friends deserved more, which is what brought them back to Colombia to steal Lorea’s money.
But look where that got them, Santiago thought. A helicopter crash, an ambush that left one wounded and one dead, millions of dollars left behind because they were too ambitious and couldn’t take it all with them.
Tom was someone’s son, someone’s father. And he was gone because Santiago wanted to steal the money he thought they were robbed of. That glimpse of relief from the guilt and the pain and the anger Santiago knew he’d feel for the rest of his life suddenly didn’t seem so bad…
…until the the shot was fired.
》》》
It’s always the same dream.
Santiago would finally succumb to sleep, sometimes hours after he lays down in deafening silence and his mind finally stops reeling. And then before he knew it, he’s awake again, the violent images of Tom’s death replaying in his mind. At least the part about Lorea coming back from the dead to kill him wasn’t true. He just wishes the rest of it wasn’t either.
This time, he had fallen asleep on his couch. The beginning of a new movie had already started and he doesn’t recognize it, but he also doesn’t really care. A quick look at the clock shows that it’s just after two in the morning and a heavy sigh and a whispered ‘fuck’ leave his lips and he turns the tv off. He runs a hand down his tired face and sits in the silence. He’s alone with nothing but his thoughts and none of them are pleasant.
He debates calling you. A one night stand turned into another one night stand which turned into the both of you reaching out whenever you were drunk, lonely, and horny. He had attempted therapy at the suggestion of Frankie, but walked out before the hour was up. But it’s early on a Friday morning and he knows you have work in the morning.
He decides instead to grab his keys and go for a drive. Empty roads with the windows down and a classic rock radio station playing in the background would surely relax him.
The drive to clear his head brings him to your house, the route so familiar now that Santiago doesn’t realize he’s driven to your house until he’s outside of it. The lights are still on and he recalls you telling him once that you were a night owl, so he wasn’t too surprised to see that you were still awake.
He knocks on the door softly in case you had gone to bed already and he almost lets out a sigh of relief when you answer the door in sleep shorts that peeked out from beneath an oversized t-shirt. Your hair is down and disheveled from laying against the pillows of your couch and Santiago thinks it may just be the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.
He doesn’t kiss you, no hand on the back of your head and crashing his lips onto yours. All he does is stare, like you weren’t real. Just your presence in front of him now was like the light at the end of the tunnel, the desire to rush towards it nearly overwhelming him.
It had been awhile since a woman made him feel like that. He thought there was a possibility with Yovanna when he went to track her down in Australia. Their chemistry was undeniable, but looking at her only made him feel ashamed. It was him giving her safe passage out of Colombia in exchange for Lorea’s whereabouts that led to Tom losing his life.
He blamed her for awhile, but he mostly blames himself.
“Hey…”
Your voice brings him back to reality. He opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a breath that shakes. You can see the pain behind his eyes. It’s the same pain you’ve seen get drowned in alcohol and hidden by lust at the bar you both frequent.
“Do you want to come in?”
“I don’t…” His voice is low and defeated and it makes your heart ache. “I don’t, um….”
Santiago sighs, not knowing what to say to explain why he stood at your doorstep. The only thing he knew for sure is that he isn’t looking for sex…and he hopes like hell you won’t turn him away.
You give him a small smile and step aside, welcoming him inside
The warmth of your home a sharp contrast from the chill of the night air and giving him goosebumps. The glow of your bedroom light cast a faint glow into the hall and he follows it like a siren call.
“Do you want something to—“ He isn’t behind you and you turn just in time to see his shadow disappear into the hallway.
Santiago lays back on your bed, breathing out all the hurt and anger he’d been feeling as the scent and comfort of you engulfed him. After turning off lights and plugging your phone in, you carefully lay next to him so you wouldn’t scare him. The only sounds that are heard is his breathing and the rain outside. You’ve seen him get caught up in his mind before, but never like this. You don’t ask him what’s wrong…whatever it was is clearly more complicated than a shitty day at work. You know as well as anyone there are some things in life that you just can’t speak about.
Instead, you watch him carefully and put your hand on top of his. He closes his eyes as another shaky breath escapes him. The touch of your hand on his grounds him, reminds him that when he closes his eyes, he’s not actually back in Colombia and reliving the death of his friend. He’s home, in your room, feeling safer than he’d felt all week.
Santiago curls onto his side, arm sliding around your waist and pulling you into him. His forehead falls against yours and you gingerly put your hand on his cheek. A tear escapes his eye and you tenderly wipe it away, letting him pull you even closer.
“It’s okay,” you whisper into the darkness of your room. Those two words squeeze his heart in a vice grip and he allows more tears to fall as sobs start to rack his body. His hold on you tightens and he’s scared to cry but he can’t stop. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”
He cries himself to sleep in twenty minutes and you move just enough to grab the blanket to cover yourselves up. His head rests against your chest and you gently run your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. It had never been like this with him before. A couple rounds of sex with talking and flirting in between always ended with one of you leaving the other to go home.
And yet as he lays against your chest and looks peaceful for the first time all night, you find yourself wishing you can be that for him all the time…his relief and his peace.
[permanent tag list]: @dameronsgalaxygal
