Pairings and characters: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos, Javi Martínez/Fernando Llorente, Javi Martínez/Raúl González, Raúl González/Fernando Torres (past), Esteban Granero, Pedro Rodríguez, Álvaro Morata, Santi Cazorla, Pep Guardiola, Asier Illarramendi, Diego Costa, Vicente Del Bosque, Diego Simeone, Nacho Fernández
Summary: Sequel to Safe and mine. While Fernando and Sergio are trying to forget about Raúl, Raúl has all but forgotten about them.
Warnings: non-con, dub-con, violence, mentions of character death
Diego Simeone plops down on the armchair in Fernando's and Sergio’s living room and sighs. “So they checked González’ bank and his house,” he says.
“What did they find?” Fernando whispers.
“That’s the thing,” Simeone says. “They found nothing. The accounting books were in perfect order. If Raúl gets rich through his bank, it seems that it’s just because he has rich clients who invest a lot. As for his house, the guards searched it through. They found nothing suspicious.”
“What about the locked room?” Fernando asks and Sergio shivers next to him.
“It was empty.”
“Did you expect anything else?” Simeone smiles bitterly.
Fernando didn’t. He hoped they would find someone, because it would at least mean that they saved the person. What this meant was much worse, and he isn’t sure that he can bear it. He wants to believe that maybe there was no one after Sergio, but he remembers Raúl’s words well, and he knows that Raúl wouldn’t lie to him. Not about that.
“So what happens now?” Fernando asks.
“Raúl will try to sue us. And that’s what we want.”
“That’s what we want?” Fernando raises his brows.
“Yes. It’s the only way we can get Raúl in front of the judge again. And then... we’ll turn the tables.”
Fernando stands in front of the mirror, checking his appearance for the last time. He is quite sure that the judge will look at him no better if he dresses impeccably, but he has to at least try.
Then he turns around when he hears Sergio’s steps behind him, and gasps.
Sergio is dressed in the best clothes he has, a suit handed down to him by Fernando's brother when they were still living in Madrid. “I’ll go with you,” he says.
“Sergio...” Fernando starts.
“I’ll go,” Sergio repeats. “This time, I’ll go.”
“You don’t have to,” Fernando whispers. “You don’t have to see him.”
“But I want to go,” Sergio says. “We let him win last time, we can’t let him win now.”
“Maybe he will, anyway.”
“Then at least, when he says all those lies, he’ll have to look at me while saying them.”
Fernando makes a step and then he pulls Sergio to him and kisses him.
“I love you,” he whispers.
Raúl looks around and laughs to himself. Fernando's ways of fighting him have always been rather pathetic, but this takes it to another level. He wants to defend himself with the help of people who don’t interest anyone. It must have been his lawyer’s idea, because as far as Raúl remembers, Fernando's had enough self-criticism to admit he was a nobody without Raúl.
They called up even Álvaro, even that whore, Asier, is there, playing with the frayed hem of his grey sweater, looking nervous. The judge decides to start with him, probably because his presence unnerves him the most.
“Well, tell us about you and Mr. González,” he says.
“I don’t really know what you want to hear,” Asier says and scratches his head. “He was just a customer.”
“So let me make things clear,” the judge says and flips through some documents. “According to this accusation presented to me by Mr. Simeone, Mr. González tied you up, choked you with a belt, poured hot wax over your body, then had an intercourse with you while beating you with the said belt. Is that correct?”
Asier doesn’t even blink. “Yes.”
“And you agreed to it?”
“You got paid?”
“Yes, I did.”
The judge gives Simeone an annoyed look. “So why are we even discussing this?” he asks. “You can go, Mr. Illarramendi.”
“Thank you, sir,” Asier says and rushes to the door.
“Your Honor,” the judge corrects him half-heartedly.
Fernando and Sergio watch Asier pass Raúl like he’s just another person in the room, looking at him indifferently, and Fernando wonders if finally someone won the war against Raúl, because this boy looks like he will forget him as soon as he walks out of the courtroom, something that they will never achieve in their lives.
“Mr. Morata, if you please.”
The young man sitting next to Álvaro gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Álvaro tries his best to look self-confident, but the judge manages to shatter his mask with his first sentence.
“According to Mr. Simeone, Mr. González and you had an... incident. Could you tell us about it?”
Álvaro takes a deep breath, his eyes shifting to Raúl who looks as calm and composed as ever. “I told him I was getting married, and we talked and then Mr. González said that... he could... teach me,” Álvaro mumbles.
“Teach you what?”
Álvaro’s face turns bright red. “About... about sex.”
The judge is unimpressed. “I see. What happened next?”
“He tried to kiss me. I... I didn’t want to. I hit him and ran away.”
Fernando can hear Sergio gasp next to him. He is probably wondering how Álvaro is still alive. Fernando is wondering if bowing to this boy would look too awkward.
“Did you tell anyone about it?” the judge asks.
“N-no. Yes, I told Nacho, but...”
“I meant if you reported Mr. González,” the judge interrupts him.
“No. No, of course not. It was just a misunderstanding,” Álvaro blurts out. “Mr. González was drunk, and he apologized, and I accepted the apology.”
“All right,” the judge says. “If there were no more incidents you could tell us about...”
Álvaro shakes his head. The judge dismisses him and crosses his arms. “Mr. Simeone, I am appalled by your lack of professionalism.”
“What I want to prove, your Honor, is that Mr. González is by no means the man he claims to be. My client didn’t start this all to dishonor him. He even offered him to keep silent about the past, if Mr. González agreed to the divorce.”
On the other side of the room, Florentino Pérez stands up. “I see. And when he didn’t agree, your client started spreading false, disgusting rumors about Mr. González!” he barks.
“All of this is true, and more!” Simeone shouts.
“Gentlemen!” the judge roars and bangs the hammer in his desk blindly. “Stop this immediately! Mr. Simeone, if you have nothing else to say...”
“I have a lot to say,” Simeone says while Pérez sits down again, whispering something in Raúl’s ear. “About the boy he held in his house, locked in the secret room, the boy he abused and raped for months.”
“That case is closed, Mr. Simeone,” the judge says, in a softer tone of voice.
“But we are not talking about Sergio Ramos García now, Your Honor,” Simeone says calmly. “We are talking about Javier Martínez Aginaga. A boy who went through the same ordeal as Mr. Ramos, except that this time, Mr. González ordered this boy to be murdered.”
Raúl shifts in his seat. The judge flips through the papers again, but then looks at Simeone again, obviously confused.
“So who is it we are talking about?” he asks.
“With your permission, Your Honor,” Simeone says and walks to the door.
The judge, as well as the rest of the people in the room, is straining his neck to see what is going on. Then Simeone comes back, with a dark haired boy who is looking around with round, frightened eyes.
Fernando can see Raúl grit his teeth, but it’s just a subtlety he recognizes. The judge isn’t even looking at Raúl now. “So you are... he is...”
“I don’t know, who he is, Your Honor,” Raúl interrupts his stuttering. “I’ve never seen this boy in my life. And if Mr. Simeone thinks he can just pick someone up on the street and say that I abused the person or order the person’s murder... How come he is not dead, if I ordered his murder, by the way?”
And then the door opens again and Flori walks in. Only this time, he’s wearing a suit and his hair is shorter and carefully combed.
“Because I didn’t kill him,” he says.
This time Raúl falls out of his role. He gets up, looking at Flori like he’s just seen a ghost. “Who... who are you?” he asks in a trembling voice.
“Mr. Llorente is a private detective I hired after Mr. Torres mentioned that you had a rather disturbing remark when you met him in Fuenlabrada,” Simeone says. “You have to admit that he is a good actor as well, if he fooled someone as mistrustful as you.”
That’s when Raúl loses it completely. “You son of a...” he yells, trying to get to Flori, while his lawyer is trying to hold him back.
Javi cowers instinctively and Flori makes a step to shield him from Raúl. The judge bangs the hammer in the table so hard that it almost breaks. “Order! Order!” he shouts.
It takes four guards to restore order in the room. They make Raúl sit back in his place and usher Flori and Javi to the other side.
“And now...” the judge says and wipes his forehead. “I’d like to finally hear the whole story.”