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Raquel was kneeling on that cold, almost icy ground, trembling and utterly overwhelmed with terror. Not for herself, that she was fearing for less and less with each passing second, but for Sergio. Tears were already streaming down her face, those salty drops of anguish on her reddened from distress, burning cheeks, and yet she felt more of them gather underneath her eyelids, a new wave of dread hitting her so hard she couldn’t breathe, as she heard his voice in her earpiece.
Please, let all of this end, before he gets here, she begged, trying to drown out Sergio’s pleas for her to tell the Police where he’s hiding with her own prayer. She couldn’t allow him to sacrifice himself and his plan for her. Especially since she was in this position because she couldn’t climb a fucking tree.
All she had to do now was to accept her fate.
She started suspecting she was done for, when Suarez commanded to get Justino out. If they wanted to execute her, there couldn’t be any witnesses present. It was probable he wanted to take revenge on her—the traitor, the fucking bitch. The whole Police probably wanted it. She tried to bargain, her voice trembling, her hands shaking, her breath heavy, but they didn’t give her the courtesy of allowing her to turn herself in. She prayed that she was wrong, that they were to arrest her after all, even if she wouldn’t tell them about Sergio’s whereabouts.
And then Suarez loaded the gun. She knew her untimely end was near, of course she knew. That was the moment she stopped worrying for her life, and started to care more for Sergio’s. She couldn’t take him down with her.
“I don’t know where the Professor is. I really don’t,” she sealed her fate. Three words were enough.
She felt the cold metal barrel on her forehead (cold from the ground below her, cold from the gun above, soon enough cold all around and within her as her lifeless corpse would lose all the heat, she thought) and closed her eyes.
With resignation and sadness she made peace with what was coming for her. She wasn’t ready; she was scared. She had accepted that she could die scared the moment she’d joined the Police force eighteen years ago, but it didn’t help her at all. She pressed her lips together, trying to prevent herself from releasing a weep.
She wanted to apologise to Sergio. She hated that he would hear her get executed. She hated that the last thing she would hear would be his cries, him begging for her to “get out”.
She wanted to apologise to her mother and daughter for leaving them.
There were so many things she wanted to say, to do… She wouldn’t have the chance anymore. She was already living on borrowed time, her laboured breaths the only thing that allowed her to measure how much of it had passed.
She learned once that time moves at different speeds. Sometimes hours could feel like minutes, and a single second could feel like a lifetime. To Raquel, the past hours had raced by in a blur. She prayed that the damn thing could work the other way too, that everything could just stop, so that she’d have just a few more seconds to think about everyone she was leaving behind and to say proper goodbyes. But she knew it was impossible.
She swallowed. And she anticipated the nullity to devour her. She hoped death would greet her with a welcoming, tender embrace.
She waited. And she waited. And waited…
Tick, tick, tick…
She didn’t hear a gunshot, she simply stopped feeling the barrel on her skin. But she felt a sudden change in her surroundings. And in her own body, too.
Her heart wasn’t beating, she realised. She didn’t feel the blood rush through her veins, she didn’t hear her own pulse, even though it was deafening just seconds before. She was still completely conscious, which wasn’t what she expected from not being alive, but she had no doubts that she was irrevocably dead.
Mom, Paula… she thought, I’m so sorry… Please, forgive me for what I chose.
Her jaw quivered. She didn’t regret giving a wrong answer, as Suarez had called it, but her whole body reacted with dread to a vision of her family finding out about her death.
Sergio, please, be strong for them. And try to understand why I did it.
The “why” was that she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. She wouldn’t betray him, because she loved him more than words could express. She might have paid her price for it, but she knew she had made the right choice. Sergio would’ve done the same for her, she was absolutely certain. She only hoped that her sacrifice wouldn’t go in vain and he would go on with the plan.
She took a deep breath. And then she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry; everything all too bright, the contours blurred, the colours more saturated, but scattered like in a kaleidoscope.
She realised she was on her feet again. It felt so good to straighten her knees, even though they didn’t hurt. One of the advantages of being dead was not feeling any pain apparently.
The first thing she noticed after her vision sharpened, was that she was looking at the scene she had taken part in merely moments ago from a third person’s perspective. She was standing there, in the same place that she had died, in the middle of the barn, and saw herself—or another version of her—kneeling on the ground. Suarez still pointed at the second her (or the real one perhaps) with his gun, and the barrel was still pressed to her forehead. Three other Police officers looked ready to shoot her as well, were she to make any unexpected move.
Everything was frozen. Raquel heard no sound, no birds or dogs, or sirens wailing outside, could feel no wind, smell no scent. And she didn’t have to breathe—her lungs seemed to have no need for oxygen, she realised, as she stared at this whole scenario, unable to force herself to inhale, nor exhale, for what seemed like minutes.
Raquel frowned. She analysed all the data, all variables, and tried to get her head straight about what the hell was going on.
Time went still. Her prayer had been answered. She couldn’t believe it.
She was still here. Not dead perhaps, but not quite alive. She didn’t know how or for how long, but she was. She glanced down at her body and examined herself. Her skin looked translucent and she wondered how real she actually was. Not that it mattered.
She was still here.
She sobbed. In relief or in shock, in despair or in distress, she didn’t know that either, but fucking hell, she couldn’t remember when was the last time she felt anything similar. Her limbs were shaking again, and she felt so nauseous she considered it a miracle that she didn’t bend in half in order to vomit.
She still had time. She wasn’t dead yet. She could tell her close ones how much she loved them and how much she was going to miss them. She hoped it was only in her might to move the world again and that she had all the time she needed to settle the accounts with her past.
Holy fuck, it felt so good to know she could say proper goodbyes before she was gone for good.
Sergio, Mom, Paula, I love you all, and I’m going to miss you so, so much…
No, that wasn’t good enough. She could do better. But she had to have a clarity of mind for this.
Slowly, she composed herself.
She looked at the scenery again, stared at her own face. It felt so weird to see herself from this perspective. The other Raquel looked as anguished, as tortured, as she had felt at that moment, with a gun glued to her face—her pain looked painted so well, as if she was created by a very talented artist from centuries ago: her muscles tense in fear and agony, her eyes shut in her attempt to remain as calm as she could while facing the spectre of death.
She moved her eyes to Suarez, the man who was to become her executioner. He looked determined and focused, almost like she remembered him from when they saw each other the last time. But there was anger in his expressions too, one so unlike him.
Did he really hate her so much? Did he really think of her as nothing more than a traitor? Was it his idea to take her down? It’s not like he didn’t have a reason—he was a part of the group that went into the Bank and must’ve felt deeply put to shame when the Banda forced him to sing Bella Ciao half-naked. Raquel admitted without pride that it was actually her idea, her way of getting her revenge on the Police, an institution that had stood against her when she had filed the complaint against Alberto. They deserved every bit of it, and more. But a humiliated man was a dangerous one.
Deep inside she hoped that he was simply following orders—he always had so much respect towards protocols and authority, and followed instructions without question, as long as they were in accordance with the law. Raquel had always thought fondly of him. He’d been one of the few of her colleagues who hadn’t judged her after the divorce. If he’d secretly thought that she’d lied about her abuse, he had never shown this. He had treated her with nothing but due regard, and she had been happy to have him on her side during the first heist. She mourned for the loss of another friendship. Suarez might’ve been kind to her once, but here he was now, pressing his gun to her forehead, and the only thing that was stopping him from pulling the trigger was the miraculous freezing of time. Without it, Raquel was as good as dead.
Sadness grasped her by the throat, when the images of her failed suicide attempt flashed in front of her eyes. Suarez had been one of the people who had saved her life then—he had placed himself in front of her and covered her with his own body. He had been her saviour, and he was about to become her doom. Only death can pay for life. Maybe she already extended her time on earth.
She sighed.
She should probably start bidding her farewells. That was what she was still here to do after all. She took a deep breath, pulling herself together, and closed her eyes. She tried to search for her closed ones in the ether.
Paula… Paula, my sweet daughter… I love you so much, and I’m so sorry for leaving you like this. I wish I could watch you grow and see what kind of woman you become. You’re so smart and so perceptive, you have a great life ahead of you. I know you sometimes wish you were more like me, especially when Grandma has one of her episodes and confuses you with your aunt, instead of me, but I want you to remember that you’re perfect the way you are and you don’t have to become like anyone else. Find yourself, sweetheart, find adventures, find at least one epic love… I know you’ll miss me, but I’ll always be with you. Please, forgive me.
She knew Paula would be angry with her. It pained her that she wouldn’t be able to take her daughter’s grief away. Paula’s just a child… There were so many things she was still too young to understand. Like why her mother decided to abandon her. Raquel just hoped that Paula would make peace with her death someday.
Mom. I don’t know if my message finds you at all, and if it does, what state you’ll be in, but I need you to know how grateful I am for everything you gave me. For all your lessons, all your questions. Thank you for being my top one fan and for supporting me in almost everything I did. I wouldn’t be as brave without you. I am scared to leave you, though. But I hope you will be okay. Love you.
In the midst of all the chaos inside her mind, of all the things she tried to piece together in a cohesive message, one thought was perfectly clear—Sergio would take care of Paula and her mother. He loved Paula as if she were his own and even when he struggled to connect with her, he was a better father to her than Alberto could pray to be. Sergio loved Marivi too, and would protect her. The two of them were in good hands.
She would leave Sergio for the end. There were too many things she wanted to tell him, but she didn’t know where to start, so she moved on to another person—one who’d once been really important to her.
Laura, I know we haven’t talked for a while, and the last time we did I told you I want nothing to do with you, but I want us both to get some closure. I wish you could still be close to mom and Paula. I wish we were as close as we once used to. I hope you’re safe. I hope you won’t see it first hand why I wanted my daughter as far from Alberto as possible, but maybe one day you’ll understand. And I’m sorry for calling you names. I’m sorry we haven’t parted on better terms in real life.
Laura might have been a fucking idiot on occasions, but she was still her sister. They didn’t have to like each other—that’s what their mother had often reminded them when they’d been young and fighting over something insignificant—but they didn’t have to hate each other either.
Speaking of hate… Before they spoke during the negotiations, Raquel had hoped Alicia didn’t hate her anymore. But she had been wrong. And if Suarez didn’t act on his own, that would mean it was probably Alicia’s idea. Raquel would be lying if she said she didn’t think her former girlfriend was capable of ordering her execution. Alicia had always been ruthless. Raquel didn’t want to spare her too much time. She moved on to another person, having wished Alicia “good luck”, just like she did once before.
She didn’t spare Angel too much time either. They had been friends for far too long to just ignore his existence. She thanked him for being there for her, when no one else had stood by her side.
She then thought of the Banda. In those two months they really bonded with each other. Personal relationships were against Sergio’s initial rules, but they truly made them stronger. Raquel was glad to get to know them and really sad to leave them. She would miss them: she’d miss Tokyo’s jokes and ability to jump headfirst into action, Nairobi’s contagious laugh and her deep care for everyone, Mónica’s ability to keep the conversation going and her bright humour, Denver’s willingness to better himself for his wife and for himself, Helsinki’s loyalty and empathy, Bogota’s kind heart behind the macho persona, Marseille’s stories, and even Palermo and his dramatic attitude that often made her smile. She wished she could get to know Rio. They were her second family and it pained her that she would never make jokes with them, while sitting outside and drinking beers, as if they had known each other forever.
Well, at least none of them would doubt her allegiance anymore, Raquel thought with a sad chuckle. She’d given them the final proof that she was with them and that she would betray neither the Professor, nor the plan.
The Professor. Sergio. Her poor love.
Sergio… Are you there? Are you listening?
She took a deep breath.
I still don’t know where to begin…
Her heart felt heavy in her chest. She felt it breaking (can a heart that had stopped beating still break?). Her stomach curled into a tight knot. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t force herself to just think them to herself. She had to say them out loud. She had to see him. One last time.
Raquel opened her eyes. The world still looked weird. The contours seemed wobbly, the colours almost neon. She saw everything with more clarity. Was it the true world or was she just hallucinating?
She walked towards the door. She wondered if it was even possible for her to leave this damn place, or if she was locked here forever like in a purgatory, or her own version of hell, precedessing the real one she could end up in (she sincerely hoped the Christians were wrong about the afterlife, and if she didn’t turn into nothingness, as she suspected she would, her version of the other side would be more nuanced than the dichotomy of heaven for the sinless and hell for the sinners). Before the world stopped, she only prayed—on her knees, begging for the prophecy to change—that she’d have more time to say her goodbyes, not that she’d be able to walk freely wherever she’d like.
But she walked out without any problems. On her way she checked one thing. Just like she suspected, her hand went through the door frame and the wall with ease. Her body was incorporeal. She was still there, but actually she wasn’t. She was a mere ghost, a fleeting manifestation of her memories, regret and grief. But she was still here. And she wasn’t going back just to die, at least not yet.
She walked past Justino and Reni, embracing each other, while the two Police officers held them at gunpoint, so that they wouldn’t try to enter the building. She hoped they wouldn’t blame themselves for her death. She understood why they had been hesitant to help her, and why Reni had stormed out and told the police who was inside. It was a tough choice Raquel had wanted those two to make.
She walked. She hoped the invisible string that always pulled her to Sergio would work this time and she would find him.
As she walked, she thought how much she wanted to march all the way to the Philippines, so that she could find her daughter and mother again too. She craved that so much it stung in every inch of her body. But the road was far and almost impossible to cross on her own, without a map or a boat she could use to cross the sea, even with an eternity to do so. Raquel shook her head. Because even if she somehow managed to get to Mindanao, she still wouldn’t be able to hug her daughter closely or kiss her mother on the cheek. That would only kill her more.
But Sergio was close. She could feel him. Their bond was unparalleled, their hands reaching each other all throughout the great war somewhere in the ether, their hearts recognising the beating of the other even when they couldn’t see each other, their smiles that they had sent the other person with knowing looks, almost as if it was fate or fortune, or some other unearthly entity, that had bound them together. She had been drawn to him from the very beginning and no matter how hard she had tried once to get rid of her feelings, she hadn’t been able to.
She walked, and she walked, and she walked…
She finally saw him. Her unbeating heart soared. She found him—the string between them led her to him. He had been running when the time stopped, freezing him mid-motion. One hand was touching his earpiece, and his mouth was open, as if he was still screaming at her to get out. As she got closer to him, she saw sheer panic in his dark eyes.
From the amount of time she’d spent walking, she knew that he would’ve never made it early enough to get to her and exchange his liberty for her life, forsaking the lives of those inside the Bank. She felt both relief and pain. If Sergio was far, he still had a chance to hide and save the plan. She had cursed his Professor persona once, but she hoped he could conjure it and hide his grief behind it. He would be devastated to hear her get killed—especially because he would lose her the same way he had lost his father and brother. He had told her about it, after he had woken up from a nightmare, and revealed that he wouldn’t have been able to bear losing another loved one. She was perfectly aware of what her death could do to him. But her life was worth giving up for, if it meant that Sergio would be still out, free, and able to get everyone out. And for the sake of all those people inside the Bank—and her own family waiting back in the Philippines for their return—she simply prayed that he was strong enough to endure losing her.
She wanted to cup his cheeks and get him to look at her, so she could force him to get his shit together. But as she raised her arm to brush his beard with her fingers, she remembered she was incorporeal. Her half-transparent hand went through Sergio’s body, as if she wasn’t there at all.
Everything in her body felt heavy. She was sinking and once again no one could help her.
She cursed that damn tree again. Had she been able to climb it, their reunion could be similar to this one, but without all the heartbreak—he would still run towards her, and she would place her hands on the sides of his face like she wanted to now, and this time they wouldn’t just disappear from sight, when she’d touch anything material. He would pull her closer and she would kiss him. Everything would be alright.
Maybe in another life it went differently.
She hated that they had so little time together. Sergio’s words echo in her mind: “Raquel, I want to spend the rest of my life with you”. She wanted that too. She wanted to grow old with him. She knew every day with him would be special and that she would never get bored of him—they matched each other’s morals and worldviews, they matched each other’s stubbornness, each other’s weirdness and strange ideas. Sergio was her best friend and her soulmate. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to give her life for him.
Raquel noticed that Sergio’s fate had depended on her for more than once. And she had chosen him each time—when she had let him go in Toledo, because she had been unable to shoot him, despite how much hurt he’d caused her and how angry she’d been with him; when she had uttered “I’m with you” in his hangar and when she had waited as long as she could to give the location of his hideout away, hoping that they both had saved his perfect plan; when she had joined him in Palawan and burned all the bridges back in Spain, knowing damn well, that this way she had been ruining herself for him, at least in the eyes of the law and her former colleagues. She had chosen him after he’d revealed to her his gravest sin. She had chosen him again today. Each of her decisions had led her to this place. And as much anguish as she felt knowing she was to die in such tragic circumstances, she was glad she’d made them. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because he would do the same for her. He had also chosen her time and time again, and risked everything for her; he had forsaken his precious principles for her, and put his fate in her hands, even though he had known his liberty and his life and lives of countless others had been at stake.
They both would die for each other and they both would live for each other. Death and life held the same weight. Both were hard. The only thing harder than this was believing that all humans turned to dust and stories after they were gone, that there was only nothingness awaiting them.
She wished she was wrong about the afterlife. That it was really just another realm, one in which she would await for her love to join her someday. But she wasn’t so sure about it. And it was fucking terrible to realise that she won’t ever see him or hear him or hold him again.
She wished there was a way to get him out of this weird spell. She wished she could touch him, hide in his arms, cry in his chest, speak with him, instead of to him. This was torture. Being here, but not being here, remaining alive while the whole world was dead, before she would become dead and the world would move on without her.
But that was all that she had. And the sooner she let go of the wish of hearing Sergio’s voice again, the easier it would be for her to bring herself to tell him all that she wanted to say, and to finally return to the real world. Only death waited for her there, and she had to accept it, whether she liked it or not. She sealed her fate and there was no saving her now.
“I’m sorry, Sergio,” she finally began. “Please, don’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could do.”
They both knew perfectly there was no way he could change her mind about anything, especially when it had been set so obstinately.
“And I’m sorry for telling you that you’ve fucked up my life. I was angry that you seemed like you didn’t want me here, and that you didn’t care how much I risked by being here with you and by leaving my mother and daughter in Mindanao.”
She had given him everything and he had tumbled it like it was stone. “I didn’t ask you to come,” he’d told her and it was true. She had insisted on being part of the group, she had even wanted to go inside the Bank with the rest, but Sergio had only said that she would clash too much with Palermo about leadership, so it would be best that she stayed with him on the outside, where she would be of use, if she really had to partake in the heist. Neither of them expected to be so terrible at cooperating, especially since they had worked so well before. She had been furious that he kept her out of the Bank and then hadn’t even wanted her to help him. She had been boiling that he seemed to want her gone. Because she was with him , staying behind hadn’t even been an option. So his words had hurt her deeply.
But then he had told her that everything was better, because she was with him, and that he would try to hand her the helm and allow her to stand in charge. He was used to being a lone wolf all his life and still struggled with allowing anyone into his space—but he would try to be better for her and would relinquish his constant need to be in control when things were getting hard. They were together in this, he promised, and that meant the world to her, just like him reaffirming his love to her.
“I meant what I told Angel two days ago,” she continued, “this life with you was much better than my previous one. Everything was better, because I was with you ,” she echoed his words.
In those fourteen months they spent together in Palawan she’d felt happier than she ever had before.
“Do you know what my favourite memory of us is?” She had never told him that, mostly because they created more memories she could classify as her favourites and she never could pick up one. But she wanted to tell him, even though there’s no way he could hear her. “When you taught Paula origami for the first time.”
That morning they had gone for a run, as they had every day, and ended up farther than usually. Raquel had been deep in her thoughts, processing the fact that an international warrant for her arrest had been issued, and hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t turned around in the place she usually had done it. Sergio had been right beside her and hadn’t uttered a word. When she had asked him why, he had said that he knew she liked to get rid of her frustration with exercise, and besides, he didn’t mind staying a little bit longer alone with her. Naturally, they had ended up in the ocean, and had come home soaking wet. Paula, who hadn’t known where they had gone for so long, had run towards them, and demanded that as a compensation for leaving her without saying anything, Sergio would teach her how to make a crane from paper. To Raquel’s surprise, Segio hadn’t even wanted to get changed, he just sat with her daughter in the kitchen, and showed her how to fold a sheet, so that shapes could be created. Sergio had invited Raquel to the table and soon the three of them had been making origami.
“My head was full of doubts, of second thoughts, but in that moment I only became more positive that I made the right choice. You are a wonderful father to Paula and I know you’ll do everything to keep her safe and happy. Please think of our happy times, instead of mourning me forever. You deserve to live without blaming yourself.”
She took a deep breath.
“I hate to leave you all like this. I hate that I can’t kiss you goodbye. I hate that I won’t get to spend half of my life with you, because that is the smallest number of years I want to live by your side. But I won’t regret sacrificing myself. The plan is worth it.”
They were the resistance. They showed a middle finger to the system that left people in poverty and forced to turn into the world of crime to make a living, and their masks were being used during protests and marches—that was a real fucking legacy, one worth dying for. Now, they were trying to save one of their own and opposing unhumanitarian methods even the first world countries used whenever someone got under their skin. It was time someone did something to put an end to impunity of institutions of power. Raquel was happy she joined them.
“The people inside the Bank are worth it.”
They were criminals, but they weren’t bad people. Raquel tried to battle her biases she had from working in the Police force for so long, and spending time with the Banda helped her recognize all shades of colours the world was made of—not just black and white, like she used to believe.
“You are worth it, Sergio.” Her voice trembled.
She loved him so much, she wanted to tear up.
“I hope you’ll forgive me. And yourself.”
Knowing him, he had probably saved some words to say to her in person. He would blame himself for everything he had said and what he hadn’t said. But he didn’t have to. She knew how he felt about her, and what he would have given up for her.
“Farewell, Sergio. I love you.”
She hoped that what was coming for her was gentler than what she’d always imagined the “after” to be like. That she would be able to wait for him—like he waited for her at the bar in Palawan for an entire year—and he would find her in the afterlife. It was his time to search for her.
It was finally time for her to return. To die . She had fulfilled what she was here for and as much as she would want to enjoy this weird state of being undead, she knew it couldn’t last. She’d go mad here, all by herself. She was ready.
She walked back into the farm. If her heart was still beating, it would race so fast she’d fear it would jump out of her chest. If she was still in need of oxygen, she would gasp for air. Her whole body trembled, but her mind was at ease.
She entered the building. She walked towards her kneeling self and put a hand on her shoulder, bracing herself for her return.
Everything went back to normal.
She heard the sirens, the dogs, the laboured breaths of everyone inside. She felt blood rush through her veins and heard her own pulse in her ears.
She opened her eyes. She wanted to see her executioner’s face before she died. She was unafraid now—she was at peace, with a clear conscience and brave heart to face the cloaked entity who had been the object of humanity’s greatest fear since the beginning of time. She was ready to greet death with a respectful nod.
She waited. And she waited. And waited…
Tick, tick, tick…