Chapter Text
Time was passing in slow motion and at highspeed at the same time. Arturo's body dropped to the floor as if slowed down, but the blood spurting out of his shoulder spread around him so quickly. The sound of the hostage's screams took forever to finally register in Martín's brain, but his own quiet panicked yelp had slipped his lips in the matter of a split-second. Without hesitation, Denver started shaking Arturo, as if he were trying to wake him up from a comma. However, Arturo was clearly awake because he was yelling and groaning in pain loudly. "Stop that, you idiot! What good is that going to do?!", hissed Moscow and slapped the back of his son's head before pressing a cloth onto the bullet wound. The engineer wasn't sure where it had come from, but he was glad at least one of them had common sense and was able to use it in a stressful situation. "Push that down, Arturito. You need to apply a lot of pressure.", ordered Martín and moved closer. "Denver, help me carry him inside.", he continued bossing around and lifted the bank's director by his legs, meanwhile Denver and Moscow carefully lifted the upper half of his body, trying to not hurt him any further or move the bullet inside of his shoulder. He was heavy and moved around a lot, but the three of them managed to get to the door at the same time as it was forcefully yanked open by Helsinki from the inside, who had probably been alert by the gunshot. "What happened-", he began but interrupted himself with a bunch of Serbian swearwords when he saw what exactly just happened. "Come here! Go! Run!," he hurried the hostages inside and pulled off his colleagues' masks as they passed him. Once everybody was inside the building, the door was thrown shut and the four thieves escorted Arturo down the stairs as quickly and as safely as possible. "Quick! Move. Move!", yelled Moscow only to get insulted back by Arturo.
Carrying him down the stairs proved to be a lot harder than expected because Arturito wouldn't stop shifting around, trying to reduce the pain but only causing more and the hostages were rushing them from behind, all of them fulfilled with fear. Out of nowhere, Martín started laughing. Laughing hysterically for no apparent reason. "What the fuck is so funny?!", yelled Denver. Martín wished he could give him a good answer, but he couldn't, because nothing funny was happening and the engineer most certainly didn't feel like laughing either. He was pumped full of adrenaline and shock but laughing just came to him naturally at that moment. So, he laughed, laughed like a maniac until tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. Laughed like he hadn't in months. Out of nowhere Tokyo appeared, her face stressed and mad. "What the fuck have you done?!", she yelled accusingly, pointing at Martín, blaming him, for some unknown reason. He was just about to spit back a snarky remark that he didn't do anything, but Tokyo ran off again, swearing under her breath and called out for Berlin. Helsinki in the meanwhile must have informed Rio, because just as Denver, Moscow, Martín, and the hostages arrived in the main room, the kid and the Serbian rolled in a table. The three of them put him down on it and out of nowhere Tokyo appeared on their side again, this time, with a big med-kit. "Water! Water", she yelled and started unpacking her utensils. Rio, Denver, Martín, and Tokyo got to work quickly. Giving Arturo morphine here, cleaning his wound with alcohol, making Arturo yelp out in pain loudly there. It all went by in a massive blur after that, the engineer didn't know how much time had passed, or who yelled what, but suddenly, Arturito pulled him close by his jumpsuit with all the force he still had left. "I need to talk to my wife, please. I need to talk to my wife.", he begged and sobbed. He didn't get a response, because for now Martín was mostly focused on helping the others keeping the man alive. Unimportant stuff like family could always come after that. Helsinki seemed the most experienced with treating wounds, and even though he was curious, Martín decided to not ask any questions. He only stepped back to give the Serbian the space he needed to work, assuming he was more in the way than he was helping. The engineer himself had never dealt with anything as serious as a bullet wound, but he thought back to the time he had taken care of Andrés’ stab wound.
It had happened just 2 weeks after they moved into the Monastery together. Martín had been sitting at his desk, sketching on his plans when he heard the door and Andrés steps on the stone floor. Immediately he sensed something off. His friend's footsteps, which usually sounded clear, due to his confident strut and even left a small echo in the big empty hallway, now sounded like his feet were just barely leaving the floor or being dragged over it completely. "Andrés?", asked the engineer and leaned back on his stool to have a better view down the hallway. It was like the air had been knocked out of his lungs completely and his mouth went dry when he spotted him. His friend was stumbling down the hallway with a small cocky smirk. A small cocky smirk that really shouldn't have been there, considering he was shirtless and pressing his usually white, now blood-red, button-up shirt that he had been wearing against a wound in his shoulder, which was causing blood to run down his naked chest. "Andrés!", yelped Martín and jumped up from his chair, knocking it over in the process. With quick steps, he hurried to his friend and brought him to the couch to lie down. "What the fuck happened?!", he exclaimed, rushing into the room next door to get his whiskey and a med-kit. He almost tripped over one of the many boxes they still hadn't unpacked. "I stole someone's wristwatch. He and his friends didn't seem to like that all that much.", Andrés shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. Martín kneeled on the floor in front of the couch and carefully removed the shirt, putting it aside, not caring that the blood is most likely going to stain their expensive carpet. Fortunately, the wound wasn't too deep, so after Marti had applied enough pressure, he was able to clean the wound with the whiskey. Andrés merely bit on his lip, took the bottle out of his hand when he was done and took a big sip. In silence, Martín then stitched his friend together and wrapped his shoulder in bandages, aware of the intense gaze on him. Once done, he looked up, his blue eyes meeting Andrés’ brown ones. "You're a hero! You saved my life!", he teased overdramatically, his lips curling into the familiar slightly crooked smile. "And you are an idiot.", answered Martín, smirking, and shaking his head. "What do you need a wristwatch for anyway? You already have one." The other one chuckled and sat up, his friend watched him, taking small glances off his slightly hairy chest. "It is a present for you actually", explained Andrés, chuckling lightly. In confusion, Martín furrowed his brows. "Don't tell me you forgot, mi amigo.", exclaimed his friend, now laughing even more. "It's your birthday?", revealed the other. The engineer's eyes lit up in surprise, he had in fact completely forgotten about that. At home, his mother had never really cared about his birthdays, so Martín learned to treat them like any other day. "The watch is beautiful. I want you to have it.", Andrés took the watch out of his pocket. He was right, it was absolutely beautiful. "Happy Birthday, Martín." A wide smile spread on the engineer's face.
His fingers traced the broken glass of the watch on his wrist. It had stopped working months ago, when Martín smashed it on the floor repeatedly, trying to get the anger out of his system when he was drunk on cheap vodka. However, he couldn't bring it over himself to get rid of it, so he still wore it every day. Somehow he saw himself in that clock. Once beautiful and glamorous, now broken, and dysfunctional, but yet not too broken enough to fully get rid of. Maybe that's the Andrés de Fonollosa effect. Martín was pulled out of his spiral of depressing thoughts when he heard the familiar steps of Andrés, making his way down the stairs, a phone in his hand. Someone must have told him Arturo wants to speak to his wife, Martín assumed it was the kid. "Where the hell were you?!", hissed Tokyo through gritted teeth. "Talking to the Professor and it's not like any of you informed me what of what happened.", he explained, calmly. "We're a bit busy here.", stated Helsinki under his breath as he helped Tokyo tightly wrapping the bank's director, making the engineer chuckle. Moscow and Denver had left, they were nowhere to be seen anymore, Martín didn't even see them leave. Arturo seemed stable, for now, but he'd need a medical team soon. "What's your wife's name?", Berlin asked the wounded, turning the phone between his hands. "Laura.", he answered, short-breathed. Martín visibly flinched at the mention of that name. Andrés third wife was called Laura, she was the worst one out of the four Martín got to know by far. The constant fighting was unbearable, and Martín even remembered witnessing the night they broke up. He'd been sitting in the kitchen and watched them fight in the living room, completely unaware of his presence.
"You are impossible, Andrés! You don't care anything about anything, do you?!", yelled Laura, her tight black curls falling out of place as she angrily whipped around to glare at her husband full of hate and doubt. "Of course, I care, Laura!", his friend almost sounded as if he was begging for mercy, his voice slightly shaky. They had been out for dinner; it was their first anniversary. A new record, not to mention. Martín stayed home alone that night and got tipsy on his friend's most expensive wines. Andrés’ was dressed in the shiny olive-green suit that Martín adored so much on him and Laura was wearing an elegant maroon-red dress. Even if he didn't like her, the engineer had to admit that she was objectively, judged by a very, very gay man, the second most beautiful of Andre's wife's. "No, you don't. And you never did! You don't even listen to me anymore these days!", she spat, crossing her arms in front of his chest. "Of course I listen to you!", insisted Andrés, stepping closer to his wife, caressing her arms and shoulders gently. "Do you even love me anymore?", she asked, quieter now. She still looked furious, but now she was playing the pity-card and hiding behind a beautiful looking pout. "Yes, Laura. Of course, I love you, mi amor.", answered Andrés and took her small hands in his. If Martín could leave without attracting any attention, he would, but since he couldn't he just shrunk deeper into the seat, wishing he could just disappear. He felt like sobbing, but this too could attract unwanted attention, so he didn't. "And you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with me?", she poked further. Martín knew exactly where this was going, and he didn't like it and he knew his best friend wasn't going to like it either. Andrés’ nodded, like the little lovesick puppy he was. "Then let me move in with you and finally throw that engineer out.", she requested, pulling herself out of her husband's touch. "You can't be serious.", he whispered. "Of course I am! He's a grown man, he'll survive without you! I am your wife, for fucks sake!", she got louder again. Andrés and Martín both knew that he really wouldn't survive. "I'm not throwing my best friend out!", stated his friend, shaking his head in disbelief. For a while, the two of them were silent, they just stared at each other. "Is he? Is he your best friend or is he more by now?", she then spat, not breaking eye-contact. "What are you talking about? He's my best friend, I've known him for years.", answered Andrés, calmly. Laura merely scoffed and rolled her eyes. "What am I doing wrong?", he questioned and crossed his arms in front of his chest, defensively. "Don't make me compete with Martín Berrote.", his wife requested. A small smile appeared on Andrés’ lips, but the engineer could tell he was furious on the inside. The way his jaw, his fists and his shoulders tensed up were clear proof of it. "I'm not making you compete with him. Simply, because you cannot and never will be able to compete with him.", he dragged out the words slowly, taunting her. "Get out.", he then added calmly. "Andrés’-", Laura stammered as she realized her plan had completely backfired. "Get. Out.", he now said, a lot harsher. Tears started streaming down his wife's face as she stumbled out the door, yelling insults at her soon to be ex-husband. An exhausted sigh escaped his friend's lips as he shut the door and spun around, making direct eye-contact with Martín. For a while, the two of them just stared at each other, tears slowly but surely filling Andrés’ eyes. But he just put on a small casual smile and shrugged.
The two of them got ridiculously drunk that night and ended up falling asleep on the kitchen floor, leaning against each other.
"That's a nice name. You can talk to her now.", continued Andrés. "Wives are meant for moments like this. They are comforting.", he continued, looking down tauntingly at Arturo. Martín didn't want to hear this, he tried to blend it out, but it had no use when he was so addicted to the sound of Andrés’ voice. "No one remembers their wife when they are out drinking, but when you have a problem, an accident, or are just afraid of something things change." It made Martín think. We're Andrés’ wifes just comfort? Was he afraid of something? "Or are you thinking of your secretary?", teased Berlin with a wide grin and set the phone down next to Arturo's head. "You are?", chuckled Andrés, raising his eyebrows. "No, who has time to think about lovers, ", he said, glaring up at Martín. It was one of those rare moments when the engineer had simply no idea what was going on in the other one's head. Normally he could read him and his actions, but his eyes were full of an emotion Martín had never seen in Andrés’ eyes like that before. For just a second Martín thought it might have been regret, but he quickly discarded that idea. It couldn't be, could it? Martín felt vulnerable under Andrés’ gaze in a way he didn't like, so he fidgeted with his jumpsuit and looked away, breaking the intimate eye-contact. Berlin wanted to continue speaking but Arturito cut in rudely "Save me the speech.", he hissed. ‘Idiot’ thought Martín. Without a second of hesitation, the thief pulled his gun on the poor man and pressed it into his wound. "If you say anything stupid, I'll shoot you for your wife to hear.", explained Andrés. "Got it?!", he hissed, digging the gun deeper. Arturo didn't answer because he couldn't. He was wincing and groaning in pain. With slight disgust, Berlin then wiped off his gun on his jumpsuit and put it back in his holster. The coughs coming from the wounded one sounded painful, but Martín couldn't bring himself to care. He was still going over what the words his friend had said in his head and tried to decipher what it all was supposed to mean. Andrés took the phone and turned it on to call the wife of the bank director, Laura, before handing it to Arturo.
"Hello, Darling.", he mumbled into the speaker. "Arturo, how are you, Darling?", said a feminine voice from the other side of the line. "Good. I'm okay. It was a clean shot. I think.", he answered, making Martín chuckle. A bullet in his shoulder, but good. "They're letting some surgeons in", explained Arturo. "I know.", answered his wife. "I've been thinking about you, and everything we've done wrong.", she continued, her voice breaking now and then. "Don't think about that, Darling.", insisted her husband. "Not now. Besides, it's my own fault. I know we're not okay, and we haven't been for a while. I've been distant from you and the kids, and I've been selfish. But I promise all that will change. I promise. You've been saying for ten years how much you want to see your sister in Australia and maybe the kids can learn some English and see the kangaroos. It's the first thing we'll do when I get out. I owe you that much. I'll do it for you because I love you. And all the wasted years chasing, thinking the only important thing was money and status when the only thing that matters is you. It's always been you, from the day I met you.", he reassured her, smiling slightly while Berlin was leaning over him, listening, watching. "I swear there are times that I try remembering that day. And I wonder what the hell you saw in me, Monica." While Arturo's smile slowly faded as he realized, Andrés’ face lit up in joy, surprise, and spitefulness. Shocked he turned to look at Palermo. Martín wasn't fond of cheating, he was way too loyal, but the way Andrés looked at him, like a little child that had just unwrapped a new toy, made him break out in a grin as well. "Laura.", added Arturo quickly, in a failed attempt to save everything he had just broken. Andrés pulled away, throwing his head back in a silent laugh. For a while, it was silent on the other side of the line. "Just think about getting out of there, just think about that. Te quiero. Te quiero, mi amor.", said Laura quietly, her voice sounding strained over the phone.
Andrés took the phone, hung up and turned it off, chuckling lightly. "The balls on you, Arturo.", he taunted, almost prideful. "Your secretary, with a child on the way.", He handed the phone to Rio. "Laura, waiting for you with the kids. And you, surrounded by cash. You're a legend." He chuckled. He probably would have teased him further if it weren't for Nairobi walking in. "Berlin, Palermo. The doctors are outside." Andrés merely grinned down at Arturo and excused himself before following Nairobi. "Everyone knows what they have to do?", he asked her. "They do. Of course, they do.", she answered. "Are you ready?", she asked loudly, so the hostages around her could all hear her. They all either said yes or nodded in agreement. "They're ready.", she stated calmly. "Berlin. I don't know what I have to do.", stated Martín quietly, making sure only Andrés could hear him properly. "Right. Just follow my lead, seem confident even though you aren't.", answered his friend. For that answer alone, Martín would love to knock Andrés out. "Mercedes, are you ready?", he had stopped next to some woman. She nodded. "Yes, sir." - "I want her out of here.", ordered the Leader of the heist, vaguely pointing at Alison Parker, the little Lamb. "Rio, take her to an office", he added. Rio obeyed, as he always does. "Nairobi.", he requested. "Let's put our masks on and follow me. Rock 'n' Roll!", she ordered and left with the hostages, also pulling her own Dali mask into her face.
Martín was surprised when Andrés rather than following her walked into the opposite direction and up the stairs. Quickly, he followed and looked up at his smirking friend. "He called his wife Monica.", he chuckled like an immature child hearing a penis joke. "He did.", agreed Palermo, a bit confused why he brought it up again. "That's why marriages never work.", elaborated Berlin, making his shorter friend scoff. "What about Tatiana, aren't you married anymore?", questioned Martín. It wouldn't surprise him if they weren't anymore since the average Andrés de Fonollosa relation-ship span was 7 months and 3 days. He had calculated it after Andrés’ fourth wife, Annabelle. However, Martín somehow had wished for Tatiana to stay longer. He liked that genius redhead. "I divorced her.", stated Berlin, shrugging. "When was that?", asked Palermo, curious as he had always been. For a while, he didn't get an answer and they had almost reached their goal location, the meeting room, when Martín wanted to repeat his question. He didn't have to though. "I divorced her the night we parted.", revealed Andrés and entered the room. Of course, Martín now had even more questions.
'Why did you leave her?' - 'Did you tell her?' - 'Did you leave her because of what happened?' - 'Does she know?' - 'Did you leave her because of me?' - 'Did she blame me?' - 'Did you blame me?'
But Berlin was smart. A smart bastard. So he entered just as he dropped that information, knowing Palermo wouldn't poke any further for now because Tokyo and Helsinki were present too and even though he did have questions, he didn't feel like unfolding their dramatic past with each other in front of their colleagues. Just as they entered the room the red phone rang. Andrés stepped to the telephone and took the call. Martín couldn't make out much of what Sergio was saying, but Andrés answers were clear. "Which one?" - "I do. We're on it." and "I know." Berlin hung up and turned to the other three. "Gentlemen, the man with the glasses is with the police.", he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. The other two started smiling too, which deeply confused Martín. That sounded like a bad thing. However, he assumed it was just part of Sergio's plan. He wasn't on the best terms with him, but Martín had to admit that he was simply a genius. "We're planting a Trojan Horse.", revealed Andrés, chuckling at his friend's puzzled expression. Martín just nodded. "Let's go.", said Tokyo and pulled her mask into her face. When the other two joined her, Martín did too. The four of them walked downstairs and into the main room.
The two surgeons and the undercover officer were kneeling on the floor, their hands on their heads. "All metal objects in this bin.", ordered Andrés. As Tokyo walked past them with a white container, he added "Glasses, watches, if you have weapons or anything that gives off a signal, I urge you to place it in here. We're tracing every signal." Martín for a second wondered who the technical brain behind all of this was, before realizing it must be Rio. What else would they need a small kid with noodle-arms for? The three men on the floor did as they were told. "Take off your shoes too, por favor.", ordered Andrés and watched Tokyo and Helsinki leave with their belongings. Martín assumed they'd now either plant a microphone or a camera or both in one of the officer's items. "No, lie down. On the floor.", ordered Berlin and Martín could basically sense him smirking behind his mask as they obeyed. "That's it. Like roaches.", chuckled Palermo as Rio ran some kind of tracking device over them. As he did, Andrés checked if Tokyo and Helsinki were ready and because they were, he asked the three of them to get on their feet again. "Put your shoes on.", ordered Martín, playing along with Andrés’ lead as ordered. Tokyo came back and handed the officer his now tampered with glasses back. "You'll need those.", she said.
"Okay. Welcome. Take your things and come with me.", explained Berlin. "Gracias.", said the grey-haired cop. Martín hoped everything worked out, that Sergio could hear them. Andrés led the surgeons to Arturo.
Everything is going to plan.