Chapter Text
The ditch wasn’t deep enough to feel safe and just deep enough to feel stupid.
Celina lay flat against packed sand that still held the day’s heat. It pressed through her uniform, through her ribs. The beach had gone dark but it hadn’t cooled. The ocean was somewhere off to her right, low and steady, but it didn’t help. The air tasted metallic. Dry. Every breath scraped.
She adjusted the angle of her body a half inch and felt grit slide down the back of her collar.
Great.
A beetle crawled over her wrist. She flicked it away without lifting her elbow. Another tickle near her ear. Something winged and determined.
Her radio crackled softly in her ear. The sound felt louder than it was.
Ahead of her, the line of vans sat scattered along the stretch of sand like they’d just rolled in and decided to stay. Faded paint. Surfboards strapped to roofs. Tapestries pinned in open doors. String lights glowing warm against the dark. One of them, third from the end, rust-colored, back doors facing the water, held Lucy and Nyla.
Undercover. Posing as a couple chasing sunsets and waves. Trying to look young. Naive. Easy to move.
That’s where the real risk was.
Behind her, closer to the access road, an unmarked trailer sat dark and quiet. Windows blacked out. Engine off. That’s where the command post was. Laptops. Feeds. Comms. Sgt. Grey coordinating with FBI support.
With air conditioning. No bugs. Arguably comfortable and spacious.
And that’s exactly where she wasn’t.
She shifted her weight again, careful not to disturb the sand around her boots.
“Juarez, status?” Sgt. Grey’s voice came through first. Calm. Controlled.
She pressed the mic at her shoulder.
“Visual’s steady,” she said. Even. Controlled. “No movement near the target van. Lucy and Harper are still dark.”
Her throat stuck slightly on the last word. She swallowed.
Water was in the cruiser. Twenty yards might as well have been two miles.
Silence settled again. The kind that made small sounds feel enormous. A generator humming somewhere down the beach. Laughter from a group near a bonfire. Wind dragging over canvas and loose tarp. Something skittering in the sand near her boot.
A new voice cut in. Clearer. Smoother.
“Copy that.”
Elena.
Celina knew her voice from conference rooms, over shared task force calls. She seemed nice, though, they hadn’t really talked outside operation context.
“Facial recognition sweep’s clean,” Elena continued. “No flagged cartel affiliates within fifty yards of their position. You’re clear for now.”
Celina let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“Copy,” she answered.
A mosquito whined near her cheek. She resisted the urge to swat.
Another beat passed.
Then, softer, not strictly necessary:
“You good out there?”
Celina almost said yes immediately. The reflex sat right at the front of her tongue.
She paused half a second instead.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just bonding with local wildlife.”
A small exhale came through the comm. A laugh.
It was quick, like Elena hadn’t meant to let it out.
Celina felt her mouth tilt before she could stop it.
“Noted,” Elena said. “If the beetles start organizing, I’ll flag it as coordinated activity.”
Celina shifted her weight again, ignoring the sting along her forearm.
“Appreciate it.”
The beach stretched out in front of her, restless but pretending not to be. Vans idling low. Music drifting in and out with the wind. The target moving somewhere between vehicles, recruiting, watching for the right kind of desperate.
She wiped sweat from her eyebrow with the back of her glove.
“Anything on their phones?” she asked quietly. “Lucy or Harper get tagged?”
There was a rustle on the other end. Keys. Screens adjusting.
“Negative,” Elena said. “Both devices still ghosted. No pings from known distributors in their vicinity. You’re positioned well.”
Positioned well.
Celina hadn’t realized she’d been bracing for critique.
She shifted slightly, settling deeper into the shallow groove she’d carved into the sand. The heat no longer felt like an enemy. Just something she had to tolerate.
“Copy that,” she said.
The wind picked up, lifting a fine layer of sand that shimmered briefly in the glow of distant string lights. It coated her tongue. Her lips felt cracked.
She adjusted her scope, scanning the van Lucy and Nyla occupied. The back doors were closed now. A lantern glowed faint inside. Still.
Quiet.
Then Elena again, voice lower, like she’d leaned closer to her mic.
“If you need rotation, say it. No one’s trying to prove anything tonight.”
Celina blinked.
“I’m good,” she said, automatic, then caught herself. “But thanks.”
Another beat of silence.
“Copy that.”
There it was again.
Celina’s shoulder muscles loosened a fraction. She kept her eye on the line of vans, breathing slow, listening to the muted rush of the ocean and the even cadence of updates moving across the channel.
The bugs kept crawling. The sand kept itching. Her throat stayed dry.
A van door slammed somewhere down the beach. Music shifted. Laughter rolled out and dissolved into the wind.
Celina adjusted her scope again, sweeping slow across the line of vehicles. Lucy’s van stayed dark except for the low lantern glow inside. A silhouette shifted once, then stilled.
“Movement near the blue Sprinter, two vehicles north of them,” she murmured.
“I see it,” Elena replied. “Male, mid-thirties. No priors. Probably just here for the vibes.”
Celina huffed softly through her nose.
“The vibes,” she repeated.
A beat.
“Don’t knock it,” Elena said. “Van life is very committed.”
“Yeah? You picturing yourself out here? String lights, solar panels?”
“I like air conditioning,” Elena said flatly.
Celina bit back a laugh. It came out anyway, quick and sharper than she meant it to.
She immediately pressed her lips together and glanced toward the vans.
“Sorry,” she muttered under her breath.
“Sound discipline, Juarez,” Sgt. Grey cut in.
There was no edge to it. Just a reminder.
Celina swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
A small pause.
Elena, lower now: “My bad.”
Celina had to press her wrist against her mouth to stop herself from laughing again.
“Focus,” Grey added.
“Yes, sir,” they said almost at the same time.
Another silence. Heavier this time. Professional.
Celina scanned again, forcing her breathing to even out.
“Lucy’s good,” she said quietly. “No one approaching.”
“Copy,” Elena answered.
A few beats passed before Elena spoke again, voice careful, like she was stepping back into a conversation they weren’t technically supposed to be having.
“So,” she said, keeping it light. “Are they actually a couple, or is this strictly method acting?”
Celina’s eyes stayed on the van.
“For the op?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
Celina shifted slightly in the sand. A strand of hair had come loose at her temple; she couldn’t fix it without moving too much.
“I’m pretty sure Lucy’s bi,” she said. “She’s dating Tim right now. Has been for a while.”
“Bradford?” Elena asked.
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
Celina could hear the faint click of keys in the background, like Elena was still working while talking.
“And Harper?” Elena asked.
Celina watched as Nyla’s silhouette crossed briefly in front of the van’s rear window.
“She married to a guy. But honestly?” Celina said. “She gives me pan vibes.”
“Pan vibes,” Elena repeated.
“You know,” Celina said quietly. “Just... open. Energy-wise.”
“That is not a real metric.”
“It is to me.”
There was a small pause.
“I’ll add it to the behavioral profile,” Elena said dryly.
Celina let out another quick breath of laughter, shoulders shaking this time. She flattened herself more firmly into the sand, trying to muffle it.
“Juarez,” Grey warned.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Monitoring,” he reminded them.
“Yes, sir.”
Silence again.
Then, softer, Elena said, “For what it’s worth, Lucy’s convincing.”
“In the van?”
“In the briefing photos. Body language reads authentic.”
Celina considered that.
“Lucy commits,” she said. “She’s good at reading what people expect to see.”
Another beat.
“And you?” Elena asked.
The question slipped out so easily it almost didn’t register.
“Me what?”
“Could you pull it off?”
Celina’s stomach tightened unexpectedly.
“Undercover?” she said.
“As a couple.”
There was no teasing in it. Just curiosity.
Celina kept her scope steady. A couple walked past Lucy’s van, barefoot, carrying beers. Didn’t slow down.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “Depends who I’m paired with.”
It was meant to be flippant. It didn’t land that way.
Elena didn’t answer right away.
The ocean rolled in and out.
Then, evenly: “Fair.”
Another pause.
“You?” Celina asked before she could talk herself out of it. “You ever do that kind of field stuff?”
“Undercover?” Elena said. “No. I’m the boring one in the van with the screens.”
“Not what I meant.”
A soft exhale came through the comm.
“I’m a lesbian,” Elena said simply. “So I guess it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.”
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a reveal. Just information.
Celina’s eye slipped off the scope for half a second before she corrected it.
“Oh,” she said.
Not startled. Not judgmental.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Elena echoed.
“Good to know,” Celina added, immediately aware that it sounded like she was saving that knowledge for later.
Elena let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
“Glad we cleared that up.”
A flicker of movement near Lucy’s van pulled Celina’s focus back sharp.
“Hold,” she said, voice steady again. “Male approaching from the south side. Late twenties. Backpack.”
“I see him,” Elena replied instantly, tone back to task. “Flagging him. No record yet.”
Celina tracked him as he slowed near the rust-colored van.
Her pulse ticked up again. Professional. Alert.
But under it, something else sat now. A small, unsettled awareness she didn’t have a name for yet.
She shifted slightly in the sand, eyes fixed forward.
“Copy that,” she said.
The guy with the backpack lingered for a few minutes. Talked to someone two vans down. Never veered toward Lucy and Nyla. Eventually drifted off toward the water.
After that, nothing.
The beach settled into that late-night lull where even the music thinned out. A couple of engines turned over and went quiet again. String lights dimmed one by one. The ocean kept moving, steady and indifferent.
Celina’s shoulder had gone numb under her body. Her hip ached where it pressed into packed sand. Something had been biting the back of her calf for the last ten minutes and she couldn’t reach it without shifting.
“Lucy and Harper still dark,” she murmured.
“Copy,” Elena replied.
Another ten minutes.
Then twenty.
An hour with no movement.
Finally, Sgt. Grey’s voice came through, clipped but not tense.
“That’s it. No activity for the past hour. We’re standing down for the night. Juarez, pull back. FBI will maintain remote monitoring. Harper and Chen stay in place until morning.”
Relief hit so fast Celina almost laughed.
“Copy that,” she said, meaning it.
“Get some rest,” Grey added. “We roll again at 0600.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line went quiet except for the low hum of FBI chatter shifting into background mode.
Celina stayed still for one more beat, just to be sure. Then she rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky.
Stars. So many it barely felt real.
Everything hurt.
She pushed herself up slowly and immediately felt pins and needles shoot down her leg.
“Okay,” she muttered under her breath. “That’s new.”
She brushed sand off her sleeves, off her chest, off her hair. It didn’t make a difference. It was everywhere. Her collar was damp with sweat. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed chalk.
She climbed out of the ditch, boots sliding slightly in loose sand, and made her way toward the trailer parked near the access road.
The closer she got, the more she could feel how bad she smelled. How sticky her skin felt. Her stomach cramped hard enough to make her pause.
Food. Water. Immediately.
The rear hatch was open now. Screens dimmed. Equipment half-packed.
Elena was standing just outside it.
She looked up the second Celina approached.
There was a beat where neither of them said anything. Celina was suddenly aware of how she looked, hair flattened, sand stuck to her neck, a streak of dirt across her jaw.
Elena didn’t comment.
Instead, she reached into the back of the SUV and held out a towel and a cold bottle of water.
“You look like you wrestled the beach,” she said evenly.
Celina didn’t even try to argue. She took the bottle first, twisting the cap off before she’d fully thanked her. The first swallow hurt going down. She didn’t care. She drank half of it in one go.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
Elena’s mouth tilted slightly.
Celina pressed the cold bottle against the back of her neck and closed her eyes for a second.
“I think something bit me in twelve different places,” she said. “And I’m ninety percent sand at this point.”
“Twelve is conservative.”
Celina huffed out a tired laugh and used the towel to wipe at her face. It came away streaked with dirt.
“Where’s Grey?” she asked.
“Already checked into the motel,” Elena said. “He left about ten minutes ago.”
Of course he did.
Celina leaned back lightly against the side of the SUV, still drinking water, still trying to feel like her body belonged to her again.
“You did good out there,” Elena added.
Celina shrugged one shoulder.
“I laid in a hole.”
“You laid in a hole so Harper and Chen didn’t have to.”
She looked at Elena properly now. Just standing there under a dim overhead light, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back from her face.
“Thanks,” Celina said.
Elena nodded once, like that was the end of that.
Then, casually:
“I was going to grab tacos before heading back. You want to?”
Celina didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” she said immediately. “I am starving.”
The word came out almost desperate.
Elena’s expression softened just a fraction.
“Good,” she said. “There’s a place off the highway still open.”
Celina tossed the empty bottle back into the SUV’s cargo area and wiped her hands on the towel again, still brushing sand off instinctively.
“Lead the way,” she said.
Her body still hurt. She was still sticky. Still exhausted.
But the idea of food and fluorescent lighting and sitting somewhere that wasn’t a ditch felt almost unreal.
She followed Elena toward the second vehicle parked a little farther down the access road, boots crunching over gravel.
Behind them, the beach went quiet. The vans dimmed. The ocean kept moving.
The taco place was wedged between a closed bait shop and a liquor store that still had its neon beer sign flickering in the window.
Fluorescent lights. Plastic chairs. Two guys in work boots at a corner table finishing late plates. The smell of grease and cilantro hanging thick in the air.
Celina didn’t care if it had a Michelin star or a health violation.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside like she’d been rescued.
Elena held it for her without comment.
They ordered at the counter. Celina added an extra taco at the last second, then a side of rice, then hesitated and added a bottled soda too.
Elena didn’t tease her.
“You’re not sharing,” Celina said automatically, digging for her wallet.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Elena replied.
They carried their trays to a table near the window. The plastic seat stuck slightly to the back of Celina’s legs when she sat down.
The first bite almost made her close her eyes.
“Okay,” she said through a mouthful, swallowing fast. “That’s unreal.”
Elena smiled across from her.
“Told you.”
Celina took another bite. Then another. Hunger sharpened everything. The room felt warmer now. Safer. Her shoulders dropped without her realizing it.
For a minute, they just ate.
The silence wasn’t awkward. It felt earned.
“You always this dramatic about tacos?” Elena asked eventually.
Celina wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“I just spent the past four hours as a sand buffet. I get to be dramatic.”
“Fair.”
Elena took a slower bite of her own food. She didn’t look tired. Just steady.
Celina studied her briefly over the rim of her soda bottle.
“You don’t get tired of the screens?” she asked. “Being in the car instead of out there?”
Elena shrugged lightly.
“Sometimes. But someone has to see the whole board.”
“You like that.”
“I like knowing things,” Elena said. “I like patterns. I like when the pieces click.”
Celina nodded. That made sense.
“I’d go crazy,” she admitted. “Sitting still.”
“You did sit still.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Celina hesitated, trying to find the right wording.
“I was still,” she said finally. “But I was in it. I could feel it.”
Elena watched her a second longer than necessary.
“That tracks.”
Celina looked down at her plate again, suddenly aware of the way she’d said that.
Outside, a car drove past slowly. The neon sign flickered again.
“Lucy and Harper look solid,” Elena said, shifting the conversation back to safe territory.
“They are,” Celina said. “They both probably commit too hard to undercover stuff.”
“Convincing couple,” Elena said.
Celina smirked.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Celina leaned back slightly in her chair.
“You ever think about doing field work?” she asked.
Elena tilted her head.
“You’re not going to let that go.”
“Just curious.”
Elena considered it.
“I’ve done some,” she said. “But I’m better behind a keyboard.”
“Because you like control,” Celina said.
Elena’s eyes flicked up.
“Because I like leverage,” she corrected gently.
Celina smiled.
“That too.” Celina paused, tilted her head slightly. “You’re a Scorpio.”
Elena blinked.
“What?”
“Scorpio,” Celina repeated, like it was obvious.
Elena let out a short breath. “How did you get there?”
Celina leaned back in her chair, unbothered.
“You like leverage. You don’t overshare. You watch more than you talk. You keep things close until you decide they’re useful.”
Elena stared at her a second longer.
“…That’s not a horoscope,” she said.
Celina lifted one shoulder.
“Am I wrong?”
There was a pause.
Elena’s mouth curved despite herself.
“No.”
Celina nodded once, satisfied, and took another bite.
“How did you know that?” Elena asked.
Celina wiped her hands on a napkin.
She shrugged.
“I like leverage.”
Elena didn’t look away from her.
“That’s unsettling,” she said with a laugh.
Celina grinned, unapologetic. “You started it.”
Elena shook her head once, amused despite herself, and finished the last of her taco.
For a minute they just sat there, the table littered with crumpled napkins and empty bottles. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Somewhere behind the counter, someone dropped a metal pan.
Celina felt the exhaustion settling into her bones now that she’d eaten. The kind that made everything softer at the edges.
Elena watched her over the rim of her cup.
“You always end up in ditches?” she asked.
Celina snorted lightly. “Only the scenic ones.”
“I’m serious.”
Celina hesitated.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I like being close to it. Whatever it is. The action. The mess.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And what happens when the mess sticks,” Elena said. “When you take it home.”
Celina blinked.
“I shower,” she said automatically.
Elena didn’t smile this time.
“I mean when it doesn’t wash off.”
The question lingered there. Not clinical. Not detached.
Personal.
Celina shifted in her seat.
“I handle it,” she said. “Same as everyone.”
“That’s vague.”
Celina looked at her properly now.
“You asking as FBI cyber?” she said lightly. “Or as… what?”
Elena didn’t fill in the blank.
“Just asking,” she said.
Celina held her gaze a second longer than necessary.
“I talk to Lucy sometimes,” she said finally. “Angela too. Nolan. I’m not alone in it.”
Elena nodded once.
“That’s good.”
There was a quiet pause. Not heavy. Just close.
Elena’s fingers tapped once against the table, then stilled.
“You dating anyone?” she asked, tone even.
Celina didn’t catch the shift immediately.
“Yeah,” she said. “Rodge.”
“The musician.”
“Unfortunately.”
A flicker of a smile crossed Elena’s face.
“You happy?”
The question landed differently than the others.
Celina frowned slightly.
“Yeah,” she said, slower. “I mean. He’s good. He’s-” She searched for the word. “Easy.”
“Easy,” Elena repeated.
“Is that bad?”
“No,” Elena said. “Just specific.”
Celina leaned back, folding her arms loosely.
“What about you?” she asked. “Anyone I should know about?”
Elena’s eyes didn’t waver.
“No.”
“By choice?”
“By standards.”
Celina let out a quiet laugh.
“Harsh.”
“Accurate.”
They held each other’s gaze for half a beat too long.
Celina looked down first.
“Okay,” she said, pushing her tray forward. “I can’t feel my legs anymore. I think that ditch claimed permanent residence in my spine.”
Elena stood with her, collecting the trash automatically.
Outside, the air was cooler. Darker. The highway a low hum in the distance. The neon from the liquor store washed the pavement in red and blue.
They stepped out onto the sidewalk.
For a second, they just stood there, the night stretching quiet around them.
“You get home safe,” Elena said.
“You too.”
A small beat passed.
Elena didn’t step back.
Instead, she moved a little closer.
Not abrupt. Not dramatic. Just enough that Celina felt it.
Elena reached for her hand.
It was simple. Casual. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Her fingers slid into Celina’s.
Warm.
Celina’s brain stalled.
Elena stepped in that last inch, head tilting slightly, her other hand coming up just barely, brushing the inside of Celina’s wrist as she leaned forward.
Celina’s heart kicked hard against her ribs.
At the last second, she pulled back.
“Woah,” she said, breath catching. “What-”
Elena froze mid-movement.
Her hand dropped, but slowly.
“I-” Elena stopped herself.
Celina stared at her, wide-eyed, trying to recalibrate.
“What was that?” she asked, genuinely confused.
Elena studied her face for a long second.
“You didn’t know?” she said quietly.
“Know what?”
Another beat.
The neon light flickered behind them.
Elena stepped back half a step, reclaiming her space.
“I thought we were on the same page,” she said. Not sharp. Not accusing.
Celina shook her head slightly.
“I thought we were just getting tacos.”
Silence.
Elena nodded once.
“Right.”
She slid her hands into her jacket pockets.
“Okay.”
Celina’s stomach dropped, though she wasn’t sure why.
“I didn’t mean-” she started.
Elena gave her a small, controlled smile.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Goodnight, Celina.”
She turned and walked away.
Celina stayed where she was.
The liquor store’s neon sign buzzed overhead, washing the sidewalk in a dull red. A moth kept throwing itself at the glass, over and over.
She lifted her hand to her mouth without thinking.
Her lips still felt warm.
Her pulse hadn’t settled. It was loud in her ears, like she’d just sprinted instead of stood still.
She replayed it.
Elena’s fingers sliding into hers. Not tentative. Not rushed.
Just sure.
The way she’d stepped closer. The shift in her shoulders. The look on her face right before-
Celina had moved. Instinct. Fast.
But that wasn’t the part sticking.
The part that kept catching was the half-second before that.
The half-second where she didn’t.
She’d felt it coming.
She’d seen it.
And she hadn’t pulled away.
Not immediately.
She tried to trace the feeling backward. To find the point where it had gone wrong. Where she should have known what was happening.
They were just talking. Eating. Laughing.
Right?
Elena had asked if she was happy.
Elena had asked if she was dating anyone.
Elena had looked at her like she was waiting for something.
Celina exhaled slowly.
Her chest didn’t feel tight the way it did when she was embarrassed. Or when she’d messed up.
This wasn’t that.
It wasn’t disgust.
It wasn’t panic, exactly.
It was closer to-
She cut the thought off before it formed.
A car drove past, headlights sweeping briefly over her. She blinked, refocused.
Professional. That’s what this was supposed to be.
She dropped her hand from her mouth.
“Just tacos,” she muttered to herself.
But her stomach flipped again at the memory of Elena’s hand in hers.
Warm. Steady.
She swallowed.
The air felt cooler now.
She turned toward her car, walking slowly, boots scuffing lightly against the pavement.
She tried to picture it differently.
If it had been Rodge leaning in like that.
If it had been expected.
Would she have moved?
Her jaw tightened.
She unlocked her door and slid into the driver’s seat, shutting it harder than she meant to. The quiet inside the car felt heavier than the night outside.
Her reflection stared back at her faintly in the windshield.
Flushed. Wide-eyed.
She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
She almost didn’t move.
That was the part she couldn’t ignore.
She started the engine, letting it idle for a second before pulling out onto the road.
The neon faded in her rearview mirror.
Her pulse still hadn’t settled by the time she reached the highway.
And she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to.