Chapter Text
Palawan, after both heists
Sergio stacked his paperwork neatly and rubbed his eyes, looking over to where Raquel stood in their kitchen. She was laying ingredients on the counter, frowning at them as she worked her way through another dish she missed from home. A bottle of wine stood open beside her, the warm night breeze teased the loose hair around her face.
Sometimes, he had to pinch himself, to believe this was his life now.
It didn't seem that long since the Mint heist ended and he’d first made the trek to the remote cottage in Palawan, lost in a mental fog of grief and tuna.
The thought that had nagged the whole way, kept him awake night after night was that impossible tiny flicker of hope. Although he'd betrayed Raquel, and left her behind in Madrid, she might one day wake up and decide to come find him. He couldn't remember exactly when the idea started to grow that he needed to find a proper place to live, just in case she did…
***
Palawan, Four years earlier
Sergio wandered past run-down workshops and open-faced garages to the real estate agent on the outskirts of Puerto Princesa.
Now he was looking up at the fancy two-story building, he suddenly became self-conscious about his long hair and how much he had sweated in the humid morning air. After spending hours, days, browsing houses online he was strangely reluctant to push through the glass doors and speak his hopes out loud in case it shattered the fragile possibility....
“Good morning. I’m interested to please buy one of your houses.” Sergio stood in the air-conditioned reception, speaking stilted English and Filipino, voice croaking from lack of use. “A house by the beach.”
The receptionist took in his backpack and unkempt appearance, then turned away to whisper frantically into her headset. At least he was sure he looked nothing like el Profesor the authorities were hunting all over the world.
“Good morning, can I help you, Mr– ?”
A young man with razor-sharp cheekbones had strolled into reception, and after a long pause while they took each other in, Sergio introduced himself and followed the agent to a back office. He'd kept his alias as Martín -- it was one of the most common family names in the whole world, and a little part of him hoped that if she found him as Salva again, it might ease the sting from his original deception.
The agent was smooth and polished as the surface of his desk, on which lay a blank notepad and fancy ink pen. He rattled out a series of rote questions , not even waiting for a response, before turning his monitor to face Sergio and scrolling through bedsits and one room apartments behind shops.
In a low, soothing voice, one equipped for hopeless cases or weirdos, the agent explained how their agency could help him navigate the system and rules to purchase his first property as a non-Filipino.
“There are plenty of fixer-upper apartments for a bachelor, especially around this affordable side of town.”
“I was thinking more about a family home,” Sergio said.
“Well, houses can be very expensive Mr Martín, and don’t often come up in the lower range.”
“One that faces the beach." Sergio hesitated, before adding, "My, um, girlfriend likes the beach.”
“I’m sure she does, Mr Martín,” the agent said, relief flashing across his face at the mention of a girlfriend. “Will she be joining us today?”
“Uh, not today. She’s away.” Sergio thought for a moment. “On business.”
“And what is the price range you two are looking at?”
Sergio hesitated. He hadn’t even glanced at the prices in Pesos, let alone mentally converted them.
“Uh, my budget is… a lot.”
“It would help to have some guidance,” the agent replied, picking up his pen, starting to click it repeatedly.
“Well, if the house is right for me and my, um, girlfriend, I guess money’s not an issue.” Without any idea of the costs, Sergio took a wild stab. “Uh… would 50 million pesos be alright?”
The agent’s eyelid twitched and he agressively clicked his pen, as he glanced at Sergio’s straggly beard and back up.
“Before we proceed any further Mr Martín, you will need to provide some kind of evidence about your financial situation. Do you already have an approved loan?”
“Oh, there’s no loan,” Sergio replied.
The agent’s expression turned cold and he reached out and tapped the keyboard. “And when will your girlfriend be back so we can book a meeting together?”
“She, uh, might be a while. It’s an open-ended trip.”
“If you say so,” the agent said. "Maybe we should put the househunting on hold until she's actually in the picture."
Hang on, she’s in the picture, Sergio wanted to insist, musing. There were just, complications. A lot of them. Distantly, he became aware of the agent straining his neck to look back and forth behind Sergio, like he was expecting someone.
Sergio opened his backpack and pulled out his bank's statement of account and placed it on the shiny desk in front of him. “In any case, I trust this is enough to cover the cost of one of your houses?” He slid the paper forward. “I can pay a significant deposit today if that helps, and transfer the full amount on settlement.”
The agent’s eyes bulged as he looked down at the paper, fully digesting the amount of zeros he was seeing. There was a long silence as the agent swallowed, pushed himself back from the desk and slowly looked up Sergio’s body, starting from his scuffed boots.
Suddenly the receptionist burst through the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s an urgent–”
“Not anymore, Rebecca,” the agent said, waving her away, his cheeks flushed. “Uh, yes, I think we can help you with that, Mr Martín.” The agent’s fingers flew over the keyboard and square after little square of turquoise ocean views popped onto his screen.
“There are some wonderful luxury estates on the north side or undeveloped parcels of land in the south. What kind of area or vibe do you think your… lady friend would like?”
Sergio mentally shuffled through his few precious memories of Raquel's modest townhouse in Madrid, a place he had felt so immediately comfortable he had found himself starting to confess the truth about the heist. For the first time, it hit him, hard, the enormity of what the future might hold if she did move her family, her whole life across the world and he suddenly felt a little light-headed and like giggling.
“Something with a water front, not new… kind of lived-in,” he managed. “Um, lots of light. Needs to be a single level for her elderly mother, and uh, the beach needs to be child-friendly for her daughter.”
“Of course, then something on the west side would be best.” The agent had started writing on the blank pad furiously, filling it with notes. “And how old is the daughter?”
“About eight?” Sergio held a hand out at desk height.
The agent looked at him, his eyelid twitching, as Sergio slowly raised his hand higher, stopping about a foot above the desk.
“Well, she sounds like a wonderful girl, Mr Martín,” the agent said brightly, recovering. “So… you're looking for at least four bedrooms?”
“Five,” Sergio said frowning. “Something like this.” He held up the listing on his phone he had kept returning to, that had guided him here. "There's a little cottage I can sleep in, in case she doesn’t want me around.”
The agent’s pen hesitated. “I’m sure there’s no reason she wouldn’t, Mr Martín," he said, soothing. "What day shall we book an inspection?”
“How about right now?” Sergio asked. “I’m free all morning, are you?”
“This morning—?” The agent’s eyelid twitched again. “You don't want to change?"
"Why would I want to change?" Sergio asked, struck by the phrasing. He was the same person Raquel had fallen for, despite her professional role and his fake identity. She would find that out if she cared enough to come.
"I meant your clothes... you know what? Never mind.” The agent smiled broadly but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Let’s go find a dream house for you and your girlfriend. And on the way, I can show you some other options more in your price range.”
Before Sergio hopped in the young man's sportscar, the agent handed him some wipes and he vaguely wiped at his hands and then they both gritted their teeth - the agent driving with the windows down and Sergio looking out at the coast. It took forever to tour some ludicrously lavish properties, while Sergio tried to stay polite, even though each one felt less appropriate than the one before.
One place was all new steel and soulless, another had too many stairs to be safe for Mariví or Paula.
The moment they reached the house Sergio had bookmarked, he knew it was the one. The agent stalked ahead, flicking on overhead fans and lights as he rattled off information in a bored voice. "A large family..." "...relocated to Manila.." "..lots of potential if you knock it down and build something better...".
Sergio barely listened, trailing behind, drawn instantly to the house’s quiet charm. It felt light, welcoming, and warm — just right exactly as it was.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
“You don’t want to wait until your…uh, lady friend inspects it first?” the agent asked, his tone suspicious. “Women can be very fussy.”
“I’m sure this is the one. And she’s not fussy,” Sergio replied firmly, though he couldn’t admit he was certain how fussy she was. “Let’s head back and finalise the contract.”
Over the next few days, Sergio wavered constantly — clarifying every tiny sub-clause, then panicking and talking himself out of cancelling the whole thing.
What if she never checked the postcards? Or worse, what if had but decided not to come?
What if had just been an off-hand comment after a one night stand and she never had any intention of moving her life? After everything he'd done to deceive her, what was the chance she'd laugh in his face if he said he loved her and would do anything if she'd stay?
Or, even more likely, what if she turned up at the coordinates at the head of a contingent of CNI, Interpol and Phillipines Armed Forces?
His doubts churned endlessly, yet still he'd gone ahead and bought an entire house, like a presumptuous fool.
As the settlement approached, Sergio could feel the agent's patience fraying and every week, it became more obvious that the agent doubted the existence of Sergio’s “girlfriend,” and her indefinitely long business trip.
Once it was all over, Sergio moved in with his meagre belongings, to find the agent's welcome gift wrapped in cellophane on the kitchen counter. From the beachfront steps of his new house, he drank the mini-champagne right from the bottle, and ate the small box of chocolates, watching the bursts of sunset paint the sky over the sea.
Sergio hadn't known the half of it when he'd declared his life was fucked after falling for her. Whatever he’d imagined life after the heist might be like, it hadn’t been this.
The unfurnished house felt too big, his footsteps echoing up into the high ceilings, the days stretching endlessly.
He stuck to the master bedroom and kitchen , tinkering half-heartedly with Bank of Spain plans. Every other day, he would walk to the local bar near the coordinates with a book, always keeping his hope on a tight leash. Then he would wander slowly back to the house again, the ache of waiting settling heavier with each trip.
Until the day Raquel appeared across the bar, like a vision.
"What should we drink?" she'd asked casually, sliding onto the seat next to him with a shy smile and he couldn't speak, he just kept shaking his head, waiting for his heart to stop racing as she ordered them a couple of beers.
Then life sped up to keep time with his heart, and he could barely recall the rest of their hasty reunion. How she'd quickly followed him home, declared the house wonderful and then they had a lot of sex. Immediately moving her mother and daughter in and they started filling the empty shell with so much stuff. Mountains of laundry, mysterious female items, abandoned artwork and craft projects, computer games and more laughter and love than he ever expected. It became a haven of chaos, where they cuddled and argued their way through planning the next heist and healed together afterwards.
Not long after Raquel first arrived, as luck would have it, Sergio saw the agent again.
They'd stopped at a crossing on North Road; Sergio was driving his sputtering Yamaha on the way to pick up a car for the family. Raquel rode behind him on the motorbike, her arms wrapped around him, wearing a tight tshirt and her nose ring glinted in the mid-day sun.
The agent stepped out into the manicured forecourt of his building and glanced up from his phone, freezing mid-step, gaping in shock. Sergio twisted back as Raquel leaned forwards to kiss him, her smile a hundred watts. Neither of them could stop smiling at each other that first month.
Sergio couldn’t resist winking over her shoulder at the agent. See? he thought smugly. Not only real, she’s gorgeous — and she’s chosen to stay here with me forever...
***
Even as present-day Raquel looked up and gave him a dirty look, which meant he’d inadvertantly fucked something up royally, Sergio felt unbothered.
He hadn't expected any of this, but it turned out love had overwhelmed both of them equally. And after spending an entire year thinking he'd lost her after the Mint, let alone what happened in the woods, nothing phased him other than making sure she felt secure and cherished in their life here together, as much as her presence did for him.