Guerra

His day goes from bad to absolute shit in a matter of seconds.

"Lieutenant Carrillo, General Giménez wants to speak with you."

Those words ring through his head like a high pitched bell that's been rung too close to the ear and he responds only with a mute nod as he tries to figure out what in the hell he's done that has caught the attention of the General this time.

Whatever it is, he's not about to apologize for it. His new position carried a purpose, and that purpose was leadership. He couldn't lead men who were incompetent at what they were doing, not when civilians depended on them to protect and uphold order; if the cure to any incompetence was more drills and more training, then so be it.

He wouldn't accept anything other than the best. He wanted his men to be the best.

Sure, making Trujillo and a couple of his buddies do extra combat drills in the grueling heat and humidity that'd been plaguing Bogotá for the last week because they were doing a little too much goofing off was a bit of an asshole move, but it would make them better officers in the long run.

If his actions had pissed them off, then so be it; he wasn't afraid to step on some toes. Being in an authoritative position isn't synonymous with being a friend.

Besides, it wasn't like they'd have been any cooler inside; the air conditioning on base had been messed up for days.

Better to get the ass chewing over with now, he decides, getting up from his desk. The moment he moves, though, he remembers just how hot and miserable he is. The shirt he's wearing beneath his uniform practically sticks to him from sweat, his neck is killing him because he's spent most of the day doing paperwork, and if that wasn't bad enough, the office itself is even worse. The air is stale and smokey from too many cigarettes being lit at once by people who would rather just suffocate everyone around them than go out in the sun, and it smells so fucking bad that its making him regret eating lunch.

I just want to go home.

Lieutenant Carrillo takes his time as he makes his way to General Giménez's office. He's not in any hurry to get an earful from his boss, but at the same time he knows he can't avoid it, so when he steps up to the door, he doesn't hesitate to knock. Giménez's door is wide open just like it always is, but the air doesn't smell as bad here, much to Carrillo's relief.

What's even more relieving than that, though, is the way the General smiles upon looking up.

"Ah, Lieutenant," he greets cheerfully, "come on in, son! Come in!"

"You asked for me, sir," Carrillo replies, shutting the door behind him, just in case he is actually about to get his ass chewed and the General is only lulling him into a false sense of security.

"Yes. I have something I wanted to show you," Giménez replies, and Carrillo can't help but wonder why the man is in such a jovial mood as he empties out a large yellow envelope onto his desk. Pictures scatter across it, but in the midst of all of them, he thinks he spots a letter as well. General Giménez searches through the photographs -Carrillo doesn't bother to look too closely at them, because it's none of his business- for a moment until he finds the one he seems to be after.

"You remember my daughter, don't you?"

A familiar face with hazel eyes and a mischievous smile framed by long, dark brown hair flashes in his mind's eye, and suddenly it feels like he's been kicked in the chest.

Carrillo had been so busy with his career for the last couple of years that he hadn't thought of her nearly as much as he once had, but he most certainly remembered General Giménez's eldest child. Of course he remembered Elena, they'd been best friends when they were kids. He could never forget her, not when the pain of not having her around still stung, even though it had been… what, almost five years since he'd seen her last?

"Of course I remember her, sir," Carrillo replies, trying to keep his voice even and cool.

General Giménez smiles, eyes lit with a knowing glint.

"Good," Giménez chuckles, "I would hope so; you two were basically attached at the hip until her mother moved her and Junior to Miami."

There's a hint of bitterness in the General's words that Carrillo can relate to. He knows how upset Giménez had been to find out that not only was his wife leaving him, she was taking their children, too. If there was anyone who may have missed Elena more than Carrillo had, it was Antonio Giménez, and even that was debatable. Carrillo had spent more than a few nights lying wide awake, wondering how she was doing, wondering if she'd missed him as much as he did her.

"You know, I hadn't heard from her since she left for Maimi?" That doesn't surprise Carrillo. He hadn't heard from her, either.

"But then," Giménez continues, "I got a letter in the mail one day. At first I couldn't believe it, but once I saw her handwriting, I knew it was from her."

There's a beat of silence, and in that moment, as Giménez glances down at the photos on the desk, it becomes very apparent how much the man has missed his family.

"She doesn't write very often; she stays pretty busy with school," he says quietly, voice laced with damn near obvious regret. "But when she does… Ah, well. You probably don't want to hear about my feelings, do you?"

Actually, Carrillo thinks to himself when General Giménez chuckles slightly in an attempt to seem as excited as he initially had, it's nice to know there's someone else who understands how I've felt without her here.

"Anyway, Horacio," Giménez says softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. In the General's outstretched hand is the one photograph he'd picked from the pile.

"I figured you might appreciate her life update as much as I did," he says as Carrillo takes it from him. Giménez says something else, something about how he'd give him more photographs if he wasn't so selfish, but those words fall on deaf ears. Carrillo is far more focused on the picture where his best friend seems to be staring directly into his soul. There's a bright smile on her face and the expression goes straight to his heart; she's in the middle of laughing about something and he swears he can almost hear her fits of giggles.

For a moment, he's taken back to an old memory, one where she's laughing at him for having busted his ass trying to do something -he can't remember what- stupid. Her hair is pulled up into a short, messy ponytail, she's wearing ripped jeans and a black shirt that he's pretty sure actually belonged to him at one point, because it's way too big on her, and…

Damn.

The longer he looks, the more his chest starts to ache.

She's obviously older in this picture; her dark hair is longer than he's ever seen it, her skin isn't as tan, and she's wearing a deep blue dress that looks impossibly pretty on her. Carrillo doesn't know how recent this photo is, but her eighteenth birthday had been last month. Maybe that was what these photos were from?

"That's one of her graduation photos," Giménez explains, almost as if he can read Carrillo's thoughts.

"She is doing well, then," Carrillo questions, genuinely curious, because other than showing him this one photo, the general had said little in regards to how Elena was actually doing. She looked happy enough in the photo, but looks could be deceiving.

When Giménez nods in response, Carrillo manages a small smile, though he doubts it even looks slightly convincing. It was good to have some insight to how she'd been over the last few years, but that didn't change the fact that he would much prefer to have her back home.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear that," Carrillo responds quietly, his gaze going back to the photo in his hand. Eyeing it intently, he tries to commit every detail to memory. The silence that has filled the room draws out, growing more oppressive the longer he looks, and finally, he can't take it anymore. Carrillo lifts his eyes back to Giménez, but he's still reluctant to hand the picture over, tapping it against his thumb absentmindedly.

He's pretty sure that if he looked in the mirror right now, he'd be dangerously close to looking more like a lovesick teenager than a police officer.

"I appreciate the update, General," Carrillo says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. It takes far too much effort to make the words flow and he's gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay.

He hadn't been prepared for a trip down memory lane when he'd walked into the General's office.

Trying not to make it obvious that the thought of parting with the photograph in his hand is absolutely killing him, he holds it out for Giménez to take.

It's completely and utterly miraculous that his hand stays steady.

"Oh, no. You keep that, Horacio."

Once again, he feels like he's been kicked in the chest.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Of course I'm sure," Giménez counters without a second thought, and Carrillo can't keep the smile off of his face. General Giménez returns it, but then his face goes straight, and there's a look in his eyes that Carrillo can't quite decipher.

"Listen, Horacio," Giménez starts, and his near dire sounding tone has Carrillo's undivided attention. "You're a career man, just like me. I've served Colombia for many years, and I'm very proud of that. I am not at all trying to say that you shouldn't do the same, but… take it from an old dog like me -and you may not understand the importance of this now, because you're young, but one day you're going to have a family of your own- don't dedicate everything you've got to this job. Remember that there is no criminal out there who can do so much harm that bringing them down should take precedence over the people who love you. Remember to cherish your friends and loved ones in your life. Don't do what I have done and wait until you don't have much time left to give them."

Carrillo raises an eyebrow at that. What was that supposed to mean?

"What do you mean you 'don't have much time left?', sir?"

"Never mind that, Horacio. It's just a figure of speech, really," Giménez replies quickly, and Carrillo has the sinking suspicion that his words aren't just a figure of speech.

"Just promise me… just promise me, son, that you'll take heed to what I'm telling you. Don't make the same mistakes I have."

Carrillo is slow to reply; he doesn't really understand where the General is coming from, throwing all of this at him, but he suspects it has something to do with Elena getting back in touch with him, so he takes it in stride.

"Of course, sir. I promise."

And he does try to keep that promise. He's a man of his word, after all, but over the years, those words became more fuzzy, their meaning not as potent.

They faded to the back of his mind, more or less forgotten as time went on. He advances in his career, he has a nice family.

Life is good.

But, you know what they say: nothing good lasts forever.

And for Carrillo? If he'd have at all known what kind of hell was coming… He'd have held General Giménez's words closer to heart.

A lot closer.