The First and Only

Disclaimer: Don’t own Characters, just wrote a story about them. Co-written.

The First and Only
By Bianca Marou & Spug
A Once Upon a Time in Mexico Slash RP.
Chambers x Ramirez Rated PG


"Hey, Snow White, go keep an eye on the pig," the Mexican called out to him as he left with his friend to get something to eat. He watched as the shorter one and his lankier pal left, petting the small dog on his arm. Damn it, Jorje, why'd you have to go and do a damn fool thing like get yourself caught.
It was gradually hitting home. All of Ramirez's promises; the extradition to the US, the immunity due to testimony, the decreased prisoned sentence, they wouldn't happen. Everything that the latino ex-agent had told him had been fabricated just to push him on his personal journey of revenge.

Inside the garage he found an unconscious Ramirez tied to a chair, his head slumped to the side and his skull dribbling blood from a dozen places incited by lower class thugs who felt like proving themselves to the boss meant leaving their imprint in the bodies of their victims rather than actual effective work. He walked over slowly, thumb rubbing the belly of the dog, which remained as quiet as a piece of clothing or a casual accessory.

"Sorry buddy", he said. He kneeled and put the dog down and reached around Jorje's limp form to untie him. He knew he didn't want Barillo to have the power he desired, and running away would only end in him dying anyway. There was no other escape now than helping this man, even if he'd been conned into it.

Where had he gone wrong? So close. Dangerously close. He'd almost had him, but it seems the Mexican crime boss was just a little too quick for him. Or maybe the better term would have been, he had too many doublesided faces working for him.

Double sided, eh Jorge? Like he'd played that right hand man? Had he been sold out? Everything was so blurry in his head. He'd been bashed in the face a few times now. But it seemed before the knocked him out, they were going to spare him what Archuletta had gone thought. At least... for now..

A sudden movement against his own body sent a few fresh throbs of pain in the Latino man's temple. He could still feel the blood, some fresh and some long dried stuck to the side of his face. He could smell things too. Smoke, dog. Could it be?

With a light groan, the mid aged man fluttered one eye open and the blurry faces of Billy Chambers came into view. About four of them. It was that moment, even in his confused state, he knew the other man was aware he'd been played.

" You.. " Jorge groaned out lightly as he felt the binds falling away. " You've come to finish me off, haven't you? "

"Can't say I've not been tempted in the past hour, but I think I'd rather see some other guy bite the bullet." The tick tick tick of the dogs nails accompanied his speech as it dances around and looked up at his owner from every angle. Like a spool of thread, Billy unwound Jorje, and pulled him away from the back of the chair from which he was restrained.

He braced his cowboy boots, and with his arms wrapped around the off gray suited torso lifted him up. "Gotta get your sea legs, we stay here much longer and you'll end up lookin' like that fella on the slab." His Texas drawl had a hint of dread to it.

"Dammit, why'd you have to go pull the wool over my eyes like that. You could have gotten in contact with some of your higher ups, couldn't you?" Fuck, Billy knew better though. They wouldn't have listened to an ex-agent. The local cops were all on a payroll. For what Ramirez wanted, short of holding a gun to Billy's head and threatening the truth out of him, he'd chosen the easiest course of action.

It had to be the personal betrayal that ate at Chambers.

He kept one arm firmly around him and moved his other so he could wipe blood out of his eyes. "You're gonna look like a fuckin' potatoe when you wash this shit off."


He felt like a potato. His body seemed all fat and useless to him now, so even as he was pulled out of chair, he had to lean heavy on the body of the man he'd betrayed. An arm slung over the other man's shoulder. His head rolled a bit against his own chest. " I didn't have much.. much of a choice. "

This was all fucked to shit. But after he'd learned from Sands that Barillo having killed Archuletta ( this he knew ) and that the man he'd been so damn proud of and had so much.. so much respect for had been tortured for two weeks.. two WEEKS.. ( this he'd NOT known ), he'd been obsessed. Nothing but revenge. Barillo had to pay for what he did. Even if it meant using his right hand man. Billy wasn't an angel himself, but Jorge held no grudge for him.

" Even if you'd shot me after we'd done in with Barillo, it would have been worth that man's death.. " Concussion, he might have a concussion in his state. He would worry about it later.

He flinched lightly to the wipe of fingers and closed his eyes. " I don't care if you still do it, but I have to get to Barillo, This is the only way for us both to be free. " More bullshit? No, Jorge wouldn't bullshit now. He had to do this.. For Archuletta.

No more lies. He walked along slowly with the other man. Ears following the sounds of the Mexican streets and the ticy ticy of the dogs claws.

" I'm sorry. " he muffed.

"We can try to bail, cross the border. Pretty funny, huh? Sneakin' in to sneak out," he suggested, keeping one arm around him and scooping up his ever present tiny familiar with the other. The suggestion almost rang of wanting Jorje to just run away with him.

"I guess there's not really any turning back for you at this point, huh? Well, I think the big guy's headed to put himself in the president's house, though it doesn't sound like the man on the street's too fond of the idea. Sure you don't wanna hold off until things settle down and you're healed up a little bit?" Again he rubbed the idle dog's belly with his thumb.

"I don't like workin' for the man, in fact, I really hate the man, but he ain't worth dyin' for. So what would make some big headed drug lord who's just a cum smear on the face of things worth dyin' for to you, huh?" He tried to carefully maneuver him out, heading toward the back entrance out of sight. Barillo had told him where to go before so Billy could make his way to him after the military coup. Chambers had no issue with using this opportune information against him.

He didn't want Ramirez going in there and getting himself killed for no good reason, on the other hand. "Look, I bugged my little buddy for you, I told you what the asshole was up to. I think I deserve to know what I'm in on."

They could do that. Yes.. if they both survived. Indeed funny. But if this man helped him get his revenge, he'd wrap him up in a cargo bag and paddle across the San Pedro into the States. There was always name changes, and he still DID know some people. If you paid them off.

As they stepped out onto the havoc streets of Mexico on it's Day of Death, Jorge sighed heavily. " I know.. I know.. I will make it up to you.. I swear. But we can't wait. "

According to the bug on the collar after all, there was only that short time before the coo. But when Billy asked for a real reason, Jorge felt his chest tighten and his temple throb even more. As they headed down an alley way. He let his head lift a bit more.

" It's not important to you, but important to me. " He should tell Billy. He owned the man that much. Jorge reached up and wiped a bit more blood off his face, and took a deep breath. " Eight years ago, In San Antonio, My partner, Archuletta and I were following up on your boss. "

With a weak hand the Latino reached over for a moment to scratch the little dogs head, he did not want to look at Billy. " My friend got too close, like I did today, and they killed him. But not at first.. they tortured him... "

Jorge felt that bubbling sorrow and anger so he clenched his brows together. His free hand gripped to Billy's shirt. " .. for two weeks. TWO WEEKS.. and then Barillo had him killed. "

The Latino bit his lip. " He must pay for that, for what he did to Archuletta... " The man finally lifted his eyes to Billy and looked him stone cold in the face. " THIS is worth dying over, I came here to Mexico and waited six years in your bosses shadow. Only because I know he had killed, but now I know he did more, And I can't let him get away with that. You must help me. "

Jorge's hand tightened. He felt like pleading, crying, or even shaking this other man to understand. " and I will help you. Somehow. "

Thin lips on his worry lined face pursed. "I guess that's a good reason," he said, looking down at the wringing fist. The fabric of his shirt constricted as his brow furrowed. "Look, I ain't so much of a shithead that I'm gonna stroll out in the middle of a fight, you know."

He really didn't want to leave him, not now, not under these circumstances. Every organ, every bone, every part of him wanted him to abandon Jorje in the alley to face Barillo on his own. But that more than standing his ground didn't feel right, leaving this person didn't.

"Look, Barillo's had me doin' his shit for a while. I've knocked off plenty of guys just like you, just because he asked me too. I knew it wasn't right when it got easy. I didn't wanna bash some guys head and not give a damn what he did and just be worried whether or not I got home to pick up my laundry."

He budged the dog slightly up into the head petting, as it's little round eyes looked at everything around. "Ramirez, I'm gonna stick it out with you, okay. And if you don't make it, I'll try and finish it. Maybe just so I don't have any more damned deaths over my head."

He looked at Jorje himself. "But if I don't... well, besides the clothes on my back I just got the little super spy here. Get him out of this godforsaken business." His eyes lingered on the darker wethered face as the blood from his beating that hadn't been wiped, caked. Loss and age wore on it beneath the injuries, just as it did his own, and standing outside the back gates he didn't want to go forward without them being at an understanding.

An Understanding. Something that didn't happen often in these streets over run with drug lords, poverty and back stabbing. An understanding. Barillo had to die, and when he died, Billy would be free, as would Jorge's guilt.

The Latino's mouth quirked a bit, it wasn't a smile tho, as he stared up at the texican's eyes, and then he slowly nodded. " I promise. If anything happens to you, I'll make sure he's well taken care off. "

Then it was settled. Billy wasn't going to leave. They would go and face Barillo. This was more then he could ask for. Truly the other man had ever right to just walk off, or put a cap in his head. But he was going to stay.

This touched Jorge. That even after a betrayal, the other man was willing to trust him. Help him get what he sorely needed. Revenge for Archuletta. That hand scrunched into Billy's shirt relaxed and then he slumped forward, arms going around the other man's neck and back. Careful of the little dog. Hopefully the other man would not shove him into the wall.

" Thank you.. Thank you.. " Jorge muffled into Billy's shoulder. His scruffy chin and bloodied face pressed into the cloth. He wouldn't break down, not completely. But he was grateful.

You should be, Jorge. the guy said it himself, he could have killed you. Yet he'll help you. That is either the nicest thing, Or the act of a truly desperate men. They were both desperate men, so it was probably the latter.

The tiny body of the chihuahua adjusted itself to scoot against Billy, making room for the person pressing against him. For a few desperate moments there was a deffining silence for him. It was filled hollowly by the thud of his heart, and by the feeling of the tiny dogs heart galloping along with the other slow thud of the ex-agents chest pressing against his.

He made no move to hug hims back himself, but he felt it. The afformentioned thump, the heat of the others form, the warm feeling it made in him. He didn't want him to die, not know, not when he'd only gotten just a few days to know him.

"If you want to, hell, I'm about to risk my ass. I'm not gonna tell anybody."

What was he offering? Surely not anything illicit, with a mob war in the streets and tanks waging a military coup, there was not much time for that. Or was he asking for an admission of feelings for Archuletta, or for him. Or was he just wanting Ramirez to hug his dog.

"Or you don't have to," he finished. "You got your face smashed pretty bad, it must be hurting something fierce."


Yes. what was he asking between this odd moment of triple heartbeats? It was okay for him to take the dog? It was okay for him to hug him. He was already doing that. Jorge clutched a little tighter. It didn't matter that Billy didn't hug him back. Billy didn't really have any reason to be giving Jorge any gratitude. Maybe if he actually got him out of the country.

" This.. " The Latino said softly, his accent was much more predominate when he lowered his voice, or wasn't bothering to try to sound all professionally Agent. " This is nothing.. " He said in referring to his face. It was just a flesh wound. It would heal. His heart hurt far worse from his moral wounds then his face ever would and could.

Dark eyes leveled back up to Billy's face. The Latino stared at the Texan as he offered his questional approval for something unspoken. Jorge finally broke his bit of angst with a slight smile, his mustache twitching just slightly.

" Their shouldn't be anyone left to tell afterward anyway, that will give a shit. " The Latino cocked his head up a little higher. " So one for Archuletta. "

And despite his aching face, he pressed his face forward, and landed a kiss on the texican's cheek. " and one for me. " But he didn't land the second on the other cheek, Jorge pressed the second kissed to the Texican's mouth.

It didn't matter how much he'd been expecting it. He felt that tensing feeling that came with surprise when those slightly salty lips met with his own. The one that made all the muscles in the neck tense up. His trachea refused to work and his jaw, for a few moments, became rigid. Then as his lips followed his mind's pleading to reciprocate, moving gently in return.

His jaw slackened and the kiss became much more relaxed. For his quick kiss, he intended to savor every moment. His lips parted and his tongue searched for a little companionship. Broad hands wondered up Ramirez's back to hold the back of his head.

There was somthing beautiful in that kind somber face, but the jaded thug was pretty sure this would be the last chance he'd have to indulge in it. He started to lean against him. Then there was something that pulled him out of his reverie, sending him spiralling back to reality and pulling a centimeter from the mexican's lips.

The dog's whine dwindled and it wagged it's tail at having air.

Such a simple moment. But in all it's glory, it was something these two men would probably remember for the rest of their lives. However long or short it was to be, as soon as they left this alley, and got weapons, it was all danger from there on out.

It only lasted for maybe ten seconds. Parched and salty lips scrapping against each other. The feel of scruffy facial hair against the other's upper lip. Jorge even returned that slight flicker of tongue. Just a small taste of the man that might be giving up his life. Or maybe coming to American and starting a new one. He'd keep him from the Real FBI. Or they could head off to another country. If it all worked out right.

The kiss ended reluctantly and Jorge rested his head back on Billy's shoulder for a moment. Moving his chest so that dog could have some room to breath. A hand landed on the little things head and he scratched behind the tiny things ears.

Just a few seconds to catch his breath and he started to straighten up again. " We need to get me another gun. " After all, that woman, the one who'd bashed him in the head just as he'd had Barillo earlier, had taken his away from him.

They had an obligation now, despite that maybe it wouldn't have been so bad just to turn for the border now. But no, then they'd never be free from Barillo. Either of them.

"Yeah, I know where they had them stashed," he said, reassuring Ramirez. He finally stepped back and opened the ominous iron gate leading into the unknown of the presidential palace, used countless times that day and swinging willingly under the slightest pressure. He held open the barred maw of an entrance and looked at Ramirez, giving him room to enter.

Pressing the dog to his side, he allowed the ex-agent to enter before closing that door and guiding him toward the weapons. The more he thought about it, the more he disliked this. Walking in bald-faced with a man Barillo knew to be his enemy. Confronting him to his face.

All with a few borrowed guns, a couple of old guys, and a little dog who worked better draped over someone's arm than as a protective force.
Off, for what could have been their final hour.