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morganaspendragonss · 10 months

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no hay palabra ni pincel

@reyesstrand tagged me in commiseration monday but ao3 is back up now so i thought i'd just share the whole thing! huge, huge thanks to my wonderful beta @ravens-words 💚 title is from the quote 'no hay palabra ni pincel que llegue a manifestar amor de padre' by spanish writer mateo alemán. it roughly translates to 'there aren't words or pictures that can match a father's love' ao3 | 4.4k | 5+1, father-son relationship, mentions of gabriel's death

five times gabriel wanted to protect carlos, and one time somebody took his place

“Ay, mijo,” Gabriel sighs, returning to his normal voice as he tucks Kiki the Koala in next to Carlos. “Think you can sleep now?”

Carlos’s grin fades and he quickly glances over at his closet, pulling his sheets up to his nose. “But what if the monsters come back?”

“They won’t,” he promises. Gabriel reaches out and strokes his son’s hair, smiling down at him warmly. He loves all of his children equally, but he can’t deny that he has a weakness for Carlos, for the way he stares at him so trustingly. He wants to preserve that innocence forever, but Gabriel has seen too much in his career to know that will be impossible.

But, while he can, he’ll protect his children against anything.

“Remember what I told you?”

“That the monsters could never take me,” Carlos repeats quietly, his words muffled by the covers.

Gabriel nods. “That’s right. You remember why?”

This time, Carlos’s smile comes back and he grabs the koala, almost shoving it in Gabriel’s face. “Because they’re scared of Kiki!”

A laugh bursts out of him, amplified by Carlos’s giggles, and Gabriel has to work to get himself back under control. He takes Kiki and poses him in a karate stance, then places him back at Carlos’s side. “Yes, mijo,” he says, ruffling his hair. “But what else?”

Carlos calms down, back to staring at Gabriel with those wide eyes of his. His children all have the same eyes, big and brown and pleading. His daughters have both already learned how to weaponise them to get whatever they want from him, much to Andrea’s chagrin, and it seems Carlos, too, has this power, though he hasn’t quite reached the stage where he’s doing it on purpose.

Gabriel gives it a couple of years, at most.

“You said that you would always find me.”

He nods again. “Yes. Mamá and I will always protect you, Carlitos, and we will always fight off the monsters. Just like Kiki.”

He does the same pose he’d done with the koala and Carlos giggles, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

“Alright,” Gabriel says. He stands and kisses Carlos’s forehead, stroking his hair one more time before straightening. “Time to sleep.”

Carlos nods sleepily and burrows into bed, Kiki clutched tightly in his arms. He’s asleep before Gabriel reaches the door, and he pauses with his hand on the lightswitch, watching his son. A lump of guilt rises in him as he does so, thinking about what he had been doing before Carlos walked in, about the case and how it could put everything Gabriel loves in danger.

He could be breaking every promise he’s ever made to his family by pursuing this, but Gabriel has to believe that it will be worth it in the end. That the world he will help create will be a better one for everyone, but especially his family.

He sighs and flicks off the light, hurriedly packing up the recorder before heading to bed himself.

“¿Qué pasó?” Andrea murmurs as he climbs in next to her.

“Pesadillas,” he responds. “Don’t worry, Kiki and I handled it.”

Andrea hums. “Ah. And before that?”

She’s too smart, this woman; it’s why Gabriel loves her. He doesn’t blame her for wanting to know and he wishes he could tell her, but he can’t put that on her. The best way to protect them all is to keep this on his own shoulders.

“Duerme, mi amor,” he says. “Ya habrá tiempo.”

ii.

Winnie snaps at Carlos’s hand again, just barely missing his fingers, and Gabriel hangs his head and sighs. He’s been watching Carlos attempting to pacify the horse for…well, not that long really, but his patience is frayed like it has been. As, apparently, is Carlos’s.

“This is stupid,” he declares, stomping across the field and out of the paddock to where Gabriel has been waiting by the fence. “She hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Gabriel says as calmly as he can. It’s been a full weekend of this, of sullen silences and glares from his usually mild-mannered son. This trip out to the ranch was supposed to cure all that, but Gabriel would stake his reputation on it only having made things worse. “And don’t let your mother hear you say ‘stupid’.”

“Mom’s not here,” Carlos shoots back, though the look on his face says he wishes she were. It sends a familiar pang through Gabriel’s heart; Carlos had been his shadow as a little boy, always Carlos’s first choice to play with or be read to by.

It’s been a few years since that was the case. Now, it’s Andrea he turns to for help with his homework, Andrea who cleans up his scrapes and guides him as he grows. Gabriel doesn’t begrudge his wife the privilege, but he does miss those years when Carlos looked at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars.

“Why do Ana and Luisa get to stay at home?” Carlos continues, an angry pout forming on his lips. “It’s because they’re girls, right?”

“Your mother and I wouldn’t–”

“Yes, you do! They never–”

“Carlitos–”

“Don’t call me that!”

Gabriel takes a shocked step back, registering the tears threatening to spill from Carlos’s eyes. They’re angrily swiped away a second later, but Carlos flushes deeply in shame, all too aware that Gabriel had seen.

Gabriel wishes he knew the right words here but, the truth is, he’s never been more lost. It’s ironic, he thinks; he spent so long worrying about being the father his daughters would need as they blossomed into young women, yet it’s his son’s adolescence that’s throwing him for the biggest loop.

“Mijo, I…” He trails off and sighs. More than ever, he wishes Andrea were here.

“Forget it, Dad,” Carlos says. “Just leave me alone.”

Carlos turns on his heel and heads across the field back to the house, shoulders slumped and head hung. Gabriel watches him go, heart heavy, then he turns back to the paddock, leaning on the fence.

“You know anything about this, huh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Winnie.

She snorts at him, unimpressed, and buries her head in her oats bag.

“Mijo?” Gabriel knocks tentatively on Carlos’s closed door. “Can I come in?”

There’s a long silence, and Gabriel is about to turn away when light footsteps approach the door and it swings open. Carlos looks at him with teenage exasperation and sighs.

“You don’t need to say it, Dad,” he says, walking back into the room and slumping down on his bed. Gabriel follows him inside and takes the desk chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking hard at his son, though Carlos is doing everything he can to avoid meeting his gaze.

“Say what?”

Carlos rolls his eyes, another thing Andrea would have his hide for if she were here. “You know,” he says, though Gabriel definitely doesn’t. He lowers his voice in an imitation of Gabriel. “Venga, mijo. Toughen up. Sé un hombre.”

“Carlitos, I–” A cutting look from his son makes Gabriel snap his mouth shut and he sighs again, bowing his head. “Carlos,” he begins again. “Why don’t you tell me what all this is really about?”

Carlos still stares stubbornly at his knees. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles. “Drop it, Dad.”

Gabriel never had a close relationship with his own father. He was raised in a different world to the one his son and daughters are growing up in, and he swore to himself when Ana was born that he would never treat her, or, later, Luisa, any differently to any boy he and Andrea might have.

That meant, when they were blessed with Carlos, teaching him how to cook and sew alongside his sisters; it meant showing the girls their way around a toolbox and giving all three of them the opportunities to do whatever their hearts desired – within reason, of course.

Still, he has failed. Still, Carlos has slowly been closing in on himself, hiding things from them; Gabriel hasn’t even seen him cry since he was a little boy. And it’s his own fault, he knows this. This is the inheritance passed down to him, which he has now passed down to his son in a seemingly endless cycle. If there’s a way to break it, Gabriel does not know it yet, but that’s not going to stop him from trying.

“You know,” he starts, “horses are pretty intelligent animals. They feel our emotions just as deeply as we do, and there’s a special bond between a horse and its rider. You’ve known Winnie since you were little, Carlos, and you’ve been riding her ever since you were tall enough to get on her back. I won’t deny that she was pissed today”—he pauses as Carlos looks at him, startled—“but you might want to reconsider who she’s pissed at.”

The surprise melts away, replaced by scorn. “Yeah, right,” Carlos scoffs. “Because my horse, who’s never heard of school, is mad at them and not something I did.”

“So something’s going on at school.”

“No! I mean– Yes, but it’s nothing. I’m handling it, Dad.”

“And what does that mean?” Gabriel arches an eyebrow at Carlos, waiting him out; they both know he won’t be the one to break first.

Carlos huffs. “It means I’m handling it,” he says sourly.

“You’ve spoken to the principal?”

“No.”

“Your teacher?”

“I–”

“Anybody?”

“Jesus, Dad!” Carlos explodes, though he withers under Gabriel’s hard stare. “I’m sorry. But why can’t you just leave things be?”

“Soy tu padre,” Gabriel says, gentler now. “It’s my job to ask these questions.”

“I’m not one of your cases.”

“I never said you were.” Gabriel shifts forward in the chair and reaches out to put his hand on Carlos’s shoulder. Carlos looks up at him, meeting his eyes, and Gabriel is startled to see tears shining in his son’s gaze. He tries not to show his surprise, though; the last thing he needs now is Carlos shutting down on him again. “You’re my son and I want to be there for you. Even if you do blaspheme sometimes.”

Carlos lowers his eyes again, but there’s a small smile on his face which he’s doing his best to hide. Gabriel smiles too and claps Carlos on the shoulder before sitting back and contemplating his son. He wants to do something to help, wants to march into the school and get to the bottom of this – but he knows that’s not what Carlos needs right now.

“Just promise me you’ll say something if this, whatever it is, gets worse,” he requests instead. “It doesn’t have to be me but you should talk to someone.”

Gabriel isn’t sure if he believes Carlos’s nod, but he accepts it anyway.

iii.

Gabriel can barely believe it when Carlos comes home one day and announces he’s submitted his application to APD. He’s smiling at them, so proud and sure of himself, but what Gabriel notices most is just how young he is. How unprepared for the brutal realities of this career he’s apparently chosen.

“Mijo,” he says, keeping his voice steady and calm. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Carlos’s smile falters, a frown taking over his features. “You think it’s not?”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with Andrea. Her lips are pursed, expression unreadable, and it’s clear he won’t be receiving any support from her corner. Whatever opinions she has, they’ll be expressed privately, probably over the stove as she prepares dinner. Gabriel will be gone by then, duty never far from calling, and he’s sure the conversation will go all the better for it.

Besides, Andrea has always been one to let their children find their own path in life; she’ll ask questions, he’s sure, but she won’t do anything but support Carlos. Gabriel thought he was the same, but he never expected this, though he probably should have. He knows the pressure has been on for Carlos, the only boy, especially since Ana moved out to live with her fiancé and Luisa left for Harvard to study medicine. Now that Carlos is an adult, Gabriel had been foreseeing an empty nest in their future, his children all thriving at college or in life, getting a far better education than had been available to him.

He’s been blind.

“I think,” he starts eventually, the words feeling heavy under the weight of Carlos’s boyish confusion. “I think that perhaps you haven’t thought this through. Son, there are so many options for you; you’re smart, talented…any college would be lucky to have you.”

“I’ve been to college,” Carlos points out, starting to bristle. “I already graduated, remember?”

It’s a low blow and a bitter one; Gabriel hadn’t been able to attend Carlos’s graduation for his associate’s, having been caught up in the middle of a case. Still, he tries not to let the hurt show, waving a hand in the air. “Yes, well, the community college is a fine institution but it’s not college, is it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, look at your sisters–”

“I’m not them!” Carlos’s shout puts a halt to the argument. He’s breathing heavily, his body tense with anger, glaring at Gabriel in a way he’s never seen before. Carlos shakes his head, then his eyes widen and he takes a step back. “Is this because I–” He cuts himself off but the words ring loud and clear, all three of them wincing in unison as they reverberate around them.

“Of course it’s not, mijo,” Gabriel tries, but Carlos isn’t listening anymore.

“You don’t think I’m good enough,” he concludes, a devastating pain in his eyes as he looks at Gabriel. But it’s the acceptance that swiftly follows which drives the knife deeper, accompanied by understanding as Carlos nods. It’s misplaced, Gabriel is sure, but he can’t find the words to correct him.

The problem isn’t that Carlos isn’t good enough. If anything, it’s that Carlos is too good; his son wears his heart on his sleeve and Gabriel can’t help but doubt whether it will survive this.

APD isn’t the Rangers. Carlos won’t be forced to reckon with the things Gabriel has dealt with over his career – at least, not immediately. But the life of a police officer, even in their lowest ranks, is not free from life’s tragedies, and Gabriel cannot reconcile the little boy who cried when they had to put down the family dog with the man, still non-existent, who may one day have to discharge a lethal weapon at a person.

He wishes he had the language to express this to his son but his tongue is tied by years of silence, and eventually Carlos clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He strides over to grab his bag from where he’d left it by the door and pauses, only half turning back towards Gabriel.

“Iris invited me out to celebrate,” he says, words clipped. “I think I’ll go after all.”

And he’s gone before Gabriel can say anything else. The tension remains in the room, thick enough to choke him, and he turns to Andrea, desperate for some consolation.

“This isn’t the life I wanted for him,” he says, and finally she comes closer, laying a hand on his arm.

“No,” she says, sighing softly. “But it is the one he has chosen.”

iv.

Your family is your biggest weakness. It’s the one thing law enforcement training still hasn’t found a method to stamp out, though they’ve certainly tried. Throughout his entire career, Gabriel has been uncomfortably aware of the enemies he’s made, conscious in every interaction with a suspect how it could come back to hurt him.

He’ll never forgive himself for forgetting it now.

Carlos’s house, where he and Andrea had eaten dinner only two nights ago, is little more than a pile of ash. The metal supports are warped out of shape and there’s a heavy, acrid stench of smoke lingering in the air.

It’s the nightmare Gabriel has been having ever since he met Andrea, become real in front of his eyes.

Beside him, Andrea grips his arm tightly, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Pero, ¿qué…?” she mutters, trailing off into a stunned silence. Gabriel wishes he could say something to comfort her but he has no words either; he can’t stop staring at the husk of his son’s life, lit up red and blue by the emergency vehicles surrounding them.

It hits him then, that the firefighters arrived too late to save the house or anything inside. Had Owen not realised when he did…

“Carlitos!” Andrea cries. She releases him and rushes over to where Carlos is standing with TK and Owen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Even from a distance, Gabriel can see the devastation on his son’s face, the tears that spill from his eyes as Andrea wraps him in a tight hug.

Selfishly, he keeps his gaze turned away from the ruins as he, too, moves towards the little group. He sees it now, those manic eyes burning into him as Raymond all but spelled it out for them.

“You took the most important thing away from me. And now, I’m going to repay the favour.”

Gabriel doesn’t know how it missed it, how either of them missed it. Owen, at least, realised something was wrong even after the firehouse exploded, but Gabriel? An hour ago, he was asleep, secure – or so he thought – in the knowledge that no-one else was going to get hurt.

And now his son has lost everything.

Andrea has released Carlos from the hug when he reaches them, though she continues her fussing, producing a tissue out of nowhere and rubbing at the soot on Carlos’s cheeks. He endures it for a while, but soon stops her, placing a hand on her wrist.

“Estoy bien, mamá,” he says, then glances over at TK. “We’re okay.”

Andrea smiles, cupping Carlos’s face. Then, she turns her attention to TK, hugging him just as tightly, and Gabriel is left to face his son. It’s been years since they were physically affectionate with one another, so Carlos freezes at first when Gabriel grabs him, pulling him close and holding him like he did when he was a little boy.

Gabriel’s stomach turns at the smell of smoke radiating from Carlos, but he stands firm, holding onto him, listening to his still-ragged breathing in his ear.

“You’re coming home with us tonight,” he says as he pulls away. Carlos’s face twists into something undefinable, but Andrea jumps in before he can say anything.

“Yes,” she says emphatically, clutching at TK’s arm. “You both are. I’ll make hot cocoa.”

“Dad, I…” Carlos shakes his head, looking conflicted. He looks between Gabriel and Andrea, biting his lip. “Are you guys sure?”

It makes Gabriel’s heart hurt to know that Carlos thinks the question necessary, but he just smiles and places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Of course we are, mijo. You’re our son and you, TK, you’re as good as. Let us take care of you both.”

Carlos hesitates a second longer, but then TK places a hand on his arm and they exchange a look of a kind Gabriel knows oh so well; the kind of look that passes between two people in love, one which only they can understand. He has shared many of those looks with Andrea, has seen his daughters do the same with their husbands.

He couldn’t be happier that Carlos has finally found somebody to share it with, too. Couldn’t feel more privileged that he’s finally letting them see it.

In the car on the way home, Carlos closes his eyes and rests his head on TK’s shoulder, and when Gabriel catches TK’s eye in the rearview mirror and receives a nod in return, something warm blooms in his chest.

Despite everything, it feels like hope.

En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén.

Gabriel touches the rosary to his lips, then lets his hands fall loosely in his lap, staring up at the cross in front of him. It’s hard, in a profession such as his, to believe in God, in a Plan, in the inherent good nature of human beings. But Gabriel has faith, and it would be a hell of a lot harder to believe if he didn’t see miracles every single day.

If, instead of sitting here thanking God for returning his son to him, he was comforting his wife in the face of a black hole opening in their lives.

There had been a moment in that house. A moment when Carlos’s head had rolled limply to the side, when TK’s expression began to crack, when a beat too long passed and Gabriel had thought it was over.

Then Carlos woke up, like the miracle he has been ever since the day he was born. There will never be enough prayers, Gabriel is certain, to thank God for it.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear the chapel doors opening, nor the footsteps making their way towards him. He doesn’t notice anything until the pew creaks with added weight and Andrea appears at his side. She smiles at him gently, taking his arm.

“Are you planning on going to see your son any time soon?” she asks into the silence, though not judging or accusing. Even so, Gabriel feels guilty; he knows he should be with Carlos, and he had seen him briefly while the doctor explained MRI scans and blood tests and numbers that went too far over his head to understand more than that Carlos would be okay.

Then people started showing up, too many people, all wanting to see Carlos and check on him for themselves. There were already the girls and Andrea and TK, of course, but the waiting room had quickly filled with others, the firefighters, young and boisterous. Gabriel is used to crowds, coming from the family he does, but today it had been too much.

So he’d left, intending to go to the cafeteria and get a coffee.

Instead, he’d taken a right to the chapel, and he hadn’t gone back.

“Gabriel,” Andrea says quietly. She reaches up and strokes his hair, then sighs. “Mi amor. Está vivo.”

“Gracias a Dios.”

“Gracias a ti.”

Gabriel looks at her, surprised. Of the two of them, she’s always been the more devout, and they’re in a chapel.

But she merely smiles and pats his knee. “And TK, of course. We are so lucky Carlitos found him.”

In that, they have always been in agreement. TK saved Carlos’s life today, yes, but he has been a blessing to their family from the moment he entered it, even if Gabriel and Andrea weren’t fully aware of it at first. He sees it now, though, in hindsight; for a while before that day at the market, they’d noticed a change in their son. He’d been happier, lighter, busier. He’d had a life outside of work and Michelle.

He’d been more secretive, too. They had noticed, both he and Andrea, and they’d had questions, but neither of them had ever thought to actually ask. Sometimes, Gabriel wishes he could go back in time and do it all over again, do it all better, but the past is past and he’ll never be able to change it.

What he can do, though, is be there now.

He smiles and places his hand on top of Andrea’s. “Ahora voy.”

+1.

I’ve got him.

TK’s response, a how is he? that Owen can feel the desperation of through the screen, comes barely a second later. He glances over to where Carlos is standing with Ranger Bridges, his head hung low and his shoulders slumped. He looks so small like this, it’s almost easy to forget that not ten minutes ago he was seconds from ending another man’s life.

Though, there’s nothing that will ever scrub that from Owen’s memory. He’d never thought Carlos capable of anything like that, but grief changes people, Owen knows that better than many. He can’t judge him for this.

He returns his gaze to his phone, fingers hovering over the keys as he struggles with how to answer. He knows that every second without a reply will send his son even crazier, and he’s halfway through typing out an Okay before thinking better of it.

Not good, he goes for instead. Then swiftly follows up with: He’s unharmed but his head’s in a mess. I’m going to take him back to mine for a bit to calm down, okay?

I’ll meet you guys there.

No, don’t.

Owen winces at his own bluntness, but there’s no sugarcoating any of this. He can imagine how desperate TK is to see Carlos right now, but the last thing either of them need, even if they themselves don’t know it, is for Carlos to go straight back to the loft.

Listen, he types. He needs some space right now. I promise I’ll call you later and explain, but you’ve got to trust me to handle this one, TK. I’ve got him, I swear.

TK’s reply is a few minutes in coming, and Owen can imagine him sitting on the couch in the loft, biting his nails to the quick. He hopes he understands; Carlos doesn’t need a fiancé now.

He needs the very thing he’s missing, the very thing that brought them all to this place. He needs a father.

Take care of him.

Owen smiles and glances back up. Carlos nods at something Ranger Bridges says, then turns to head back towards where Owen is parked. His face is still blotchy and he suspects he won’t be able to look him in the eye for a while, but Owen can only think to be thankful that Carlos does get to walk away.

It could have ended so differently.

Always, he texts, then slides his phone into his pocket and opens the passenger side door for Carlos. He doesn’t put up an ounce of resistance, sliding in wordlessly and slumping in the seat, gaze trained firmly on his lap. Owen shuts the door and takes a moment before getting in himself.

He could never hope to be the man Gabriel was. He’ll never measure up to the father Carlos lost, just as Andrea could never be Gwyn, but this – here, right now – is something he can do.

He can try.

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