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Some You Lose

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Summary: Para Liaison Summers, meet the Losers. Crossover with the 2010 movie. Drabble-verse.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Losers, The(Past Moderator)FaithUnbreakableFR152445,8033830159,69316 Oct 106 Oct 13No


A/N: Hi folks! Thanks for all your reviews and sorry, again, for the lack of updates. Busy, busy. This one is... well, I asked what to do with Roque and the majority of you wanted me to keep him with the team but that's not how it worked out. Sorry for that, I hope you enjoy it anyway.




In which Roque does not justify his choices.


Roque knew, when he made the deal with Wade – with Max – that from here on out, there were only two possible ways for this to end.

Death or cash.

Death had always been an option, and hey, why not shoot for the cash? It wasn’t like anything else mattered, like anything else was going to work out.

Twenty years, almost, with a gun in his hand, more than ten of those with Clay and what did he have to show for it? Besides a few ugly scars and a shitload of nightmares?


He had nothing, was the same street rat psycho he’d been at sixteen, almost knifing another kid just because he insulted Roque’s shoes. The only difference was that the knives had gotten bigger.

Death or cash.

He’d been loyal for so long, and Clay kept throwing it in his face, kept fucking every good thing up. Volatile women, bad decisions, his goddamn heroic streak.

Roque was tired.

He was so fucking tired of the fighting, of the blood, of people leaving and dying and of him and Clay being the last ones standing. Being the last one standing with someone who didn’t even fucking look at you was pretty damn shitty.

Maybe Aisha was the last straw, maybe Miami. Maybe Bolivia or maybe Mom’s leaving. The shit she pulled, leaving the unit for a life they all knew she didn’t want, that had been hard. Fist right in the fucking face, like they weren’t worth as much as the shitty desk-job life she was leaving them for. Maybe, probably, that was a big one.

But, shit, maybe he’d been there for a long time, teetering on the edge, waiting for a chance to topple over.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

Death or cash.

He wasn’t even really angry with anyone, except maybe Clay. He tried to get Pooch and Jensen to back out, because they had family and it wasn’t… they were good people. He’d never thought in terms of good and bad until Mom had come along, until she’d told him some people were like this and some people were like that and in between, in the grey, were the people like him and her, who tried and struggled and wanted to be better.

He never tried very much at all, but he didn’t tell her that.

He tried to get them to back down but they were good, so they didn’t.

Roque regretted that, but he couldn’t change it.

Story of his life. He stood in the background, watched and cleaned up messes and never changed a single fucking thing. Mom would have told him differently, but Mom had picked a life she hated over being here with them and that meant her opinion didn’t count anymore.

Death or cash.

Those were the options.

He was going to try for the cash because he wasn’t suicidal, but in the end, he really didn’t care which way it ended as long as it did end.

He was fucking tired of this shit.

He asked Clay, early on, to call Mom. “She’ll help us out, man,” he said.

And Clay shook his head, said, “She made her choice.”

Didn’t even listen to Roque. He never fucking listened. Roque kept talking and talking and talking and it didn’t matter how often he was right, how many times not listening ended with them all in deep shit. Clay never fucking listened to Roque.

But he was right. Mom had made her choice.

So had Roque.

Death or cash.

As long as it ended, he really didn’t give a flying fuck anymore.

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