Nor does the man who by the hearth at home
Sits still, escape the doom that Fate decrees.
~Aeschylus' "The Appointed Time"

It was a fine morning in Madrid. Lilia had insisted that her partner, Carlos Caton, keep the windows open for the ride to the Miranda-Castro home. The breeze stretched inside the car, gathered the staleness and replaced it with the fresh tang of spring. Thankfully, the rented car's stereo was silent and all she could hear was the howl of wind as they drove through the suburbs.

Lilia opened the file folder, re-reading the documents even as she had memorized just about everything there was to know about Maria Jose Miranda-Castro, known as Pepa to her friends and workmates.

"We're here," Carlos said, easing the car by the sidewalk.

It was a small yet inviting house made of stone, bought a mere six months ago and renovated with such care that more than a few pages had been dedicated to the couple's purchases. The house's proximity to the San Antonio precinct was less than an hour away and yet far enough from the expensive metro to retain a private overhang of trees, a small lawn, and a fence. It had been a patient, careful acquisition. The space had been meant to be lived in, to grow old in, to raise rowdy children in.

It must have been a happy home but now the house itself seemed to sink into the ground, hunched with a nameless weight as the lawn lay uncared for and the porch stood desolate without the polish of people going in and out. Idle leaves created haphazard footpaths from the fence to the door.

Lilia sighed at the sight, knowing full well what was in store for her partner and herself. The first visit was always the most difficult one.

"Coffee," she snapped.

Carlos wove his fingers into his hair, his face tight. "Google is my friend. There's a café a few blocks from here."

"You're buying."

"No, you are. I bought yesterday's coffee!"

Lilia had an image of the 42-inch plasma screen in their hotel, with Ronaldinho in the colors of Barcelona flying across like a triumphant eagle. All of it in HD. She could also remember Carlos' howls of despair.

"Ah," Lilia snidely remarked, "but your team lost yesterday's match."

"You're not going to peg the coffee on Real Madrid. If Iker hadn't been injured…"

And so their argument went as they made their way to the front door. They were interrupted with a jolt as someone exited, hard at the exterior as he pulled his coat on, his forehead creased. It was the Commissioner from the precinct and he glared at them both as a father would at two petulant children.

"Agent Renatus, and Agent Caton," he acknowledged, his face bent in a faux smile and his tone harsh. "Good morning."

They greeted him in unison but he simply waved them off with a heartless, "Bah!" before leaving just as quickly.

Lilia stared at his back as he hobbled to his car and drove away.

"Strange fellow," she heard Carlos say.

She was about to nod when they heard a voice. "He may be strange, but he is my father-in-law."

Maria Jose Miranda-Castro stood there, her arms akimbo, long hair in waves as they fell around her shoulders. She was in jeans and a jacket, the dark leather belt around her waist hanging low as it contrasted with smooth, white skin beneath. This was she; the person Lilia and Carlos had been looking for, standing just as tall as Carlos and towering over Lilia with an almost relaxed air. She was beautiful, resplendent and something that the picture in her file could do no justice to.

She was made to walk the streets of Madrid in designer clothes, to be ogled and admired by men and women alike. That had been the case a few years ago and would have been the case now if she had not locked herself into her home, her beauty and irresistible charm so attractive that it pulled other people from their orbits and affixed them to hers.

A woman like Pepa had many friends. Her dossier boasted of nearly fifty lovers over the course of a decade and a half. What was even more intriguing: a good percentage had been retained as friends, kept at a distance but treated with genuine warmth. There was a long, telling lull when she was transferred to San Antonio, obviously taken by the woman who would be her wife.

Regardless, the document which recorded phone calls to her home for the past few months was splotched with unique caller ID's from several different men and women all over Europe, Spain especially. Perhaps they had called to console her, perhaps to win her back. All of the calls had been left unanswered. Lilia knew, because she had traced every single one.

Despite her aching loveliness and the cocksure way Pepa Miranda leaned against the door frame, something sad and lonely crept up her shoulders like strangling vines. There was tension around her eyes that may or may not have been a result of crying.

"Maria Jose?" Lilia ventured.

When the woman spoke, Lilia realized that it was not the beauty that had lured the women. It was the way she seemed so accessible as her lips turned up in a self-assured, broadly welcoming smile.

"Call me Pepa," Miranda said. She studied their suits, their trench coats and smirked as though she found their outfits amusing. Then, she shook her head and opened the door wider. "So, the Interpol?"

"Yes," Lilia replied, showing her their badges. "I'm Agent Lilia Renatus from the Lyon head office and this is Carlos Caton, from Madrid."

Pepa Miranda shrugged as though introductions were unnecessary, gesturing for them to come inside.

"I hope you guys aren't wasting my time," she was saying, herding them in like sheep into the living room. She fetched two cups of café con leche, or to Lilia, café latte which everyone knew was a common fixture in a European breakfast and something that nudged the general populace to wakefulness.

Carlos drank from his mug gratefully. Lilia stared at hers and wished that Pepa had gone easy on the milk.

"I suppose you've heard about the terrorist threats," Carlos began.

"Yes. No. Should I care?" Pepa grunted.

"You should," Lilia said, her voice attracting Pepa's intensely dark stare. "We've been given full jurisdiction by your superiors. You'll be leaving for an undisclosed province in three days."

"What for?"

"Training," Carlos said, sipping at his coffee and hiding his face.

"You're not being very forthcoming. Training in what?"

Lilia and Carlos exchanged looks. "We're told you've had Special Ops training. Your deputy in Seville recommended you for your work in high risk assignments and we've been informed of your success rate. We can't tell you anything more than that you've been assigned to our department and that you'll be undergoing training in a special facility."

"What makes you think I'm going to say yes?" Pepa said, incredulous, all the play gone from her voice. "And what is this all about, really?"

Carlos blinked. He had always been so transparent and Lilia cringed inwardly. Pepa caught on the interplay, her voice rising.

"What makes you think I'll leave San Antonio at a whim?"

"It's not a whim, Pepa."

"I don't care," the woman snapped, her eyes blazing. "You 'liaisons' don't know a thing about avoiding people's toes. You can't expect to just uproot me from my home, assign me to God-knows-where on a dangerous mission and expect me to say yes just because you're the Interpol! Because I had Special Ops training! Because Carmen back in Seville told you I was," she flung her hands up, "I don't know, the best!"

"We do."

Pepa stood and stepped forward threateningly. Carlos, all six feet of him, moved quickly to protect Lilia from the other woman. Pepa's eyes burned even brighter at the unspoken threat as Carlos stood straighter, but before Pepa could raise a fist to punch the man's face, her eyes widened as she finally processed Lilia's words.

"What?" she said softly, her arms dropping to her sides.

"I said, we do expect you to be uprooted and accept our offer."

Her face slackened. "Why?"

Lilia looked her straight in the eye, her voice cold, "Because you have nothing to lose, Miranda-Castro."

The woman deflated considerably and what little cheeriness she had at the beginning, had fled. At that, Carlos gave Pepa a sad smile, stepping back as he took his seat beside Lilia, stooping over his partner protectively.

Lilia pulled out a non-descript folder from her bag and offered it to Pepa.

"Everything's there. San Antonio isn't the place for you, Miranda-Castro. And we need your expertise elsewhere."

Pepa laughed derisively, taking the file as she said, "Because I have nothing to lose."

Carlos shuffled uncomfortably and chose to look out the window as Lilia leaned forward, her body language suddenly open. Agent Lilia Renatus had been considered severe by most other people, but this business of theirs required a certain amount of compassion and a certain talent for firmness. Reluctantly, Lilia offered a consoling smile. "It was critical that we found someone who wouldn't hesitate."

Lilia admired the other woman's insight as Pepa said in a hard voice, "You aren't Interpol."

"Not exactly," Lilia said as she leaned back. "We have wider jurisdiction. The charter doesn't apply to us, at least not in the traditional sense. All the information we give you is on a need to know basis. We know you won't appreciate us withholding information, but the impulse, instinct, and initiative you've displayed in past endeavors will more than make up for it."

There was a long silence and within that strange space, rays of sunlight sought passage between the boughs of Pepa's garden. They seeped into the room, fell on the valleys of her face, and with cognizance, they revealed all the dark corners that had festered since Silvia Miranda-Castro's death. Pepa's hazel, green-tinted eyes flashed with momentary life before they crept back into the shade. The shadows would not recede, Lilia knew. Not anytime soon, anyway.

Lilia breathed deeply. "Well then..."

Pepa had sagged into her chair, her eyes quickly darting back and forth on the page as she tried to process the wealth of data. Lilia knew that the contents of the file would keep the woman occupied for hours.

The decision would also be quick, she knew.

Lilia said, "We expect to see you at the Madrid-Barajas Airport in three days. Your ticket has been provided for you in the file. As you can see, all of this is highly confidential."

"No kidding," Pepa muttered. Her eyes crinkled as she tried to read through and between huge lines of erased data. She pointed to the door, "Now leave."

Carlos raised a brow, seemingly torn between drinking the rest of his café con leche and reprimanding the woman for her callousness. But it was obvious, with the way Pepa had pulled up her legs to her chest and lay buried at the prospect of work, that Lilia and her partner had overstayed their welcome. Standing, Lilia was careful to keep their departure as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. The entire house was in mourning and it had lifted its gray veil for only a moment.

Once outside, Carlos stretched, muttering, "Do you think she'll take it?"

Lilia shrugged. "We need her. We've lost far too many people and we need someone who won't think, who'll simply do what's right." Lilia squinted as she looked out across the front lawn and at the gray Peugeot they had rented, parked inconspicuously on the street. "Her life was put on hold by the mafia and for that reason alone, she'll be willing to take risks. She won't hesitate. We'll see her at Madrid-Barajas, I'm sure of it."

TBC