Chapter Text
Isobel struts into the all-beige interview room with her head held high and Jubal on her heels. She needs to do this, for her team. He doesn't just get to attack them without consequences. She pushes aside everything else and steels herself, ready to face the man that's turned her life upside down.
As she comes to a stop in front of Vargas, her coat and scarf just enough to reveal her undeniable round baby bump.
"Do you know why we're here?" Isobel asks sternly as she looks directly into his cold, angry eyes.
Vargas breaks the eye contact to let his eyes trail down Isobel's body. She knows when he's reached her belly by the flicker of shock on his face and the hard swallow that follows. The anger etched into his expression is replaced by something she can't quite place—perhaps sadness, if she didn't know any better. He stays quiet for a few beats too many. Isobel can practically see him doing the math in his head.
The silence is overwhelming. The walls start feeling like they're closing in.
She knows by the look on Vargas's face that she's fucked up by coming here.
Her hands—that have been aimlessly caressing her bump since his picture flashed onto the big screen in the JOC—are still now, driven by instinct to wrap proactively around her belly and the life inside of it.
She had been so determined to lock him away—a desperate attempt to clear her own conscious—that she nearly lost herself. But it was such a relief when their game was finally over—or so she thought—and she could erase him from her memory, but the ink was barely dry on his arrest warrant when she realized that her mornings spent with her head in the toilet were more than just the flu.
Some twisted part of her brain always wondered if he knew. Now she’s certain that he had no idea.
Vargas recovers quickly, but the anger doesn't return to his face. His eyes shift from Isobel to Jubal.
"How's that kid of yours?" Vargas taunts, his eyes now on Jubal. "I heard through the grapevine that he's a little sick."
Isobel swallows hard. She reaches out with her left hand to grab Jubal's arm and ground him. She knows just how close he is to snapping.
“Isobel, I always pictured you as a woman too invested in her career to have children.” There’s no judgment in his voice. “But, you have my congratulations. A spring baby, yes?” He asks, trying to keep his demeanor calm.
Her eyes narrow, not trusting herself to say much more with Jubal two steps away.
“We’re not here to talk about me, Vargas.” She warns.
"Why are you doing this?" Jubal asks desperately.
"Because I want to." Vargas says with narrowed eyes.
"If this is another stunt to get released, I am telling you..." Isobel says.
"It's not a stunt. And I don't want anything... Other than to see each and every one of you dead." Vargas states plainly.
"Why? Because we... Because we arrested you?" Jubal asks.
"Because you played dirty." Vargas spits.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Isobel asks.
"The last time we spoke, you showed me a video of my wife and my son. You knew that it would change my decision. That I would do whatever it took to keep them safe, including going to jail for the rest of my life."
"Congratulations. You love your wife and kid. Get to the damn point." Isobel says with resentment and vitriol.
"They're dead!" Vargas shouts, his words laced with pain and anger.
Isobel lets out an audible gasp of shock. No, that isn't possible. She had been bluffing when she told Vargas that she would turn his family over to his enemies. She would never actually do it. She wanted him caught, but not if that was the price.
"You think that we would..." The pain in her voice is evidence.
Her hand wraps tighter around her belly. She can feel the air being sucked out of the room. The urge to run is overwhelming almost every one of her other senses.
"When FBI agents come into town, people talk. The word spreads. The second your people left Mexico, the hyenas moved in, and they got their revenge. My wife and my son hung from a bridge like rag dolls for everyone to see. And soon, you will all feel the same pain that I feel."
For a minute, the world just stops and all of the air is sucked out of Isobel's lungs. She's paralyzed by Vargas's words. And then everything hits her like a freight train.
Isobel stumbles out of her chair as the room spins around her. She can feel the bile at the back of her throat and knows that she needs a trashcan. "I..." She stumbles with her words. "Gonna be sick."
She makes a dash for the door. There's a commotion behind them, but she can't turn back. The contents of her stomach are threatening to come up. She vaguely registers the sound of an unfamiliar voice shouting "sit down" and "stay behind the line" and guards rushing in through the door behind Vargas.
She's barely out of the door before she vomits all over the hallway. Over and over again, until there's nothing left and she's weakly tossing apologies to the staff as Jubal escorts her out.
Much later, when they're alone at the office, Jubal tells her how Vargas jumped up from his chair as she made a b-line towards the door, and how the guards had to drag him away. She has to hold back the vomit that threatens to come out all over Jubal's shoes.