One Hundred Percent Legit

Author's Note: here I go again. This story has absolutely NOTHING to do with my previous Good Behavior story "I Was Dreaming of Home". It takes off from the same point in the show, the end of Season Two, but in a completely different direction. As of this writing, they STILL haven't announced whether there will be any continuation; maybe starting this will give karma a poke.

Disclaimer: Good Behavior and all its characters belong to TNT.

Chapter One

After killing the lights and bringing the car to a long, silent, rolling stop, Javier sat in the driver's seat for several minutes, just looking and listening through the open windows. All was silent and still in the immediate area, though he could hear the impossibly huge cranes at work in every direction; the commercial port in Long Beach never shut down completely, even this long after midnight.

Finally, after deciding absolutely nobody was around, he got out of the car and stretched, then reached behind the driver's seat for the bag containing the large-ish final portion of their last brick of cocaine. He frowned at the brown paper bag as he tucked it into his jacket, then melted over to the utility box he'd marked as a good temporary cache and tucked it unobtrusively behind. He'd never liked the whole idea of moving and selling drugs, and would be unutterably glad to finish this once and for all. Even though they hadn't decided yet what to do next, Javier had no intention of getting more and continuing this trade.

Coke stashed, he looked around again and began walking on quiet, sneaker-clad feet towards the rendezvous point between the stacks of containers tucked under the shadow of the cargo ship waiting silently at the dock. He'd been told that the ship was loaded and ready to go as soon as they cleared the port; these containers were for the next one. Whatever.

Javier caught himself rubbing the ring on his left hand with that thumb for luck and grinned, the image of Letty sleeping quietly in their hotel room a few miles away making the grin broader as it always did. She'd barely stirred when he kissed her on his way out, but would wake eagerly when he got back, ready for a little celebratory action. He'd never known a woman so constantly voracious, ready for anything at a moment's notice; and she brought the same out in him, the only one to ever do so. The only woman to ever touch him, body and soul.

"Stop it, pendejo," he told himself sharply. "Pay attention to what you're doing, or you'll get yourself killed." Putting Letty firmly out of his mind, he stopped for a full minute in the shadows, watching and listening. Only when he was certain once more that nobody else was around did he continue, coming to the meeting place between the last two rows of containers a couple of dozen steps beyond. He put his back to the container wall and waited.

He was supposed to be meeting "Marco", an acquaintance of theirs who had assisted in setting up many previous sales, and who had made contact with someone apparently from the ship looming above. Why a sailor would be buying a small amount of coke for personal use rather than smuggling bricks in to sell, Javier didn't know, but Marco had sworn it was on the level. The buyer had made contact through a known informal network.

After several long minutes, he finally heard footsteps quietly approaching from the other direction, and Marco appeared around the corner of the container opposite, another man lurking behind. Marco grinned at Javier as he came closer, empty hands automatically out to his sides. "You are NOT gonna believe this," Marco teased, laughing slightly, then he turned towards the third man just coming into the light. Javier stepped forward out of the shadows to meet the newcomer, and then they both simply stopped and stared at each other, jaws gaping identically.

The third man was nearly a mirror image of Javier, even to his beard and brown eyes. He was a little shorter and a little stockier, but at a glance who could tell?

After staring and laughing at each other for a minute, the doppelganger pulled out his cell phone, unlocked it and tossed it to Marco, motioning Javier over to his side for a picture. Javi normally avoided having his picture taken – you never knew which one might turn into evidence – but this was certainly a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence which practically required documentation. He couldn't wait to tell Letty, and even pulled out his own phone for Marco to get a second shot. The two of them took up mirror poses, pointing to each other and laughing into the phone cameras.

The first bullet creased the top of Javier's head just as he was stuffing the phone back into his pants pocket, and he felt more than heard the second strike his double a beat later, just before the third slammed into his side. Only then did the sounds of gunfire from seemingly every direction sink into his recoiling brain, kicking it into high gear.

Staggering sideways from the bullet's impact, he smashed into the container wall and then automatically dropped to the ground, hopefully out of the line of fire. "What the HELL is going on?" screamed through his mind, but he had no time to try to figure anything out. Every frantic thought was geared to one idea: escape.

Scrambling on all fours, he made it to the corner of the container, then stopped, listening hard. Blood was running down his face and into his eyes, making it nearly impossible to see. The sounds of gunfire and men yelling things – he couldn't make out what – was still coming from all directions; he couldn't make out a gap – and then he thought he did: to the right seemed quieter. He didn't dare try to stand up and make himself a target again; he staggered along in a half-crouch, trying ineffectually to staunch the blood from the scalp wound with one hand. Stumbling blindly, lungs heaving, ears ringing, waves of pain and nausea from both head and torso, he made it a few hundred feet before crashing unexpectedly into a flat surface, which then surged away from him – he'd lucked into a door and smashed it open. A small room was behind it, and then another open doorway, and another room filled with crates and other objects he couldn't properly see. "Hide!" was his only conscious thought.

And then he tripped over one final crate, fell to the floor behind it, and the world spun away into red pain and then blank nothing.

Author's Note: I don't know why I love shooting Javier so much - this is the second story I've opened with that. Something Freudian about that. Sorry, Juan!