Post-Movie/OUATIM fic

[Sands Through The Hourglass]

Sands Through The Hourglass
Once Upon A Time In Mexico Fan Fiction
By Scarlett Burns
Rated R for frequent harsh language, violence and disturbing situations.

Movie Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time In Mexico or any of the recognizable characters that appear in the following story. Once Upon A Time In Mexico, the script/screenplay and characters belong to Robert Rodriguez, Troublemaker Studios and Columbia-Tristar. This story has been written without their consent. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this story.

CIA Note: This is fiction, and although the CIA slang, terminology and technology I've included w/in this story has been researched, the actual situations and the way the CIA is portrayed and does its job is completely fictional and in no way reflects on the image or reputation of the actual Central Intelligence Agency or its officers and agents.

Huge thanks to my beta, Stella, who made this story monumentally better by volunteering her valuable time, expertise, con-crit and insight.

Author's Notes:
This story takes place immediately after the movie.

What can be found at the end of each chapter:
-Translations for any non-English languages included in this story.
-Terminology for CIA/Spy slang.
-Reviewer thanks and author's notes.

~*~

Chapter 1: Killer Choices

Dark.

Everything was so dark.

It was like a black hole that seemed to suck all his thoughts, feelings, beliefs and actions into it. Confusion circled his mind as he leaned heavily against the stone wall behind him, the only thing currently keeping him upright at this very moment. He was only vaguely aware of what was going on, what he’d just done, and what horrors this day had unexpectedly brought him.

“¿Está bien, señor?” The little boy asked him worriedly. The same little boy he’d told to ‘f**k off’ what now seemed a lifetime ago. The same little boy he said he never wanted to see again.

‘Got your wish, didn’t you?’<br>
Sands’ head limply bobbed from one side to the other. He could tell that a good deal of drugs still ran through his system. He was disoriented and confused and most of all… terrified, a feeling that he was very unaccustomed to. It all felt like some hideous nightmare, one that he hoped to wake up from immediately, now if at all possible.

“No lo sé.” Sands replied back in a strained voice, accidentally revealing to the kid that he did speak Spanish, quite well actually, when he chose to. More often then not he only spoke English so his enemies would develop a loose native tongue around him, assuming he couldn’t understand.

It amazed Sands how stupid those mother-f**kers could be sometimes.

“Lo estará.”

Sands sighed. Although he admired the kid’s optimism, he doubted that he would make it through the night. But then, he wasn’t sure he wanted to make it any longer than that anyway.

How much time had passed? One hour? Two? Four? Sands couldn’t focus his mind anymore, the darkness, blood loss and pain taking their toll.

The pain was slowly crawling to the surface, starting as a dull ache that he knew would eventually end as screaming pain.

The drugs Barillo and his bastard daughter Ajedrez had pumped him full of were starting to wear off.

‘Oh, f**k.’<br>
Once the drugs wore off, things were going to start getting really ugly, really fast.

‘Start? Oh, that’s a laugh. I’ve got legs and an arm full of lead and two gaping holes where my eyes used to be. I’m in fantastic shape.’<br>
Sands tried to move his injured arm with little success, the drugs wearing thin and his adrenaline long gone.

‘Yeah… I’m ready to take on Broadway, baby.’<br>
The thought made Sands chuckle out loud, and Chicle Boy stood beside him somewhat surprised.

“¿Por qué se ríe?” the boy asked, clearly bewildered.

The boy didn’t see anything funny about the situation, but then Sands had always had a f**ked up and twisted sense of humor.

“Señor?” the boy half whispered as if afraid to disturb him further. It was enough to pull Sands out of his thoughts.

Deep down Sands supposed that he was touched that the kid even cared. But he was never one to let his emotions get in the way, and quickly became annoyed that the boy wouldn’t just leave him be and let him bleed to death in peace on this dusty, deserted side street in Culiacan.

“Yeah, yeah… f**k off ki—“

Sands stopped in mid retort. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ Sands thought to himself. ‘I am Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands of the Central Intelligence Agency. ‘<br>
‘I do not give up and I do not lose.’<br>
Sands took a deep breath and tried to stand up without the aid of the wall he was leaning against. He gritted his teeth to prevent the moan that wanted to escape his lips as pain shot through him. Sands silently d**ned the not a very nice person who had had to shoot him in both legs. He quickly fell back against the wall, his legs simply unable to support his own weight by themselves any longer.

[Chapter 1 part 2]

‘Just where do you think you’re going to go, anyway? You have no friends - just the way you like it I might add - and you’re f.ucking blind, f.uckmook. Are you just going to wander blindly around town until you get a stray bullet in the head or you unsuspectingly wander into the path of an oncoming truck?’<br>
In the middle of his own mental rant a thought occurred to him… more than a thought actually, an answer.

Sands sat down at the table and quickly ordered his favorite meal and drink; slow roasted pork with a tequila and lime. He handed the waitress the menu without even bothering to open it. Waiting until she walked away he pulled out his cell and quickly punched in a familiar number. He was infuriated at being fobbed off during his last call by his ‘superior’ and the result was that he punched in the numbers a little harder than was actually necessary.

Sands pushed the call button and the line rang twice before someone picked up.

“Martin here.”<br>
“Yeah, listen, I need a new line.” Sands told Martin matter-of-factly.

“Sands,” his superior stated, as usual not sounding happy to hear from the
renegade officer. “What’s the problem? Why do you need a new line?”<br>
“This one’s been compromised.”<br>
Officer Martin sighed into the phone, clearly agitated, and making sure Sands was aware of it. “Fine, this line will be cut as soon as we’re finished. Where are you? I’ll send a man over.”<br>
“OK. Thank you,” Sands drawled, indicating that he was really anything but thankful. “I’m waiting here at la Vaca Volando.”<br>
“La Vaca Volando?” Martin could almost have laughed at the ridiculous name, that is, if he had had a sense of humor.

“That’s right. The Flying… Cow.”

That was it. He’d go back to the Flying Cow. A fellow officer was going to meet him there, and there was still a good chance he’d be waiting – after all, the CIA was nothing if it wasn’t thorough and they’d want to make absolutely certain an officer was gone before declaring him dead or MIA.

“Oye, niño de la bubblegum... ¿todavía estás aquí?” Sands asked as he cursed the darkness that made him feel so helplessly lost.

“Sí.” The kid answered quickly, wanting to be of help somehow.

“Bien. Listen kid, get a taxi and bring it here. I don’t think I can walk very far… Comprendes?”<br>
“Sí.”

Sands listened carefully. He heard the kid’s footsteps retreating, then the bell on the child’s bike as he rode away. Leaning heavily against the wall he listened to the mixture of sounds around him, a few distant gun shots, the noise of vehicles, and the rustle of paper banners from the Day of The Dead celebration gone bad as they blew in the breeze. His hearing, touch and smell were all that he had left now.

‘Don’t! Don’t start thinking about that… aut vincere aut mori.’<br>
‘No.’ He wouldn’t think about that now. He… couldn’t think about it now. Yet the thought was there, in the back of his mind, tugging at him like the pain from the hollows of what were once his dark brown eyes. It relentlessly reminded him of the horrors this day had brought him and the finality that would hit him later when the drugs wore off and his mind was clear.

‘Well, I really f.ucked up this time,’ he thought to himself. ‘Even before today, I was blinded by a hot piece of ass, blind to the fact that things had spun so far out of control and now I really am…’

Ajedrez’s words burned in his ears and echoed in his mind cruelly…<br>
“You really didn’t see it coming, did you?”<br>
He’d never forget those words. She was dead and gone, but those words would stay with him forever. The worst part was that Ajedrez was right and he knew it. The great and all-powerful CIA Officer hadn’t seen it coming. Sands had let his masterfully manipulative mind, with its years of CIA training and experience, f.uck up.

And in the CIA, one f.uck up was all it took.

Yet he knew he could never give up. Give up? He didn’t know the meaning of the phrase. He’d killed Ajedrez, killed those men, and managed to still stand here now. Even if he was a bit shaky, he was still standing.

No, he’d live with the consequences of today. If there was anything Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands was not, it was a coward, and he wouldn’t take the cowards’ way out.

The heat of the day struck him, and he remembered that he was wearing all black. The one thing he shouldn’t be wearing under the blistering Mexican sun while he lost massive amounts of blood.

‘The price one pays to look like a bad ass.’<br>
Sighing, Sands heard the rumble of a car approaching. A door opened and closed. Small, quick footsteps approached, and a familiar young boy’s voice called to him.

“¡Señor! ¡Señor! ¡He traído el taxi como usted me lo pidió!”

Sands breathed in deeply to ready himself for the move he must make and was instantly rewarded with lungs full of fine dust swept up from the road by the wind and the newly arrived taxi. The pain was starting to eat away at him now, getting worse with each passing minute. Sands realized he needed to hurry, or he was going to bleed to death right here on the hot, dirty, dusty, deserted street in this god-forsaken town.

Somehow he found the strength to stand, though he wobbled unsteadily, his black-gloved hands in front of him, reaching blindly for the kid. He found his target and, transferring most of his weight to Chicle Boy, managed to make it the short distance to the taxi.

Landing on the backseat in a heap, the kid beside him, he told the driver to take him to the Flying Cow.

It occurred to Sands, right before he passed out from pain and blood loss, that he might not be making the smartest choice, rushing back into the waiting arms of the CIA. He had no idea how much they knew about his crooked dealings and unnecessary target practice, but he didn’t see that he had any other choice.

~*~

Spanish Translations

¿Está bien, señor? - Are you all right, Sir?

No lo sé. - I don’t know.

Lo estará. - You will be.

¿Por qué se ríe? - Why do you laugh?

Oye, niño de la bubblegum... ¿todavía estás aquí? - Hey, bubblegum kid… you still here?

Bien. - Good

Comprendes? - Understand?

¡Señor! ¡Señor! ¡He traído el taxi como usted me lo pidió! – I have brought the taxi like you asked!

Latin Translations

Aut vincere aut mori. - Either conquer or die.

[AgentScarlett]

Note: Many apologies for messing up the first post w/ the weird name/by etc... I didn't know it had logged me out... so now I can't edit it because it's under 'guest'. *sighs* I need more coffee.

~*~

Chapter 2: Improper Protocol

A few hard nudges roused Sands from his sleep. At least he thought he was awake. Not being able to open ones eyes was going to take some getting used to.

“Alright already!” Sands snapped at the kid, as he sat up in the taxi’s back seat. A wave of dizziness washed over him as he adjusted his sunglasses, making sure they were still in place. His whole body seemed to be screaming at him to just lie there and not move, but that simply wasn’t an option.

“Are we at the Flying Cow?” Sands asked, not caring which one of the car’s occupants answered. As it turned out, it was the driver who spoke.

“Sí. ¿Acaso está ciego? Está justo en frente de usted.”

Officer Sands paused for a brief moment as his jaw worked angrily. His hand found its way to the butt of his gun, and he contemplated how he should kill the driver.

‘A bullet in the back of the head would be quick… but strangulation would be so much more therapeutic right now.’<br>
“Estoy seguro de que no quiso decir nada con eso. ¡Él no sabe!” Chicle boy said in a hurried voice as he noticed where the Officer’s hand was. As much as Sands felt that he needed to restore the balance, he restrained himself. No need to make a scene, after all.

Plus he really didn’t want to kill the driver in front of the boy, who’d probably witnessed enough death for one day, or for that matter in front of any CIA agents who might be watching.

‘Deep breath. Take a deep breath. Regain control. There’s plenty of time for balance restoring later.’<br>
“Lead me to the restaurant, kid,” Sands said, as he opened his door and, with some effort, began to get out. He heard the kid clamber out and walk around the car.

As the boy offered Sands a supporting shoulder, the taxi driver shouted angrily at the two of them, “¿Dónde está mi dinero?”<br>
Now, Sands could normally find a tiny smidgen of patience within his soul… however, as previously stated, he was having somewhat of a bad day, and he’d had enough. In one quick and graceful motion that surprised even him, he snatched the gun from its holster and pointed it towards the sound of the taxi driver’s voice. Even though Sands couldn’t see him, his aim was perfect; the barrel of the gun zeroed in on the driver’s head. He had killed Ajedrez with this gun and had no qualms about adding more blood to its record. He spoke in a low and threatening tone to the man behind the wheel. " Refrenarme de disparar un hoyo en tu cabeza deberá ser el pago suficiente. Lárgate o jódete.”

He’d barely closed the door before he heard the driver peel off. Sands returned his gun to its holster with a smugly satisfied, if somewhat pain-laced, smirk. Chicle boy took hold of his right hand and slowly led him across the street to the Flying Cow, as his body protested every step. Sands’ smirk turned into a grimace as his mind thought in disgust,
‘Vae corpus vile’.

---

Officer Cameron had watched Sands’ entire taxi display with quiet amusement, seated at one of the outdoor tables at the Flying Cow. It was just so very… Sands. He’d known the officer for years, and he really was a nutcase.

As Sands continued walking, or rather stumbling, towards the Flying Cow, Cameron realized just how badly injured Sands really was. For starters, blood was oozing out from under Sands’ sunglasses and spilling down his cheeks and face. It was a sight worthy of the most gory of horror films. He didn’t even want to think about the injuries that were causing it. Sands was also limping heavily, and blood was dripping from a hole in his black shirt and down the gloved fingertips of his left arm. He looked like death itself, and Officer Cameron had to hand it to the crazy son-of-a-pregnant dog for even making it here.

‘Christ!’ Cameron thought to himself. As much as Cameron disliked Sands’ personality, and the way he carried out his clandestine operations, he never liked to see a fellow officer injured. Especially one he’d trained with.

As soon as Sands was in front of the restaurant, Cameron leapt to his feet and rushed over, putting together a little fantasy that the two of them were American tourist friends.

“Oh my god, Joe! What happened?” he exclaimed, as he grabbed Sands’ free arm, while Chicle Boy held onto the other.

Sands lifted his head a little higher at the sound of a familiar voice, the addition of another much stronger hand on his arm giving much needed support to his failing legs. He knew that voice… it was a fellow CIA officer… one he knew quite well, but he couldn’t quite place it. He was in too much pain. All at once a wave of dizziness assailed him, and it took all the strength he could muster just to keep standing and remain conscious; that was a feat in and of itself given the amount of blood he’d lost.

Sands felt the need to spit out some smart-ass reply to his fellow officer’s question about what had happened, and opened his mouth to do so, but in the end just didn’t have enough strength left. He shut his mouth as a pathetic groan escaped his lips. The other officer got the hint, and quickly led Sands to his car, which was parked at the corner of the street, thankfully fairly close to the restaurant. The little boy helped Cameron drag Sands to the car.

Sands felt himself being laid down upon something in a surprisingly gentle manner. ‘Golly, that’s interesting.’ He sensed a cool surface against his face, and recognized the sound of a car door being closed. He was lying on the backseat of a car, the other officer’s car, he presumed.

It was that reassurance, little though it was, that allowed him to finally succumb to the dizziness and slip into the unconsciousness that had been beckoning to him.

Closing the car door, Cameron took a deep breath to calm his rattled nerves, then turned to the little boy, who looked distressed. It almost startled Cameron. ‘Sands is not a nice man, so what has Sands done to win the devotion of the boy? Or did the boy just feel sympathy for Sands’ condition?’ He looked back at Sands. ‘That must be it. Who wouldn’t have sympathy for a man so badly mangled?’<br>
“Gracias por ayudar al Oficial Sands.” Cameron said awkwardly in Spanish. He’d never been good at speaking foreign languages and just barely knew enough to get by. ‘The complete opposite of Sands,’ Cameron thought suddenly. “A partir de ahora yo cuidaré de él.”

The kid’s eyes focused on the unconscious officer. “¿Estará bien, señor?” he asked, more worried about the hurt man than he had been before. At least before, he’d been conscious.

Cameron swallowed hard, and his gaze briefly shifted to Sands before returning to the boy. Even if Sands survived all his injuries, Cameron wasn’t so sure that Sands’ standing would be ‘alright’ with the Company. He wasn’t sure what Sands had been up to this time around, but there had to be some improper protocol involved. There always was with Sands. However Sands’ fate all depended on whether or not the Company knew about it, and if so, just how much they knew. Sands was one of the best, in terms of gathering the intelligence the Company wanted, and it was possible that this skill would save him in the end.

[AgentScarlett]

“No lo se… pero prometo hacer todo lo que pueda para que lo esté. Ahora ve y corre, necesito llevarlo al hospital en seguida,” Cameron finally said to the boy, after trying to gather his own thoughts.

The boy cast one last worried look at Sands before muttering a worried “Eso espero,” and slowly walking away from the car, heading back down the dusty street to retrieve the bicycle he’d left behind.

Cameron moved swiftly to the driver’s side and hopped in, quickly starting the car. He looked in his rear view mirror at Sands’ unmoving form. Cameron had no idea if Sands would survive, but Cameron owed Sands one, much as he hated to admit it and he wouldn’t let a fellow CIA officer down.

Unfortunately Cameron couldn’t just take Sands to the nearest hospital. He would have to take him to the nearby CIA headquarters first, where the white coats could stabilize him before flying him back to the OMS in Virginia. But he couldn’t just take him straight to HQ either, Cameron had to make sure to lose anyone who might be tailing them first. It was a well-known fact that it was unacceptable to risk giving away the location of the Company’s foreign soil HQ, even if it meant risking the lives of several officers.

Cameron reached under the passenger seat and grabbed his sweatshirt, unused in the heat, then tore it into strips with the help of his pocketknife. Turning around in the front seat, he reached back and tightly tied one strip around each of the bullet wounds, which were still bleeding profusely. If the bleeding didn’t slow down soon, Sands’ chances of making it were somewhere between slim and non-existent. He looked up at Sands’ face and debated whether to take off the sunglasses and see just what had happened, but he quickly decided against it. They needed to leave immediately, and he was pretty d**n certain that whatever had happened to cause such a mess couldn’t be fixed with a tightly tied piece of cloth.

Turning back around, Cameron put the car in gear and stepped on the gas. He intended to waste approximately half an hour by making several quick turns and maneuvers to lose anyone potentially on their tail, and could only hope that Sands would fight to hang on.

~*~

Spanish Translations

Sí. ¿Acaso está ciego? Está justo en frente de usted. - Yes. Are you blind? It is right in front of you.

Estoy seguro de que no quiso decir nada con eso. ¡Él no sabe! - I’m sure he meant nothing by it. He doesn’t know!

¿Dónde está mi dinero? - Where is my money?

Refrenarme de disparar un hoyo en tu cabeza deberá ser el pago suficiente. Lárgate o jódete. - Restraining myself from shooting a hole through your head should be payment enough. f**k off… or f**k you.

Gracias por ayudar al Oficial Sands. - Thank you for helping Officer Sands.

A partir de ahora yo cuidaré de él. - I will take care of him from here.

¿Estará bien, señor? - Will he be alright Sir?

No lo se… pero prometo hacer todo lo que pueda para que lo esté. Ahora ve y corre, necesito llevarlo al hospital en seguida. - I don’t know… but I promise I’ll do everything I can to see that he will be. Run along now, I need to take him to the hospital right away.

Eso espero. - I hope so.

Latin Translations

Vae corpus vile. - d**n worthless body.

[AgentScarlett]

Chapter 3: Cowboy

After what seemed like nine hours, but in actuality was approximately twenty-five minutes, Officer Cameron decided that they were not being followed. There had been no signs of another vehicle following, and with the speed of the car there was no way anyone could have kept up on foot.

Just to be absolutely certain, Cameron stopped the car and waited at one of the deserted intersections for a moment to see if any vehicles appeared behind them after their abrupt halt. Cameron looked back at Sands, who was still out cold, and decided he’d better search him for any bugs or tracking devices.

After a quick dry-clean of Sands’ person, he was satisfied that his fellow officer was clean. Cameron started the car back up and stepped on the gas. He made a couple more quick turns, and one last hard right, as he headed out of town. The sudden motion caused Sands’ body to shift to one side and Sands grunted in reaction.

‘At least he’s still alive,’ Cameron thought, only slightly reassured.

As they reached the outskirts of the town, Cameron continually looked in his rear view mirror for a possible tail, and was pleased to see none. His gaze in the rear view wandered down to Sands’ still form lying awkwardly in the back seat. Officer Sands, a man he’d known since they’d met at the Farm some thirteen years ago. They’d even graduated together, although much to Cameron’s dismay, Sands got significantly better grade point average in almost every subject.

Cameron had always been slightly jealous of Sands, though he’d never admit it out loud. The fact he hadn’t mentioned it out loud hadn’t mattered though, because Sands was aware of it just the same. Sands had the remarkable ability to look at someone, listen to the tenor of their voice, weigh their body language and know exactly what that person was thinking. It was a gift that really couldn’t be taught, and it was the reason the Company had placed Sands’ in the Interrogations Department right after he’d graduated. It was a perfect fit, but in the end Sands simply ticked off too many people in the department for him to be welcome there and he’d been officially labeled ‘does not work well with others’.

‘He has a remarkable gift for pissing people off with a mere sentence… hell, a mere word at times.’<br>
It was distinctively Sands. Master manipulator and controller extraordinaire… he lived to get under people’s skin, which was why he’d never had any real friends and was a perfect officer for the Company. A man who no longer had any family to tie him down, any people to care.

Cameron knew that Sands was a smart man. ‘No, smart wasn’t the word for it. Sands was a genius at what he did.’ When it came to psychological warfare, mind games and intelligence gathering he could think of no one at the Company who was better at it than Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands. But Cameron was no fool either; he knew that behind that genius was a somewhat, if not very, unbalanced mind.

Which is why he was wondering, at this very moment, just what could have gone so wrong. Sands was not a stupid officer in the field, and he had some ten years experience under his belt.

‘I set them up and watch them fall.’<br>
Sands voice drawled in Cameron’s mind. How many times had he listened to Sands utter those words? Just set them up and watch them fall. Sands had always made it sound so easy, when in reality it was anything but.

Yes, the man was a perfect CIA Operations Officer… that is, to those that weren’t privy to any of Sands’ own private clandestine operations. Sands wasn’t without his faults, and as the saying goes, you can’t be good at everything. Sands had a bad habit of drawing too much attention to himself for his own good, with his bizarre taste in tacky clothing and bad wigs. Sands also had a tendency to go too far when something didn’t go his way, and as far as authority went, well… the ‘doesn’t play well with others’ label always came back into effect. Sands would go to almost any lengths to get what he wanted.

However, Cameron knew the Company well. If an officer was a great asset to the agency, got the intelligence and results that the Company wanted, and was secretive enough about any improper conduct… well, then the Company might be inclined to look the other way, as long as the agent didn’t cross the line by committing treason, or causing any unfavorable blowback. No, the Company wasn’t unfamiliar with the term ‘turn a blind eye’, and often enough they let a truly good asset continue his operations without interference from them, as long as the officer could keep his unfavorable behavior clandestine.

Cameron did know Sands well enough to know he wouldn’t commit treason, and Cameron hadn’t seen, heard of or read about any blowback from Sands’ rolled-up operation. However Cameron had known Sands long enough to be fairly certain Sands had used methods that were not publicly accepted by the Company. The real question was whether the Company knew about it. If they did know, then the next question was just exactly how much were they aware of?

“Sands?” Cameron inquired, curious to know if Sands was conscious.

“Eleven…” Sands mumbled quietly, seemingly still unconscious.

Cameron’s brow furrowed. Sands was alive, yes, but he didn’t seem to be all there, being unaware of his surroundings and company. “Don’t worry Jeff, I’ll get a pretty female white coat to take care of you, just hang on for me.”<br>
“Eleven… mustn’t… broken.” The injured officer continued to mumble.

A flash of memory came to Cameron then. It was of a conversation he’d had with Sands way back when they were freshmen together at the Farm.

---

Sands smiled his usual smug smile, and his brown eyes shone with a familiar glint that only meant one thing; he’d get under his fellow student Eric Cameron’s skin by the end of the conversation.

Jeff had always balked at the rules, and he pushed everything to the limit. On days when he felt extremely rebellious, he mocked the system by wearing ridiculous cowboy garb, sometimes even complete with boots and a big cowboy hat.

A Cowboy.

Sands had always gotten a perverse pleasure out of a nickname that normally served only as an insult within the Company.

Obviously this was one of those rebellious days, as Sands stood in front of him with a laughably big cowboy hat complemented by full western garb. Cameron would have laughed at the hilarious sight, if he hadn’t known how dangerous Sands could be when pissed off.

“You worry too much Cam,” Sands drawled in his uniquely calm and unnerving voice. Cameron shuddered inwardly at the nickname. He’d never liked it, and he was sure Sands knew that and used it for that very reason. “Of all that nuts the Professor just spouted in class, there was only one thing that I could truly agree with.”<br>
“And which one thing do you see as more important than all the others, Jeff?” Cameron asked, in a tone that indicated he didn't really care about the answer.

“Cam! And here I thought you were the perfect student. Sitting quietly and taking endless notes that you’ll never read.” Sands smirked and dug a cigarette out of his pocket, fully aware that he wasn’t allowed to smoke inside the Farm, but lighting up anyway.

“I thought them all important, Jeff.”<br>
Sands tipped back his cowboy hat and sighed dramatically as he took a drag off his cigarette. “No, no, no, Cam,” Sands said patronizingly to his fellow rookie. “ Eleven. Eleven is the golden rule. The only commandment that must never, under any circumstances, be broken.”<br>
---

Just like that, the memory was gone. Cam couldn’t help but chuckle at it because he still couldn’t remember what commandment eleven was. After all, he’d learned all that thirteen years ago, and he’d had some trouble remembering it even back then. Besides, he wasn’t even sure that Sands was mumbling about commandment eleven. He could be babbling about almost anything; with the amount of blood he’d lost he was probably delusional.

Besides Sands’ mumbling and bleeding, Cameron was also concerned about the fact that Sands didn’t seem to have recognized him. Even after leaving the Farm he had worked side-by-side with Sands on several operations. It wasn’t as if Sands would have forgotten him.

As he glanced back in the mirror his eyes once again focused on all the blood that seemed to be flowing out from under Sands’ sunglasses. He hated to think that Sands hadn’t recognized him because he couldn’t see him, but unfortunately he thought it highly likely. Cameron sincerely hoped, if only for the sake of Sands’ own highly-questionable sanity, that it was a temporary problem.

[AgentScarlett]

Chapter 4: The Eleventh Commandment

After several miles of driving in the barren Mexican desert, Cameron heard Sands shift his weight slightly in the backseat, and the move prompted Cameron to try and get Sands to talk, hopefully a little more coherently this time around.

“Jeff, are you still with me back there?”<br>
No reaction.

Cameron sighed and thought it best just to give up, but then an idea popped into his head. Cameron had to admit it was sort of an evil idea, something that would probably get him killed if Sands was his normal self, but he wasn’t… and if anything would get him to respond it would be that.

Cameron opened his mouth to say it, and then thought twice when one of Sands’ guns glinted in the sunlight. Sands might have been wounded, delirious and unconscious, but he was still Sands. Cameron, deciding it was better to be safe than dead, carefully reached back at the same time as he was attempting to steer, and began to divest Sands of his killing instruments. Slowly Cameron removed Sands’ guns from their holsters and placed them on the front seat, managing to somehow stay on the road during the process.

After the guns were safely out of Sands’ reach, he uttered the dreaded word.

“Sheldon?”<br>
That did it.

Just as Cameron had anticipated, Sands’ hand went down to grab the most immediately available gun. It was more of a reflex than anything else, and Cam couldn’t help but let a small smile emerge when Sands started to mutter angrily under his breath. Cameron had known that if Sands was at all ‘with it’ he’d hear the name he absolutely detested and would immediately seek revenge on the one who had uttered it.

‘Ahh, sweet revenge.’<br>
Sands could feel the sun on his face, the heat of its bright rays, yet nothing penetrated the darkness. ‘Except for the pain ripping through my skull… and, oh yeah, some not a very nice person calling me Sheldon.’ That was something he couldn’t tolerate. If he was about to die, he’d be d**ned if they were going to be calling him Sheldon at his funeral. He’d instinctively reached down, only to find that he was weaponless.

‘Freaking out now,’ Sands thought to himself, as his body relaxed from loss of blood, without his permission, but not before he’d uttered a “f**k off” for good measure.

“Are you still with me back there?” Cameron repeated, for want of something better to say.

And it was just like that. It struck Sands suddenly, where he’d heard that voice before.

‘Cameron. Officer Eric “goody-two-shoes” Cameron. I should have known right away.’<br>
Cam. His fellow student from the Farm.

Well I suppose Sands ol’ boy, that there are worse people who could have picked you up, much worse. However, his arrival is most unexpected; he’s not stationed in Mexico. At least, last time I heard he wasn’t.

A wave of dizziness washed over Sands as he took a deep, ragged breath and turned his head ever so slightly in the direction of Cameron’s voice. He attempted a snide snicker, and only half succeeded.

“So, Cam, did they send you in for a little Exfiltration Operation? About bloody f**kin’ time. Or did you just drop by for a tequila and lime?”

Cameron could tell by the sound of Sands’ voice that he was obviously in pain, but he was trying not to let it get in the way of good sarcasm. Cameron couldn’t help it when a small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth as Sands seemed to return to his old, normal, bastard self. He had to admit that he occasionally liked the crazy SOB, for some reason that must have been equally as crazy as Sands himself.

“Yeah. I was told to meet you at the Flying Cow.”<br>
“Still trying to wrangle the Company Cowboy, eh Cam? I guess… some things really don’t change,” Sands said, as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position, his legs and body at odds with each other.

“Just like old times, don’t you agree Jeff?” Cameron asked conversationally; the longer he could keep him conscious the better. He did remember that much from the Farm. ‘Keep them talking if you can, until you can get medical attention for them.’<br>
“Mutatis mutandis.”<br>
Cam rolled his eyes, exasperated because Sands knew he couldn’t understand Latin, but always seemed to use it anyway. Yet another thing that hadn’t changed.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I’m not that far gone yet.”<br>
‘He obviously hasn’t lost his knack for reading people.’<br>
At his silence Sands continued, “Well gee, wonders never cease. Cam remembers something from Camp Swampy after all.”<br>
Cam rolled his eyes for the second time in a minute, not an unusual occurrence when one was around Sands.

“Jeff,” Cam paused for a moment before asking the critical question “what the hell happened?”<br>
Sands let out a short, sharp laugh, the kind that could send chills down someone’s spine. “Better to ask what didn’t happen; it would be a shorter answer.” Sands laugh ended in a cough, the day’s events having taken their toll. “nuts. Forgot my own golden rule, the one commandment I swore I’d never break.”<br>
“It’s been thirteen years. You’ll have to refresh my memory.”<br>
With a visible effort, Sands propped his head up with his good arm as his head and body swayed heavily with the motion of the car.

“Still can’t remember? I guess in some insane way… that makes me feel better.”<br>
“You were muttering the number eleven. Is that what you meant?”<br>
“You really weren’t payin’ attention, were you, Cam? I broke the eleventh f**king commandment,” Sands protested angrily, then paused to see if Cameron got the message. He didn’t.

“Which is?” Cameron prodded.

Sands let out an odd, long, heavy breath before speaking. “Thou shalt not get caught.”<br>
The words hung in the air, neither one wanting to say anything more, and Sands let his head drop back down onto the backseat of the car. Cameron quickly got out his cell phone, and called Sands’ superior, Officer Martin, at Mexican Headquarters.

“Martin? I’ve seen Joe and he’s decided to visit. That’s right, and he’ll need a white coat and an escort to OMS as soon as possible. That’s correct. We’ll be there in 25.” He hung up and looked back at Sands. He seemed to be breathing fine, but was obviously in a lot of pain. It did appear, however, that the bleeding from the bullet wounds had slowed down, which was small consolation.

“You were the Operation Controller, weren’t you?” he asked Sands.

Sands’ head made a slow up and down motion against the seat before he replied.

“Yeah… yeah, I was the controller.”<br>
~*~

Latin Translations

Mutatis mutandis. - With the necessary changes.

[AgentScarlett]

Chapter 5: Air America

Exactly twenty-three minutes later Cameron arrived at headquarters with Sands’ unmoving, non-speaking form sprawled across the backseat. Cameron figured he’d drifted into unconsciousness, because he hadn’t said a word for well over fifteen minutes, which would have been an impossibility if Sands was conscious.

Just as Cameron had requested, several white coats were waiting for them when they arrived, as was Sands’ superior, Officer Martin. He’d barely brought the car to a stop when the white coats rushed over and examined Sands. Gently, two of them lifted Sands off the backseat and onto an emergency stretcher. During all this, there was no movement from Sands whatsoever, which was, in Cameron’s opinion, not a great sign. Cameron watched as the white coats immediately rushed Sands inside Headquarters, while Office Martin came up beside him and introduced himself in an abrupt manner.

After Sands disappeared through the nearest headquarters entrance, Cameron followed Officer Martin inside. Martin was obviously trying to get to Sands, but the white coats would have none of it.

“I need to talk to him,” Martin growled, half to himself, as he turned to Cameron.
“Sir, with all due respect, Officer Sands’ condition is critical. He won’t be able to speak to you now, even if you do see him, as he is currently unconscious. He’s suffering from at least three gunshot wounds and an unknown injury to his face. It’s… it’s a possibility that he may not even survive,” Cameron told him, as they entered a large room that appeared to be Martin’s center of operations. Martin humphed indifferently, and took a seat in a comfy chair behind a long oak desk, not showing the least bit of concern for his fallen officer.

“Would that be so bad?” Martin asked casually.

Cameron’s eyes widened; he was completely taken aback by the remark. Certainly officers often didn’t get along, and let’s face facts, no one got along with Sands, but it was unheard of to blatantly say that the death of another officer ‘wouldn’t be so bad’. Especially one you currently worked with.

“Sir?”<br>
Martin leaned back in his chair and looked into Cameron’s eyes, “You act shocked, but you’re really not. You know Sands. He’s a loose cannon, and has most likely put the agency in jeopardy more than once. Oh, I don’t have proof mind you,” Martin said, waving his hand in a dismissive manor. “Sands is no fool, he knows how to cover himself. I should have known that with Sands as controller this operation would turn into a wet job."

Cameron didn’t like where this was going, and decided to change the subject. “How long till the AA helicopter arrives to transport Officer Sands to OMS?”<br>
“Within the hour.”<br>
After about ten minutes of awkward silence between the two officers one of the white coats emerged from a backroom and joined them inside the office. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. His face was pale, as if he was shocked by the sight he’d just seen.

“Well, will he live?”<br>
“Can’t say for certain. He’s lost a good deal of blood and has extensive injuries. However, if he’s transferred to OMS immediately I’d say he has a good chance of making it.”<br>
Cameron didn’t like the look on the doctor’s face. “What’s the extent of his injuries?”<br>
The white coat sighed heavily and wiped some beads of sweat off his forehead. “He’s suffering from a number of gunshot wounds. One in his upper left arm and one in both thighs. They’re survivable and completely recoverable with the proper treatment b…”

“That’s all? So I can talk to him then. Excu…“ Martin interrupted rudely, only to have the rudeness returned by the white coat.

“No sir, that’s not all. I haven’t covered his most serious injury, one that I am ill-equipped to handle here. OMS will have to take care of…“

“What is the injury?” Cameron asked hurriedly, knowing full well that it had to do with the extensive amount of blood running out from under Sands’ sunglasses. He wasn’t a complete idiot, despite what Sands might say.

“He’s obviously been tortured. The most serious injury he suffered is to his eyes,” the white coat shifted his weight from side to side before continuing. “He’s blind.”<br>
Cameron shut his eyes briefly. ‘Christ almighty!’

“Is there any chance of…“

“No,” the white coat interrupted, knowing full well what Cameron was going to ask. “No chance of Officer Sands recovering his sight. Complete disability for life. He requires immediate evacuation to OMS for treatment… and therapy.”<br>
Cameron had a sudden wave of sympathy for Sands, the thoroughly irritating and unbalanced officer he’d known since his days of training at the Farm. Being blind meant being imperfect, and it meant being vulnerable and needy.

These were Sands’ worst nightmares.

Cameron looked up at the doctor again. “How can you be so sure?”<br>
The white coat returned Cameron’s steady gaze before telling both officers the ugly truth.
“There is no chance of recovery… because quite frankly there is nothing there to fix.” At the confused looks the two officers were throwing him, the white coat decided to put it bluntly. “He has no eyes at all.”<br>
Cameron’s mind reeled. “No eyes…” he repeated back in a whisper. The mere thought was horrifying to him, and he realized now why the white coat was so pale. He’d seen it, in all its gory reality. Even for a doctor, it couldn’t have been easy. Cameron leaned heavily against the desk next to him, suddenly feeling the need to sit down. He heard Martin’s chair creak from the officer’s weight, so evidently he wasn’t the only one.
The white coat continued, “Frankly, I’m surprised he’s alive. Not only has he lost a massive amount of blood, he’s obviously been tortured. To top it all off, from his symptoms I’d guess whoever did it must have given him quite a nasty drug to keep him aware and awake while they… operated.”<br>
“f**k!” Cameron swore under his breath, uncharacteristically for him.

“Is he aware of what has happened to him?” Martin asked dully, a surprising lack of emotion in his voice. To Cameron, Martin sounded like a robot devoid of all feeling.
It was unnerving. Cameron looked at Martin, and was further surprised to see the man didn’t look too surprised or too phased by the gruesome facts the doctor was piling on them either. ‘Very odd.’<br>
“To a certain extent, yes. I’m sure a lot of what happened after the torture is fuzzy, but I believe he knows what has happened. He can most likely remember the whole hideous operation, if they gave him the drugs I suspect they did.”<br>
Cameron finally gave in and sat down on the desk, not caring if it was offensive to a superior or not. He’d known Sands for some thirteen years. As much as the man could push his buttons he never would have wished this on him. He wouldn’t even wish this on his worst enemy. He wondered what would happen to Sands now, and the scenarios that ran through Cameron’s head were more than slightly disturbing.

Cameron was lost in his thoughts as the white coats took Sands, heading directly for OMS. Cameron never even looked up, not yet prepared to face Sands again as they took him away to an uncertain fate.

As the flurry of activity followed Sands out of Headquarters, Cameron closed his eyes and silently prayed for Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands; it might have been the first time anyone had ever done so.

[AgentScarlett]

Chapter 6: Spooks in White

3 Weeks Later

Sands was sitting upright in his hospital bed, listening to the buzz of all the typical hospital sounds that surrounded him. Hurried footsteps, grieving relatives, no-nonsense doctors, beeps, whirs and rolling stretchers.

Godd.amn, he was bored as hell.

Just sitting around doing nothing had never been Sands’ style, and being forced to do so now irritated him no end. He hated sitting around… it left his mind free to do too much thinking. He’d think about the past, the present, and most frightening of all, the future. On the outside he showed the world his normal demeanor. Officer Sands, always cool as a cucumber and able to handle any shapes thrown his way, even in the direst of situations.

Inside however, he was threatening to crumble. Actually, he always had been, but now more than ever.

The darkness, his fears, his mental instability, all rising up and attempting to eat him alive.

It didn’t help that he was now blind.

It didn’t help that the door to his mind had always been slightly unhinged.

And it really didn’t help that the last time he’d paid OMS a little ‘visit’ was when he’d had his mental breakdown after…<br>
‘F.uck no, you’re not thinking about that.’<br>
As part of his therapy OMS had assigned him a psychotherapist at the beginning of the week. Sands didn’t know exactly how long he’d been at OMS, but imagined it was nearing a month, and as far as Sands was concerned this new ‘therapist’ of his was a first class moron. Every day he’d sit there for two hours and listen, while the therapist asked him in a hundred and fifty different ways ‘how he felt’.

‘Disgusting.’<br>
He’d been transferred out of intensive care about two weeks ago. The bullets removed and all injuries sanitized, stitched and wrapped tight. He’d been told when he was finally aware again, and not too drugged up on meds by his assigned spook in white, that nothing could be done for his eyes. He recalled sitting silently for a moment after being given the news, before biting back a bitter reply. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

The simple fact was that Sands had already known that… he’d have been an idiot not to know it. Sands knew from the moment that the no doubt self-proclaimed Doctor Guevara revealed his instrument of torture and moved toward Sands with that insane gleam in his eye, that there would be no going back from what happened there in that dank, dark room with only his enemies as witnesses.

No three strikes and you’re out.

No second chance, no do-over, no re-take.

No encores for this Broadway performance. The curtain was down and the seats were empty. Critics proclaim, this show is not groovy, happenin’ or hip and should be avoided at all costs.

He would have to agree with that last statement.

Still, even though Sands knew what had happened, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it, not yet, not ever.

‘No. Don’t think about it.’<br>
He supposed that’s what the nosy, pipsqueak therapist was trying to do, get him to accept, but Officer Sands wouldn’t bite. Besides, it was fun to string the man along, to bait him, and he got a perverse pleasure out of playing with his therapist’s mind. Sands was not ignorant when it came to psychology, especially mind games and psychological warfare. After all, Sands had a Masters in the subject and he put his well-honed skills to use every day.

Sands knew the man must dread his sessions with Officer Sands.
Which meant that Sands loved every minute of it, and f**king with the man was, at the very least, a break from the boring humdrum OMS life.

‘I’ve still got the touch.’<br>
Of course, mind games had always been one of his specialties, a specialty he once proudly admitted to Cam that he frequently used and abused.

Sands sighed as the hospital racket continued. He didn’t think it was normal for him to hear it so well. His hearing had to have been heightened since… that day.

‘Bored as hell…boredashellboredashellbordashell.’<br>
Sands fingers began to tap against his thigh with impatience. He recalled one of the nurses telling him earlier that a TV was in the room if he wanted to use it, and he decided that now would be the perfect time. His hand groped around on the nightstand beside him until his fingers brushed the remote control for the TV. It then took two more minutes to figure out which way it needed to point and another minute for him to push every top and bottom button until he heard the TV click on.

At the sound Sands threw the remote back onto the nightstand with a grunt of frustration then turned his head towards the source.

‘Can’t even turn the TV on to listen to it without messing around for ten f**king minutes. You’re in wonderful shape… f.uckmook.’<br>
After listening intently to the TV for a few minutes, as he tried to stop his mind from racing, he came to the upsetting conclusion that it was on SoapNet.

‘Vae.’<br>
It was at that moment that Sands realized he was truly in hell. His head fell back in a gesture of defeat, until it hit the wall and pain shot through his skull.

‘Wonderful… f.ucking fabulous.’<br>
Sands heard the door to his room open, accompanied by the sound of light footsteps walking towards him and he quickly lifted his head back up straight. No sense in looking even more pathetic than he already did. Judging by the sound of the footsteps he could tell they belonged to a female… it was a nurse. Sands turned his bandaged face towards the sound. He could hear a slight clattering as she walked in and surmised she was probably bringing him some food.

“Ah, Officer Sands. I see you’ve discovered the TV. Your lunch is on the table here,” she paused and patted the table to make sure he knew where it was, then continued “and I’ve been told to inform you that you’ll be having a visitor today, in about an hour.”

This must have been the first time she’d cared for him because he didn’t recognize her voice from before. It was soft, feminine, almost musical.
For the millionth time he d**ned the darkness. He wished he could see her. Still, it didn’t stop his mind’s eye from picturing what she might look like, and he was pleased with the results that his imagination came up with.

‘Better than nothing.’<br>
“Visitor?” Sands repeated questioningly. He wasn’t really surprised; he was actually more shocked that he hadn’t had one yet. He could think of several officers from the Company who were probably dying to talk to him, and the only explanation for such a long reprieve must have been OMS forbidding visitors. Sands hadn’t minded. The delay gave him plenty of time to concoct a believable story to tell. Hell, he’d thought up several believable stories. He also had a debrief to go through, that much he was certain of, and whatever else happened would decidedly rest on just how much the Company knew.

However Sands did wonder just who, out of the many people who no doubt wanted or needed to see him, would be the first to take a crack at it.

“Director Douglas,” she answered, before leaving him to his meal, and his thoughts.

‘Oh boy.’<br>
Douglas was the Director of Security. For him to come in person, he must really have been concerned by what went down, wrong and side-ways with Sands’ operation. It was that, or Sands was going to be prosecuted. He sincerely hoped it was the former; it would make his already difficult life much easier.

Sands straightened up a little bit in determination.

He wasn’t worried.

After all, he was Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands, and he could bulls.hit his way out of just about anything.

~*~

Latin Translations

Vae - d**n

[AgentScarlett]

Chapter 7: Burned

Sands had decided that the best thing to do was tell the Company as much of the truth as he thought safe. The more lies one told, the easier one got caught. The more truth he told, the harder it would be for someone else to prove that he was lying about said activity.
It was all so simple that Sands couldn’t help but smile to himself.

‘Find a way of telling the truth without letting anyone know what actually happened. It’s that easy.’<br>
When Director Douglas entered his room a little while later, Sands was fully prepared for him. His mind was prepared for several scenarios, with explanations and half-truths to go with all of them. The nurse with the musical voice announced Director Douglas’ arrival, then Douglas walked over and sat by his bed as the nurse closed the door behind her.

“Hello, Officer Sands,” Director Douglas started, somewhat awkwardly. Although Sands had obviously heard of the man, they’d never met before, and evidently the sight of himself with bandages all over his face, legs and arm, was a little startling. Although Sands’ d**ned the circumstances, he liked the fact that the man was thrown off balance.

‘Time to topple the man over and onto his ass.’<br>
“Tell me…” Sands started, dispensing with a formal greeting, or a greeting of any sort for that matter. “That nurse that showed you in just now. What does she look like?” The other man started to open his mouth to say something, feeling awkward, but Sands didn’t wait for an answer before he continued. “Because, you see, her voice led me to conclude that she was hotter than two half-f.ucked squirrels in a forest fire, and the idea of a nurse with qualities such as that tending to my needs… “ Sands paused for a moment and his voice dropped suggestively lower as he leaned conspiratorially toward the other man, “Well, let’s just say I can whip up a couple more needs she could fulfill for me.”<br>
Sands smiled inwardly but kept his face serious on the outside. Although he couldn’t see Douglas’ face, he knew the man was completely taken aback and evidently at a total loss for words as well. “I was just wondering. Oh wait, if she’s not then I don’t want to know. Truly, I’d rather keep my fantasy.”<br>
‘Keep him off balance enough so he’s open to your ideas and doesn’t catch your mistakes.’ Sands remembered that pearl of wisdom from… oh, hell… some professor he had had back at the Farm.

There was a long silence before the Director started again, and this pleased Sands very much. The man was not a master at interrogation; if he were Sands little opener wouldn’t have had any effect on him. But then, Douglas was Head of Security, not an interrogation officer.

Douglas cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Uh, Officer Sands, I’m Officer Douglas, Director of Security.”<br>
“Oh yes, I know who you are. A very important man!” Sands put his good arm onto his chest. “Golly, what did I do to deserve the honor of your visit?”<br>
“I think you’re aware that things did not go as planned during your operation in Culiacan, Mexico…”

“Gee, and I thought getting my eyes pulled out and coming home with several new pieces of lead embedded in my body was all part of the master plan,” Sands cut in sarcastically; he really didn’t mean to - he was trying to keep his sarcasm to a minimum - but the stupidity of the statement warranted the remark.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” Douglas replied apologetically, the meaning of the statement hitting him after Sands’ reply.

Sands had to bite down on his lower lip to keep himself in control and not shoot off his mouth, or the guy’s head. The man was lucky Sands didn’t have a gun.

Breathe Jeff, breathe. You gotta stay on this guy’s good side. Work now, play later.’<br>
From Douglas’ point of view, it must have looked more like a pathetic reaction rather than a means of controlling an infamous temper, because Douglas set a hand on Sands’ shoulder and said, “I’m sorry about all this.”<br>
Sands kept quiet, and waited for him to continue.

Douglas cleared his throat and then proceeded. “You’ll be debriefed in a week, so I’m not going to press you for all of the hard facts at this moment, but you must understand that the roll-up of your operation is most upsetting to the Company. I need you to tell me who’s responsible for your injuries and what went wrong, so that OOS can assess the situation.”<br>
“The Barillo Cartel is responsible. As for what happened, a f**king bogus bona fide is what happened.” Sands paused and leaned forward, towards the man’s voice. “What I want to know is who the f**k was responsible for AFN Agent Ajedrez’s bona fides? Whoever sent me that bona fide made one huge d**n mistake.”<br>
“I’ll check into that immediately,” Douglas said seriously, and Sands heard the sound of pen or pencil on paper. “Double Agent?”<br>
“You could say that. Ajedrez was Barillo’s daughter.”<br>
Douglas raised his eyebrows as his eyes left his pen and paper. He looked back at the injured officer before him and mumbled an agitated “D.amn it.”<br>

[AgentScarlett]

“Yeah. False intelligence and a bad bona fide is responsible for the roll-up. I’d sent an eyes only bona fide request to my superior, Officer Martin, to pass it to an OOS…”

“Officer Martin was acting as Bridge Officer?” Douglas interrupted, a little surprise lacing his voice. It was not standard routine for a Head of Headquarters to act as a low asset Bridge Officer to his Head Controller.

“That was my reaction as well.” Sands said as he registered the surprise in the other officers voice.

“Didn’t you inquire as to why he was off standard procedure?”

Sands’ eyebrows raised. “What? Me? Officer Jeffery Sands question authority…” he paused for a moment and forced himself to adopt a serious expression as he continued mockingly, “… never.” At the other officer’s silence, Sands went on. “In my request it clearly stated that I needed an extra tight security check on Ajedrez; if she passed through OOS she’d be a working agent for the Company under my handling and privy to material classified up to Flash. Double background and credential checks should have been run. Unfortunately, she was passed through the OOS clean and ended up spilling the beans, so to speak, on the entire operation to non other than Barillo himself.”<br>
“I’m going to be frank with you Officer Sands. I’ve glanced over your 201 File, and I’m fully aware of your record with the Company. You’ve been a great asset to the Company, gathering invaluable information for some ten years. I figured there must have been some sort of double agent or mole, that the error wasn’t yours.”<br>
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. My fatal error was trusting one of your f**king officers to report a trustworthy bona fide.” Sands snapped back. He was angry… no, furious. He got that way whenever he thought about what led to the chain of events that caused the collapse of his operation.

Because Sands had known he’d been set up and hung out to dry, he had known right after talking to Martin that day at the Flying Cow, right before Ajedrez had caught up to him. He’d known because he was alone, and because no one had come to back him up.

No one had come to pull him out.

No one had come to act as his partner.

No one had come when he said he was being shadowed.

No one had come, period.

‘Except Cameron… and he wasn’t even assigned to the operation.’<br>
Sands shook his head slightly, trying to clear away the bombardment of unwanted thoughts.

‘Just ask the question. You know you want to know.’<br>
He heard Douglas say something, but wasn’t really paying attention and didn’t care to hear any of his meaningless apologies. “Just answer me one thing Director. Was I burned? Because really, I didn’t see it coming.”<br>
“Not that I’m aware Officer Sands. You’re one of our most resourceful and successful officers, so I find it highly unlikely. Besides, I thought you said a bad bona fide caused-“<br>
“A bad bona fide caused the roll-up, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Sands turned his head away from Douglas and faced straight ahead before continuing. “I had called my superior… twice… before I was captured. Both times I told him my position was compromised. Both times I told him I needed back up ASAP and both times I told him I was sure the cartel was shadowing me. I got absolutely zero support from my superior, or any fellow officers or agents on the assignment. If that doesn’t make it appear that I was burned and left to hang out to dry… well then golly-gee, I don't know what would.”<br>
“Alright. You’ll need to be debriefed as soon as you’re healthy enough. Next Monday if you think you’re up to it?”<br>
“f**k that! I’m up to it now.” Sands was sick of waiting, of sitting here and doing nothing. He wanted to find out who was really responsible for doing this to him. Oh yes, Barillo and his cartel may have done it physically, but Sands just knew that someone else was involved as well and he had a pretty good idea of who it was. It all pointed in one direction, and Sands was sure it was no coincidence.
But perhaps it wasn’t just one man.

“I’ll set up your debrief for Monday then. Before I go, do you know what became of the double agent, Ajedrez?” Douglas asked, and Sands paused for a couple of beats before answering.

“Terminated,” Sands finally deadpanned, his face showing nothing.

“Thank you, Officer, for your time.”

Douglas didn’t ask how it happened or who had done it, but Sands knew the time for answers would soon come, during his debrief. Getting all those answers was not Director Douglas’ job.

Sands heard the man get up and walk towards the door.

“Oh, and Director?” Sands called to him, and he heard the footsteps pause.

“You find my cell phone and the copies of my conversations with Officer Martin… and I’ll give you proof.” Sands let a small smile play upon his lips; it was not a pleasant one. “Although worthy of mention, it goes without saying…”

“What?” the director finally asked.

“I want to know who’s responsible for this.” Sands replied, one finger lightly tapping the bandages on the right side of his head to accentuate his point. “And I want that person’s head on a platter. Can you dig it?”<br>

[MojaveDragonfly]

This is a really wonderful story, with moments of sheer genius. For instance, how many stories have been written starting with Sands standing against that wall? And you found a wholly original way to get him from it and to competent medical help, by remembering that someone (besides Ajedrez) was supposed to meet him at the Flying Cow. Brilliant.

[AgentScarlett]

AU: Wow, thanks so much MojaveDragonfly for the wonderful comments! And just when I was going to post more, too... ;)Always nice to hear that it's different, something I was really striving for w/ this fic. So glad you're enjoying it, I know I loved Sons of Mexico! Thanks again.

~*~

Chapter 8: Thanks for the memories…

Sands could see.

He sat at the back of the room, feet up on the empty chair beside him. He was dressed in what could pass as normal clothing today, no cowboy garb or cheesy T-shirt. It was a rare thing. Today he observed his teacher standing at the head of the class, waving his hands in exaggerated gestures as he talked. His name was Professor Jonathan Saunders, and of all Sands’ teachers, he was the best. He was an older man, with shortly cropped salt-and-pepper hair and a deep voice. He was quite a bit taller than Sands’, with a thicker build, and adopted a confident stance at the head of the class.

In his day, he was probably quite an officer. It was the way the teacher spoke, the way he looked directly into your eyes when he taught, that had drawn Sands to this conclusion. That, and the fact that said professor was always full of little tidbits of handy tradecraft. This was the one of the few classes where Sands actually took notes.

Today Professor Saunders was talking about how to quickly disable an enemy in a conflict.

Good stuff.

“… and that’s that. You’ve got him, end of story.” He wrapped up, concluding the second technique taught for the day. “The next technique I’d like to talk about is one of the most important, so please get out your notebooks if you haven’t already.”

Professor Saunders went over to his desk, trading his blue dry marker for a red one. Walking over to the whiteboard he began writing on it while speaking. “If you knock out an opponent’s sight quickly, they are vulnerable and the rest is easy. Go for the eyes with mace, pepper spray, your fingers, a knife; hell, even stuff you might be drinking could work. Anything you can think of that’s in immediate reach could be used. Remember; don’t ever waste time. If your life is threatened in the field there is only one rule, and that is to survive.”<br>
The professor stepped away from the board. Although his explanation had been a paragraph, what he wrote on the board was short, simple and to the point.

Blind = Vulnerable = Easy Target

The words on the stark whiteboard burned into Sands’ eyes and etched their way into a corner of his brain. The words written in red marker on the whiteboard suddenly looked like they were dripping. It was as if they were written in blood.

As he listened wide-eyed as the professor continued his lecture, the room suddenly began to spin. His surroundings seemed to grow darker, and he felt as if he was going to pass out.

“Blind equals vulnerable…”

“Knock out an opponent’s sight quickly...”<br>
“…and the rest is easy…”

“You really didn’t see it coming, did you?”<br>
‘Who the hell was that? That wasn’t his professor…’

“…knock out an opponent’s sight and they are vulnerable…”

The classroom around him was changing. Suddenly Sands wasn’t sitting any more; he was lying on his back, feet and hands tied. The professor’s face morphed and twisted, and suddenly it wasn’t Jonathan Saunders anymore. No, now he was looking at Ajedrez’s face in uncomfortably close proximity. He wanted to scream, to thrash angrily at his bonds, but he found it within him to stay calm. No, he wouldn’t give them all the pleasure of seeing his discomfort.

“You’ve only seen too much.”<br>
“Oh my Christ.”

Did he just say that out loud?

The sound of a drill, becoming louder as it came closer. Evil deep within those eyes moving towards him, evil that liked to torture, evil that corrupted a soul far more than even he could imagine.

A flicker of silver as it caught the light.

Pain.

The room disappeared.

Sands screamed in pain, the sound so harsh that it was as silent as death. It held an agony so intense that if sound had actually passed Sands’ lips it would have been inhuman, but the scream echoed in his mind so loudly that it didn’t need to emerge from his mouth, which simply opened in a silent scream.

[AgentScarlett]

“Officer, officer? It’s all right. It’s just a dream.” A musical, feminine voice entered Sands’ thoughts and he realized then that he was moaning out loud. He stopped and took a shaky breath.

‘S.hit.’<br>
“Are you OK? That must have been some nightmare you were having,” the nurse said sympathetically.

“No, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a memory.”<br>
She was silent for a moment as he slowed his breathing. “I’m sorry.”<br>
Sands wanted to be upset by the sympathy, and was preparing to snap back with some angry retort or other, but he stopped himself before the thought made it to his lips.

‘Oh hell. What’s the point?’

Sands shoulders slumped in defeat. He was tired, angry, frustrated and, as his dream had so humbly reminded him, feeling extremely vulnerable.

‘Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.’<br>
“I originally came in here to tell you that you have a visitor Officer Sands.” She continued, sensing how he was feeling. “Would you like me to send him in now?”<br>
‘Do I have a choice?’ Sands thought, but he only asked curiously “Who is it?”<br>
“An Officer Eric Cameron.”<br>
‘Cam? Why the hell would that mook come here?’<br>
“Uh sure, it’s fine with me.”<br>
A couple of minutes later he heard the door open and Cam’s familiar voice echoed around the room, “Howdy. Thought I’d just drop by and see how you were doing.”

‘He sounds a little unsure as to why he’s here as well.’<br>
Sands moved his head towards the voice and asked, “And why would you want to do that?”<br>
“Hell if I know.”<br>
‘Well at least he was being honest.’<br>
“I suppose I owe you my undying gratitude for coming to my rescue, but I’m not going to give it. Why don’t you f**k off? Then we’d both be much happier.” He was being an not a very nice person, and he knew it. Still, he knew of no other way to deal with Cam.

However, Cameron wasn’t going to bite. He had known Sands long enough to expect such a reaction. Cameron went on as if Sands hadn’t said anything at all. “I brought you something.”<br>
Sands’ eyebrows shot up. “Hmm, knowing the way we used to get on at the Farm I guess I better ask if it’s pointy, sharp or filled with bullets.”<br>
Cam chuckled and set a medium-sized cardboard box on top of Sands’ lap. “None of the above. Call it a get-well gift of sorts. It’s not wrapped or anything, hope you don’t mind.”<br>
Sands’ mouth hung open slightly for a moment at a loss for words, before he shut it firmly and shook his head slightly as he found his voice again.
“Well I don’t know if I can accept it now. Unwrapping it is all of the fun.”<br>
Sands reached down and poked the box hesitantly, like someone would poke a wounded or dead animal with a stick.

‘A get-well gift? No one has ever given me a get-well gift. It must be some sort of trick, some sort of sick joke.’<br>
He moved over the box with his hands before he grabbed hold of it, moving it right up against his ear.

“Well, I don’t hear any ticking…” He shook it, but only heard a dull thud as the object shifted from side to side in the box before he continued sarcastically. “Oh gee, I hope it’s not fragile.”<br>
Cam smiled at Sands’ little show. He could see that Sands was unsure, suspicious and very wary… it was all written on his brow as he tried to cover it up by shaking the box around and acting like a kid with his first Christmas present. “It’s not fragile, no.”<br>
Sands plopped the box back on his lap, then absentmindedly fingered one of the top flaps, considering his plan of action. This had been most unexpected.

‘I guess there’s no harm in opening it. If it’s a joke, a trick or something insulting I can always shoot him when I’m released.’<br>
Making his decision, Sands opened one flap and then the other, his hands tentatively reaching down into the box and feeling inside for a moment, before resurfacing with an unidentified object from the simple brown box.

Cameron smiled, and took the box back out of Sands’ way. He’d had the idea about a week ago and since then had tried to work up the courage to give it to him. He stood by silently, watching Sands’ confused face as he tried to figure out just what he was holding.

Sands’ brow furrowed in confusion. He still wasn’t used to not being able to see, and it took some concentration to figure out what he was holding. It was oblong in shape, with a deep hole on one side and a…<br>
‘Howdy’<br>
‘Why, I’ll be d**ned…’

Somewhat unwillingly, a sly smile crept across Sands’ lips. He turned the object over in his hands slowly, feeling out all its edges, and then set it on his head. He was feeling better already.

It was a cowboy hat.

He didn’t know exactly what it looked like, but it didn’t matter. The shape was unmistakable.

He was still Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands of the Central Intelligence Agency. He was still the CIA Cowboy and he was still alive.

He’d be d**ned if he let anyone take that away from him now. It was all he had left.

[AgentScarlett]

Chapter 9: Hat’s off to You

Sands figured that he must have been quite a sight. He was sitting in a hospital bed, with bandages tightly wrapped around his eyes, legs and one arm. He imagined himself wearing the typical white hospital nightshirt, topping off the whole look with a big ass cowboy hat sitting on top of his head. It almost made him laugh… almost.

“So, does this mean you’ve forgiven me for that little trick I played on you Senior year at Camp Swampy?”<br>
Cameron arched an eyebrow at the mention. “Not a chance.”<br>
---

Monday

Sands sat in his hospital bed, mentally preparing himself for what he knew would be a very challenging day.

Debrief day had finally arrived and he was to be escorted to OOS headquarters later in the morning. Sands was keyed up, and ready to go. He’d be released from OMS in another week, which was something he was extremely happy about. Yet at the same time, deep inside, fear tugged at him and refused to let go. He hated the feeling of fear; it was a feeling that he wasn’t used to.

Then again, there were a lot of things of late that he wasn’t used to, but that he had to live with anyway.

‘I’m still standing; no one can keep me down for long. Anyone who knows you Jeff, knows that.’<br>
His eyebrows came together with worry. There were so many things that could go wrong with his plan.

‘Let’s face it Jeff, you aren’t exactly at the top of your game at the moment.’<br>
‘What if they know all about your dirty dealings? What will you do then?’<br>
‘I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it… and I don’t need to worry, I’ve always been able to pull the wool over the Company’s eyes. Why should that change now?’<br>
‘Because you have no eyes. Because you will never see again. What will you do if they retire you or throw you in prison, or an asylum? If you’re lucky enough to be free, where will you go when you are released? What will the Company do if they believe you’re insane or dangerous?’<br>
Sands felt like yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs for his brain to stop thinking about his future. Sands couldn’t plan ahead for this. He couldn’t set things up this time. No, this time he’d have to be ready to think on his feet. He had to pull himself together because he sure as hell wasn’t going to watch himself fall.

He could only plan so much, until the unknown got in the way, and for days he had been doing nothing but coming up with plan after plan, and backup after backup.

Now it was time for him to be the Cowboy again, be the Officer he’d always been.

But the feeling wasn’t coming to him as easily as it always had before.

His left hand reached over, his fingertips lightly brushing the cowboy hat given to him by Cam. The gift had taken him completely by surprise; no one had ever liked him enough to give him any sort of gift before, at least, not for a very long time.

‘That’s because you’re a manipulative not a very nice person Jeff, and that’s the way you like it.’<br>
He quickly put his hand back in his lap. Why did everything seem so different? So foreign? Why did it seem as if he was living in another world now, with no way back to the life he once knew?

‘I have to find my way back. Sick, mentally ill, wounded, it doesn’t matter. The show must go on.’<br>
Because that’s what it was to him really. A Show. He was on Broadway, and everybody that he manipulated or used were his co-stars, the world his audience and he the star.

“Minutus cantorum, minutus balorum,” Sands mumbled out loud to himself.

At least that’s the way it was before the Day of the Dead, and today would be the first time he had ventured out of OMS since the infamous day.

Deep down in the depths of his soul, he was truly unnerved by the idea. Yet this place, OMS, was driving him mad. He needed to leave. He needed to find balance in his life again.

Sands was, thankfully, snapped out of his reverie by the sound of the nurse entering the room. Since she’d first come in to care for him, he’d come to know her as Crystal.

Last Friday he’d started insisting on having an all black ensemble to wear to debrief, one much like the outfit he’d been wearing when he first arrived at OMS.

He remembered the sound of the nurse’s voice when he first suggested it and chuckled at the memory.

“You want what?” Crystal’s perplexed voice asked Sands.

“You heard me… black jeans and a black shirt complete with boots, gloves, sunglasses… the whole shebang. Oh, and see if you can find a black cowboy style vest… one that shimmers,” he continued, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

“You want a sparkly vest?!”

Sands let out a frustrated groan, “No! A shimmery vest. A Sands bad ass ensemble does not include ‘sparkles’.”<br>
Everyone at OMS had scoffed at the whole idea of course; that was to be expected. But he was Sands, and after much persuasion he finally got his way and a much needed ego boost. He’d happily given Crystal his sizes and the names of some of his favorite - and oh-so-tasteful - shops in the vicinity, that sold what he’d asked for.

Crystal dumped the pile of attire on the bed next to Sands, then set a pair of black cowboy boots down on the floor.

“You told me you knew of some tasteful shops to go to,” she said in playful annoyance.

Sands smiled cheerfully. “It left a bad taste in your mouth, didn’t it sugar-butt?”<br>
“Yeah, you can say that again.”<br>
“It left a bad taste in your mouth, didn’t it sugar-butt?”<br>
Even though Crystal was fully aware that Sands couldn’t see it, she rolled her eyes. “Sands…”

“Well, if it left a taste in your mouth, even a bad one, then it’s still tasteful, right?”<br>
Crystal smirked. As much as Sands irritated her, his annoying behavior was a sure sign that he was feeling better. “A mere technicality. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, Officer.”<br>
“But you got what I asked for,” Sands stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Of course.”<br>
Sands smiled, satisfied that he’d managed to get what he wanted despite everything ranged against him.

“Will you be needing help?”<br>
Sands’ smile disappeared immediately, and turned into a frown. Crystal didn’t have to be a genius to know it was time to leave. She’d bruised his ego and that was not a good thing.

“Well, buzz when you’re ready,” she said before beating a hasty retreat.

Sands sat on the bed for a moment, stone still, darkness surrounding him… something that would surround him for the rest of his life. He’d heard Crystal leave. Obviously she had taken the hint that he wasn’t too keen on the dressing idea. Still, he briefly wondered if he really could manage by himself, before quickly stomping out that idiotic thought. But a voice entered his mind, one that shook him whenever it decided to haunt the depths of his brain.

“Don’t leave me alone in the dark Mommy!”<br>
“You’ll stay here until I say so Sheldon! Don’t be such a fu.cking baby!”<br>
‘Oh S.hit. Mother’s voice.’ It sent a chill up his spine every time he heard it, and for the last ten years or so he’d only heard it in his mind.

He was alone now and in the dark, and he’d have to get used to it.

“Don’t be such a f.ucking baby!”<br>
Sands’ hands went to his pounding head in frustration as he willed the voice to stop taunting him, and his body shook slightly as a low, strangled noise escaped his lips.

‘Ok, this is no time to freak out. Just get dressed and leave for debrief. Yes, screwing with the Interrogation Officers’ heads is sure to make you feel better. Now get yourself decked out so Crystal can take you to debrief.’<br>
After a few deep breaths Sands managed to gain control of himself once again. He reached over until his hands hit the pile of clothing, and proceeded to get ready for his debrief.

Today was an important day for Officer Sands, for it would decide his future.

---

Latin Translations

Minutus cantorum, minutus balorum. - A little song, a little dance.

[AgentScarlett]

Sands had just finished up changing for debrief when he heard the door open and close quickly.

"Sands!" Crystal reprimanded, as she caught sight of his face after entering his room.

Sands had removed all the bandages from his face and they were strewn on his bed in a haphazard manner.

Crystal knew she should be strict and demand that the bandages go back on at once, but she felt a twinge of sympathy for the officer before her, and decided to let it go as she saw the look of warning on Sands’ face. She knew she’d have a hell of a time trying to get the d**n things back on now anyway, and they weren’t really even necessary anymore. The bleeding had stopped a couple weeks ago.

"You shouldn’t have removed your bandages Sands," Crystal said, without much conviction in her voice.

"I’ll be d**ned if I’m going to my debrief looking like King Tut… although, the King part does have a nice ring to it.” Sands’ tone indicated the decision was over and done with and he wasn’t going to budge.

She sighed in resignation; Sands was the type of man that needed to feel that he had control, even now. Or perhaps especially now. Crystal couldn’t help but notice as she looked at him, without the bandages bound around his face, how darkly attractive he was. With the dark sunglasses in place, one would never know the damage that lay beneath them. Of course she hadn’t actually seen it herself, but one of the nurses that saw his wounds when he’d first come in had told her about it… and that had been enough for her.

"You ready to go, Cowboy?" she teased as he lifted his head a bit higher, satisfied that he’d won the little game.

"Ready when you are, sugar-butt."

---

Crystal led Sands into one of the debrief rooms at OOS. He’d been here many times in the past so although he couldn’t see the room now, he knew how it was set up and what it looked like… exactly.

Sands had become very well acquainted with them, not only during his own debriefs, but during his days as a rookie when he was an Interrogations Officer, doing an occasional debrief here and there when his days were slow. Of course, both jobs had been a perfect fit, considering his knack for messing with people’s minds.

‘Soundproof room, one medium size table in the middle with one chair facing another. Dimly lit for a more calming effect on the debriefee, with just one light in the center of the ceiling directly above the table.’<br>
Listening to the sounds of the room, Sands was able to establish that the light was on, because he could hear the faint hum of electricity emanating from it as he sat in one of the chairs, Crystal still by his side.

On most occasions, only one officer would debrief another. However Sands suspected he might get two officers because he was always such a pain in the ass during debriefings. It had happened before; with the way Sands talked during debrief it often took two people just to follow what he was saying.

‘Why make it easy for ‘em?’<br>
The Debrief Officer wasn’t always armed, and whether or not he or she was or wasn't depended on the individual.

When Sands had done his debriefs and interrogations, he’d always been armed.

‘One of my personal favorites for interrogation intimidation. It is surprising how many mind games can be played with a loaded gun.’<br>
Normally Sands would hand in a report at this time as well, with detailed intelligence and information on his clandestine operations. The report would also include the names of officers and agents who had worked along side him, blow back reports, outcome, casualty tally and, in this case, reasons why the operation eventually rolled up and the events leading to his injury.
However, Sands had been unable to make such a report while in OMS so he assumed that they’d cover all that in debrief and substitute the tape-recorded conversation for his report.

Sands leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, fully aware that it was body language for being closed off, as he heard another person enter the room.

‘Just be Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands and you’ll eat this guy alive.’<br>
"I’m sorry Miss Powers, you’ll have to leave now. You can wait outside in the lobby and we’ll come for you after we’ve finished with debrief," the man said to Crystal, who was still standing beside Sands.

Sands thingyed his head slightly to the side as he thought.

‘I know that voice… very well. My old interrogation partner, Mike Gleason. Naturally, it’s just the Company’s style to get my old partner to debrief me. Lucky for me, he never was very good. Mikey always did rely on his partners to get the information while he just stood there and looked intimidating. Of course, Mikey looking intimidating isn't going to work on me for multiple reasons, some more obvious than others.’<br>
This revelation made Sands extremely happy. He didn’t hear Crystal reply to Mike and figured that she must have nodded her head, because after a brief moment of silence she patted him lightly on the arm in a show of support, before leaving him alone with his old partner.

"Hiya, Mikey! Long time, no see eh?" Sands drolly remarked after Crystal left the room, feeling the tension in the air rise at his ironic comment. Sands knew full well Mike had been briefed on his condition.

"Sands." He greeted him stiffly, obviously uncomfortable. Sands didn’t break the tension, but remained quiet, gaining strength from Mike’s discomfort. "This is just a debrief, so let’s not make it more difficult than it already is."

Sands thingyed an eyebrow, but still remained silent.

Mike shifted his weight uncomfortably. He’d never liked nor trusted Sands. When they had worked together, his old partner had always loved making sure Mike knew his place in the duo. Mike was to shut up and be quiet, while Sands "worked his magic", as Sands himself once put it. Mike did have to admit that Sands was awesome at mind games, but Sands also knew he was awesome, and that ate at Mike every time he saw Sands. Even now, blind and completely at the mercy of the Company, Sands sat before him clad all in black appearing as bad ass as ever and just as thingyy and sure of himself to boot.

‘I'll never understand how Sands does it.’<br>
Sands listened intently, waiting for Mike to say something. Mike was armed, unsurprisingly; he could hear the familiar sound of the gun’s holster against a pair of jeans. ‘Still not good at breaking the ice. Obviously he doesn’t know whether or not he should acknowledge my "condition".’<br>
"My mother once said that some things are better left unsaid," Sands finally said, fake sweetness lacing his tone, as Mike sat across from him. He heard Mike sigh, and Sands wondered if it was a sigh of relief or frustration. Sands smirked before continuing; "Then again, she said it, so I guess she didn't really play by the rules."

At this point Sands imagined that Mike was rolling his eyes.

"Much like you," Mike replied knowingly.

"The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree," Sands said with a smirk. "So, who’s the other lucky Officer who gets the pleasure of debriefing Officer Sands? Anyone that I've had the pleasure of annoying? Don’t tell me you’re going to do it alone?"

"No, I don’t believe he’s had the pleasure of meeting you Sands," Mike told him, using the word pleasure extremely loosely. "Officer Lake will be your second debrief Officer, and he’s a rookie... so try not to kill him or make him go insane."

"Ah, fresh blood." Sands flashed an evil grin, teeth shimmering in the dim light.

Mike narrowed his eyes at his ex-partner, sensing mayhem in Sands’ devious mind. "Be nice."

The door to the debrief room opened again, and Officer Lake stepped inside as Sands replied to Mike, "Now let’s be rational Mikey. In all the years we’ve worked together I’d think you’d know me well enough by now to know that what you’ve just requested is an impossibility."

Mike grunted in reply.

"Oh, you two have worked together?" Lake asked conversationally, as he entered the room and moved to stand next to the table beside Mike, setting down the tape recorder and getting it ready.

Sands turned towards the sound of his voice, "You could say that. Or you could say that we just annoyed the hell out of each other until the Company decided it best to find us both new partners."