After the Dust has Cleared

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. They belong to Robert Rodriguez, and the incredibly talented Johnny Depp and Ruben Blades, who brought them to life.

Summary: What happens to Sands after the dust has cleared? MAJOR SPOILERS for Once Upon A Time in Mexico. For all those who wanted a little more closure to the film's ending.

Rating: A strong R for language and graphic images.

Feedback: is happily accepted at beckyg19@yahoo.com

****

Ramirez was halfway out of town when what was left of his conscience pricked at him.

This was so surprising that he slammed on the brakes, causing the pickup truck behind him to veer hard to the left, in order to avoid his car. He no more noticed this than he saw the driver flip him off.

His conscience, shocked by the fact that he was listening, gathered its courage and spoke up. You should go back. Help him.

Ramirez scowled. He had no liking for Sands, none at all. But sometimes the punishment outweighed the sin, and there was no denying Sands had gotten a raw deal.

"Fuck it," Ramirez muttered. "He probably won't even live."

You don't know that, whispered his conscience, then wisely decided to shut up while it was still ahead.

Cursing the whole time, Ramirez slammed the car into reverse, slewed it around, and drove back the way he had come.

****

Not surprisingly, he found Sands right where he had left him. The CIA agent was sitting against the wall now, blood pooling on the sidewalk beneath him from his wounded leg. The kid with the yellow T-shirt was nowhere in sight.

Ramirez drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Looked around. There was nobody watching him. Everyone's attention on this day was on the coup, and the dead bodies littering the parade route. The village would probably never recover, Ramirez thought sourly. He found he didn't really care. He had liked his little house, fifteen miles away – far enough for him to have the ilusion of privacy, but close enough to still know what was going on in his home – but he would not miss it.

Maybe it was time to go back home. Back to the U.S.

He got out of the car. At the wall, Sands stirred, hearing the door slam, but did not otherwise move.

Ramirez shook his head. He didn't want to feel pity for the CIA agent. The brass in DC had sent Sands down here partly because no one wanted someone like him around, and partly because, well, whether you liked him or not you had to admit the man did have a twisted brilliance for manipulation. Sands was the man who made things happen in Mexico, and everyone knew it. They just chose to ignore the fact that he did it his way, with illegal payoffs and a very unauthorized penchant for meddling in the political arena.

Well, what goes around comes around, Ramirez thought. Guess you found that one out the hard way.

He squatted in front of the agent. "Where's the kid?"

Sands tried to smile. The bleeding from his eyes had finally stopped, and his face looked like a Halloween mask. Ramirez had a brief moment when he wondered what he would see if he removed Sands's sunglasses, then decided he didn't want to know.

"How the fuck should I know?" Sands slurred. "I gave him some money, told him to find a doctor who wouldn't ask questions. But for all I know he's out there buying crack with it."

Ramirez slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. He had seen the light of hero worship in the boy's eyes. He didn't think the kid would betray Sands any time soon.

To his credit, Sands knew it too. "Okay, okay, so he's not buying crack. But what are you still doing here?"

"Hell if I know," Ramirez said, and hauled the CIA agent to his feet.

Sands cried out, and tottered gracelessly, trying to keep his weight on his uninjured leg. One hand flailed, looking for something to hold onto. A lock of his hair fell into his face and stuck there, on the drying blood on his cheek. He smelled of blood and sweat and gunpowder, and thoroughly digusted Ramirez.

"Inter-agency cooperation, my ass," he muttered. He grimaced as he put his arm about Sands's shoulders.

"Jorge." Sands's voice was little more than a whisper. His head hung low. The bored cynicism he normally affected was gone. For the first time in his life, he had lost control of things, and the results were more than even someone like him could ever have imagined.

Ramirez's mouth tightened as he fought back another swell of pity. "My car's over here," he said. He began walking, half-carrying, half-dragging Sands with him.

"My hero," Sands mumbled, but it was a reflexive response, with no real bite to it.

"Promises, promises," Ramirez said, keeping his voice light, as though he helped corrupt CIA agents every day.

He opened the back door of the car and shoved Sands in its general direction. "Just try not to bleed all over the upholstery."

Sands said nothing as he crawled into the back of the car, and that alone told Ramirez all he needed to know. The man had been shot three times and his eyes had been torn out. If he did not get to a doctor fast, he was going to bleed to death.

Ramirez shut the door and stood still for a moment, reflecting. He would probably be doing the world a favor if he let Sands die, but then, if he did that he would be no better than someone like Barillo. Besides, he had come this far, he couldn't back down now.

He opened the driver's side door and then looked up. Coming toward him, across the street, was the kid. And he had an older man with him. A man with a black doctor's bag.

"I'll be damned," Ramirez said. An unwilling smile stretched his mouth. He waved his arm, beckoning the unlikely duo his way.

The kid broke into a run, and skidded to a dusty halt just in front of Ramirez. He peered into the back of the car, saw Sands lying there, and looked up at the retired FBI agent. "Will he be all right?"

Ramirez nodded. "Yeah, I think he will be."

****

Author's Note: I've always loved the Mariachi, and I adore what Antonio Banderas has done with the character, but there can be no question that OUATIM is Johnny Depp's movie. And I would pay good money to see a Robert Rodriguez film about the blind gunfighter. Here's hoping one day he delivers!