I looked in the mirror, and what did I see? A lonely person, waiting for me No one seems to understand No one seems to care. For all the love in the world Why am I still alone?
My life is a mess No matter how others try to reassure me But they don't understand And they never will
There can be miracles when you believe What if I don't believe? What then? Am I doomed to be a fortune's fool? A plaything for the fates?
Some days are good Others are bad Whatever it is, I'm still alone..
Loneliness… My friend, my enemy My lover, my destiny.
Do you understand what I'm talking about? No? It's ok Neither do I
Sandoval looked wearily in the mirror. In the sanctuary of his own home, all of his defences were down. He was visibly startled when he saw his reflection. Gone was the proud and arrogant implant. In his place was a stranger. That man had an air of helplessness about him. His face was a mask of one that had seen to much. He was so very, very tired. The things he had to do for the Companions...
"I'm all alone," Sandoval whispered to himself. This revelation saddened him greatly. How could things go so wrong, so fast? He was happy working for Da'an. He had a purpose but the clincher was he was never alone. Boone was always there- to challenge his ways and suggestions. He remembered how he came to trust Boone after he saved his life. After that, the two implants were...dare he say it? Friends. He trusted Boone, with his life and more importantly, Da'an's. They were two very different people, who viewed the world in different ways. That was probably why they were so effective as a team. They were able to look at a situation from all angles. Everything was coming along greatly until Booned died.
He remembered it with such vividness that only a CVI could produce. A CVI, a gift from the Taelons - more like a gift and a curse all rolled up in one. Sandoval saw Zo'or doing the dirty deed, but there was nothing he could do. He screamed in silent agony when Boone died. He had wanted so desperately to do something, but his MI held him back. For that one moment he rebelled, but its hold on him was too strong. His guilt had been eating him inside out until a thought came to him. Vengance, revenge, justice...call it what you may but he would not let Boone's death be in vain. Zo'or would pay.
Beckette's death hit him harder. Probably because he knew that their friendship could have evolved into something more but fate was cruel. He felt a part of his soul die when he saw her dead body. There was so much things left undone, unsaid.
The two people whom he trusted were dead. All that was left were memories, nothing more. Funny, he always thought that Implants were immortal - with the skrill and all. No one could fully understand what it was like to be an Implant. That was one reason why fellow Implants tended to band together.
He found it hard to trust again, especially Da'an's new protector, Liam Kincaid. There was something about him that was just not right. He just could not put his finger on it.
A lot has changed since those good old days. He was now attached to Zo'or - head of the Synod. He was involved in more cover ups. Things were just getting more and more complicated every day.
He smiled bitterly to himself. He was always tbe bad guy. Someone else would always be the hero. It was the same back in the FBI. He had to do the things he hated but did them anyway. Simply because of the fact that no one wanted to do it. He did the dirty job. To him it was a matter of duty. If he had to do it all over again, he would - because it was all about duty.
Just at that moment his global chriped, demamding attention. He sighed as he picked it up. His attention was needed elsewhere, it was something important.
He took a few seconds to compose himself and straightened his tie. When he walked out the door, he was back to his old self. Agent Ronald Sandoval walked down the hall. He walked with an air of confidence and arrogance about him. Where he walked, people would make way for him. Yes, this was the way the world should see him - strong and confident.
They would never know about his true self nor about his nightmare plaqued sleep. They would never know how he would cry silently at night in agony at the atrocities he had done. They would never know that he had sacrificed his soul for the future of hummanity. For all that he had done he would always be alone. That much he knew.