Disclaimer: Keep in mind that none of this is mine. It's sad, I know, but that's the price of a fanfiction author. It's all Robert Rodriguez's, that genius.

Author's Note: I hope you like Alaska, because that's where we're going back to. I figure you guys need a break from the Sands Angst once and a while.

A special thanks to Miss B for help with this chapter. Rock on, woman!

Wandering Stars

Alaska: Part 2

"Why were you sent here? There's no trouble going on in Alaska."

Sands wanted to know the same answer, but of course, some things were always denied from even his knowledge. He hated that. Didn't want to blow his cover, so he gave the same bullshit answer that his boss gave him.

"Drug dealers. Lots of drug dealers." His voice was still shaky, but its progress was great compared to how he sounded a few hours before. "All this underground shit floating around."

The doctor shook her head. "And how are you going to be able to stop drug dealers if you can't even ride a dogsled without nearly freezing to death?" Ignorant bitch. Sands held back a chuckle, but smirked. He loved knowing what others didn't. It meant he was in control, and that was always what he wanted.

Once Sands' blood picked up its almost normal circulation, he began to feel more then just pins and needles.

The room was heated.

A fire burned in the fireplace.

The sun had long since set, the moon glowing in the velvet night sky.

The woman that nearly drowned him with hot chocolate had a very nice ass. Breasts too. Small enough for him to grasp, but big enough to absorb all of Sands' attention. She didn't notice, but when she walked by again Sands' arm wormed it's way out of the blankets and came up to touch her breast.

She stiffened, contemplating resistance. But along with looking frightened, she was compelled to stay, compelled to act on instinct. More fun for Sands.

All Sands wanted was a good fuck. He never expected a marriage proposal, nor did he expect that he would say yes. He was riding high on the remnants of a good orgasm when she had asked him: No wasn't on the menu, at least not at that moment. Conniving bitch, she read him like a book because he had accidentally opened for her, and now he couldn't close.

Because of one stupid mistake, she took control, and that was bad. It was never good when someone else got the upper hand.

Sands' hand was on her breast, the other one struggling to free himself from the heap of blankets wrapped around his shoulders. His patience had run dry, so he took his hand off her breast for an instant to pull her down, closer. Her lips were warm against his, still cold. At first she was tense, not even putting any effort into the kiss. Just when Sands had had enough, she returned his kisses with equal force, wrapping her arms around him.

"So I was right, it does get hot underneath all those fucking jackets." Sands said between kisses. The woman stifled a laugh, trying to dominate. If she thought she would dominate over Sands, she had another thing coming. Control was nothing, unless he had it.

Apparently, the woman thought the same thing, about herself. "You look tired. You should get in bed." She had no intentions of having him fall asleep, and he knew it. Hell, if he slept through this he might have missed what looked like a fine opportunity. So one thing led to another, one fuck led to two, two fucks led to many more, and then that all eventually led to a pregnant Alaskan woman who was grouchy and in the mood to throw things.

"You bastard! How could you do this to me? Like I'm just another bitch you want to get in bed." A plastic cup missed Sands' head by an inch.

He held up his hands, trying to stop the oncoming of thrown objects. "If I'm not mistaken, it was /you/ who wanted to get /me/ in bed."

"If you weren't so damn...provocative," A plate hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. The woman let out a cry of frustration. "I have a baby!" she screamed.

"Sugar..."

"YOU have a baby!" She reached into the cabinet and found another plate. "You are not going back home and leaving me to care for it alone!"

Sands was at the end of his rope. He picked up the plastic cup and threw it back to where it had flown from just moments before. "I'm CIA. I have to get back. My job in this shithole state is done!"

"I don't give a damn!" She held another plate menacingly over her head. That, too, shattered with a bang, but at Sands' hand. The agent had drawn his gun, whose aim had shifted from the plate to its carrier.

"Stop giving me shit over this shit kid who I don't even want."

"You said you'd marry me! I asked you to marry me and you said yes, god damnit." Her voice was getting hoarse.

"Oh, Jesus Christ! How could I say no when you were riding me like a rodeo bull? Stop fucking around with me!"

"Stop fucking with me."

"I can't do that."

Push came to shove, and eventually the woman pulled a gun out of a drawer, catching Sands off guard. Sands shot close to her head; She shot close to Sands' head. His bullet burrowed harmlessly into the wall while hers dug not-so-harmlessly into his shoulder.

"Shit!" she screamed as he stumbled. "Oh my god, I was aiming for the wall, I tried to do what you did, I'm sorry, oh god!" Sands slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. "Please, please, don't be dead!"

Sands situated himself on the floor, every movement slow and painful. "You'll wish…you were dead…once I'm back." With a low moan, he tipped his head back and shut his eyes against the pain. "Crazy bitch."

When he said nothing, a new wave of terror came over her. "Sheldon, oh god!" She was sobbing now as she ran and knelt by his side. Pulse was still good, but the blood staining his clothes and her hands added fuel to the fire. "Please, don't be dead."

She got up and dialed 911, frantically begging for an ambulance. Hanging up, she knelt back down next to Sands. Slowly, he forced one eye open, and then the other. "Sheldon, are you alright?"

Sands swallowed hard, blinked a few times and rolled his eyes, a small smirk appearing on his face. "Oh, I'm fine. It's my…damn shoulder that needs help."

This chapter was actually going to happen later on in the fic. I wanted to write more about Sands in this shithole state of his. More dogsleds, more snow and tormenting the locals, of course. Always a fun hobby of our trigger-happy SJ. But my fic just went ahead without me, leaving those plans in the dust. So I went with it. Sure, I'm not driving with my eyes shut (miss b!), I'm not that extreme. But it's a start. *laughs*