A/N: Whenever Tess is talking to Marcos, she's speaking in Spanish. Marcos always speaks in Spanish until further notice. When Tess speaks to Sands, it's in English unless otherwise noted.
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Tess supposed he had a point, but that didn't mean she had any desire to have a conversation while staring down the barrel of a gun. "You can put that away, señor. I'm not going anywhere until you can walk out of here under your own power." The gun didn't waver.
"Señor! What are you doing? Señora Tessa is trying to help you." Marcos stopped when Tess waved a hand in his direction. She'd answer his questions as long as it suited her to do so. She wasn't here to satisfy his curiosity, but to ensure that everything that could be done to atone for the sins of the Barillo family was done.
"You want to know how I found you? Your little friend here found me and asked me to take a look at you. I agreed. That and you left a rather handy trail of blood nearly from my doorstep to your location."
"Why?"
"Why did I help you?" Tess shrugged before she remembered that he couldn't see that. "I enjoy tweaking the cartel's whiskers when I can. Aiding a man who is apparently high on their list for who is due swift and inproportionate retribution seemed as if it would fit in with that agenda. In short, I'm using you to spite them. Even though Barillo is dead, and the cartel in temporary anarchy until a new leader murders his way to power." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I suppose that I ought to thank you for that. It'll get some heat off my tail long enough to disappear."
Sands ignored that last bit. "Why is it so important to you to meddle in the cartel's affairs?"
This was treading close to the line that Tess didn't want to cross. "Why is it any of your business?"
In a deceptively patient voice he said, "A lack of information can get a man in deep shit, as I have so very recently rediscovered. I have no desire to repeat the experience any time soon. Please," he cocked the gun, "answer my question, niña."
"The cartel ruined my life a long time ago. Stole any hope of normality that I might have harbored. But I'm not the only one who's been hurt. Barillo managed to ruin the lives of countless thousands with his violence, and his greed, and his drugs. So I decided to do what I could to make up for that. To piss him off as much as I could and in doing so, try to restore the balance his family owes." And you're the last piece. The final weight.
"Restore the balance . . . ." Her words echoed in Sands' mind. That's what had been trying to do. He was preparing to ask yet another question when a bolt of pain worse than any of the others ripped through his head. Damn it! His entire body responded to it, trying to escape the pain. That just made things worse. His bullet wounds screamed as the muscles the bullets had torn through contracted reflexively.
Tess heard a harsh intake of breath come from the man on the bed. She spun around (she had been pacing) only to witness his futile attempts to escape the pain. The drug is wearing off. His nerves are finally realizing that they've been receiving instructions to sound the alarm. That something is wrong. As she was thinking this, she rushed to the bed, her mind also racing through all the things that needed to be done, her will uncertain as to whether she could carry it all out.
Sands felt his gun fall from his hand as the pain finally receded to bearable levels. "Damn, that hurt." He felt a set of slender fingers slip around his wrist, checking his pulse. From the softly muttered Spanish curses that reached his ears, he knew that whatever his hostess had found couldn't be good. However, when she spoke, there was nothing but calm and impersonal professionalism in her voice.
"We need to stop the bleeding and get you cleaned up." And a blood infusion wouldn't come amiss. "Marcos! Where are you!"
"Here, señora." She turned from Sands, and sure enough, there he was standing idly by, concern in his eyes. "The señor is going to be okay, right?"
She took the scissors from him. "I certainly hope so. Will you please go and get the black case you'll find under my bathroom sink and bring it here? It's a bit heavy, but it's okay to drag it." Once again the boy nodded and left the room. "Good kid." Addressing her next words to the man sitting on her bed, she said, "Well, I've told you what people call me. You want to return the favor and give me something to call you?"
"Like my name?"
"That would work, but so would a pseudonym if you don't entirely trust me. I hate undressing a man when I'm not sure of what to call him."
Sands smirked. "You can call me Giovanni."
Tess raised her eyebrows. "That is not your name."
"No. It's not. But it's been a fantasy of mine to find a woman who would call me that. Besides, I never really liked the name my parents gave me."
"O-kay . . . ." Tess just trailed off. She really hadn't been expecting that name. she was called back to the task at hand when she heard Sands start grinding his teeth as another wave of pain flooded his system. While he managed to stay still this time, she could see he was gripping the bed covers with his good hand. Could see the sweat breaking out on his face, and his muscles clench against the need to curl up in a fetal position. Could see fresh blood seeping out of his wounds and trailing down his face.
She waited for the pain to recede again before saying, "Let's get you out of those clothes." From the corner of her eye she could see Marcos come back into the bedroom, dragging her smallish trunk of medical supplies after him.
"We're going to need to soak the areas around your bullet wounds. There's a lot of built up dried blood, and I would prefer to not just rip that off. And you'd probably prefer that too." Sands didn't respond.
She sighed. "Marcos, I'm only going to ask you to do one more thing for me before I send you home for the night. Will you please get me a pitcher of lukewarm water from the kitchen?" Again, the boy was eager to help, and went to carry out his task.
Tess got down to her own work, removing Sands' gloves, boots, socks, munitions belts (which she sat on the floor by the bed within easy reach of either of them), and his regular belt. Then she fetched a hairband from her nightstand. I wonder what he'd do if he knew it was pink? Gently she got Sands to move his head away from the wall, and more gently still she pulled his hair back out of his face. Several of the brown locks were encrusted with dried blood just like the rest of him.
"Señora –" Marcos had returned with the water she needed. She could tell that he was unhappy with the prospect of being sent home. It was best to say no before he could start begging.
"No. You need to go home and assure your parents that you are still alive. Go now, before twilight fades entirely. Keep away from the fighting. You can come back tomorrow and visit with your friend then, but make sure you come in through the back door. Comprendes?"
He looked thoroughly miserable, but her replied, "Sí, señora." Slowly, reluctantly, he backed out of the room. "Hasta luego, señor." After saying that, he disappeared from view.
When she heard the door shut, Tess dipped a clean cloth into the waiting water. It was nearly room temperature, but a little warmer.
"Why'd you make the kid leave?"
"I didn't want him corrupted."
"Why, niña, I didn't know you wanted me in your bed for that reason."
"I don't. I just didn't want him here while I'm pulling bullets out of you and poking you with needles. Something tells me that some choice language will be flying around, and I prefer that that is not the English he learn." She only partially wrung it before laying it on the wound in Sands' left thigh. About to repeat the procedure on his right leg, she realized that this might be easier if he were lying down. But it will be easier to get his clothes off if he's sitting up.
"What are you doing?"
"Wondering what the best way to get you out of your clothing is."
"Ooh. Keep talking like that and I'm going to get a raging hard-on."
Tess rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't count on that, Giovanni. Not only have you lost a great deal of blood, more than you should have and still be conscious, but I'll be applying Novocain to those wounds before removing the bullets and stitching them up.
"Fun-sucker." Sands felt another cloth settle on his other leg. Shortly after that, he felt the bed beneath him move as his hostess sat down. He found out what she was doing when he felt another wet cloth start being held against his injured arm. The water trickling through the cloths, through his clothing, and over his skin was distracting.
Tess watched her patient's face for any signs of distress. It showed none. After five minutes or so of silence had gone by, she removed the cloth she'd been holding to his arm. "Let's see how well that worked." With extreme care, she plucked at the lose fabric of his shirt sleeve, slowly moving in towards the hole in his flesh. "Tell me if this starts to hurt or pull and we'll soak it for a bit longer." She looked up from her task in time to see him nod.
She had to soak the wound one more time before she was able to remove Sands' shirt. While she was doing her best to be the clinical and detached doctor (more to suppress unmerited guilt and pity than anything else) she couldn't help noticing just how attractive her patient was. The chest underneath the black shirt was lean and tan, with just the barest suggestions of the musculature underneath his skin. She couldn't help but keep her fingers from brushing against his skin as she tried to undo the buttons.
Suddenly aware of what she was doing, she laid a hand flat on his chest. His skin was cool and clammy under her hand. "Damn it," she whispered.
"Something wrong? I mean, normally I wouldn't dream of interrupting what is obviously an intimate moment for you –"
"No. I just discovered what a total idiot I am. I thought that the drug that Barillo's men had given you would arrest the onset of shock as well as the delayed feelings of pain. It must have, but the drugs are wearing off. You're going into shock. Why didn't you tell me you were cold?" He shrugged. "No matter. Stay here, try not to move that arm. I'm going to go get a blanket for you."
