Sorry this has taken me awhile, but life does not always give time to write, as much as you and I might wish otherwise.  In particular, I wish my favorite PotC author would hurry up and update her latest story.  : )  I know you all understand where I'm coming from.

Enjoy this little chapter I whipped out tonight.  (Little.  Phhst.  It's longer than most of my others.)  Please, let me know what you're all thinking, otherwise I can't try to fix anything you might find to be lacking.

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Tess started to wonder how much worse things could possibly get before they started to get better, but stopped before she could jinx herself.  That was the last thing she needed.  Besides, if trouble and bad news did indeed come in threes, then there was another misfortune out there looking to claim someone she had taken under her roof.  She refused to give it any more power.

  "Sí, Marcos, of course you can all stay with me."  But how long will I be staying?  I had been planning on leaving within days before I decided to take in an injured man.  She looked at the children and her heart melted.  I have to look after them.  They came to me.  They trust me.

   Trust wasn't enough to get Tess' frozen wits to move, however.  As she stood in the middle of her small kitchen with four children of various ages ranged around her, she fought off the panic and stress that would overwhelm her mental defenses against the schizophrenia that was always waiting for her to let her guard down.  Even the booster she had given herself that morning would be hard put to suppress all the symptoms, and she needed as much control as she could get at the moment.  Plan, plan, plan.  I need a plan.  What first?  Finally.  A question she knew the answer to.

   Deep breath.  That's it.  She filled her lungs several times.  Ok.  Get the children settled, check on 'Giovanni,' start some soup for lunch.  That's enough to do for now.

   Marcos shifted on his feet as the baby started to fuss.  "Señora?"  The woman had this blank look on her face, like she was scared and didn't know what to do.  That was bad.  She was an adult, she wasn't supposed to be scared.  "Señora?  Are you alright?"  He reached out a hand to touch her arm.

   Pull it together, Teresa Adame.  You're scaring Marcos.  Get out of your mind and into the real world.  Start talking, start doing.  It was a struggle not to give into the temptation to hide in her mind, to simply find an unoccupied corner and ignore things until they got better.

   That's it Tessa.  Just sit in a huddle for days on end until all your problems go away.  I could help you forget your problems.  All you have to do is come play with me.  Play with me, Tessa.  I'm so lonely . . . .

   No!  She would not give into temptation, into madness.  She ripped her attention away from the sweetly cloying voice.  Marcos jumped back as Tess' eyes suddenly focused on him.  The baby started crying at the sudden movement.  Looking at him, Tess saw how overwhelmed, how lost and afraid he was, and she felt guilty for adding to his fears.

   "Don't worry, I was just thinking."  She had to raise her voice to be heard over the baby.  Holding out her arms, she said, "Here, let me."  Gently taking the baby from him, she asked, "Her name is Selena, right?"  Marcos nodded.  "And these two are Alma and René, right?"  The other boy and girl nodded, shy of this strange woman and her even stranger habit of staring blankly into space.  Tess understood what it was to be shy.  She wouldn't press her presence on them, but would let them warm up to her in their own time.  Until then, she'd let Marcos take charge of them.  Besides, a little responsibility might help him take his mind off other matters.

   "Marcos?  Will you show Alma and René around?  Show them the bathroom, and the spare bedroom where you'll all be sleeping?  There's some games in the living room if they would like to play.  I need to check up on your friend, or I would do it."

   "Can I see him, señora?"

   Tess saw the hope shining in his eyes.  For whatever reason, the boy had decided to attach himself to the mysterious man in her bedroom.  I wish I knew whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.  "If he's feeling well, I don't see why not."  She bounced baby Selena on a hip, trying to quiet her.  She probably needs her diaper changed.  "Go on.  You and I can discuss what will happen next later this afternoon, okay?"  He nodded.

   Content that everything was as good as it was going to get at the moment, Tess left the three orphans to their exploring.

Tess was incredibly thankful that she always kept a few baby supplies with her in case of emergencies.  There wasn't enough to last for an extended amount of time, but she did have what she needed to change Selena's diaper and to fix her a bottle, even though she knew that the young child was probably hungry for some solid food.  She wasn't that prepared though.

   With a semi-happy baby on her hip, she entered the room where Sands was staying.  The man seemed to have fallen asleep while waiting for her to come back.  He must be in worse shape than I thought if he's dropping off like that.  He doesn't seem to be the kind of man to let his guard down while in enemy territory.  I wish I had better equipment to monitor him with.  She knew that was a foolish wish.  This man was suspicious enough of her – he'd end up killing a nurse out of pure nerves.  Sighing as she set Selena on the floor where she'd be content to play with some shoes, Tess approached her patient's bed.

   Her hand was halfway to his forehead to check his temperature when the gun in his hand snapped up to point at her face.  Well, about three inched to the right of her face.  "Señor!"  When she spoke, Sands corrected his aim with a surety that unnerved her.  "It's just me, Tessa.  Don't shoot.  Don't freak out.  You've already shot me once in the past twenty-four hours, and I can't deal with another crazy person right now."

   "Who's the other crazy person?"  She didn't answer, mainly because she didn't like how he had honed into that part of her reassuring speech first.

   When he decided that she wasn't going to reply, he sighed and lowered the gun.  "What do you mean I've already shot you once today?  I haven't had the chance yet."

   "Earlier, when I was tending your injuries."  He clearly didn't remember, but that didn't surprise her.  She hadn't thought he was that he had been totally aware of what had been going on.  From what she knew of such men, they were always sure of what they were doing, even if they had some reason for doing it that no one else would understand.  If he had forgotten the events of the night before, he must be struggling now to keep a grasp on reality.  "You managed to shoot me right before you lost consciousness last night."

   "I shot you?"  There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

   "Yes, right in the side at point blank range.  With my own gun I might add."

   "Then why aren't you in considerably worse shape, niña?"  Again he raised his weapon.  "Is there anything else you'd like to share with me?" he asked mildly, for all the world as if he were a parent inquiring into a child's whereabouts when he was perfectly aware that she was somewhere she shouldn't be.

   How about that I'm an idiot, in more ways than one?  Or that I'm really regretting giving you a gun again?  With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Tess slowly said, "If you're asking whether I lied to you or not, the answer is no.  I told you the gun had six rounds in it, and it did."  She swallowed, "I just didn't tell you that they were blanks."

The conniving little minx.  If I didn't know better, I'd say that I've just run into a fellow agent.  Sands, while he could appreciate the careful distribution of information, found he was upset to find himself at the opposite end of the food chain.  He was the one who was supposed to have all the cards, who was supposed to deal out who got what information like a card sharp stacks a deck to make sure the odds are in his favor.  It was bad enough he was fucking blind, but to be humored in the way that this woman had humored him?  It was intolerable.  He may be blind, but he wasn't stupid, and anyone who thought that they could take advantage of his current disability was in for a rude awakening.

   He was about to set into a verbal berating that would have made even the most oversexed man in the country lose his balls when a quiet thud sounded in the corner of the room.  Nerves already on highest alert reacted without him having to tell them to.  He took aim and fired his weapon three times at whoever had made the sound.  Once he was sure they were dead, then he'd take care of the woman who'd let them in.  "It's just Marcos," indeed.  You just made one very large mistake, niña.

   Unfortunately, Sands underestimated Tess' own reflexes.  As soon as she had heard the shoe drop in the corner, she had known what her patient was going to think and how he was going to react.  Barely in time to move his hand before his finger squeezed the trigger, she slammed her shoulder into the man's arm, throwing off his aim.  The three bullets slammed into the wall about a foot from Selena, who started screaming from the sudden noise of the gunshots.  Sands dropped the gun as the baby started crying in order to slam his hands over his ears.  Apparently the high pitched wails of the frightened little girl were more than his poor head could take.

   Thinking that was the worst of it, Tess relaxed a mere nanosecond before the full scope of the chaos those three rounds had wrought made itself known.  Even as she was torn between seeing if she had further injured Sands or running to make sure Selena was alright, she heard screams coming from the living room.  Por Díos! she had forgotten the other two children.  She didn't know where they had been when their parents were killed, but it was entirely within the realm of possibility that they had either heard or seen the whole thing.  But no matter what, hearing a gun fired in the same house they were currently in was going to scare them, even if they had no idea how their parents had died.  Yes, let's give a severely injured and possibly mentally unbalanced man a gun!  Brilliant idea, Tessa!  I'll be surprised if you don't get a Nobel for that one.

   Scooping up the gun and placing it on the window sill where she doubted Sands could get to it, Tess ran across the room and knelt by Selena.  A quick visual examination confirmed that the child was fine other than being scared out of her wits.  Scooping her up, she heard all sound in the living room abruptly come to a stop, as if cut off by a silencing hand.  However, the screams of the child in her arms more than made up for the decrease in noise.  They echoed off the walls and bare floors of Tess' house, making everything seem louder.

   "Damnit!  Would you stop that noise?!"

   "Maybe if you could manage to keep your overactive trigger finger from sporadically firing at things that you can't identify, I wouldn't have any noise to stop!"  Tess threw that thought over her shoulder as she made her way into the living room to check on the status of her young houseguests.

   She found them in a huddle on the floor, Marcos and Alma trying to keep a panicky René from crying out again.  They apparently knew the value of being silent when it was possible they were in a dangerous situation.  Marcos was looking more and more overwhelmed by the moment, and Alma had silent tears running down her cheeks.  The sight of their silent and terrified tableau made Tess want to cry out in agony.  No child should need to have such self-control at such a young age.  No child should be scared out of their wits in their last refuge.  How many other children in Mexico and America alike had cowered in this same way as the destruction and devastation caused by her family ran rampant around them?  How few had she helped?

   Quickly walking towards the group she set a still wailing Selena down.  "It's okay.  You don't have to stay quiet.  No one lives in the houses around here.  It's safe.  No one will hear you."  How did one encourage a child to act like a child?  "This is my fault.  I surprised a patient of mine and he overreacted.  But it's safe.  He won't hurt you.  I won't let him.  I won't let anyone else hurt you."  Please, believe me.

   Marcos was the first to respond, letting go of his younger brother.  Alma slowly followed suit.  As soon as he was no longer restrained, René started crying, slow heart wrenching sobs.  He slowly got up and approached the one person in the room that represented even a modicum of safety in a world gone mad, and the woman he trusted to control the circumstances around them was only a knife's edge away from going mad herself.  But Tess did what she could, holding the boy as he shook and shivered and cried in fear and grief and loss.  What else could she do?  She was an adult and no matter how unprepared or  ill-equipped she felt, she was the one they were looking to for guidance.

   But even knowing that children had an inflated sense of what adults could understand or prevent, she felt herself making another oath, another promise to add to the bushels she had already made.  I will care for this family.  She wasn't sure what that entailed, but she knew it didn't matter.  Whatever it took, she would see these children live without fear for as long as she could.

   Marcos and Alma soon followed their younger brother's lead, coming to hang and settling on and around Tess.  She looked at them.  Marcos had taken a position behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder, the other holding a fussing Selena.  Alma had practically melded herself to Tess' side, wrapping her small body around her arm.  Tess could feel the warmth of the girl's tears soaking through the sleeve of her cotton t-shirt. 

   Now what?  This isn't the way I would have chosen to earn their trust, but now I have it.  So how do I comfort?  Tess realized just how little she knew about children.  She knew she could manage as a pediatrician in a pinch, but that didn't mean she knew anything about kids.  As a child and teen, the only person younger than her that she had had any interaction with was her younger half-sister, and she was sure that didn't count.  Her sister had always had the upper hand when it had come to their interactions.  She had never come running to Tess for comfort, had never asked Tess for advice.

    Ok, then how did I ever comfort myself as I child?  Searching through her memories of a time in her life that she'd rather forget altogether, she remembered one particularly memorable Christmas.  Barillo had decreed that the entire faction of the cartel based in the compound where she lived was to attend Christmas mass.  It was then that she had first been grateful for her learned talent for near instant memorization, when she had heard the priest singing the Ave Maria.  For years after that, Tess had thought of that song whenever she got scared or whenever the pain from her most recent punishment was threatening to overwhelm her discipline. It had been years since she had let the words escape her lips, but she let them now, hoping that somehow the timeless song of praise would bring some sort of peace to her audience.

Sands was alone in the bedroom once again.  He had faintly heard Tess' reply and exit over the ringing in his head.  I almost killed an innocent child.  For all the people he killed without discrimination, he hadn't yet killed an innocent child in cold blood.  Set things up so that there was the possibility they would die?  Yes.  But he hadn't actually ever pulled the trigger that had sent a bullet into one.  It was perhaps the one standard that he still had, a slight value for a life that was still innocent of manipulation and deception.  Although at the moment I would be glad to revise that.  How that child had managed to hit the one note in the entire human vocal range that would shatter his mind, he'd never know.  Probably some kind of female intuition.  All he knew was that her first wails had sent a exploding light of white pain through his nervous system. 

   For several minutes he did nothing more than lean against the wall and wait for the incredible pain in his head to retreat.  Slowly and reluctantly it did, or at least it narrowed its focus to the empty sockets of his head.  Rationally he knew that it was nothing more than the rush of blood pulsing in the gaping holes, but part of his mind insisted that it was the permanent darkness there that trapped and amplified the fading pain, making sure that he didn't forget what he had lost yesterday.  Yesterday?  It couldn't have been yesterday.  It had to have been years ago and I've been trapped in a pain induced delirium for weeks since then.  Years perhaps.  And it'll never get better, just like I'll never see again.

   Seen too much . . . seen too much . . . seen too much . . . .  The phrase repeated itself with each pulse of blood through his head.

   Stop it.  Think of something else, Sheldon, anything other than that.  How weak had he become that he was begging himself to shut out the last sound he had seen.  No, that was the drill.  The last sound I saw.  He was going to find that gun that his physician had taken from him and simply kill himself.  Anything to end this constant torment, the pain and memories, and the echoes of the last sound he had seen.

   Slowly and painfully he levered himself out of the bed.  The muscles of his legs were incredibly stiff with pain and a lack of motion.  He body was as weak as his mind he decided as a small gasp escaped his lips and his legs threatened to give out from underneath him.  But his will was still strong, or perhaps it had simply been taken over by madness.  Or was feeding off a combination of madness and pain.  No matter.  He was determined to die with some of his sanity intact.

   Where did she set the gun?  Even in the throws of pain Sands had been aware enough to trace the woman's movements.  It was a gut feeling, pure survival instinct that made it possible for him to do so.  An injured animal's knowledge that every little sound and sight and smell might mean the difference between life and death. 

   By the wall, she set it by the wall.  He reasoned that there must be a window or something nearby that provided a resting place for the weapon.  Slowly moving his body, he felt a wave of heat fall across his face.  Window.  There's the window.  Thinking back to what he had heard from Tess, what direction she had moved in.  It was possible that this was where she had set it down.

   Carefully, having to support himself against the walls and hating it, he made his way towards the window.  Carefully he felt along it's surface, feeling like the stereotypical blind man the entire time, he found the barrel of the gun.  Just as he was telling his fingers to close in around it so he could pick it up and put an end to his misery, he heard a faint sound coming from the living room.  It was soft and almost soothing if he allowed it to be.  Deciding that it was worth postponing his own death to find out what the hell Tess was doing now, he made his slow and feeble way down the hall.

   He was quiet as he moved, he made sure of that.  It was bad enough he knew that he was having a hard time moving.  No one else had to witness the extreme awkwardness with which he was making his way down the hall.  With every step the soft sounds of a woman singing quietly and with a certain amount of unease increased until he could understand what she say singing.

Ave Maria, gratia plenta/Hail Mary, full of grace

Ora pro nobis peccatoribus/pray for us sinners

Nunc et in hora/now and in the hour

In hora mortis nostrae/in the hour of our death

Amen.

This benediction was the last thing Sands heard before he collapsed in the hallway from exhaustion.

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Ok, have loved this version of 'Ave Maria' since I sang it in my sophomore year of high school in a cappella choir.  I did kinda skip the part about Mary and her child being blessed, simply because I wanted to get to the part that had meaning for this story.  Absolutely love Latin, which is why once again you have a 'quote' type thing in two different languages.  One of these days I'll find a usable quote in English that I can use.  : )