Author's Note: God, I hate finals and dead week. I can't wait until Christmas break (just five more days!) and I can do nothing but laze around the house and write. Mmm . . . .
Anyway, this chapter is a bit of a break, respite, throw to the desperate SJ fangirls. With any luck, everyone is in character, and with more luck, we'll get some action/adventure in the next chapter as Tess and her flock set out for the U.S. : ) Let's just say that I have plans. *rubs hands evilly*
As always, author's thanks at the end. Enjoy.
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Tess hated walking into a dark house. There was just something about a building when it was dark that set her nerves on edge – even a house that she had been living in for months. The only place where she hadn't minded the dark had been her dorm room while she had been at school, and it had never been truly dark. Either she or her roommate had always been up late studying for one class or another. But here, in this house in Mexico . . . there were just too many memories of being helpless in the dark here. Too many memories of nights where she had cried out from nightmares and no one had come running, of wandering around sightless while hearing the mocking comments of her half-sister. Not to mention that there were too many places for someone to hide and use the darkness to their advantage. Do not stay in a place of danger trusting miracles.
Thirty years old and still scared of the dark, her voice scoffed.
Everyone is scared of something, and the unknown is a thing worth fearing at times.
It's not fear of the unknown that scares you – it's fear of the known. You know that 'Sands' is in there, and that he's going to blast you for being out so late.
Tess, standing on her back porch, tilted her wrist towards the moon so she could read what time it was. Nearly one in the morning. She winced. I did mean to be back before now. And why should I think that anyone is still up? She knew better than that. If Sands had woken up and found her gone, he would have stayed up to protect himself, if not the children as well. If Tess dismissed all else that she could say about the man, she would be left with the statement that he was very vigilant. And even if he is up, what right does he have to be mad at me? I had an errand that needed to be run, that could only be run this late, and it's not only for the kids' safety but his as well. With that comforting thought, Tessa unlocked her back door and stepped into the kitchen – right into a pair of waiting arms.
Fighting the urge to struggle, Tess froze and waited for some kind of clue as to who had her trapped. After several tense seconds a rough voice in her ear asked, "Late night?"
A wave of relief rushed through her, but Tess refused to give into it. "Sands, let me go. You should be in bed."
"I'm getting real sick of hearing you say that, niña. Did you ever think that I might stay in bed if I had some company?"
"If you want company, invent an imaginary friend." Tess pulled away from Sands, angry at the stunt he had pulled but unwilling to show it. She knew that if she did, he'd keep pulling it, like a two year old who does something to make his parents laugh and later they regret encouraging them. And not only that, but if the mulish expression on his face was any indication, she was in for a long night. "Look, if you go to bed without making me talk 'til I'm blue in the face, then I'll tell you a bedtime story."
"A bedtime story." Sands actually sounded incredulous, and Tess felt a surge of satisfaction at once again managing to bewilder him. Even if it did mean that he thought she was not only crazy but stupid as well.
"Yes, one filled with secret identities, plots that endanger life and limb, and people willfully flaunting the law."
The slow light of understanding came to Sands' face. "You've come up with a way to get out of the country."
Tessa grinned wryly. "Yeah, something like that." Sands immediately turned and headed for the bedroom, leaving the woman to trail after him.
Earlier that Night:
//¡Ladrón! ¡Yo tengo empresa para tu!\\ Lightfingers! I have business for you! Tess eyed the dim shop doubtfully. While people of such shady ethics as her contact were not quite trustworthy, they were usually prompt with whatever you needed and extremely resourceful. It was that resourcefulness that she had to watch out for – if there was a price on her head, he wouldn't hesitate to turn her in. At least the pistol she was wearing in a shoulder holster gave her some measure of safety.
//¡Yo estoy cerrado! ¡Largarse!\\ I'm closed! Buzz off!
// Ya lo se. Ese el motivo de mi aqui.\\ I know. That' why I'm here. Tess didn't have all night to persuade skittish shopkeepers to come out and see her. "Lightfingers, drop the act and get your ass out here already."
A tall man in his mid-twenties came out and surveyed her. //¡Señorita sin nombre!\\ Ms. Nameless!
"Who else is back there, ladrón?" Tess pointed her chin towards the back room he had appeared from. Just because she might do business with the man didn't mean that he had her trust.
//Solamente mi vieja madre.\\ Only my aged mother.
Tess made a show of rolling her eyes. "Please, give your dearest mother my regards, but I'd feel much more comfortable conducting this conversation in English, if you please."
The man shrugged, a hank of dark hair flopping boyishly into his eyes. "Whatever you say, señorita. What can I do for you?"
Tess pulled a fifty dollar bill out of her pocket. "This is for your attention." She knew by the way he snapped to attention at the sight of the money that she had it without asking.
Her companion's eyes stayed locked on the bill while he said, "My services are not that cheap, señorita. You know that."
"Yes, I do. I also know that a bonus will get a girl a lot of things. This is in addition to your normal fee. Consider it a present . . . to buy rich food for your poor mother." She handed over the money. "I need five passports and other assorted legal documents."
"What kind of legal documents?" The calculating tone in the man's voice put Tessa somewhat at ease. For the moment his greed ensured her secrecy.
"Four birth certificates and four sets of adoption papers. And then I need you to hack into the government's system and make the changes I need."
"Not cheap, señorita. Also not easy. We're talking lotsa money."
"How much?"
"Three thousand."
That's actually a bit less than I was planning for. Tess had enough experience dealing with men of this caliber to know that he was vastly overcharging her, that she was being taken for a fool, but she could live with that. It wasn't as if she were asking him to do something simple, after all. The documents were produced easily enough, but hacking into the government's computer systems could be risky. However, the closer it was done to the coup, the better. Glancing around the room, she shrugged and muttered something unpleasant in Spanish before agreeing. "Three thousand it is. And if you can get these for me by tomorrow night, I'll give you another two hundred."
"Another thousand. As it is, I'm going to be up all night finishing just the papers."
"You were going to be up all night anyway. I'll pay an extra five hundred."
"Yes, but now I'll be up most of the day as well. Make it eight hundred."
"Seven-fifty, and I can't do better than that." It was true. This was going to take most of her spare cash as it was, and she really wanted to keep some money on her if she was going to be taking five people to Mazatlán before the end of the week.
The man shrugged reluctantly. "Who am I to gouge a damsel in distress? Seven-fifty it is. Did you bring photos for me?"
Tess pulled out four Polaroids and a magazine.
Present Time:
Keeping her hands at her sides as she watched her patient settle himself in her bed, she decided to be blunt. "Logan found a way to get us out of the country."
"And that's what kept you out of the house for the last four hours?" Sands drawled. Just for the sake of irritation, he put a cigarette to his lips and lit it.
"Well, no . . . yes . . . sorta." Ok, I know I had control of this conversation at one time. What happened? What happened was that Sands had rediscovered his joy in interrogating innocent bystanders, and it showed in his voice. At the prospect of being able to once again step into the role he had carved for himself within the CIA, Sands had seemingly come to life. Tess had noticed how he had done this on other occasions, but this time the vibes he sent out were stronger. If she needed any indication of her patient's will or of his hidden strength, this was it. God forbid he ever get his hands on a cinderblock room and a bare lightbulb. "What took forever was I had to wait forever to get the services I needed."
"Oh, chiquita, you didn't need to leave the house to get serviced. I would have been happy to lend a hand."
"Señor Sands, as kind an offer as that is, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop making passes that a love-struck fifteen-year-old would see through." The atmosphere lifted a little, letting Tessa relax for the first time since she had come back to the house. "I had to take care of some business if I'm going to see everyone safely taken care of."
"Don't be so unforthcoming, señorita. I already know about your plan to take those kids to the States." Ah, information. There's nothing like knowing more than your adversary. Not that Tess is much of an adversary – she's much too transparent.
"What?" Even now her voice gave away too much about herself. She sounded surprised in the most unpleasant way.
Sands took an extremely satisfying drag from his cigarette. "That kid, Marcos – he's quite the talker. Told me all about the poignant moment you had. Had to fight to keep my lunch down."
Tess took a deep breath to steady her nerves and ended up struggling to not cough. Ugh. Out of all the dirty, disgusting habits he could have, it had to be this one. It wasn't so bad when she was in another room or they were outside, and it probably wouldn't bother her if there was a bit more humidity in the air, but in these close quarters her lungs were throwing a hissy fit. Deciding that a lack of nicotine was unlikely to kill him when nothing else had yet, Tess reached over and snatched the cigarette from his mouth.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sands reached for the rest of his pack, but Tess was quick enough to grab that as well.
"You can do that just as well when I'm not here, and I can't talk while you're smoking like a chimney. The air is too dry here – I have a hard enough time breathing without you adding to the problem. Did you want to hear what I was doing or not? Because if the answer is 'not', I know I'd rather be sleeping."
Sands let the issue slide, figuring that he probably owed her that much. And the soon her repaid her the sooner he could get back to being an asshole. "Fine. Please, enlighten me."
Yeah, I'd like to enlighten you alright. "So, since you've been informed that I've taken Marcos and his family under my wing, and you've so astutely pointed out that I will be taking them to the US with me, why don't we start there."
Quickly and with a bare minimum of detail, Tess explained to Sands exactly what the plan was to get out of Mexico. She summarized her conversation with Logan, her decision regarding the children, and what she had been doing that night. For the most part, she did it to keep Sands from interrupting her with snide or unhelpful comments, figuring that if he had any valid points to raise, he'd be able to remember them until she got to the end of her explanation. While her strategy worked, it also kept her too busy summarizing to watch his face for tell-tale signs of perked interest.
Unknowingly, she was giving away much more than a simple plan.
"You bought fake IDs." Sands was having a hard time wrapping his head around the concept. So far, everything Tess had done had been somewhat predictable. It had all had a common motivator – righting some of the chaos that had been caused by Day of the Dead massacre. But before now, it had all been within the law. Now, now she was blatantly flaunting both Mexican and US laws, not to mention immigration policies and a dozen other regulations on both sides of the border. If she wasn't careful, she was going to make him extremely interested in her.
Sands heard the apology in her voice as she said, "Know the rules so you can break them properly."
"Where'd you hear that one?"
"I read it." The silence that met this evasion clearly indicated that her patient was waiting for an answer. "Esquire, alright?"
"You read Esquire?" The intensity in his voice made Tessa extremely wary. Something she'd said had provoked some kind of reaction she didn't understand in the man, and it made her unwilling to share more information than she had to.
"Every now and then."
"Would you be insulted if I started fantasizing about you?" She didn't answer. Oh well. "So what else did you get besides four illegal IDs?"
"A fifth ID and eight forged government documents. Four birth certificates and four sets of adoption papers. Not to mention that I had to wait around and make sure my friend changed pertinent government records, so if anyone does try to trace the kids, they won't find anything. I took the liberty of changing their last names. I'm now the proud aunt of the Cosala family."
"You're finally telling me your last name?"
"No. I use my middle name as my last in the States."
Sands didn't comment for a moment, but then switched topics on her. "You surprise me, niña. I would have thought that you already had a passport. Why print yourself up a new one?"
"I didn't."
"Then why did you need five IDs?"
"One's for you. I assumed you didn't want to use whichever passport got you into the country, in case someone was on the look-out for it."
"And just where did you get a photo for this ID?" Sands' voice was dangerously low and unconcerned. To the common bystander, he would have sounded as if he were asking what time it was. She knew better – knew that if she wasn't careful she might end up with another bruise or two. Not that this was a new concept for her; her father had been the same way, had had that same rigidly indifferent manner that had always made an appearance before she had been punished.
Tess bit her lip and wondered when she was going to learn to how to tactfully phrase what she said around this man instead of simply blurting things out. "Well, I . . . ." Ugh, I'm going to sound so silly. "I . . . ."
"Spit it out, niña."
"I bought a magazine at the store and looked through it until I found a picture that looked enough like you that we can get away with using it as long as half your face is hidden. Which isn't a problem at the moment."
Sands was quiet for a moment before he started making a muffled choking noise. Tess was halfway to her feet before she realized that her patient was not choking, but laughing at her. Slowly sitting back down, she poked at the mixed feelings this raised in her. She had never heard Sands express anything remotely like amusement before, and she was glad that even despite – or perhaps because of – his circumstances, he had found something to laugh at. However, she didn't exactly like the fact that he was laughing at her.
"So, whose picture did you choose to give me a face, niña? The phantom of the opera?"
"I don't want to tell you."
"Why not?"
"You'll laugh at me again. That, or your ego will get an incredible boost from the information and I won't be able to deal with you for days."
"Now you've got my attention."
Lucky me. "That's unfortunate, because I have nothing to tell you. Now rest up. If we're to leave the house in four days, you need to do as much recuperating as you can."
And I'd really like to be able to get some sleep at some point before the sun rises.
"Why leave in four days? Why not tomorrow?"
"Because all the stuff that I'm having forged won't be ready until tomorrow night, because I need to rent a car that will seat five people and an injured man, and because you need some more time to recuperate."
"I'm not a fucking invalid."
The conversation had been going so well before she had mentioned that he wasn't at peak physical performance. Next time she'd have to remember to blame something else for her hesitance. "No – you're a man who underwent major and crudely-performed surgery and had three bullets shot into him just three days ago. Ok, so you're up walking for short bits of time, but don't think I haven't noticed that you're still depending rather heavily on the walls to keep from falling on your face. And you might be sick of lying in bed, but there's a rather large difference between laying on a soft surface and riding in a car for several hours. If you think a little head rattle sets off a headache, just wait until we're on the road. I've decided when we'll leave, and you're not going to change my mind."
Mmm . . . pulling rank. And unfortunately, she does have a point. As much as his hackles raised at the mention of his injuries and the way she seemed to rub his face in them, he managed to control his temper. They were both short on sleep and she was undoubtedly bordering on hysteria. As the only man around, he had to keep her calm. It was the least he could do. "Just wanted to make sure that you had taken everything into account, niña. I don't cherish the thought of being bounced around on what you people call highways any more than you cherish the thought of having to bounce me around."
Tessa glared at the man as she listened to the masculine superiority in his voice, but it didn't do too much good. She doubted it would do her any good even if he could see her. And for all she knew, he just had a pompous streak and wasn't trying to piss her off for once. "I'm glad that I've managed to settle things to your approval." Even she could hear the ice in her voice, and she cursed herself for letting him get to her. "Now, if you would excuse me, I'd like to get to bed." Wheeling around, she left him on the bed as she went to her bathroom to follow her nightly routine.
Sands smiled.
"Señor? Are you awake?" Marcos glanced back at the door nervously. He didn't want Tessa to sneak up and hear what he had to say to the man on the bed. "Señor?"
Sands had heard the boy the first time, but he'd been hoping the kid would go away. He wasn't here to babysit. He didn't even like kids. Just because he tolerated this one didn't mean anything other than he was so bored out of his mind that he'd even talk with the boy. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that some people need their beauty sleep?"
"Sí, señor. Tía Teresa told us the story of sleeping beauty, but when Alma asked if that was why you were sleeping, she said that it would be pointless for you." The boy spoke to Sands for the first time in English, wanting the practice.
His audience wasn't paying attention, however. Sands couldn't decide whether he was supposed to feel insulted or complemented by the statement. Who knew what had been running through Tessa's head when she had said that?
"Señor?"
"What, kid?"
"Can I talk to you?"
"No." He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. His entire body was exhausted. When the kid didn't say anything else, Sands got suspicious. Taking more care to listen, he heard quiet footsteps heading towards the door.
Way to scare the kid off. I really was starting to think you were turning into a wimp there, Shel-don.
Damn you. "I was being sarcastic, kid." The footsteps paused before once again coming back to the bed. "What was so important that you had to come wake me up instead of waking your brand-new aunt?"
"I tried to wake her up, but I couldn't."
"What do you mean?" God, if the woman had croaked in the middle of the night then they were all in a fix.
"I shook her, but she only mumbled, and then turned back over, and I couldn't get her to do anything again."
"What'd she say?"
"No toque mé." Don't touch me. "I don't think she's sleeping well. She has big circles under her eyes."
Sands though for a moment before asking, "What time is it?"
"Almost nine. She's usually up at sunrise."
From what he could tell, Tessa hadn't gotten to bed until well after three. The youngest kid had been up fussing for hours, and Tess, tender heart that she was, had stayed up with her. Part of him wanted to tell the kid to just let her sleep, but another part said that wasn't enough. If sleeping on the couch had been restful enough for her, she'd be able to go on five or six hours of sleep a night.
You sat on that couch. Did it feel as if anyone would be able to sleep on it?
Once again, Sands hated being right. That couch was nothing more than some plywood covered by thin pads. She might as well be sleeping on the floor. What do you want me to do? Go wake Sleeping Beauty with a kiss and then tuck her into bed? The voice was silent. God, I hate you.
Holding back a groan as muscles stiff with overexertion complained at having to support him, Sands got out of bed. All I can say is she'd better appreciate this. Why did he think that? He knew that she'd do anything but thank him. More likely she'd scold him for getting out of bed and for letting her oversleep. But it would keep her off balance as to what to expect from him, and that had to be worth the darts of pain making their way up his spine. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Anything that would help him keep that woman from figuring out what was going on in his head was worth doing. Not to mention that she was amusing when she was mad.
Sands could hear Tess tossing and turning in her sleep as he came into the living room. But even with the restless sounds of her body on the couch, it wasn't the rustle of cloth on cloth that made him pause, but the whisper of someone talking in their dreams. He should know what it sounded like by now, he'd awoken himself often enough in the past few days with the same whisperings. From what he could tell, he doubted that her dreams were any more pleasant than his, and that annoyed him. It was just one more step on her way to becoming an actual person instead of a talking doll to be manipulated.
"Kid, com'ere." If he was actually going to do this, he was going to need to be able to brace himself against something, and the kid was the best thing he had. When he felt the boy come to stand next to him, he wrapped his injured arm around his shoulders and reached down to wake Tess up. "Wake up, niña."
"Are you asleep Teresa? I thought I asked you stay awake." She hadn't meant to fall asleep, really she hadn't. It's just that she was so tired. She'd never stayed up for so many days without sleeping. "To weak to even stay up for a few hours."
"I'm sorry, Father. I tried." What did he mean, 'a few hours'? It'd been two days since she'd last slept.
"You failed." He met the eyes of someone behind her.
Tessa panicked as someone behind her grabbed her arms. The unfairness of it all suddenly struck her, and she fought. "No! Don't touch me!" She swung out with an arm and was thrown against the wall for her troubles. She fell to the floor and looked up, seeing her father advancing on her, his eyes filled with violence. She was in for it now. She lashed out with a foot as his hand descended.
"No toque mé . . . . Lo siento." Don't touch me . . . . I'm sorry. Tessa's muscles jerked as she fought back in her sleep. Marcos watched her worriedly, afraid that she might try to hurt Sands. He didn't like the situation at all.
Sands, on the other hand, was fully prepared to feel a slap or a kick at any moment. Anyone this lost in unconsciousness was likely to react to outside stimuli in the same way they reacted in their dream. "Com'on niña. You know that you'd rather be awake while kicking my ass." Tilting his head towards Marcos, he asked, "Is she awake yet?"
"No, señor."
Smothering a groan, Sands bent over and said in a normal speaking voice, "Wake up." He had no idea where her ear actually was, but assumed he had come close to his goal when he narrowly managed to move his head before her arm shot up. "You awake yet?" Something about the way she groaned assured him that she was. "Com'on, chiquita. Let's get you into bed." More unintelligible murmurs, but Tess did let him get her to her feet without putting up a fight, which was a good thing – otherwise Sands would have ended up dumping her on her bum. But even though he had managed to get her to her feet, Sands didn't think that she was fully conscious of what was going on around her. She leaned on him a bit too much, let him support a bit more of her weight than she would if she had been aware of who she was leaning on. Staggering, with Tessa leaning on Sands, and Sands leaning on Marcos, and Marcos bracing himself against the wall, the three made it down the hall.
Tess woke a few hours later with an unfamiliar scent in her nose. For several seconds she did nothing more than lay in bed and breathe deeply. What is that? Soon after the realization that she was smelling something new came the recognition that she was laying on a soft surface, nothing like her couch, and that her body was close to another heat source. What's going on? Struggling, she managed to open her eyelids, only to regret her decision to do so; Sands face was uncomfortably close to her own. Tess froze, her every muscle paralyzed by the thought of how she had gotten into this position with a man she knew next to nothing about, but the sensation of clothing rubbing against her skin brought her out of it. Her eyes darted over the part of Sands that she could comfortably see – he too was clothed. Tess relaxed partially, still all too aware that she had no recollection of getting into her bed.
Best to get out of it though, before he wakes up. Sands breathing was deep and regular. Carefully, watching and listening for any change in his respiration, Tess eased herself off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling by the side of the bed. From this vantage point she could see the fine lines that marked her patient's face. Why do I think we were both safer when he was simply 'Giovanni?' It was intriguing, but it also made one think of a someone who is easily fooled and dimissed. Sands is too simple to turn aside any interest. She wondered what had cause those lines, and thought that perhaps they were made more noticeable by the presence of pain. Her eyes moved from his face to his arm – the bandage wrapped around his left bicep was stained with blood. Had he broken open the wound while trying to get her into bed? Is that why he was still asleep?
Not good. Leave the room now.
Tessa didn't question the voice, well aware that there were too many things happening that she didn't understand. Now was the wrong time to develop any sort of fascination except with survival. And Sands, no matter how intriguing, represented anything but survival. She crept to her feet, ready to bolt like a rabbit should so much as a whisper come from the man she was watching.
Then again, I always did like the way a good mystery got your mind onto other things. Maybe you should stay. Let your hands and attention wander.
He'd kill me. I'd kill me. Death by embarrassment was never my first choice of demises.
You know you want to.
I know you want me to. But I want nothing other than a cup of coffee. The dark, rich, bitter brew that the populace of Mexico drank. A liquid that could strip the varnish off wood if left for too long. If nicotine was her patient's vice, then caffeine was hers – not that she got to drink it much anymore. "Everything in moderation" was her motto now that overindulgence could tip the scales to the favor of the part of her mind that rebelled against her control. She slowly backed out the room. A cup of coffee would do me good right now, I think.
Tess retreated to the kitchen and lit the burner under her kettle. As she waited for the water to start to boil, she glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the kitchen clock. A quarter past noon. I shouldn't have slept that long. Her fingers started drumming against the counter behind her. -Taptaptap. Taptaptap- The first wisps of steam rose from the spout of the kettle. Briskly moving as if energy and speed could dispel her tumultuous mind, Tess poured the water into the cone that held her coffee.
//Tía Teresa. You're up.\\ Tess turned to find René in the doorway. //Marcos said you were tired and were taking a nap. Were you?\\
//Yes, René.\\ Tess picked up the cone and set it in the sink to continue draining – she had enough coffee in her cup to keep her awake for some time to come. As if her mind needed the help at the moment. //Will you get your brother and tell him I'd like to talk to him?\\ The boy nodded and ran off. Tess sat at the kitchen table, staring at the grain of the wood and waiting for a picture to form before her eyes.
"You wanted to see me?" The boy was getting more confident speaking English.
Tess looked up. Marcos hovered guiltily in the entryway, shifting from one foot to the other. "Relax. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Come, have a seat." The boy sat across from her at the table. "Can you tell me how I moved from the couch to my bed?" The boy flushed. "I'm not angry, just curious. I can't remember what happened."
Marcos shrugged. "I woke up this morning and you were still asleep. I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't. So I went and talked to el señor. He thought you were tired and that you might sleep better in a bed, so he made me help him move you." There was something that boy wasn't saying. Tess wasn't sure what it was, but he wouldn't meet her eyes, and his feet were beating an aggravated tattoo against the legs of his chair.
"Was I talking in my sleep?" The boy nodded, eliciting a sigh from Tess. It was bad enough that she was haunted by unpleasant memories; she didn't want anyone else to suffer as well.
"I was scared." The quiet admission caught her attention.
"Why's that?"
"Because you sounded scared, like someone was hurting you." The boy peeked up at her under his eyelashes. Waiting for an explanation.
Tess wasn't sure what to tell him. Someone had been hurting her, but would he understand what it was like to fear a man who claimed to be your father? What it was like to fear half of who you were because you had seen the evidence of what it could do? "It was just a dream, Marcos, and dreams can't hurt anyone." The boy nodded, accepting this explanation as easily as he accepted everything else she said. "Now, go turn off the TV and get your brother and sister to play a game with you. Too much TV will rot your brain." The boy got up and left.
Wishing that she could dismiss the phantoms of her mind as easily as he accepted her explanation, Tess remained at the table, staring down into the black reflective surface of her drink. In its dark mirror, her eyes appeared an indistinct brown, the only part of her face she could easily make out. How she wished that what she was seeing was real, that her eyes were a deep, dramatic brown that was so common to her neighbors. But they weren't. They were a deep, bright blue – a color that stood out from her skin. Her father's eyes.
"All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream." Fighting the urge to throw her mug against the wall – to watch the dark liquid of her mirror stain the wall as fragments of pottery flew everywhere – Tess stood up and walked to the sink. As she poured her drink down the drain, she wished with all her might that she could wake up from the dream that had been designated as hers.
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A/N 2: hope my Spanish was okay. Everything there was the result of me working out of an English/Spanish dictionary and dim memories of my two years of HS Spanish class. Please, e-mail me if you spot any inaccuracies.
Quotes: the first is actually an Arab proverb (Do not stay in a place of danger . . .), then we've got a larcenous quote from Esquire, and lastly a tidbit from Poe.
Author's Thanks: many thanks to Logical Philosophy (who shared a story with me. I love stories!), Miss Becky, and Bitchy Little Pixy (yay! You're back! I'm glad!) And of course, to my beta Ashley – you have no idea how much your end note to the beta chapter encouraged me. I was never a big fan of Hemingway, but it's nice to know that at least I writing in the same style as someone who's famous. ^_^
Nextly, thanks to my two new reviewers Trish (your review was also a total encouragement. It really made my day to read it. I hope to hear from you again.) and TaraRose. (I'm glad you're enjoying Sarah's fics. I'm just as big a fan of her work as anyone. I swear that girl if channeling some unknown pirate, or tapped into JD's Sparrow-ness. I'm not sure how else she manages to write that. ^_^ Hope to hear from you soon.)
