Author's Note:  Umm . . . the good news is that this chapter is out on time.  (Yay!)  The really good news is, the next chapter will be out early.  Say around Wednesday or Thursday.  It's a good chapter.  So read this, tell me what you think, and be looking forward.  Things are starting to pick up.  Tensions are pulled tighter than ever before, and a whole lot of stuff is going to unravel really fast.  I think I have about five chapters of this fic left at the most.  After that, it's up to you whether or not you want a sequel.  ^_^

Author's thanks at end.

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While Tess slept the sleep of the righteously drugged, Sands spent the night sitting in an armchair in his room, feet propped up on a dresser or something, a cigarette lit more often than not.  He was tired, but had spent too much of the past week in unconsciousness to sleep comfortably now.  Besides, he'd managed to overhear some rather interesting tidbits about his doctor cum hostess.  He had a feeling that it was time to once again review what he knew about the woman; to fit in the new pieces of information that he had about her and see how that changed what he'd already pieced together.

   Facts first, then impressions.  Sands took a long drag of his current cigarette.  Her name is Teresa Adame.  Last name unknown.  She was raised within the cartel's main compound from the time she was five.  Eventually went to Harvard Medical, graduated second in her class in 1996, then returned to Mexico because no one here would hire her.  I need to find out why not.  All I know is that she has some kind of disorder that requires her to take boosters shots.  Not a lot of help.  He exhaled.

   After graduating, she returned to Mexico, interned under Guevera – to learn the latest in torture and organ extraction, most likely.  After a year she ran away to meddle in cartel business.  The last of his cigarette burned his fingers.  Sands discarded the butt, hoping he wasn't going to set anything on fire.  Then, after running away, she stayed in Mexico.  She somehow not only managed to find a contact within the cartel that was unwilling to sell her out, but some shady business partners as well.  Ones that can forge and hack into government files.  Sands sighed.  This was quickly leading into impression territory.

   Fine then.  La chiquita, Tess, likes to stay in the shadows.  She avoids the notice of old school friends, the authorities, and the cartel alike, but will venture back into her old world when the occasion calls for it.  She knows how to use and care for guns, but doesn't care to use them.  Must be the doctor in her. 

   Sands reached for another cigarette and found that it was his last one.  Damn.  Perhaps he'd go to bed soon after all.  The woman seems to have a hard time focusing her thoughts, yet she has massive amounts of literature stored away in that head of hers apparently always accessible for instant recall.  He lit his last cigarette.  She likes kids and seems to deal well with them.  She likes classical music, possibly from a classical education – Barillo seemed to be the kind of guy that would value that.  For it's prestige, not for the education itself.  Tess, however, seems to value what she learned and tries to ignore the prestige.  Which is interesting.  Not a lot of doctors do that.

   From what I've been able to gather, she likes having a clean house.  She likes to clean, although she'll also do it when she's uneasy.  For the most part, she's gentle, soft-spoken, patient, caring, minds her own business, and is confident.  There was only one thing wrong with that assessment, and that was him.  Even her friend had noticed that she acted differently around him.  Around everyone else, she displayed the cool and collected Tess, but somehow he managed to unnerve her.  Not that he minded – it was good for his ego.

   You don't have nearly enough information to be doing anything, Sheldon.  That conversation tonight was a good starting point, but you need to learn more.  You may be in the States, but the danger isn't past.

   Tomorrow then.  Tomorrow I'll corner her and get some more answers from her.  With that, Sands finished his cigarette and went to bed, taking his glasses off for the first time in days and making sure to lie on his back.

Young Sheldon Jeffery Sands never missed an opportunity to watch one of the summer meteor showers.  They were relatively clear outside Baltimore.  The city's ambient light didn't extend this far, granting clearer views of the skies, which was just what the boy wanted.

   He was lying in his tree house, the one that his father had hired people to build at the summerhouse.  If it weren't for the meteor shower that night, Jeffery (anything was better than 'Sheldon') wouldn't even be out here.  When he'd asked his father for a tree house years ago, he'd been so excited when his dad had said yes.  Other boys his age built houses with their fathers.  His had hired contractors.  It was a nice house, to be sure, but it represented another crushed dream.

   But it had an excellent view of the sky.

   Jeffery wondered what it would be like to be hit by a meteor.  Not that he was trying to get killed by space debris, but it was an interesting question nonetheless.  Would death be immediate?  Or would you linger on as part of you burned?  His mother would scold him for such grisly thoughts, but they were normal for a boy of thirteen.

   Sands, somewhere in the part of his head that wasn't taken up with the dream, remembered that night.  He remembered how he'd fallen asleep watching the meteor shower and how he'd woken up the next morning healthy and whole.  Which was what made the next part of his dream such a shock.

   As he watched the sky, one of the fiery pinpoints grew brighter and brighter until the light hit him with a physical sensation, like being punched in the gut.  The pain spread through his body, settling in legs, and arm, and head.  His head.  His eyes.  His eyes were on fire, worse than the time he'd accidentally gotten into one of the maid's container of pepper spray.  He reached up to rub them, anything to ease the burn, but all his hands encountered was blood pouring down his face.  In shock, he screamed and flailed in his bed.  Which was in a tree.  Fifty feet above the ground.  He fell, and when he hit the ground, even his mind turned black and there was nothing but silence and the knowledge that he was alone and broken.

The phone rang the next morning.  At least Tess hoped it was morning, once she realized that there was a phone ringing somewhere.  The light filtering through her eyelids was not the light of morning however, and so she sighed.

   -Ring-  I really don't want to get up.  I'm exhausted.

   -Ring-  That's because your 'friend' drugged you last night.

   -Ring-  He did?  That's funny, I don't quite remember that happening.

   -Ring-  You wouldn't.

   -Ring-  That's getting really annoying.

   -Ring-  You could try doing something about it instead of complaining.  After all, it's not like you'd be willing to let me answer it.

   -Ring-  If I wait long enough, they'll hang up.  Or an answering machine will pick up.   -Ri –  See?  I told you.  Tess simply laid in her bed still, too unmotivated to move.  This was the real reason she didn't like taking sleeping aids, not even Tylenol PM.  Yes, she got a night of uninterrupted sleep, but she was lethargic for hours after she finally woke up.  The door to her room opened, and Tessa's voice urged her to find out who it was, but she couldn't work up the interest.  Whoever it was would say what they wanted, or they'd go away.  Tess sincerely hoped they'd choose the latter option.  If she was lucky, she could get in a few more hours of sleep.

   "Hey, Doc, are you awake?"  Sands.  It had to be Sands.  I don't want to deal with him now.  Wasn't he pestering me about answers last night? 

   Yeah, he overheard part or all of your conversation with Logan.  He's probably been listing off all the questions he wants to ask you all morning.  And possibly all afternoon.

   Think he'll go away?  "I don't know, Pierce, it's awful quiet in here.  Sounds to me like you killed her."  She could hear mockery in the man's voice.  He was either mocking her or Logan.  Or both.  That was likely.  "Hey sleeping beauty, were you planning on getting your ass out of bed anytime soon?  Like today?  Your partner in crime wants to talk to you."

   Damn.  He wasn't going to leave her alone.  "Mmgrphf."

   "Pardon me?"  Sands could have sworn that the woman was usually a bit more coherent than that.  Perhaps she really had gotten an overdose.

   "Which one?"

   "I've never helped you break the law."

   Not yet.  I don't think you'd be all that adverse to it though.  "What does he want?"

   "Well, the mumblings on the other side would lead me to believe that he wants to talk to you, although I can't imagine why."

   Bite me.  "Can I have the phone?"

   "Have you forgotten one little, minor detail, niña?  Like I can't see you to find you?"

   "That's a load of crap.  If you can identify someone by their footsteps, then you can find my bed."

   Sands was surprised by the fact that his little chiquita was showing the sharp side of her tongue.  He hadn't been aware that she had a temper.  Sure, she got irritated with him, but at the moment her mood could only be described as 'bad'.  It was good to see that she was human.  I don't want her to be human.

   You'd rather have her be perfect?

   I'd rather have her be predictable.

   If she's human you'll figure it out sooner or later.  Unless the lack of light is making you lose your touch.

   Tess heard feet approaching the bed.  When they stopped, she reached out one arm, searching for the phone.  "That's my knee, señorita.  Although, if you wanted to shift your hand up a bit farther . . ."  Giving up, Tess opened her eyes, moaning when the light hit them.  Too familiar.  The burn in her retinas was too familiar.  She squinted against the light.

   Where's the blasted phone?  There it was; Sands was holding it several feet above her head.  "You're such a jerk," she muttered.

   Sands heard a body shifting on the bed.  Briefly he wondered what Tess would do if he took a seat on the bed next to her, but he got distracted as he felt the phone be pulled from his hand.

   As soon as she had the phone in her hand, Tessa closed her eyes again.  "Logan Heston Pierce."  That's all she had to say before Logan started profusely apologizing.  Tess let him go on for some time before interrupting.  "What time is it, Logan?"

   "One thirty in the afternoon."

   "And why are you calling me before two?  I seem to remember strict instructions against that."

   "Well . . . when you didn't call, I got worried.  I thought that you'd surely call as soon as you figured out what I'd done.  And I am sorry about that.  I –"

   "Yes, I know.  You knew I hadn't been sleeping, you thought I wouldn't sleep, you didn't want me pacing the floors all night, and, as my physician, you decided to act in my best interest."

   The line was silent for several seconds before Logan asked, "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

   "It means you're lucky my paranoiac nature didn't take offense and decide that you needed to be eliminated."  Tess felt the bed move, as if someone had sat down on the edge.  And the kids weren't here.  Her eyes popped open to find Sands sitting on the bed, facing her with an expectant look.  Ah, crap.  "But all joking aside, where are my kids?"

   "Tina took them shopping, and then to Knott's Berry Farm."

   "Logan –"

   "Don't worry about it.  How's your patient?"

   "Ever so much more aware than I am.  It's a dangerous situation."

   "How so?"

   "Don't want to talk about it right now."

   "He's in the room?"

   "Mmm-hmm."  Tess sighed and stretched.  She let out a high pitched squeal as she felt her muscles fight against her.  She really needed to start stretching again.  She collapsed back into the bed.  "Listen, now that I'm semi-awake, I need to run some errands.  Were you planning on coming by tonight?"

   "No, not unless you wanted me to."

   "No, that's alright.  I have a feeling I'll be turning in early this evening.  Sleeping pills have a notorious history of staying in my system longer than they're supposed to.  Is there a car around here that I  can use, or do I need to call a cab?"

   "There's a sedan out front for you to use.  A few of the interns dropped it off this morning.  Compliments of the firm, of course."

   "Of course.  Then I guess we'll be seeing you tomorrow?  What time do you have us scheduled for?"

   "Three.  Is that good for you?"

   "I don't see why it wouldn't be.  We haven't been around long enough to have any previous engagements."  Although I should get the kids in to see a pediatrician and a dentist.  "Listen, I'll talk to you tomorrow then."

   "Sounds good, Trouble.  Catch you then."

   "Bye."

   "Bye." 

   Tess laid in her bed after hanging up with Logan, watching Sands.  He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, still facing her.  Despite the fact that he had no eyes, she had to fight to keep from squirming under his non-existent gaze.  She could tell he suspected something about her, but didn't know what, and didn't really want to know.  The silence was too much.  "Did you need something, or did your legs just become unable to support you any longer?"

   "What makes you think I didn't just miss the sound of your delightfully hoarse voice?"

   If a little torment was all he had in mind at the moment, then Tess had things to do until he was ready to get serious.  Like grocery shopping.  "Do you mind?"

   "Mind what?  Your voice?  I thought I'd already said that I –"

   "You know I wanted you to leave the room.  I'd like to get ready for the day."

   "Be my guest."  Sands noticed that Tess didn't move.  "I thought you wanted to get dressed or something."

   "I also wanted you to leave."  He didn't move, and Tess was getting the impression that he wasn't going to move.  Tess sighed.  There was one way to get rid of him – pure irritation.  Unfortunately, it would give him one more thing to wonder about her.  But she thought she could live with that.

   You, my dearest Teresa, are much too trusting and more naïve than your age deserves.

   And you're too suspicious.  "How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this." 

   "What?"

   "Be obscure clearly."

   "If you're trying to get rid of me, it's not going to work, niña."

   "Your wisdom is consumed in confidence.  Do not arouse the wrath of the great and powerful Oz.  I said come back tomorrow."

   It was clear that Tess was going to be difficult about this.  She was clearly not in the mood to be intimidated.  Sands would have to try again when he would have the upper hand in the conversation.  Tonight, perhaps.  He got up from the bed.  "Truly great madness cannot be achieved without intelligence."

   "Are you saying that you don't trust me, señor?"  He was leaving.  Finally.

   "Do you trust me?"  Tess was silent.  Sands held back a cynical laugh.  "I think we trust each other only too well, chiquita.  We'll both be better off if you keep that in mind."  Sands left.

   He has a point.

   Tess got out of her bed.  She knew he had a point, but some part of her was shouting denials at the truth of the statement.  I know he has a point, but without trust there's no healing.  He has to trust me more than he's saying.  Otherwise he wouldn't be here.

   And you want him to trust you?  The voice was expressing disapproval.  Fine.  Let's say he trusts you.  What happens if he finds out your last name, Teresa?  What do you think he'd do then?  What do you think finding out  that the woman who he's come to trust, the word was filled with mockery, was not just raised by and in the cartel, but is the illegitimate child of the man who took his eyes.  Think that trust will stand?  Or will he kill you?  Tess didn't want to answer because she knew what the answer was.  That wasn't a rhetorical question, Teresa.

   Tessa was surprised to find herself pacing the floor.  This wasn't one of her normal nervous habits.  Why are you forcing the issue?

   Because I want to make sure that you won't do anything stupid.  Like get too attached to a man who'd rather see you dead than alive.  Help him so we'll be free, but don't lose your head.  Answer the question.

   She didn't want to answer the question.  It hurt too much.  He'd kill me.  But he's not going to find out.

   Now whose wisdom is consumed in confidence?  Anything is possible.  Help him then get away from him.  He'd only destroy you even if he didn't kill you eventually.

   Like you?  You don't want any competition, is that it?

   You're mine until I decide I want to share you.

   No!  I'm not yours.  If anything, you're mine.  I'm the one who's in control.

   Then why am I still here?

   Tess didn't have an answer for that.

The next day came sooner than Tess expected it to.  Sometime after a short afternoon of shopping, reading, napping, and generally trying to evade Sands, the kids had come home and dinner had been served.  She supposed it was the return of the kids that had been Tessa's biggest ally in keeping Sands at an arms length.  Despite his earlier words about trust, or perhaps because of them, he'd been . . . .  Well, watching was the wrong word, and lurking implied that he'd been trying to stay inconspicuous.  Which he wasn't; he'd been openly invading her privacy.  But again, privacy wasn't the word she was looking for.  She'd stayed in the living room reading ever since coming back from getting groceries.  She would have gone into her bedroom but was afraid that she'd fall too deeply asleep if she was anywhere near a bed, so she'd settled for the overstuffed armchair from the night before.  Not that it helped her stay awake, but it did keep her periods of unconsciousness to brief catnaps.

   Sands, when he wasn't lounging on the couch across from her, was outside standing in the sun, smoking.  He spent a lot of time doing that – although part of it was while standing in the doorway, his profile turned to her.  For an hour or so, Tess had found it hard to concentrate, worried that he was going to try something, but when he didn't, she relaxed enough to actually read her book.  Books.  Books and magazines – she was having a hard time focusing.

   She'd managed to get through National Geographic, People, and Newsweek before Sands asked her something.  "Did you really think you'd get it past me?"

   "Get what past you?"  She hoped Sands was talking about something relatively innocent.

   Sands didn't let his reaction to the blandness in her voice get to him.  She was up to something.  The first time he'd heard that particular tone was the day they'd met; the only time that bland voice came out anymore was when she was nervous or trying to avoid answering something.  "These freakin' diet cigarettes."

   "Oh."  Again, Sands hid his reaction; she sounded relieved that he hadn't asked something else.  "I really didn't think about it.  As a doctor I don't really approve of smoking at all.  I'm afraid buying those was an impulse.  A compromise between two evils."  That, and growing up around a cartel quickly breaks you of any desire to get addicted to anything.

   "What are the two evils?"

   "The first would be you and the second would be buying cigarettes in the first place."  Sands tilted his head in acknowledgement, but otherwise declined to comment.  Tess decided to start in on the book she'd picked up.  It was about vampires.

   "You're quiet."

   "What?"  He'd managed to startle her.  Again.  And he probably hadn't even been trying since he was lounging on the couch, arms behind his head, and she hadn't even noticed him come back into the room.  Her book was getting really interesting, although the writing style was a bit . . . eclectic.  It was really requiring all her attention to make heads or tales of it.

   "You're not humming, or tapping, or moving around, or playing anything.  I'm not sure I've ever seen . . . heard you so quiet."

   How much attention had he been paying her if he'd managed to pick on some of her more subtle distractions?  Or were they not as subtle as she thought?  Or had they grown less subtle?  "I'm just . . . really interested in this book," she got up.  "Would you like me to turn on the radio?  Or the TV?"

   Sands simply shrugged.  "I wouldn't want to impose, niña."

   Since when?  "It won't bother me.  I'm used to drowning things out.  It helps me focus."  She decided to turn on the TV, quickly changing the channel to CNN.  "Is news alright with you?  I thought perhaps –"  Her voice trailed off.  Don't say anything unless you can improve the silence.

   "Like I said, whatever."  Actually he wouldn't mind hearing some of the news.

   Time passed.  Tess read her book and blocked out the noise of the TV.  Sands listened to a bunch of old coots argue about the war.  One sounded distressingly like his dad.  "Why are you wearing that hat?"

   "What?"

   "That cowboy hat.  It's not exactly sunny in here."  It was going on five o'clock and Tess was expecting the kids to be back soon.  Her book was fascinating.  Only fifty pages in and already the heroine was faced with saving the life of a vampire (a very big 'no') or leaving him to die in the hands of the other vampires.  It was something the heroine knew she shouldn't do, something that would endanger her life from humans and vampires alike, and that would change her life forever.  If she lived that long.  Tess could sympathize.  It was that thought that made her look up at her companion, and it was looking at him that made her realize he was wearing a cowboy hat of all things.  It really didn't go with the t-shirt that said 'Lord of the Onion Rings.'

   Sands shrugged, hiding his sudden tenseness when he heard the man who sounded like his father being addressed as senator.  Ah, shit.  "I've got a lot of fond memories of that hat."

   "I've got a lot of fond memories of that dog.  That's the line.  Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade."

   "Watch a lot of movies, do you?"  If he could keep her talking until the show was over, maybe she wouldn't notice what he was suspecting.

   "I did.  In college.  Our study group would get together for all night movie parties.  Our senior year, we actually rented a house off-campus together."

   "You were all close?"

   "Yeah, we were.  Or close enough.  We all liked each other, which is more than can be said of some relationships."

   Tess fell quiet and Sands heard a page turn.  "What are you reading?"

   "A book."  Sands flipped her off.  "It's a book, it's called Sunshine, it's about a world where humans and 'Others' live together, but 'Others' and those with Other blood are . . . considered unhealthy for one's health.  It takes place in a post third-world-war type setting.  Human and Other populations have been decimated, but Others seem to outrank the humans.  And now this perfectly ordinary woman who is only considered special because of her superb cinnamon rolls, has been kidnapped by vampires and thrown to one like a lamb to the wolves."

   "Mmm . . . going to have his wicked way with her, is he?"

   "No.  He hasn't laid a hand on her, even though he had the opportunity.  She's decided to help him escape with her, even though it's daylight outside."

   "That would give you sucker ashes."

   "No.  She's got some latent magic-handler blood, and she can hold the sunlight off him.  And she has to because she can't escape on her own.  She needs his help and he needs hers.  And neither of them like the alliance."  Sounds familiar.

   "What's wrong?  Your life isn't strange enough, so you seek peculiarity out elsewhere?"

   "You're welcome to believe that the world is a nice, logical, rational, safe place . . . You'd be wrong, but that hasn't stopped anyone else who thinks the same way.  Perhaps I read this because I can sympathize.  Maybe the stories that talk about women going to charity events and finding mystery lovers who eventually commit to them body and soul are the stories that are too foreign for me to believe."  Tess stopped, wondering if she'd gone too far and if Sands would answer.  Sometimes he did when she got philosophical, and sometimes he didn't.

   She never got the opportunity to find out.  The door slammed open and a tidal wave of youthful enthusiasm rushed in the door.  Tessa rose to answer the raucous clamor and to take Lena from Tina.  She thanked the woman and ushered the kids upstairs to clean up.  Then she threw dinner on the stove and started to cook.  When they sat down to eat, Sands removed himself from the group again.

   I'll have to make sure he eats later.  He's skipped too many meals from pain and painkillers to skimp on food now.  Sands was back outside on the porch, smoking another cigarette.  The setting sun cast a golden glow on the skin of his arms and face, bronzing him where the moon had turned him silver the night before.  Part of Tess understood the . . . the cleanliness that sunlight could bring.  How it could chase away all the shadows in the mind.  But some shadows hid things that should never be revealed.  An echo ran through her mind, the remnants of a giggle that didn't belong to her.  But the darkness could also swallow things that should never be forgotten.

   The children were ushered to bed along with a bedtime story.

   "And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost.  History became legend, legend became myth, and for two and half thousand years the Ring passed out of all knowledge.  Until when chance came, it ensnared a new bearer.  The Ring came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains.  And there, it consumed him.  The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long life.  For five hundred years it poisoned his mind.  And in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited.  Darkness crept back into the forest of the world.  Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Ring of Power perceived.  Its time had now come."

   The sun had set, dusk was a memory, the children were asleep and Sands back in his room.  She was grateful that Sands had never really had the opportunity to interrogate her as he'd threatened.  He also hadn't answered her question about the hat.

   Sands hoped she hadn't caught his father's name on TV.

"So what you're saying is you're going to pump me full of drugs for three weeks – drugs that will have the side effects of causing extreme pain as they help 'regenerate' injured tendons and nerves, that will most likely make me irritable and make me want to give in to moderate to extreme depression, not to mention mild nausea and possible periodic memory loss.  And then after that, you'll operate on me for eight hours, making sure to rebuild my eye-lids while you're at it, including eyelashes.  And lastly, I can expect a five to seven month recovery period – which will also be painful – if the surgery works at all.  If it does work, there's only a thirty percent chance that I'll get complete eyesight back, a sixty percent chance that I'll need corrective lenses of some degree, and a ten percent chance I'll only be able to see colors and shapes."

   "Yes."

   Sands sat in his chair quietly while his mind ran over his options.  He could either stay blind forever, or he could risk it that this would work.  Something had to better than nothing.  The dark . . . it was going to corrode who he was until there was nothing left but a shell.

   "Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"

   Damn.  The woman was trying to reassure him again.  And even worse, she had somehow known what direction his thoughts were going in.  Fine, he'd do this.  The sooner he had her off his back, the better.  No, that wasn't right.  The sooner he was able to get by without her, the better.  He needed his life back, and he needed to get away from Tess before he got used to having her around.

   "Ok, Doc.  Let's try this."

   "Well, Mr. Sands, if you're sure about this, then let's get you started."  Logan pushed the intercom button on his phone.  A moment later the door opened and a dark-haired young woman entered the office.  She was dressed in the standard nurse's uniform, but there was a bright smile on her face and a spring to her step.  Tess just looked at her with raised eyebrows.  This . . . sprite . . . barely seemed old enough to be working in a medical office.

   "Hi, I'm Merrie.  It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Adame."  The woman held out a hand to shake.  Tess gingerly took it, awed by the amount of enthusiasm radiating from the young nurse.  "Ever since Dr. Pierce heard you were coming, he hasn't been able to stop talking about you."

   "Please, call me Teresa."

   "Nice to meet you, Teresa."  Merrie turned her attention to Tessa's patient.  "And you must be Mr. Sands."

   "It's just Sands."  With even more reluctance than Tess had shown, Sands extended his hand.  Merrie took it in the same firm grip that she'd given Tess.  He could tell this girl was peppy – he didn't like pep.  A lack of pep was perhaps the one thing he liked . . . tolerated . . . about Tess.  This chick's voice made it sound as if she'd be better off swooning over some movie star at some dollar theater somewhere.  But despite his reservations, he had to admit that the kid had some handshake. 

   "Okay, Sands it is.  Would you mind coming with me, Sands?  We're going to get your height, weight, blood pressure, and that sort of stuff."  Sands inclined his head and rose from his seat, displaying his latest tacky t-shirt in all it's tasteless glory.  Tess saw the young nurse eye the print (665 – Neighbor of the Beast) with an amused eye and noticed that this was one thing even the energetic woman refused to mention.

   As the two left the room, Tess heard Merrie saw, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a strong resemblance to Johnny Depp?"  Then the door shut, blocking Sands' response. 

   Probably no more than a grunt – that's what I got.  "It there a reason you're letting your nurses handle this?"

   "They're just handling the preliminary stuff.  But in the meantime, I wanted to talk to you."

   "About?"

   "Well . . . first of all, I'm really sorry about –"

   "Don't sweat it, Logan.  I understand why you did it.  I may even agree with it on some level, seeing how I was getting sleep deprived.  I just wished that you'd talked to me about it first.  It's not as if I'm not able to see reason if it's presented correctly.  As in, bought to my attention at all."

   "I said I was sorry."

   "I know.  Look, let's just drop it as long as you understand that you're not to do that without my consent again."

   "Loud and clear."

   "Good.  What else did you want to talk to me about?"

   "Mmm . . . why don't we talk a walk?"

   "O-kay."  Tess got up from her chair and walked across the room with her friend.  They walked down the corridor and Logan brought them to a halt outside a door.  Tess peeked in the window and saw Sands with a bevy of nurses attending him.

   Two women does not a bevy make, Teresa.

   Tess ignored that comment.  She watched as the two women chattered and laughed and worked.  She had to admit that even with their energy, they were being efficient.

   Logan watched her, noting the way her eyes dismissed the two nurses and focused on Sands.  It was like she was watching for something.  Any sign of discomfort.  Any hesitance.  Any reason to go in the room herself and take over.  That wasn't Tessa's style.  "I'm worried, T."

   "About what?"  Tess turned enough that she could watch her friend but still keep an eye on the man she'd taken under her charge.  This was the first time she could observe him around other people without her presence and she was . . . unduly interested.

   "Sands.  And you."

   Tess sighed.  "I understand why you would be worried about Sands, what with all the lovely side effects of your oh-so-helpful medications, but why are you worried about me?  I can take care of myself, Logan.  I've been doing so for years."  More years than you can imagine.

   "I know you can take care of yourself, T.  I do.  I know that, and I understand that, and I accept that.  It's the added variables of your new family and your patient that concern me."  Logan saw that Tess was about to protest this, so he quickly continued before she could say anything.  "And if it were just the kids, I probably wouldn't be worried.  I know that you don't generally take on more than you can handle, but –"

   "But you're afraid that Sands is going to become more than I can handle."  Tess looked in the window again.

   "You are planning to look after him yourself, aren't you?"  Tess nodded, still not looking at her friend.  Logan noticed her distraction and sighed.  "What's the fascination, T?  There's more going on here than a doctor wanting the best care for her patient."

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Quotes: Quotes this chapter belong to Lord Byron (which always makes me think of 'Sleepy Hollow' and Johnny Depp's Byronic good looks in that movie.  *le sigh*); E.B. White; Shakespeare's Julius Caesar; Frank L. Baum and his The Wizard of Oz; Henrik Tikkanen; and Ever After.

Shout Outs:  Umm . . . Pixy?  Where art thou?  'Tis been more than a single week since you let me know thou wouldst be gone for a week.  I miss thee?  ^_^  And Miss B. – the fit is going to hit the shan and I'd like you to be there for it.  You still about?

Author's Thanks: many thanks this chapter to Merrie (who now has her computer back), The Flaming Chia Pet (I'm glad you're back, and thank you much for the quotes), TaraRose (just 10 more days, luv.  Then you can see OUATIM), Vaughn, gee, Adrejon (again, welcome to the JA boards, and thank you very much for the quotes), and Blank (also, thank you for the quotes).

Thanks also go to Satisdee, my new reviewer for this chapter.  Welcome, thanks for reading, and I hope to hear more from you in the future.  ^_^

And what was I thinking?!  Many thanks than I can say to Ashley, my dear beta, who got this to me despite computer problems.  This wouldn't be here right now if she hadn't been so dedicated, because I am afraid to post anything without her input.  Girl, YOU ROCK!  ^_^

Always looking for more quotes, so if you've got 'em, send 'em in.  I'm running low.