Author's Note: ok, since some of you were begging for this, and because this is my favorite chapter so far, I'm posting early. ^_^ Be looking for the next chapter in about a week.
Author's thanks at end.
Did I mention this was my favorite chapter? ; )
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When Tess didn't answer him the first time, Logan repeated his question. "What's the allure, T?"
How far could she answer that question without making things uncomfortable for any of them? "Logan? Have you ever heard of a nahual?"
"No. Should I have?"
Tess shook her head. "Not many people have. Long ago, before the Maya came to power in the Yucatan Peninsula, there was a race of people called the Olmecs. No one's quite sure what happened to them – there's few traces of their civilization left and most assume they were gradually swallowed by the Aztec Empire to the East and the Mayan to the West – but there are a handful of their myths and beliefs that got handed down through thousands of generations to today. And one of those is that of the nahual.
"Nahual is translated into the Spanish tongue as crío del jaguar. Child of the jaguar, or more commonly, jaguar children. Not that this should be confused with nagual, or wizard, although the Central America word may have some connection. But I get off topic.
"It was believed that these children were gifted with the intellect of men, but had the ferocity, strength, and cunning of a jaguar. It was even believed that they could change into the great cat if the need ever arose. The Olmec priests, the shamans, were all believed to be nahuals, for the jaguar was a sacred animal. Even the Maya believed this to some extent, although that may have been a belief they absorbed along with the Olmecs."
She turned her face to Logan without removing her eyes from the man she was talking about. "It just . . . if you had been there . . . if you had been on the streets of Culíacan that day as the sun beat down, and explosions made the ground tremble . . . if you had seen him standing there, dressed all in black with blood running down his face like the tears of the gods themselves, maybe then you would understand. There was no reason for that man to be alive, but he was. I know that I came closer to believing the old myths that day, that I wouldn't have been surprised to see him shift into a jungle cat and run back to the lands where his worshippers had dwelled." Finally she managed to remove her gaze from Sands. "I'm sorry, but I can't explain things better than that. It's just . . . I feel that to leave him now would be a great disservice. I'm not sure I could do it. Not until I know whether there's still hope for him or not. I convinced him to come . . . I made him hope, and I can't leave without seeing it through. I can't give up my duty without feeling as if I'm giving up on him as well. And I don't want to give you-know-what that sword to hang over my head."
Well. Apparently things were more complicated than Logan had suspected. "This isn't going to be easy, T. He's going to be . . . difficult to handle." Tessa's two gunshot wounds seemed to burn with the echoes of pain, even though they were mostly healed. "And however much you protest against it, you're close to him. Maybe not in the way that the word is normally meant . . . but I know you. If I know nothing else, I know you, and I know that once someone works their way onto your list of people to watch out for, that you feel everything they do. This won't be easy, and I only mention this at all because I know that you're not even going to balk from the pain this could cause."
"I realize it's not going to be easy, Logan. But do you think it would be any easier if I turned him over to the care of someone else? If I left details up to my imagination?" Tess leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. "You're right – I'm going to be there every step of the way, but that's only because I feel responsible for putting him in this position. If it weren't . . . ." If it weren't for my family, he wouldn't be here. "I just really need to see this through. I know Sands won't admit it, but I think he'd be more comfortable if he knows that at least one person who knows him will be in this to some capacity. If he knows he's not just being abandoned."
"Are you sure that's it, T?" Logan had never heard Tess use that tone of voice before, although he had wished to hear her use it about him. But Tess . . . Tess had notions. And nothing was going to sway her from them. So he was her friend. And confidant when she needed one.
"Yeah. That's it. That's all I have to offer." It's all I can offer with a free mind and a clear conscience.
The two friends were silent for several minutes before Logan broke the silence. "I'm going to have to conduct my own examination. You know that, right?"
"I know, and I did mention it to him on the way over. Just . . . try not to let it show that it," she waved a hand in front of her eyes, "that it bothers you. He's self-conscious enough about it as it is." The two nurses were finishing up and preparing to leave the room. "If he doesn't mind, I'll probably stay in the room, although I don't think I'll make any comments. We can conference later, although I think I've mentioned everything I noticed."
"I think I'd feel better with a consult anyway. You never know when something might occur that would be pertinent to treatment. And you're still his main physician unless he's claimed another on his records."
"You got his records?"
"No, that's what Ashley was doing in there."
"The one with the black hair?"
"Yeah. She's also one of Merrie's friends."
"Ah . . . sharing the wealth, eh?" Tess shook her head, trying to act as if their earlier conversation hadn't happened. The mood could only stay somber for so long before her voice started searching for a distraction. "Stupid girls."
Logan grinned at the oft-quoted phrase from their college days. Tess had never been one to put up with the constant games of flirtation that other people their age engaged in. But then the two women emerged from the room, bringing Sands' chart with them.
"Here you go, doctors."
"Thank you, Merrie, Ashley." Logan started to look at the charts, then looked up. "Did you get the blood sample?"
The two women looked at each other. "No. We didn't."
"Why not?"
"He said he didn't want any more holes in his hide and if anyone was going to come near him with a . . . a 'f'in' needle, then it had better be someone who knew what to expect."
Tess shook her head. The man never gave up. "Well, I guess that settles the matter of whether I'll be going in with you or not. Shall we?" Logan looked at her as if she was nuts (which they both knew she was), and went in ahead of her. Tess followed after hesitating for a moment.
Even when we act for the noblest reasons, the last link of the chain all too often drips with someone's blood. She sincerely hoped she wasn't getting in over her head.
Sands heard the chatty nurses leave. It's about damn time. Small doses of pep he could handle, but he'd been cloistered with a peppy nurse and an inquisitive something-or-other for nearly half an hour. It was a good thing Tessa had taken his guns or he might have put the fear of god in them. Or fear of me – either one would be good.
The room wasn't silent for long though . . . the sound of an expensive pair of wingtips sounded on the tile of the room. It was a sound Sands had heard often enough at Company headquarters. He'd never gone for that himself – too conspicuous. Must be Pierce.
"I hear you were terrorizing my staff."
"Nah – just refusing to cooperate. It helps the bad-boy image."
"May I ask what made you balk at getting some blood drawn?"
Sands resisted the urge to growl. If this man wasn't careful, he was going to end up on Sands' bad side, and that wasn't a place anyone wanted to be. But despite his irritation, Sands' voice was bland as he replied. "Let's just say that I've had some bad experiences with needles of late." He wondered how squeamish the young doctor was. Suppose I'll get the opportunity to find out soon.
"Come now, Sands. Surely I'm not that bad with a syringe." Crap. When had she gotten in without him hearing her?
"Apparently you're not only overly attached to quoting people that the general public has never even heard of, but you're delusional as well. An elephant gun has more subtlety than you do." He grinned, but it was brittle. "Those nurses that just left could teach you a thing or two about a decent bedside manner."
Tess knew he was simply going with the game she'd set up – neither one was going to mention anything about cartel henchmen who came armed with hypodermic needles filled with various sedatives. "Well, I suppose that means I need practice. Wanna be my guinea pig?"
"Why not? Seems to be all I'm good for at the moment." Sands heard the woman – Tess – rummaging around. There were several clinks as she set vials on the table and a snap as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. "Enjoy snapping the latex, do we?"
This was just another instance that Tess was extremely glad that he couldn't see her, because her face was most likely showing bright red under the natural tan of her skin. Damn him for always knowing what to say to overset me. "I suppose that's for me to know, and for you to never – and I do mean never – find out."
"I think you just flattened my ego."
"You don't give yourself enough credit, señor. I think you have more than enough ego to survive my trivial comments. Which arm?" Sands extended his right arm.
Tess was very careful not to look at either Logan or Sands as she folded the sleeve of Sands' shirt back and fastened the tourniquet around his upper arm. Paying complete attention to what she was doing, she probed for a vein. "Make a fist for me?" His veins were playing hide-and-seek, determined to keep as much blood inside his body as possible, but she found one. Quickly she smeared a bit of iodine over the site, then said, "Little pinch." The needle slid in and her syringe started filling.
Once she had enough blood, she pulled the needle out, let the tourniquet go loose, and taped a cotton ball over the small wound.
"What do I get for being so good?"
"A lollypop, the same as all the other good little boys and girls." Tess knew Sands was being so flippant because he was nervous about the upcoming examination.
"Well, damn. If I had know that was all I'd get, I would have misbehaved."
"There's always next time." Needle in hazardous waste bucket, gloves in trash, label vials. "There someone waiting outside for these?"
Logan looked up from his study of Sands' chart and nodded. "Merrie should be waiting."
Tess went the door where the woman was indeed waiting, handed off the vials, closed the door, and then pulled the shade that was there to provide privacy from those passing in the hall. Things were about to get ugly.
Tess hadn't said anything when Sands had lit a cigarette on the way home. She hadn't said anything when he'd asked if she would pull over at a convenience store to buy a carton of non-lite cigarettes and a pack of beer. She hadn't said anything, but Sands had seemed to know what she was thinking anyway. "Last day of freedom, niña. Might as well live it up."
"You're going to smoke a carton of cigarettes in a day?"
"No, those are to keep my trigger finger happy while I can't drink." He'd tossed his wallet in her direction and she'd gone inside. She'd noticed while she was paying that he'd removed his ID.
They'd gotten home, Tess had relieved Tina of her charges – although she and the children seemed to have formed a mutual appreciation society – and Sands had gone outside. She'd checked on him once or twice to find him puffing like a chimney. She left him alone with his thoughts. If he wanted to talk – which she sincerely doubted – then he knew where to find her.
He didn't come find her.
She colored with the kids, fixed dinner, reminded Sands to eat, translated a showing of Beauty and the Beast, got everyone washed, brushed and into bed. She went back downstairs, cleaned up from dinner, checked on Sands (who was still outside but drinking a beer now instead of smoking), worried about whether she should do something, decided not to. Went back inside, sat down, started reading . . . .
"Gee, Ma. Didn't know I was out past curfew."
Tess woke up, wincing as her neck informed her how little it had appreciated her last position. "I'm not. You're not." That made sense. "I fell asleep."
"You fell asleep in the living room when you have a bed waiting for you in the other room? Makes sense." Sands sat down across from her; the scent of his cigarettes drifted over to her. "You've been hovering all night, señorita."
"It's hard not to when we're stuck in the same house. Besides, I've been killing time until Logan calls."
"Going to reassure the good doctor now that he's had time to calm his nerves?"
"You do have that affect on people." They both knew he wasn't what Logan had needed to recover from. "You reek of smoke – you should go shower."
"No sponge bath, niña? I'm disappointed."
"You'll live. There's clean towels in the bathroom." Tess closed her book and stretched. "This may be the last time you feel like showering for awhile." Sands shrugged, but moved to get up anyway. He was almost to the kitchen before her curiosity got the better of her. "Wait. I d need to ask you something." Sands paused, but he didn't look as if he were going to wait around forever for her to say what she wanted. She got to it. "I was wondering if you wanted to list Logan as, umm . . . as your main physician. He is the one who's going to be overseeing your treatment."
The question took Sands off guard. Of all the things he'd been expecting, that hadn't been it. "He going to be checking on me every hour?"
"I expect he'll be calling often enough to irritate the hell out of me, yes."
"But you'll be the one here irritating the hell out of me."
"Yeah. We have a pretty good system for that – it'd be a shame to break up the act now."
Sands stood still for a moment as if he were considering something. Tess was sure he wasn't pondering her question though. Knowing him, he was wondering what had made her ask and what answer she was looking for. Finally he shrugged and left the room. "Do whatever you think is best, chiquita. You usually do anyway."
Tess wasn't sure if hell was the right word to describe the weeks that followed. Somehow, it didn't seem quite strong enough. Not that the sky had fallen on them suddenly. No, it had taken awhile for Tess to see the full transformation. And Logan had been right – it was nearly as painful for her as it was for Sands.
After that the first week and a half Sands was displaying all the side effects that Logan had said would arise, plus some. Sleeplessness, restlessness, withdrawal, skin sensitivity, and waking dreams. These extra symptoms were accredited to 'potentially negative interactions between the prescriptions.' Tess decided that it was just a run of bad luck progressively getting worse.
The waking dreams were the worst – worse even than the times where Sands spoke and made perfect sense. Tess could manage keeping Sands clean when she couldn't apply any more pressure to his skin than the weight of a feather. She could handle all-night vigils as long as Sands stayed quiet the next morning. She could handle watching him wander around the house even though she knew that it hurt him to walk. But the dreams were too similar to hers for her to comfortably handle them. Even the ones of his childhood, the ones with the echoes of benign neglect, reminded her too much of her family. She didn't mind the bruises she gathered from keeping Sands from hurting himself when the moment he'd lost his eyes choose to take its place in the private slide show, as long as it meant she didn't have to listen to the lost child in Sands' voice. Luckily, he never seemed to remember what he'd said as soon as the episodes passed.
And with a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Why does no one ever ward off luck any more? People used to understand that luck wasn't something you wanted to tempt for good or ill. Sound drifted into the kitchen from the living room: "What was I doing here? What was the meaning of this trip? Was I just roaming around in a drug frenzy of some kind? Or had I really come out here to Las Vegas to work on a story? Who are these people, these faces? Where do they come from? They look like caricatures of used car dealers from Dallas, and sweet Jesus, there were a hell of a lot of them at 4:30 on a Sunday morning, still humping the American dream, that vision of the big winner somehow emerging from the last minute pre-dawn chaos of a stale Vegas casino."
Then again, I think repeated viewings of 'Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas' is getting to me. We're going to have to cut back on that. No more than once a day from here on out. Tess wasn't sure why, but the garble emerging from the TV seemed to help keep Sands calm. If she watched it for too long she found her voice growing stronger for it. Audio books and other movies are going to have to help from here on out. The phone rang. Tess got up and answered it. "Hello?"
"Hanging in there?"
"As I was walking among the fires of Hell,/delighted with the enjoyments of Genius;/which to Angels look like torment and insanity./I collected some of their Proverbs." Tee fell silent, then asked, "How much longer? How many more days of this do we have left?"
"Seven days. One more week. Are you sure you don't want me to send over a nurse to relieve you, T? Just for a few hours even so you can take a shower and get some sleep."
"No! No, don't send anyone over." Sands was vulnerable – not that she thought anyone was going to try to kill him – but his mind wandered because of the drugs. She didn't want a stranger to witness that. Besides, with their 'luck', that would be the one and only time Sands would remember what he'd said. "I'm fine, really. I caught a couple hours of sleep last night and was able to get a fast shower this morning."
"How is Sands doing?"
Tess wearily got up from the table and walked to the entry way – the movie was thankfully almost over. Sands lay on the couch muttering to himself, or at the TV. Tess didn't care because the only time he muttered anymore was when he was feeling some measure of quiet. It was the silence of withdrawal and the yelling of the dreams that she watched for now. "He's fine. Resting at the moment and watching that horrible movie."
"And last night?"
"He slept, for once. It's possible that things have gotten as bad as they're going to and now they'll start getting better." Tess quietly rapped her knuckles against the frame of the door. "I have to thank you for finding that day program for the kids. Their grasp of English is growing by leaps and bounds – especially Marcos. I want to get him into a good school as soon as possible, although I think that Alma and René will benefit from ESL classes for a bit longer."
"Well, I didn't think you wanted the kids underfoot while . . . you know."
"Yeah, I know." Tess went back in and sat down at the kitchen table again, making sure she was seated somewhere where she could keep an eye on Sands.
"How's the job hunt going?"
"Slowly." Tess let out a weak laugh. "Maybe if I let some of my expectations slide, things would be easier, but I want to get as far away from Mexico as I can while staying in the states, and I don't want to practice medicine, and . . . and I don't know. It's as if real life is on hold until after the operation, you know?"
"Yeah, I can understand that." Logan went quiet before saying in a brighter voice, "There's going to be someone coming out that you're going to want to see."
"Who's that?"
"Jess – she decided to come out and see her crazy twin."
"When's she arriving?"
"A week after the procedure."
"It'll be good to see her again." Tess heard the music for the credits playing. "Look, I gotta go. The movie is over. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay." Tess hung up and went back in to tend to her patient.
"Tía? Can I talk to you?"
Tess, once again at the kitchen table, looked up from her laptop. Marcos was standing in the doorway. There was a look of concern on his face, and Tess thought she knew where it stemmed from. He was finally wondering how much worse things were going to get for his friend, who was outside smoking at the moment. Funny how I never had to ask him to do that – something tells me it's not something he normally does. "Of course. Come have a seat." She pushed out the chair across from her with her foot.
Every night for the past two weeks Marcos had come home from the day center, done his homework, and then read to Sands – for hours sometimes times. The man never acknowledged the boy's presence, but he did stay calm, something for which Tess was extremely grateful. "What's on your mind?" she asked once the boy had seated himself.
"Señor Sands." The boy was quiet, examining the table. Tess let him think and collect his thoughts for as long as he needed to. After several minutes the boy looked up, and Tess felt the impact of the anger and concern in his eyes. "I thought you were supposed to be making him better," he accused. "But he's not getting better. He's worse. I know that's why you send us away during the day."
Oh . . . she should have known this was coming. Marcos was a smart boy and he had a tender heart. How was she supposed to explain things, though? "You're right, Marcos, I am grateful that you and your brother and sisters aren't home during the day, and it's not because I don't want you around. I know that you in particular would do what you can to help me –"
"Then why can't I stay home? I'm worried about señor Sands. I want to help him."
"I don't want you here because . . . because señor Sands does not always remember where he is because of the medicine he's taking. I know how to take care of him, so I stay. I also want you and your siblings to be able to learn. Don't you enjoy school? Don't you enjoy learning new words and math and being with other kids your age?"
Marcos nodded, but his eyes still held a bit of rebellion. "I do. But I still think about el señor while I'm there. When is he going to get better? Why isn't the medicine helping?"
Tess reached over and took the boy's hand. He refused to look at her and she suspected that it was to keep tears from falling. "I know it's hard to understand, but the medicine is helping."
The boy sniffed. "Then why does he hurt so much?"
How to explain? "I know it seems like medicine should be able to help people feel better without making them feel worse in other ways, but that's not always the case, Marcos. Sometimes in order to make people feel better, we . . . we have to get rid of all the other bad stuff. It's like when you have a . . . a crate of avocados. One day you look in the crate, and you see that there's a rotten one on top, so you take it out and throw it away. The next day there's another rotten one, and then again the day after that. So you dig through the entire crate, and find there's a lot of rotten fruit at the bottom. That's what was making the fruit on top go bad. Sometimes making people feel better is like that; you have to dig to the very bottom and dig out all the rotten stuff before they can start to heal."
"That's what you're doing to señor Sands?"
"That's what I'm trying to do, yes." She tipped his face up so he was looking at her. "Feeling better?" The boy nodded. "Good. Then you can help me get the young ones ready for bed."
Tess woke up at two in the morning when she heard someone moving around. She rubbed her eyes, trying to remember when she'd fallen asleep. It really didn't matter, but it was better than wondering what Sands was up to now.
Ignore your duty, that's a good one.
I'm not ignoring – I'm delaying.
Coward.
You're absolutely right. Tess stood up and surveyed the darkened room – Sands was nowhere to be found. Again came the sounds in the kitchen. It sounded like the rattling of pill bottles. Tess froze; the fridge door opened and shut, the legs of a chair scraped across the floor, there was a hissing sound followed by the sound of a bottle cap hitting a hard surface. Damn it! I knew I should have gotten rid of what was left of the beer.
Tess quickly left Sands' bedroom and crept down the hall towards the kitchen, pausing at the threshold. She didn't bother turning on any lights – it'd be more of a hindrance than a help at the moment. The moon was full and shone in through the window, providing more than enough light to see what Sands was doing. He was sitting in a chair with an open bottle of beer, several pill bottles, and a gun in front on him on the table. Shit.
Slowly, Tess walked into the kitchen. Her bare feet slapped against the floor, letting Sands know that she was coming. Now was not the time for surprises. Still moving slowly, she too pulled out a chair and had a seat. For awhile they sat there with the beer, the pills, and the gun between them. Tess wondered how he'd found the gun.
"The best way to predict the future is to invent it."
"Alan Kay."
Sands nodded. "Wise words. I did that. And it was all fun and games until someone got their eyes poked out." He laughed, and Tess cringed at the sound; it was harsh and full of self-ridicule. "What do you think, Doc? If Humpty Dumpty had had a doctor instead of a bunch of witless horses and horsemen, would he have ended up as fucked over as I did?"
What was she supposed to say? She didn't even know this man's first name. How was she supposed to help? "I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the thing on the inside." She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice from shaking. "What is it you're trying to get rid of tonight, Sands? What's driving you to do this?" Sands didn't answer, but he pressed the heels of his hands against his temples as if to squeeze whatever was bothering him out of his head altogether. It was an action Tess was all too familiar with. Oh, please god, no. Please tell me this hasn't pushed him off the deep end. I'm already floundering. "Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. Tell me, Sands." He shook his head. "What does it say? What are you always trying to drown out?"
"I can forgive everyone's mistakes but my own," he muttered. "Cato. He was right."
"And this is the answer? A cocktail and a bullet?"
"So I'm told." He reached to close his hand around the bottle, although he didn't try to take a drink. Something was making him hesitate and she had to take advantage of it.
"The devil is easy to identify. He appears when you're terribly tired and makes a very reasonable request which you know you shouldn't grant." Tess reached to move the gun, but Sands' hand slammed down on hers, trapping it against the table. "Don't grant this request Sands. We're so close."
"IT HURTS."
Tessa's voice became soothing. "I know it does. I know. And I'm sorry for that. I would take that if I could. But . . ." her mind was racing desperately. "For the living know that they will die; but the dead know nothing, and they have no more reward, for the memory of them is forgotten. Also their love, their hatred, and their envy have now perished; nevermore will they have a share in anything done under the sun." She had moved around the table as she'd been talking, stopping when she was standing in front of Sands. She knelt down on the floor in front of him and took another breath. The hand he'd trapped earlier was still holding on to his. "Sands, give me the gun. Please." If she could start with that, perhaps there was hope.
For long seconds, Sands didn't move. Then his arm lashed out and sent the gun flying. It went over the edge of the table and hit the floor. Tess held her breath until it settled without firing, then let out a shaky breath. If the safety hadn't been on, she'd be dead at the moment – the muzzle was pointing directly at her. "Sands . . . ." her voice was barely more than a breath.
"I can't do this. The pain, it's too much. It's driving me fucking crazy. I can't do this."
I can't do this, Sam. "I . . . I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something." Tess squeezed the hand that still hadn't pulled free of hers. "I'm holding on. Don't you dare let go." Sands was still sitting without answering her. She hoped he was thinking and not blocking her out. "Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light?"
What was it about quoting smart people that made even complete idiots seem more intelligent? And the woman had to be an idiot if she was going to cry over him. He could hear the tears lurking in her voice. I'm sick of the dark. It was the dark that had driven him to this tonight. But it was hard getting back to the light. It hurt – it made his entire body throb as if he were caught in a particularly bad case of the flu. It would be so much easier just to toss back the beer and let that be that. I've never liked doing things the easy way.
Not to mention you don't want her to cry.
Fuck you. "You're a damn necia, Teresa Adame."
A fool. Tess sighed with relief. She could live with being a fool. She stood up and moved to put away the pills and dispose of the alcohol, not to mention put the gun away. She stopped short when she realized that Sands hadn't let go of her hand. "Señor?"
This is where he kills you for getting too close. He may not be as strong as he was a few weeks ago, but I bet he could still crush your windpipe. I wonder how long it would take and whether it would wake the children.
The darkness was still too close for him to let go of his life preserver. The waves could still pull him under. If the damn woman wanted him to 'hold on,' she was going to have to live with the consequences of that. He stood and felt Tess move as far from him as possible. Was it revulsion or fear? Knowing his little angel of death, it was fear. The woman was too much of a puzzle for him to solve. "I'm tired, custida."
Guardian angel. Tess felt her load of responsibility shift at the new appellation, felt it settle more heavily on her shoulders. Things weren't supposed to have gotten this involved. She was supposed to have handed him over to Logan, and then Sands was supposed to ignore her. Best laid plans, Teresa . . . although you are much more the mouse than the man. "Let me put things away." She'd put the lids back on the pills, pour out this beer, pick up the gun, and deal with the rest in the morning. Sands needed his sleep.
She led him back down the hall to his room, then tried to settle him on the bed, but he still wasn't letting go. When she tried to pull her hand free, his grip tightened until she had to hold back a gasp of pain. She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but his face was a mask. The muscle in his jaw jumped before he growled a single word. "Please."
I told you he'd take advantage. Going to give in, or are you going to fight? The voice paused before asking in a silky voice, Remember how much fighting hurt the last time?
Shut up. You're wrong. He's not . . . that's not what's happening here. If it was, he wouldn't ask. He just doesn't want to be left alone. I wouldn't want to be left alone with you either. Tess prayed that she was right as she climbed onto the bed, kneeling by Sands where he was seated. He pushed her back until her back was pressed against the wall. She fought to control her voice, fought to stay calm. A breakdown could not be afforded now.
Once Sands had her settled, he turned his back on her and leaned back against her.
Tess froze as she felt his weight come to rest against her. This wasn't what she'd been expecting . . . not that she'd known what to expect. Minutes went by without either of them moving. Tess finally decided that this was all that was going to happen. Slowly, she let her muscles relax.
Sands felt her decision to stay. "You're too bony," he complained.
"That's your own spine, Sands. You've lost some weight." Tess shifted and pulled one of pillows from behind her back, moving the one that remained so pillowed her own back. The one she pulled free she slipped between their bodies so that only her arms were touching him. No other complaints slipped from her patient's mouth, and soon he fell asleep.
Carefully Tess wrapped her arms around his body and rested her cheek on the top of her head. It was going to hurt when she left.
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Quotes: gee, there's a lot this chapter. Lunch at the Gotham Café, by Stephen King; Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, by William Blake; Alan Kay; 'Girl, Interrupted'; Fannie Brice; Cato; Fiorello La Guardia; Ecc. 9:5-6; J.R.R. Tolkien; and Maurice Freehill.
Author's Thanks: thanks go to Adrejon (umm . . . *looks at evil plan* yes, angst is on the menu for some time to come, really.); Merrie (oh, I like subtlety. Means I can get away with a lot without ever coming right out and saying it, yet will set things up for future events should I choose to go in the direction everyone seems to want me to go in.); gee (I hurried, but now you're going to have to wait a bit for the next chapter. Oh, and thanks for the proverb.); TaraRose (thanks – that tension and I have fights over how strong its going to be. My tension seems to be really lazy so I really have to kick its butt to get it to go to work. : P); The Flaming Chia Pet (the reason the death quotes have been missing lately is because I'd used up all the good ones I had. I don't want to use second-rate death quotes. ^_^ But Pixy sent me some more.); Pixy (I would never banish you from my multicolored sight. But the quotes were all very nice, and I must thank you for helping to replenish my stock. I was running quite low.); and Satisdee (yes, the whole eye lid thing. You know, other than the fact that this entire thing is more impossible than improbable, I seem to be getting away with it. ^_^ That's what a fic is all about, I suppose.)
Also, thanks to my new reviewers: SavvyJackSparrow (I'm trying to write at least one fic about Sands and an OFC that does not include romance, simply because all the others do. Next fic I'm throwing that out the window since all my test material seems to be keeping both characters believably in character.) and Arfie the Duck (thank you so much for your complements over Tessa. I'm glad that everyone is liking her so much. Also glad you like how Sands is coming out. He's a hard guy to pin down and get on paper. And the quote? It'll definitely get used sooner or later. It just works so well for this fic.)
Ok folks, that's it. If you have any quotes you want to send me, please do. This chapter seriously drained my stash.
