Chapter 4

Authors Note: Thank you Rat! She's the wonderful author (if you haven't read her stories yet, I would heartily advise a trip to her site) who came up with the title. I give all the credit to her *applauds*

Authors Note 2: Now, about Sable. She's a woman, for one thing, and we can't have two Sands' running around now, can we. So I have to make her feminine, at least a little. Besides, what would you do if you were in the CIA and sent to take care of a man who wouldn't think twice about killing you? In a hotel room, just finding out he has no eyes, and then he becomes delirious and feverish. Delirious people with guns. . . loads of fun. hahaha.

He woke up to a dull headache that pounded through his skull whenever he moved. Where was he? What was he doing here? But most importantly, why couldn't he see anything? He took a deep breath to calm his rising hysteria. It was dark and he couldn't see.

He was strangling, the silence had reached out and was choking precious oxygen from his lungs. A cold sweat broke out over his body as he fought for air and life. He wouldn't scream. Any noise would alert people to his presence, if they saw him he would no doubt be in for the fight of his life. Not to mention the small problem of him not being able to move or see properly. It would be interesting to see who'd win.

Breathe, Sands, breathe. They'll be taken care of and you can make your escape. Where was his gun, oh. . . there it was. All of the bullet chambers were loaded and he was ready to battle.

What was that noise? He heard a static-like sound from somewhere to his right. It almost reminded him of a CD player that was on too loud. But that couldn't be.

Sable woke with a start. When had she fallen asleep? Cursing at herself, a movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She was kneeling on the floor with the gun raised before she even knew for sure what it was that had alerted her.

It was Sands, but from his position she knew he was awake. Both hands were on the gun and he was sitting up. Rapid, shallow bursts of air escaped his lungs and from the look on his face it seemed as if he were trapped in a nightmare.

She kept the gun up in case he tried to fire on her. Never hurt to be prepared. Since she couldn't read his eyes she would have to tell his next move from body language. He was tense as a spring, ready to uncoil at any moment and when he did she didn't want to be in his range.

"Sands," She whispered, any loud outburst might make him pull the trigger, it would send him closer to the edge where killing was possible. He was already standing at the top of the cliff, no need to send him hurtling over. She would appeal to his subconscious first, that seemed the best way to go.

He thought he heard his name called why did that bring back memories?

"Sands, I'm not your enemy."

The voice was that of a woman he could decipher that much. Then a flash of light went off in his mind: Ajedrez laughing as the drill came closer, closer . . .

"I'm not going to hurt you."

She lied. They all tried to bring him down and destroy him by any means necessary. What made her different? But then another flash: an ebony-haired woman looked at him with challenge in her light-brown eyes. Sable. What the hell would she be doing in Mexico? And he didn't trust her not to cause him pain, either.

"Just put the gun down. . . I won't take it from you. . . just don't shoot me, okay?"

"Who-"

"Forgot me again, did you," he heard humor with no traces of malice. Sable was relieved to see the gun barrel drop a few centimeters, "See, once, I could overlook that. But now you've done it twice."

"Sable," He stated aloud trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"Damn straight. Now d'you mind putting the gun away? Injured or not, if you shoot me I'm gonna shoot you back."

"Whatever you say, sugarbutt," he recognized her way of speaking. Refinement with a touch of crudity thrown in for good measure.

"And if you call me that again I'm going to shoot you just for fun." The danger passed, he was Sands again.

He remembered, mostly, everything now. At least, what was worth remembering. He was still in Mexico, Ajedrez was dead, and Sable was here to take him back to the US. Oh joy, what fun that would be.

"Do you have any tequila in this dive?"

"It's nine o'clock in the morning."

"Means there's more time to drink." He was in control again, but how many more mornings would he wake up disoriented? He hated that feeling, not knowing where he was, not able to properly asses a situation. In the end, it all came down to training. How well he could keep his emotions hidden and whether or not the darkness would drive him insane.

"I don't want you walking around Mexico. You're going to end up on your back in bed-"

"Promise," Sands interrupted smiling wickedly in the direction of her voice.

"Pervert," Sable put the gun through one of the loops on her pants.

"Through and through, babe." Sands grinned but he really did want a drink. Now that he was awake the pain in his eyes would start. He wanted something to dull the pain. Alcohol was the best solution and here in Mexico he would be able to get good tequilla for a cheap price.

"Is this the main street?" Sands asked for the third time since they had been driving.

"This is Mexico. I have no idea what main street is, nor do I know where it's located." Sable replied, his cryptic instructions were no help at all.

"Gaudy stores? Market place? People?"

"Yeah. . ." the gaudy stores part was true, trust Sands to find them when on a mission to save the president.

"This is the main street."

"Dandy. What am I looking for now?"

"La tienda de liquor," Sands said in flawless Spanish.

"The liquor store?" Sable repeated incredulously, "There are hundreds- holy shit!"

"Yup. La tienda de liquor." Sands laughed at her reaction.

The store was covered in neon lights with red illuminated women silhouettes over the door. The sign was lit in bright pink light with flashing blue, green, and yellow lights over that.

"Just a bottle of tequila?"

"Well now that we're here. . ."

"Start listing, you've ten seconds before I get out of the car."

"An order of Puerco Pibil, and I highly suggest that you get one for yourself. It's a new experience every time, and I've honestly never tried it here before."

"That it?"

"Yup. Remember, tell him it's from 'le pistolero loco' he'll understand."

"I'll be back in five. Oh, and Sands? Try not to kill anyone until I get back."

"Take the fun outta life, don't you," he rested the gun on her side of the car with a resigned expression on his face.

"No maiming, either," ahe let the door slam behind her as she entered the dimly lit establishment. It was always amazing to her how desperate a place could appear.

"Hola," a man leered as he came up behind the counter.

"hola. Quisiera tener dos pedidos del puerco pibil compuestas, y una botella de tequilla agregada a la cuenta.*" she put in the order not liking the way the man was looking at her. If it hadn't been for Sands she might have contemplated taking out his eyes.

"Usted es una pequeña señora bonita. Ningún servicio a menos que vea cuál es debajo esa camisa el tuyo. Apuesta usted es verdadero bastante por debajo de ése también.*" he laughed suggestively and winked.

"Apenas como pronto matanza usted, no obstante el pistolero loco está fuera de esperarme, así que me apresuro la para arriba con la comida o le tendré sangre como plato lateral." She said coldly, there were hundreds of ways this man could die, but she needed the food first.

"El pistolero loco?" the man paled and hurriedly wrote everything down.

"Si. Prisa." She snapped in no mood to hear anymore from the man.

About five minutes passed before the waiter brought the steaming bag of food back to the counter.

"Ninguna carga" he hurriedly whispered ripping up the check.

"Gracias." Sable smiled as she took the bag, but the man's gaze lingered a little too long, "mira cómo usted habla a una señora la vez próxima."

A gunshot later she walked out of the restaurant content with just hitting him in the shoulder. That'd teach him a lesson and he was lucky she hadn't shot him in someplace more. . . vulnerable. However, there was food to deliver and a whole day to get drunk. Why waste time?

*Authors Note:

Spanish phrase 1 (which is really obvious, but I post it for the non Spanish speaking people so bear with me): hi

Spanish phrase 2 paraphrasing: hi, I'd like to place in two orders of puerco pibil, and a bottle of tequila to be added to the bill.

Spanish phrase 2 paraphrasing: Pretty lady, no service here until you show me what's under that shirt of yours. I'll bet you're pretty there, too.

Spanish phrase 3: I'd just as soon kill you, but 'the crazy gunman' is outside waiting for his food. Hurry it up or I'll have your blood as a side dish.

Spanish phrase: 4: The crazy gunman?

Spanish phrase 5: Yes, hurry.

Spanish phrase 6: No charge

Spanish phrase 7: Thanks. . . watch how you speak to a lady next time.