Chapter 19

Sands jumped to his feet at the first scream, it was at times like these he cursed himself for have been such a fool, Ajedrez scored big his moment of weakness. He heard Sable's stifled scream again. What the hell was going on?

No one else was in the house, they'd be dead long before they made it to the door. The windows, too, were trapped from the outside. He'd have felt someone else's presence even if the traps failed him.

"Sable," there was no reply. He made his way to the bed and knelt at the edge. She was sleeping, he knew that much, but if it were a dream he'd have to be on edge for violent action on her part. Never touch a sleeping agent, especially not one in the midst of a nightmare.

"They're gone," she screamed sitting bolt upright staring through sightless eyes.

"Damn it," Sands muttered. From her thrashing around on the bed he was able to locate where she was. The sheets were rumpled and the coverlet was thrown to the side.

"No, no not gone," she was whispering frantically. "They're all DEAD," her breath came in harsh gasps as if she were trying to stop herself from crying.

"It's alright. . . calm down, baby," he pulled her against him and made his voice quiet and soft enough so it would fit into whatever she was dreaming. This wasn't at all ordinary, by now she should have awoken or at the very least showed some sign of hearing him.

"Dead, gone, they're never coming back," she said heart-wrenchingly.

"Listen to me, Sable Alice Lyracose. Whatever it is that's happening to you, fight it. Wake up, it's alright, just wake up."

"Dad, no. Not him, too. I can't wake up, it has to be a dream, why is he dead too?!" It sounded as if her heart were breaking, he was out of his element here. Something horrible had happened to her sometime in her life and he was in no way equipped to deal with it.

"Goddamn you, Dawes." He didn't know how to wake her, hell, he couldn't even see her to know if this was a raving fever or more likely just a result from the sleep medication. One more effort to wake her and then he'd call Arnoldo to see what could be done.

She was shaking so violently her teeth were chattering and Sands pulled her even closer and pulled one of the sheets loose to put around her shoulders. There was no temperature or feverish heat from her skin. It was more like a deathly chill only felt in moments of extreme shock, what was she reliving?

He held her as a parent might hold a child, wrapped protectively in his embrace daring anyone to try and take her from him when she was in such a state. Sable slowly calmed down until only an occasional sob would be muffled by his shoulder.

"Sshh. . ." he hugged her, 'nothing will happen to you, go back to sleep."

He wanted to leave the room, to run, but Sands never ran out of fear. A woman in an emotional state, a torturer, he hadn't run from the latter. He'd be damned he left her alone, terrified, because he couldn't handle wrenching sadness and hallucinations.

Sable eventually did fall asleep, with the warmth of Sands laying next to her, with his arm wrapped securely around her she found some semblance of peace.

Sands couldn't rest. His mind was live- wired with unanswered questions and serious revenge in store for Dawes. He'd heard of pills that caused nightmares so real the person inflicted would go into coma or cause themselves intentional pain. This must have been a lesser form of that.

Sands couldn't tell how he knew the difference between night and day, but as he lay there he could tell that it wasn't night anymore. There was a feeling in the air, lighter in the day, heavier at night. Reaching for the cell-phone on his dresser he pushed '6' for Arnoldo on speed dial.

"'H'lo?" Arnoldo asked sounding as if he'd just been deeply absorbed in a case-file, which since Sands didn't know the time, could very well have been the circumstance.

"Yeah, Sands here."

"Up so early? It's barely four o'clock."

"Great, thanks for the update. Any idea what was in the water Dawes gave us?"

"Is she okay?" Arnoldo was much more alert now, Sands envisioned a deer raising it's head when it sensed something wrong.

"Fine, what was in it?"

"Simple sleeping draught, why?"

"Any side affects?" Sands was very adept at avoiding questions he didn't want to answer, this definitely qualified as one of those times.

"Umm. . . headache, sometimes nausea, depends on the person."

"Alright, thanks. So, nothing permanent, right?"

"Shouldn't be. Sands if you hang up on me. . ." Arnoldo knew him all too well. A random phone call in the early morning inquiring about another agent's health wasn't part of Sands' normal conversation topics. Disposing of a body, requesting new weapons, but never anything more than that.

"Just curious is all," Sands forced humor all the while envisioning Dawes very, very dead.

"You were curious about the grenade that consequently blew the roof off the right side of the garden house. You were curious about the timer on a bomb that luckily detonated well after everyone was out of the building. I'm not buying it this time."

"Good thing I'm not selling anything then, eh?" Sands replied, "Nighty-night."

He clicked the phone shut and waited. Shrugging, he left the phone on his bedside table. If Arnoldo had wanted more information he would have called back by now. As it was, he had a few good hours to think and wait until Sable woke up.

* * *

Sable woke to the turning of her stomach and a feeling of revulsion as she realized she was about to hurl. Racing into the bathroom she leaned against the side of the wall and took long, deep breaths. She was not going to be sick, repeating that in her mind over and over again took away her urge to do exactly what she was trying to prevent.

Good, now that the world had righted itself she was able to concentrate fully on what was going on. She flicked one of the lights on, winced, and then turned it back off again. Dark, darkness was good.

"Oh man, what's wrong with me," she muttered as she forced herself to her feet. She leaned over the sink using it to support herself and stared into the mirror in shock. It looked as if she'd been in a fight, that or have been extremely drunk the other night.

As she rinsed her mouth out with water she noticed there were dark smudges under her eyes and her sight blurred, all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. She would go back to sleep as soon as she was sure everything else was okay.

She shut off the lights quietly and started in surprise when she saw Sands standing against the wall. She'd done her best not to wake him, she should have known better.

"You feeling better," he touched her shoulder hesitantly feeling the shivers still wracking her body. He put his arm around her to lend his support. She was glad for the aid, there was no reason to try and hide it from him anymore.

"A little. We're going to have to kill him you know," she attempted humor regretting having spoken at the nausea that turned her stomach.

"I already have a plan," Sands reassured her. "Going back to sleep?"

"Unless there's something you need," she muffled a yawn and kept her eyes focused through sheer force of will.

"For you to get better," he put the blanket around her and heard her breath slow into that of deep sleep. Going over to the other side of the room he wondered what he should do now. Usually he would have watched television or read, but that definitely was out of the question.

His cell phone rang and he dove for it before it could ring again and wake her up. He frowned at the action, but at least he had something to do now, he thought ironically. It was Arnoldo on the other end of the line.

"I'm standing outside your door, Sands."

"Good for you. Like the make? I can give you the manufacturer."

"Very funny-"

"What are you doing here? We're fine."

"Not believing it. Come open the door."

"Christ, alright, don't get all worked up. I'll be right there."

The line was disconnected and Sands pulled on a new shirt knowing that all of his wardrobe was black and he was already wearing the black pants from the other day. What brought Arnoldo all the way out here? If only Dawes were dead and he had come to share the heart-breaking news. It would be tragic because Sands hadn't been able to kill the bastard himself.

* * *