Sands paced the waiting room, feeling more helpless than he ever had in his life.  His parents, his sister…they actually paled in comparison to his feelings for Grace.  He had never needed someone until she came along – and just as quickly as he found her, he could lose her.

            "Sands?"

            He stopped pacing at the sound of Harold's voice.  "Do you know something?"

            "No.  Look, we have to get you back to Virginia…"

            Sands was appalled.  "Are you fucking kidding me?  I'm not leaving."

            "You need to be debriefed and…"

            "So defuckingbrief me here – I'm not leaving!"

            Harold decided to dig a bit deeper.  "Why not?  We won't leave her alone here, she is the CIA's responsibility since we asked her to stay with you."

            "I can't, all right?"

            "So you have been sleeping with her then.  Well, you never cared before…In fact, from what we know of your actions down here, you were sleeping with Barillo's daughter, then you killed her."

            "The bitch took my fucking eyes, Harold."  Sands pulled off his glasses, causing the other man to cringe.

            "Christ…"

            "Ajedrez was a quick, dirty fuck – nothing more.  Grace is…  I can't leave her."

            Harold suddenly forgot about the hollow sockets before him.  "I don't believe it."

            "Believe what?"

            "Mr. 'I Don't Give a Fuck About Anyone' actually cares about somebody."

            "I don't care about her, Harold," Sands spat.  He found the wall and slumped against it.  "I love her."

"What?"

"I L-O-V-fucking-E her, all right?"

Harold simply looked at Sands.  Part of him wanted to ask him to put his glasses back on, the other…well, the other part of him was too stupefied by the revelation that Sands was even familiar with what love was.  "Are you…all right?"

Sands put his glasses back on, shaking his head.  "What the fuck do you think?"

"I have to go make a couple of calls.  Can I get you anything?"

"No." 

Harold returned a half hour later, two cups of coffee in his hands.  He handed one to Sands, then said, "I'm flying a surgeon down – he'll be here by six."

"A surgeon?  Do you know something about Grace that I don't?"

"Not for her, for you.  We can't have you running around with holes in your head, you'll freak your woman out."

"She doesn't seem to mind," he said softly.

"You let her see?"

"Yeah."

"On purpose?"

Sands grew angry.  "Do you have a fucking problem with that?"

"No," Harold said quickly.  "I just thought…face it, you've always been a bit cocky when it comes to women and…"

"She's not some one night stand, Harold.  She asked to see, so I showed her."

"In less than a week she managed to…"

"Do more than…"  He didn't finish his thought.  "I'll fucking kill that bastard if she…"  Footsteps approached the men, causing Sands to freeze up.

"You brought in Grace Milano?" a doctor with a thick accent asked.

"Yes," Sands quickly answered.  "What's going on?  Is she all right?"

"She is still in surgery, señor, she has lost a lot of blood, but things are looking better than when she arrived.  I will let you know when she is out."

"Thanks."  Sands voice was emotionless.  The doctor walked away and Sands put a hand to his forehead.

"You really do love her," Harold said, things finally sinking in.

Sands slid down the wall, taking a seat on the floor.  "I'd let them fucking bleed me dry if it meant she'd be all right."

Harold took a seat on the floor next to Sands.  His voice was suddenly brimming with emotion.  "I thought you died."

"You got a phone call after I was…"

"Not down here, Sheldon.  When you were first on the job…when your sister was…I thought you died then.  You turned into someone who was nothing like the young man you were when I first met you.  That woman in there," his head nodded toward the operating room, "brought you back from the dead.  I'm going to have to thank her…then ask her to get you to clean up your language a bit."

"Yeah well…I'm thanking her first."  Then it happened.  Everything that Sands had gone through in the past week hit him with the force of a train.  Had anyone else been there with him, he would have continued holding everything in, but Harold was different.  As many times as they'd been at odds, as many times as Harold had given the impression of disliking Sands, he was the closet thing to a father Sands had – and Harold knew it.  Insults came from both ends, but were never really meant.  Fights occurred, but never held.  He'd been through rough times with Sands, but nothing that compared to the recent events in his life.  It didn't shock Harold in the least when Sands leaned his head on his shoulder and began to sob violently.  Sands would never admit to it later, but it didn't matter.  He didn't need to be his usual 'hard-ass' self then – his secret would be safe.