The Long Way Home

By

E. S. Young

Chapter Two: Arrival at Casa de Lynné

I suppose I should mention at this point that Sands' lovely sister's name is pronounced 'Lin-ae' which explains the little mark above the 'e' in her name. I forget what you call that; I know what it's called in French but I don't know the English translation. o.o;; This also explains why Lynné is better at speaking the language of love than she is at Spanish, as you will soon see in chapters to come. By the way, and Spanish that is spoken is this story has been translated from English on a website I found. If anyone notices anything wrong, I'd be happy to know so I can correct it. Those sites aren't always accurate (never use them to do you homework for whatever language you're taking, trust me -.-;). Thanks much. .

- - -

Blood. That was all Liam saw when he slowed his car to a stop and rolled down the window. Blood, some dry, some in the process of doing so, ran down Sands' legs and one of his arms. It was hardly noticeable because he was wearing black – a stupid thing to do, really, because it was so hot out – but it was still there. And it didn't look like it was stopping any time soon. The fluids on his fellow agent's clothing may have been hard to distinguish, but the blood on his face wasn't. Streaming down from behind his sunglasses, the vast amount of blood made Liam wonder why Sands was still there; still standing.

And there, standing beside him, was the young woman who could be no one else but his sister. The resemblance was remarkable, even when a red mask of gore covered Sands' face. She looked strangely calm for a girl whose brother was obviously badly injured, and this worried Liam. It would have been better if she had been wringing her hands in panic, biting her nails until they bled, or wrapping a single strand of hair around her finger so tightly that she ripped it right out of her scalp. But no. There Lynné stood, her arms crossed over her chest, talking calmly to the man she should have been in a panic over. When Liam pulled up, she turned from Sands and smirked at him.

"Close your mouth, sugar, before a bug flies in and you choke."

Liam, realizing he had been gaping at the two, quickly stopped. Sands, who realized it was just Liam who had pulled up in the car, lowered his gun. And Lynné shook her head at the both of them.

"Okay, you're gonna have to use me as a crutch, so . . ." She trailed off as Sands placed his good arm around her shoulders. She in turn slipped her arm around his waist and led him around to the car. Liam, upon sensing that Lynné intended to have Sands lay down in the back seat, stepped out of his car and opened the back door.

Lynné slid in across the back seat of the car. She noticed that, as he gingerly made his way into the vehicle, Sands was groping around for something. Possibly just trying to feel his way around the interior, but she knew she would be mistaken in thinking so. Cautiously, she held out her hand for him to take.

When his hand brushed hers, Sands shoved it away, as Lynné had expected him to do. It was worth a try, but, damnit, she hated being right . . . It was a useful gift she had had since before she could remember, but other times it also proved to be a burden. Being a highly intuitive person, Lynné could predict the move of practically everyone she met. She was never unsure of something, was never wrong. And once again, she was right when she wished she hadn't been.

Suddenly, she was brought abruptly from her thoughts when she felt an odd pressure on her legs. Looking down, she saw that Sands had decided to rest his head on her lap.

'Man, he must be out of it to do something like this . . .'

"What are you doing?" she asked aloud.

Sands turned his head to the sound of her voice. She didn't sound angry or annoyed, just curious, a little concerned, and perhaps slightly surprised. Good, Sands had always liked shocking people, and getting to Lyn wasn't something that happened very often. He decided to be honest with her, wanted to see – 'Not literally, of course,' he thought bitterly – her reaction.

"It's more than likely that I'm going to pass out within ten minutes of this car ride, whether it be the loss of blood or simply the fact that I always doze off in cars," he explained casually, "In any case, I'd just like to be comfortable."

"So now I'm comfortable?" It wasn't a question. "Funny, if I recall correctly, YOU always said I was bony."

"Who the hell else am I gonna use? Liam?"

Lynné glanced up and caught the look in Liam's eye as he slid into the driver's seat of the vehicle and heard her brother's comment. Trying not to laugh at the look the easily freaked out man gave her, she returned her gaze to Sands and replied:

"If that's the way you wanna be, then I suppose I have no choice. I can't really say no, can I?"

"Not unless you want to hurt my easily injured feelings."

"Normally, I'd take the risk, but seeing as we're in a hurry –"Lynné looked back up at Liam and motioned for him to get going "— I think I'll pass."

- - -

The ride to his sister's place took longer than it should have, mostly because Liam, being the annoyingly cautious person that he was, saw fit to make hairpin turns and change direction every five minutes, but Sands endured it. He thought he had even managed to catch some sleep; he vaguely remembered hearing Lynné saying:

"Sands . . . . you have to stay awake."

He remembered flipping her off and hearing a frustrated sigh next.

"I know you don't want to, but you have to stay conscious," she said to him.

"At least until we get to casa de Lynné," Liam added.

"Eyes on the road, mister," warned Lynné, her dark eyes narrowing maliciously. It was good that the kid was trying to be helpful but they really didn't need a car crash at the moment. She had left her AAA card at home.

'And ID, the police'd need that, too. Not like I ever carry any –'

Her thoughts were cut off once again by a sharp gasp from Sands. While she had been thinking he had apparently attempted to sit up and say something smart to Liam. Unfortunately, his bullet wounds had protested.

"Damnit," Lynné cursed, "if you don't keep still you're going to make those WORSE and since I'M the one stuck with the job of tending to them, I'd rather keep the problem as minimal as possible. Savvy?"

"Yeah, yeah." God, Lyn was a bitch when she was worried. No, that wasn't right. Yeah, she was worried but she was trying (and succeeding) to be as calm as possible. She wanted to be in control, and Lynné almost always got what she wanted. He had to give the girl credit; any other woman he knew would be crying like a little kid and telling him how sorry they felt for him, giving him endless amounts of pity, which was the last thing he wanted right now. That and a seat belt digging into his back. He could do without that.

She had always been like that, though. Ever since they were kids, Lyn had kept a cool head in a distressing situation. Whenever a friend or relation was hurt (whether it be mentally or physically), she was willing to help out if she was needed, but they would never get any pity out of her. Sands knew he could count on that later that night when she was sewing him back together.

Soon, when he couldn't distinguish his thoughts from reality, Sands knew he was blacking out again.

That's a rather interesting thing to say, considering your condition.There went that annoying voice in his head that was always there to contradict every choice he made. Everybody had a voice like that; his was just particularly loud at the moment . . . and a real asshole.

You expected nothing less of the supposed 'conscience' of YOUR being? the voice wondered with mock innocence.

'Shut the hell up, I don't need this right now.'

Y'know . . . talking back to the voice inside your head is one of the first signs of madness.

'Really?' he mused silently, 'And here I was thinking I had already lost it.'

Next step is talking out loud, his thoughts continued, ignoring his comment. Probably won't be long until that happens.

'Fuck off,' Sands thought tensely.

- - -

"No . . . . damn that bitch . . . God, no . . ."

Lynné bit her lip as her brother continued to mutter in his sleep. She wasn't sure whether she should wake him up or not. While she was in training they had always taught her that when a person was injured, it was best to keep them conscious in case the worst should happen. Liam looked at her in the rearview mirror.

"Shouldn't you –"he started.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, "I do know that he's exhausted and needs sleep and it's not likely that he'll be able to get any once I start fixing him up."

"Couldn't you . . . knock him out or something? Give him some numbing drug?" Liam ventured.

Lynné sighed at him and shook her head.

"You should know by now that even if I offered him Novocaine he'd refuse. Doesn't want to be more hopped up on drugs than he already is.

"Besides," she continued, "I'm not sure if it's safe to give him anything ANYway because I don't know what kind of effect it'll have on the stuff the cartel gave him."

She saw Liam look momentarily concerned before turning his concentration back on the road. He knew that mixing some medical drugs could produce nasty effects: Comas, organ failure, death. Those bastard cartel members wanted to make sure that, even if they let someone they had tortured go, if said person went to seek medical attention, they would most likely never live to identify whoever had done them harm. He knew several people who had died that way.

Liam blinked his clear blue eyes several times and gave himself a mental shake and pushed the depressing thoughts to their proper place: The back of his mind. He was too sensitive to be a CIA agent, as Lynné so often commented. Speaking of the young lady . . . Liam stole another glance at his partner in the rearview mirror. Luckily, she didn't notice, for he doubted she would have liked being caught absentmindedly brushing Sands' hair out of his face. Scratch that. Lynné wouldn't have wanted anyone to know that she was capable of being soothing, caring, loving.

He smiled slightly, despite the situation they were all in. That was why he had stayed with Lynné, even after she was burned and he wasn't. Although she had a icy, unbreakable gaze and an exterior to match, he had tolerated her, put up with her threats and smart-assed remarks. Liam was the kind of guy who, sappy as it may sound, believe that everyone had their own inner-good person. Whether or not his partner was one to show it very often, he knew she had it in her, somewhere. . .

- - -

Finally, Liam pulled the car around the back of Lynné's house. Not a moment too soon, either. The drugs the cartel had given Sands were powerful, but they were beginning to wear off. Lynné could already see that pain had started to nip at his body. If the fact that Sands was clenching his teeth together, fighting the instinctive urge to scream, the way he was breathing was enough evidence. Harsh and shallow, Sands breathing became quicker as his sister and Liam attempted to help him into the house. He wanted to refuse just to prove to them he was not helpless, but he knew it would be stupid to do so. That and the fact that Lyn would kick his ass if he even tried to walk on his own. Damn her for spending two years in med. school . . .

The journey inside the house wasn't too terrible. Sure, it hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to the stairs. It was just his luck that his sister had decided to take up residence in a three-story house, and that the room he had been residing in while on his mission happened to be on the second floor. Every step he took sent bolts of agony through his legs. He wondered how long it would be before he was willing to beg Lynné to put a bullet through his head just to make the pain stop.

'She wouldn't do it,' he thought suddenly.

"Careful . . . there're about six steps left," Lyn was saying.

I wouldn't put it past her, his annoying subconscious stated.

"Just five more steps."

'No, she wouldn't kill me, no matter what I did.'

". . . four steps . . ."

Ohhh . . . I dunno, his mind mused thoughtfully, I'm sure if you threatened her life a bit . .

". . . . . only three left . . ."

. . . or begged hard enough. If you managed to cry a bit, that would help, too. . .

"Two . . ."

Just as long as you make her think you're in enough PAIN, then Lynnie'll go all hysterical and weepy and kill you.

'Fuck off. She won't and I know that –'

Yeah, but I don't. And I am part of you, after all.

"One."

It's a good thing Lyn had given his guns to Liam whenever he had passed out in the car, or else Sands was sure he would have shot himself right then and there just to make the voice shut up.

- - -


Blah, I wanted this to be longer but, alas, time is never on my side anymore and if I hadn't decided to split this into two chapters instead of ONE, this update would've most likely been postponed until sometime next week. So, I guess a short chapter is better than no chapter at all, right?