The Long Way Home
By
E. S. YoungChapter Eight: When Old Friends Come A-Calling
I've been thinking . . . . . in that last chapter, did it seem like Sands was getting a little out of character? I'm not sure, that's why I'm asking. Same thing goes for Lyn. I know she's a new character and it's not like she really can be OOC because I could always say 'Oh, that's how I want her to act,' but I don't really wanna hafta say that. .;; She pretty much is the female equivalent of Sands, so that's why I'm asking about her as well. But, y'know, I think she would be a little bit more compassionate (strong word to use when discussing these two, I know) than her brother simply because she's a girl and she's younger and she hasn't been completely corrupted yet. Albeit, Sands did say in the first chapter that there's a decent chance that her mind has already been tainted. O.o Oy vey . . .
- - -
"Agent Fusco," a tall, sinister agent acknowledged, nodding.
"Agent Miller," greeted Liam. The fact that he recognized one of them seemed to be the signal they were waiting for. As soon as the words left his mouth, two members of the small troop of agents walked past Liam without so much as a hello, and entered the house, one staying in the living room, the other heading off towards the kitchen. Taking his eyes away from them, Liam asked with false surprise, "What are you doing in this part of Mexico?"
"We're here on important business and I advise you do not stand in the way of it."
Once he began tuning Miller out, Liam took notice of the stern, no-nonsense faces of his fellow agents. Small yet muscular Conrad had accompanied Miller, along with powerfully built Bradley, whose seemingly unlimited height could only make Conrad appear shorter. They were the two who were now ferreting through his home as if they owned the place. Then there was Baronn, the only female of the bunch -- Liam tried not to laugh at the thought of calling these four that; it didn't fit if you were addressing the quartet of imposing CIA agents (all clad in neat, business-like attires, no less) as a 'bunch.' Even Baronn, who would have been rather attractive if she ever managed to rid herself of that steely look in her eye, was giving off a frosty air. It was strange to think of frost at a time like this . . . they were in Mexico, after all. Liam forced himself out of his little stupor when he realized that Agent Miller was informing him of something that clearly held a great deal of importance.
"I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?" Liam cut in, knowing that, if she could hear him now, Lynné would be slapping herself in the forehead and cursing him for not staying focused.
Miller looked piqued at being interrupted and even more disgruntled at the thought of having to repeat everything he had just said. Nevertheless, he started to speak again, only to be cut short by Baronn. She smiled icily at Liam.
"We're looking for Agent Sands."
Liam's eyes widened slightly, and the four CIA members all distinctly saw the blue orbs begin to mist over. Miller and Baronn exchanged confused looks. They knew this guy was a little bit. . .delicate. . . . . .but tearing up at the very mention of a person's NAME? Placing a hand to his mouth, Liam said in a horrified whisper:
"But . . . she's dead."
"Oh, for the love of – not her!" Baronn spat, waving an impatient hand at him.
"Oh . . ." he said softly, still looking deeply heartsick at the thought of his 'former' partner. "You mean –"
"Sheldon Sands, yes," sighed Miller, exasperated. "He was working with you, correct?"
"Well, we exchanged information," Liam half agreed.
"When did you last see him?" Baronn pressed on.
"Uhh, day before yesterday, I think."
"You think?" repeated Miller skeptically, "So you mean to say you don't know?"
"It's my estimate," Liam explained, not bothering to hide a glare.
Meanwhile, Conrad, who had been searching the living room, stalked up to Miller.
"Nothing here," he told him shortly.
"Not in here, either," announced Bradley, who came striding out of the kitchen.
"Welllll," began Baronn with feigned sweetness, "perhaps you could try the other rooms, hmm?"
Bradley and Conrad glared at her, but they weren't the only ones. Liam, sorely reminded of his partner's casual and sarcastic drawl, shot daggers from his eyes at her.
"What exactly are you looking for?" he asked with measured calmness.
"Why, I thought that would be obvious." Baronn blinked at him, her long eyelashes fluttering so much that they appeared blurred.
'Probably the false, stick-on kind,' he thought sourly.
"You think Sands is here?" asked Liam, his voice disbelieving. "Why?"
"We attempted to contact him once the rebellion in Cullican had begun," stated Miller, "but since his line was in the middle of being changed, that was impossible.
"Once the rebellion had died down a bit, we had someone try to call him again. But instead of Agent Sands answering the phone, we got some crazy lady instead."
Liam's eyebrows rose.
"Crazy lady?" he echoed.
"Yeah," said Miller impatiently, "actually, Latch – he was the one who called – said that it was at least four different women, but he thinks it might have just been the same person trying to throw us off."
"She did throw us off," snarled Baronn. "Until we had that call analyzed, everyone assumed it wasn't the same person."
Liam swallowed and gave silent props to Lynné for successfully managing to confuse the company.
"You had the call traced, I assume."
Ohhh, he didn't like that smile on Baronn's face.
"Of course we did," she said pleasantly, "That's why we're here."
"Um, with all due respect, Meredith," Liam said, calling Baronn by her first name, "do I look like a woman?"
"You sound like one sometimes," remarked Conrad as he strode back into the scene. Liam glared. Okay, so his voice went up an octave or two when he was in a panic, whose didn't?
"To answer your question, Fusco," said Miller, boredom etched in his tone, "no, you don't look like a woman. But you may be housing one."
Liam's eyebrows went up.
"Really?" he asked, trying to sound surprised, interested, anything but guilty. "Well, as you already know my partner – former partner," he quickly amended, "is, um, dead –"
"We know that, Fusco!" Miller practically shouted, his voice caring throughout the house.
- - -
Upstairs, Lynné had to cover her mouth the stifle her laughter. Beside her, Sands smirked.
"Sounds like the rookie finally managed to irritate someone besides you."
"Yeah," Lyn agreed, nodding, and then, as if addressing Liam, she said, "You have learned well, young grasshopper."
Sands cocked his head in her direction.
"I didn't know you liked that movie."
"I don't," she responded, "I just quote it – wait a minute." She held up a hand to silence him. "That bitch . . ."
- - -
". . . personally, I always knew she'd end up the way she did," Baronn was saying. "She had it coming to her, really, after all the things she did. Killing all those people . . . I can't believe the heads of the company let her get away with that."
"Yeah, I – I know what you mean," agreed Liam not untruthfully. In all honesty, he couldn't understand why Lynné's badge hadn't been taken away from her, or why she hadn't been put in a psychiatric ward long before now. But he never wanted to see her sent to such a place, and here were these people, fellow agents, no less, tearing up a girl who they thought dead. It was downright disrespectful.
"Yeah, but she always was a bit of a manipulator," Miller put in.
"Bit of one?" asked Baronn with disbelief, "Jesus, that bitch could talk her way out of anything. And if that didn't work, she could always shake her ass or something, and they'd let her off, the slu—"
"Now, do you REALLY wanna finish that sentence, Meredith?"
All four of the CIA agents spun around to face the stairway, but Liam was the only one who was smiling. The remaining three gaped as the slender, fair-skinned, dark haired, gun-toting Lynné Sands was gracefully descending the steps with a falsely pleasant smile on her face and a small silver handgun in her hand.
"B-Beatrice –" Baronn sputtered, her darkly rimmed eyes wide with shock.
"Lyn," she informed the stunned Baronn, "or Lynné, if you like."
"They . . . I . . . told me you were dead," her fellow agent finished in a rush.
"Ah, well as you can see, I am very much alive." Lynné gestured up and down her body to express her point. "Unless I'm a zombie and don't know it, of course. D'you know if they've invented some kind of pill that'll do that yet?" she asked, looking mildly curious as if she wasn't intending to kill Baronn right after she had had her say. Lynné acted as though she and Baronn were having a nice conversation instead.
Baronn seemed to have found her voice; her heavily lidded eyes narrowed, but her ruby red lips twisted into a sneer.
"I see 'death' hasn't changed you. Still the same old bitch."
"Oh, Merie, you have WOUNDED me," Lynné gasped sarcastically, sounding pained and hurt. She then dropped the act and stared pointedly at the other agent. "You should really watch your mouth, my dear."
"Well," began Miller, while Baronn seethed in fury and Conrad just stood there looking both confused and stupid. Bradley had yet to return. "Since you seem to be very much alive and well, I suppose you won't mind answering a few questions?"
Lynné put her index finger to her chin and pretended to think.
"Yes, I suppose I would," she told him after a moment. Miller scowled. "Now, Merie," Lynné said as she strolled towards Baronn, "I'm in the middle of making a VERY difficult decision here. You see, part of me, the more violent part, is insisting that I cannot let you live having said what you said. However, the other, more cautious part is saying that I can't very well kill you with all of these other agents roaming all over my house." She shook her head and sighed. "Ohh, what to do, what to do. ."
Suddenly, she looked up, her dark eyes staring directly into Baronn's pale blue ones, her expression completely unperturbed by the situation.
"We could just compromise."
And with one lightly fast movement, her hand shot out and punched Baronn straight in the mouth. The woman was sent reeling backwards, her hands spinning in zealous circles as she tried in vain to keep herself erect.
"I told her to watch her mouth . . . Oh well."
Miller and Conrad both reached for their guns, but before they could react, Lynné had gotten to hers and shot the latter in the chest.
BANG!
Liam was sent flying into the couch as a bullet from Miller's gun went through his shoulder. Spinning around, Lynné aimed her gun in his direction, but saw that the man had already fled up to the safety of the upstairs. Lynné shook her head after him and said to Liam:
"Tell me, why does everyone think the safest place is upstairs whenever it looks like they're in danger?"
Her only answer was several short breaths from her partner and a motion to follow Miller.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting there. Sands is upstairs, remember? You alright?"
Liam nodded vigorously and once again motioned for her to go upstairs.
"I'll . . . I'll get Bradley. . ." he gasped, his breath quickening.
She nodded once and then darted up the steps.
- - -
"What the fuck!?!" Miller cried as he laid eyes on the smug looking figure that was Sands. He was leaning up against the doorframe of the guestroom, his arms crossed, a gun held in his right hand. There were three spots where short, criss-crossed lines ran along his skin for a few inches; two of the stitches were in his legs, the other one was in his right arm. For some reason, Sands was wearing his sunglasses, which only increased Miller's annoyance for reasons he didn't know. Sure he was only wearing boxers (black ones with little marijuana plants on them, no less) but the sight was still a shock.
"Well, hello, Miller," Sands said cheerfully, "How's every little thing? And, according to Lynnie, I'm very accurate when I say little."
Miller's face contorted with fury; he knew very well what Sands was talking about and thought that Lynné had no right to tell her brother the details of their short-lived relationship.
He went for his other gun, the one that was full of tranquilizers, not bullets. The CIA wanted Sands alive and ready for questioning. This could be the chance they had been waiting for, the one he had been waiting for, at least. Many of his fellow agents agreed that both of them, Sheldon and his bitch of a sister deserved to go to mental hospitals or jail at the least. And this might be their chance. Miller pointed the gun straight at Sands' torso, he was ready to take him out.
Only thing was, Sands was quicker. He fired two shots at Miller's chest, knowing exactly where to aim. Smirking in triumph, Sands heard his fellow agent fall to the ground and was about to shoot him again, just to make certain he was dead, when suddenly –
If he still had eyes, they would have widened in surprise. Sands felt a rush of fire graze his side almost a second after Miller had crashed to the ground. Instantly, his hands flew to the area of pain, and when he pulled them back, there was no mistaking it, his long fingers were now tipped with blood. Not thinking twice, Sands lowered his gun to the spot where he had heard Miller fall, and fired.
- - -
Lynné's quick footsteps stopped about halfway up the stairs when she heard the distinct sound of two shots being fired and then, the sound of a body hitting the ground. Then, there was another, this one from downstairs. But it was soon followed by a third from upstairs again, and this one sounded as though it came from another direction.
Biting her lower lip, she continued her flight up the steps. Just like the night before, Liam was right behind her. His injured arm didn't seem to be slowing him down a bit, which would have surprised her if she hadn't been so worried.
"Did you get Bradley?" she asked hurriedly as she raced up the steps.
"Yes," panted Liam.
"Good. And Baronn's knocked out, and I'm certain Miller's in the same league as Conrad."
She stopped so suddenly that, like the night before, Liam crashed into her from behind. There before them lay the crumpled, bleeding, but clearly dead body of Agent Miller and in front of them stood Agent Sands, his right hand holding a gun, his left holding his side from which liberal amounts of blood was seeping. He looked up as he heard them come up the stairs.
"Lyn . . . ?" he asked weakly, his tone mingled with urgency and helplessness.
"Yes," she breathed, her face set with alarm.
Sands nodded slightly and staggered towards the sound of her voice. Once he reached her, he collapsed, and would have fallen down the stairs if Lynné and Liam hadn't grabbed him. Sitting her brother up against the wall, Lyn rested a cool hand against his forehead. It was livid with heat and his breathing was slow.
Liam looked down at Miller. He saw that the late agent held two guns and, on closer inspection, he saw that the one was loaded with tranquilizers, not bullets. Clearly, the CIA had wanted Sands alive. He looked over at his partner and saw that she was looking at the tranquilizer gun with the utmost hatred.
"Bastards . . ."
- - -
Aww . . . poor Sands, but don't worry. Things'll pick up in the next chapter. Miller, Bradley, and Conrad may have gone to Davey Jones's locker, but Miss Baronn hasn't! =D And Lynné doesn't like her, as you'll soon find out. (reads what she just wrote) 'Davey Jones's locker!?! .O Bloody pirate head-voices . . .