The Long Way Home
By
E. S. YoungChapter Nine: Ice Returns
Oh, wow. I can't believe I've written (checks again) nine chapters! Nine chapters already! =D This is, officially, my longest story yet. . And here I was worried that I could never write anything longer than a short story. Nah, I don't think this is gonna be one of those. There's still a lot that must get done in this story. I just hope things don't start to drag on. o.o;; Well, in any case, I'm glad you guys keep reading and reviewing. .
- - -
"Sit still, both of you," Lyn commanded impatiently. She was getting tired of having to sew people back together, and, from the looks of things, she was going to have to do it not one, but two more times. Make that three. The stitches in Sands' arm had pulled out.
"I wasn't gonna go anywhere," Liam said, putting up his hands defensively. Sands merely took in a sharp breath. He hadn't said anything since he had called out her name, and that worried her. Surely he would have had some smart remark to go with her command?
"Sands?" she asked quietly. He was sitting down and she and Liam had sort of propped him up against the wall in the hallway, by orders of Lynné, who thought it would be best not to move Sands around too much.
"Sands?" Lyn asked again. He nodded slightly, but made no other movement aside from the occasional wince. Sands' upper body was swaying slightly, the loss of blood having drained him of his remaining energy, leaving him weak and dizzy, two things he never wanted to be. Lynné looked down and saw that the wound in his side was bleeding more profusely than she thought.
"Sands, let me see that," she requested steadily. Liam was envious of how calm she was; it was almost eerie how imperturbable his partner could be at times.
Slowly, Sands moved his hand away from his bleeding side. Lynné let out a breath of relief. It wasn't as bad as she had thought, yeah, he had been shot but the bullet had just grazed his side, nothing more. What worried her most was the amount of blood gushing from the wound. Sands had already lost a decent quantity yesterday, but he had survived. Now, she wasn't so sure he would make it through the night.
He wont, the voice sneered gleefully. He won't and you know it, and when he's dead, you'll be allll alone. Aww, poor little Lynnie. Losing the people she ever loved, one after the other. Boy, luck doesn't seem to be on your side, does it?
'That would be a 'hell no,'' she snapped back silently, 'The only thing that pisses ME off, is the fact that, no matter how many people leave me, YOU can never seem to fuck off.'
Language, Lynnie, the voice scolded mockingly. Remember what you told Baronn about watching her mouth? Oh, speaking of which, she's downstairs, incase you forgot.
'I didn't forget, I'm merely preoccupied. So kindly, if you please, give me a moment and piss off. If you give me that, I'll put up with whatever you have to say when I'm done with this.'
Deal!
Lyn knew she was going to regret striking a bargain with the voice in her head, but at the moment she could care less. Sands was her main focus now, and, as much as she hated to admit it, the voice WAS right. He would not live unless she managed to get some blood into his system soon.
"I don't imagine you're blood is type B negative," she said to Liam.
He shook his head. "No."
"Damn it . . . ." Lyn cursed, then sighed. "All right. Guess we only have one option, then."
"You're going to rob a blood bank, aren't you? Lynné?" he asked urgently.
"Hell no," Sands retorted sharply, turning his head to give Liam a disgusted look. "There is . . . no way I am walking around . . . with some peon of Mexico's blood in me." He panted slightly and clutched the area where Miller's bullet had penetrated his skin again.
"Calm down, picky," said Lyn, rolling her eyes, "That wasn't what I had in mind."
"What were you thinking then?" asked Liam, looking interested.
Lyn's only answer was to lift a hand to her brother's forehead and place her other hand on his shoulder.
"Damn . . ." She took a breath. "Okay, you've definitely got a fever –"
"Great," Sands said sarcastically.
"Fermez la bouche," Lyn replied shortly, "And you're skin's clammy." She sighed. "Liam? Think you could get me a blanket or two and my medical kit?"
Her partner nodded and was off. Leaning his head back against the wall, Sands let out a sigh of pain but said nothing else. Lynné slid down the wall and sat down next to him, not really expecting to have a conversation, just hoping to be some sort of comfort to him.
Aww, cooed the voice that she alone could hear, Kodak moment!
'Fuck off. Remember what I said about leaving me alone? I struck a deal, I struck a deal with the fucking voice in my head and it agreed that it would let me be until I had Sands taken care of. You're backing out on the deal, dear.'
Y'know, I often wonder why you've never given me a name, it said out of the blue, as it usually did whenever it didn't have an answer to her retorts.
'Gee, I dunno. I guess I'm just not crazy enough,' she thought with mock sadness.
Aww, thasso saaad . . . but it's okay, I forgive you, honey. Besides, you'll be completely crazy soon enough. I can see it now: You'll be in the middle of his big gunfight, right? You on one end of the street, and the enimy at the other and you'll both have guns pointed at each other. Kinda like one of those old Mexican standoffs, y'know?
'Yeah, I know.'
ANYway, when you go to fire, instead of aiming your gun at the other person, you aim it at yourself! See, cuz I'LL be there, I'll always be there, and you'll be too busy arguing with ME to pay attention to whatever else is going on in the world. And it's during that gunfight, right then and there, that you finally lose it, and turn the gun on yourself. The voice laughed under its breath. Heheh . . . bang.
'Yes, but if I die, then what happens to you, I wonder?'
The voice was silent for a moment, clearly it hadn't thought of that.
I hate you.
'Now ya know how I feel, cupcake.'
"What was that crash I heard earlier?" Sands' voice came from far away, but it penetrated her thoughts nonetheless. Instantly, Lynné snapped to attention, a little angry with herself. She hadn't even realized he'd been talking. . . .
"Oh," she said faintly. "That would be Baronn. Bitch did a number on my fingers." At this, she looked down at her left hand and saw that already bluish-purple bruising was beginning to gather around her knuckles. "But I think the damage done to her was more permanent."
"Oh?" Sands asked, sounding somewhat intrigued.
Smirking in satisfaction, Lynné placed her hand in his. At first, he wasn't sure why she had done that. But then he knew. Carefully, Sands traced Lyn's hand, his long fingers looping over and under hers until they met with something that certainly wasn't human skin. It was hard, cold, and metal. A ring. If exhaustion hadn't decided to overtake his body, Sands would have laughed at his realization. Lynné's ring wasn't the fanciest piece of jewelry in the world. It was a simple silver band with miniscule flowers carved all around the outside of it.
"Where did you hit her?"
"Right in her makeup coated face."
Sands smiled as he thought of this. If Lyn's hit had been hard enough, and he was sure she did for he could feel the start of the bruises, Baronn's face would bear the markings of Lyn's ring for quite a while.
- - -
"Where the hell is Fusco?" Sands muttered to Lyn, not really paying any attention to her response. Now he was talking just to take his mind off the pain, which was slowly increasing with every breath he took. God, it was cold out. And this was fucking Mexico, for Christ's sake, it wasn't supposed to be this cold. It wasn't supposed to be cold at all. It was times like these Sands wondered why his mission couldn't have taken place in Alaska.
Unwillingly, he leaned against Lynné and rested his head on her shoulder. What did he care if she was annoyed or confused? He was fucking freezing and Lyn was the closest thing to heat he had.
'Oh shit . . . I'm shaking . . .that can't be good.'
"Shit. . . . you're shaking," he heard Lyn curse more to herself than him.
Sands felt the back of her hand on his head once again and imagined her biting her lip in worry. For some reason, he didn't like it when she worried, he didn't mind when other people pissed themselves because they were so frantic, but the emotion didn't suit his sister at all. But assuring her that he was all right would be pure bullshit and she would know it, so it wouldn't do any good to say anything.
The footsteps were what brought Sands out of his musings. The sound was sudden, audible, and it echoed throughout the hallway. If it hadn't been for the painkillers Lyn had given him earlier, Sands was convinced that each footstep would send vibrating waves of agony straight through his head.
Lynné looked up to see Liam returning at last, weighed down with several blankets, a pillow, and a rather fancy first-aid kit. The blood that had stained his shirt was still flowing freely from his arm, but at a slow pace. Lyn cursed again knowing that there was another bit of stitchery she would be tending to later.
Liam spread out the blankets before Lynné and handed her the medical kit. She took the bag wordlessly. Carefully, Lyn eased Sands down onto the makeshift bed. Sands said nothing but let out a sharp hiss, his jaw clenched tightly in defiance.
"All right?" Lyn asked cautiously.
"Fine, fine," he answered, though his teeth were still gritted together. "Just . . . so fucking . . .
cold. . ."
She nodded in understanding. Shock was undoubtedly taking over Sands' body; of course he was cold. Without another thought, Lyn gently placed a blanket around his shoulders and sighed. It was the best she could do until she had him pieced back together. Looking down at him sadly, she picked up a needle and a spool of catgut thread, and got to work.
- - -
"Are you okay?"
"Mmmhmm."
"Do you know how to give a blood transfusion?"
"Yep."
". . . . .you DO know that you have a low enough blood count as it is, right?"
"I would hope that I do, yes."
"So you know that draining a pint of blood leaves a person rather . . . disoriented?"
Lynné said nothing and rolled her eyes.
"And that, having the meager amount of blood that you do, draining some could be fatal?"
"I wouldn't go as far as fatal," said Lyn thoughtfully as she set up a portable IV. "But, yeah, it'll leave me more than a little wacked-out, sure."
"Lynné . . ." Liam's blue eyes were pleading, almost desperate.
"Liam," she said, looking directly at him for the first time, "if you can give me another option, then I will cease in removing blood from my system. But may I remind you that there are bound to be more CIA agents out there looking for us, not to mention the remains of the cartel, and, to top it all off, I'm supposed to be dead. Now, if you know a way one of us can get out of this house and scurry off to the local hospital to steal blood, then fire away. If not, shut the hell up."
Liam stared at her for a long moment. Then, he turned his gaze to Sands, who was lying on the bed of the guestroom. After Lyn had finished with the stitches, she and Liam had been as careful as they could in transporting Sands from the hallway to the guestroom. Shortly after Lynné had begun her work on his injuries, Sands had fallen into unconsciousness. He had yet to wake up from this deep state.
And now Lyn was saying that he needed a blood transfusion or things could take a turn for the worse. Well, they would be a lot worse off than they were now. Liam swallowed hard and nodded to his partner. He knew that, once again, she was right.
- - -
Lynné sat slumped in a chair beside Sands' bed. Her brother was still asleep, Liam was standing near the end of the bed and kept throwing worried glances her way, and she herself had just drawn a pint of blood out of her body.
'Stupid, Lyn, reeeally stupid. . .mmmyep. . .'
Surprisingly, the voice in her mind didn't have anything to say about her recent (not to mention rash) actions. Oh well. Maybe it was actually following up on the deal they had made and was hibernating for a while. Or perhaps the voice, like her, was in a drunken state and didn't have the will or the energy to speak at the moment.
"Lynné?" Liam asked worriedly. "Lynné. . . ?"
"What?" she slurred, blinking blearily up at him. Wait, wait . . . since when did he appear twice whenever she looked at him? And he didn't used to hover around like that. . .
'Ah, shit . . . I feel like I'm . . . stoned . . . .'
"Lynné, I think you should lay down for a while," Liam was saying.
"I am laying down," she protested. "Okay, well, sitting down. . . same difference. . . and you're shoulder's bleeding again, did you know that?"
"What?" he gasped, craning his neck to see his shoulder, "B-but you fixed it . . . you stitched it up—"
"I never said I was an expert at sewin," Lynné told him with an unbalanced shrug. She was about to tell Liam that it was not big deal and that she would simply sew his arm back together, once her eyesight stopped going in and out of focus, of course. But she never had the chance. Before Lynné could say anything, Liam had moved over to the small mirror that hung above the dresser. Sure enough, there was a small trail of blood making its way slowly down his arm and onto his bare chest.
With a small gasp, Liam blanched at the sight of the red ooze, looking utterly terrified. His eyes rolled back into his head and suddenly he began to sway slightly. Without warning, Liam's feet gave out from beneath him and fell to the ground. It didn't take long before his body was down there with them, and before he ever met the floor, darkness had come and blocked out everything.
"Oh!" Lynné gasped, uncharacteristically startled (Liam feinting wasn't a new event). Swaying slightly, she grabbed each arm of her chair and heaved herself to her feet. She then began an unbalanced stagger towards partner, using the bed where Sands was sleeping as a stationary crutch.
"Oh don't tell me. . ." she muttered wearily.
Looking over the edge of the bed, Lynné saw that Liam had indeed fallen into a dead feint. She turned her head to Sands, who would probably sleep through the night and into the morning, and then turned back to Liam, who didn't look like HE would be waking up anytime soon, either. Sighing at the sight of the two unconscious CIA agents (not to mention Baronn , who was still out cold in the living room) Lynné gave a halfhearted shrug.
"Oh well . . .when in Rome . . ."
And with that, Lynné Sands promptly fell over onto the soft mattress of the bed.
- - -
Huh. That turned out longer than I thought it would. . . . . how 'bout it. Anyway, stay tuned for bargaining, escape, and yet more dream sequences in the next installment!
Oh, and BTW to Dawnie-7 for your review of chapter four? I had to reply to that cuz I know what you mean! That's one of the main reasons I made Lyn his sister, cuz I figured that Sands would be a bit less . . . touchy. . . towards her than his is towards everyone else and that he wouldn't mind (much) if she were a bit nicer to him. But, yeah, right after I saw OuaTiM for the first time and was still in semi-shock that he had had his EYES ripped out, I was thinking 'Awww . . . poor guy . . .' However, Sands isn't really the kind of guy who warms up to people easily, unfortunately. But I'm glad you like my fic anyway . Same thing goes to everybody else, thanks muchly for reviewing!!!