The Long Way Home
By
E. S. Young
Chapter Twenty-Five: For Your Eyes Only
Okay . . . this is it. I'm SURE this is it. Almost. Geh! I can't decide if I want to make the epilogue into another chapter or just include it at the end of this one. Oy vey. I just want to get this one done before July, that's all. But, anyway, I am almost positive that this is the last chapter in this story so I hope you've all enjoyed it =) And there will certainly be author's thanks at the end as long as I don't change my mind and make the epilogue a twenty-sixth chapter. 9.6;;;
- - -
Eyelashes brushed against a rough, thick fabric as Sands was slowly pulled out of his plenary state. Sleep had been irresistible, the intravenous Doctor Liam's Brother had seen to that. Once they had put the mask over his face and instructed him to could backward from one hundred, he could not fight off the tiredness that was gradually taking over his body. At last, sleep claimed him, and Sands slipped from consciousness.
But now, however, he was awake. Groggy, but awake all the same. And for the first time in weeks he had blinked. Nothing but impenetrable darkness hovered in front of him, but that could change. With time . . . it could change.
Several layers of gauze had replaced the sunglasses he had been wearing since the failed coup. Sands wondered if he asked Doctor Liam's Brother whether or not he could take the itchy bastards off what the doctor would say. When he had asked right before he went into surgery the doctor had replied curtly: "Not until Saturday at the earliest." So the bandages had stayed, scratchy, irritating fuckers that they were, but there were two more things that had stayed that stunned Sands beyond belief.
Several times he (or rather the voice in his head) had tried to convince himself that he was dreaming, or rather, trapped in another horrifying nightmare. The eyes weren't really there, so he should not get excited and hopeful because any second now he would wake up and the eyes would be gone and nothing would be left except the black pits where they once had been.
But he had blinked, that's what made him want to change his mind, raise his expectations, and . . . perhaps . . . even hope a little . . . ? Perhaps. But thinking like that would be setting his . . . sights . . . too high. And then, when things did not work out and the horrible truths of reality hit him, it would be ten times worse. However, none of that was going to happen because, at the moment, he was refusing to be optimistic about this.
'After all, a pessimistic person is rarely disappointed.'
- - -
"Sir, the four people we sent out there had yet to return. The chance that they've gone MIA is VERY possible."
"Do you think I'm worried about four nobody agents? I just need you people to find them – that's all! I don't care if all you get is their corpses, I – want – them – found!" the governor bellowed, slamming his fist down furiously as he yelled each word.
In furious rage, he glared at the man behind the desk, feeling some kind of perverse pleasure when he noticed how startled the man looked. It had been days, weeks since the events of the Day of the Dead and the search for Beatrice and Sheldon Sands had not wavered in the least. He would not let it. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed those two kids. His chances of being reelected were already high, but not high enough. If they found his son and daughter – dead or alive – he would be a shoe in for governor once again.
His patients were running thin, however, very thin. The CIA's fruitless searches were not helping, and now they were about to declare the four agents they had send out looking for his son after the Day of the Dead missing in action. He'd be damn if he let his worthless, smart-mouthed, ambition-lacking kids ruin the election for him.
"Governor Sands, I assure you –"
"You've been assuring me for the past three weeks, Latch! I want answers not your tales of your agency's feeble attempts at finding my kids."
"But sir," Latch began, surveying the governor sternly, "I'm not aware if anyone has told you, but your son has been known to do this before. He's gone missing for longer periods of time and then turned up perfectly fine."
'Yeah right, that's a lie. That bastard couldn't be fine even if he WANTED to.'
But Latch chose not to voice the thought. He did not want to get on a governor's bad side, after all. Instead he decided to continue by saying:
"As for your daughter . . . she's been missing for three years – now I'm just thinking logically, governor – but you must know her chances of being alive are –"
"What did I tell you about wanting them alive or dead?" the governor snarled through gritted teeth. "As long as you people FIND them and find them soon –"
"Um, excuse me," someone simpered from the doorway.
Both men's heads turned to see a young woman with dark hair and a pointed face edging her way into the office.
"Catherine," the governor sighed, giving the girl an annoyed glare, "I'm in the middle –"
"I thought you'd like to know," his stepdaughter interrupted coolly.
"Know what?" he demanded tiredly.
Cat ran her tongue over her lips, a disgusting habit he thoroughly detested.
"You're still looking for dear Sheldon, right?"
"I think that would be obvious, dear," her stepfather snapped. It was clear that the governor was nearing his breaking point. At any moment he would snap. Best to prevent all hell from breaking loose and let him in on her newly discovered info. However . . .
"And Lynné," Cat quizzed, trying his patients, "we're still fretting about her, right?"
"Catherine," her stepfather warned loudly, "if you're go –"
Governor Sands stopped at once when he saw the cold grin forming slowly across his eldest stepdaughter's face.
- - -
"Oh God, oh God . . . I am such an IDIOT."
"Well, I'm not gonna disagree with ya, Gracie," Sands informed her from his casually reclined position on the hospital bed.
"Well Adam had just told us he had finished, what was I supposed to do?" Grace asked defensively.
"Turning off your phone wouldn't've been a bad idea," Lyn suggested cynically.
"Ohh," was all her stepsister said before plunging a hand into her mouth and commencing in gnawing on her fingernails.
"And Cat was on the other end, I have this sick feeling . . ." she muttered a moment later.
"Which completely destroys all hope of keeping this whole fiasco quiet, but oh well," Lyn said calmly. Inhaling theatrically, she continued, "Okay, here's what we have to do –"
"First we need a convincing story," Sands said, "one that everyone, the CIA especially, will buy."
"Yes, I was getting to that, thank you," Lyn said irritably, casting an annoyed glance at her brother. "Here's what I was thinking: Sands, you only have to give them your story because the CIA will go along with that. If anyone asks, we know absolutely nothing about Miller, Baronn, and their thugs, savvy? We heard about Adam's experimental surgery the night the coup went down and we left shortly afterward, so we never saw them.
"Liam," she said, facing her partner, "you're traumatized by the whole experience. The sight of my darling brother's . . . loss has sent you into shock, so if anyone questions you, you bow your head, stare at the floor, and don't say a word."
Liam looked confused and a little wary at Lynné's instructions but nodded once to show he understood.
"Oh," she added as an after though, "and if you could managed to rock back and fourth a little every now and then . . . that'd be great."
Ignoring her partner's befuddled expression, Lyn turned to Grace and continued.
"Grace, I'm not sure what to do with you, really. But I'm thinking that after Liam, Sands, and I left Mexico, we called you because we knew you'd help and you complied, telling your dear husband that you were called away on doctor's business. And you told him that because we informed you that everything needed to be kept under raps until we had Sands fixed up and were ready to let the CIA know."
Gulping hard, her stepsister bobbed her head in a mechanical fashion.
"And you . . . ?" she asked in hushed tones.
There was a very tense pause. Lyn tilted her head to the ceiling, letting out a slow, tired breath.
"The cartel nabbed me, held me captive for three years, and – by means I do not remember – I somehow miraculously escaped and found Sands as I was ambling down the dusty streets of Mexico."
A soft "Oh" was Grace's only reaction to these words.
"Oh, and guys?" Lyn asked, brining her head back down to face the three people that crowded the small hospital room. "One more thing. As far as my little subject of question is concerned" – she tapped her left leg which emitted a hollow sound like fingernails drumming against the plastic – "nobody needs to know."
- - -
"And as the elections draw closer there is one candidate in particular who stands out in everyone's mind. Yes, I am talking about the governor of Colorado, Mr. Robert J. Sands, and the case of his missing chil -- "
The news reporter's latest bit of gossip was abruptly cut short when the screen of the TV went blank. Lowering her arm, Lynné stared leisurely over at the door as one of Dr. Fusco's tootsie nurses opened the door and poked her (obviously dyed) blonde head through the small crack.
"Um, Mr. Sands?" she asked uncertainly, "there're some –"
"I don't need and introduction; he knows who I am," an angry voice broke in.
"Unfortunately, yes," Sands replied, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
In the chair beside his bed, Lynné smirked at the action, not realizing just how long it had been since she had seen Sands roll his eyes. He still couldn't see – that could take a while, as Dr. Fusco had said – but the fact that there were eyes in his head made all the difference. She was going to have to talk him into getting colored contacts, though. Green eyes did nothing for his image.
Making sure the door was closed before he did anything that would effect his chances of being reelected, Governor Sands whirled around to glare furiously at his two children, who returned the look in full.
"What is the matter with the two of you!?" their father hissed through his teeth. Lynné noted that her father was keeping his voice down whereas the man she knew three years ago would have yelled. Obviously there were people outside their door and what kind of heart-felt family reunion would it be if their father could be heard all the way to Cullican and back? Lyn stole a glance at Sands, hoping that he had picked up on this too. If so, it would be highly amusing to see the man who had ignored and used her pushed to the limit. And she had been having less and less fun ever since Mexico.
"Do you know just how long I –"
"– well, not YOU – " Lyn cut in.
"– have been searching for you??" her father demanded, ignoring her. Well, that wasn't anything new. "Have you any idea how much your disappearance has affected everyone?"
"Judging by the fact that the search for me only went on for two days, I'd say not a lot," Lyn said coolly. Once again, her father chose to shove her comments aside and continue with his rant.
"Where the hell WERE you!?"
"Oh, here and there," Sands replied offhandedly.
"And you never called?" their father snarled. "Never tried to make any sort of contact?"
"Well, if we knew you were going to act like this – which we did," his daughter assured him, "– do you really think we would've been eager to call you?"
"Don't – I . . . don't you dare attempt your mind tricks with me, young lady, I won't have it!"
"Just like you won't have anything else to do with me," Lyn muttered under her breath.
"I all honesty, Dad," Sands began, "why would someone who has tried to get rid of his kids for the past twenty-some years send out a search and rescue team once he'd heard they'd gone missing? Wouldn't that just be a dream come true for him? So why would he go to all lengths to find them?"
"My guess is he's just trying to up his popularity ratings," Lyn told him.
"I pressed for your retrieval because I am your father and I care about you!" their father insisted with sincerity that fooled neither of them. Lynné tsked, shaking her head back and fourth.
"Upping the ratings," she murmured in a singsong voice.
Her father stood there, fuming as he glared down at the two of them, his only children, two of the people he wished his departed wife had never had. Upon thinking of these memories, Lynné rose from her chair. She couldn't take it. There would be no yelling involved, no threats, no rants, no tears, but she would have her say. It just wouldn't be here. She took her father by the arm.
"What has gotten into you!?" he demanded.
She ignored his protests as he had ignored her for the past twenty-seven years, and led him out of the room.
Once outside of Sands' room, Lynné shoved her father into the nearest chair with strength he would not have expected from her. She stood before him, her arms crossed. Her eyes, as dark as his own, bore into him, reading his every thought.
"I would just like to say," she began, "that I am disgusted, thoroughly disgusted with you. No – don't speak." She held out a finger of warning. "Don't – say – anything. It's rude to interrupt.
"Ever since I came into his miserable world, you have brushed me aside, ignoring only until you thought I could be of some use to you. And that's exactly what you're doing now. Don't think I don't know, because I'm not the stupid little smart-mouthed snot that you think I am, Daddy dearest.
"I've been snooping around a little, watching the news and such . . . and, low and behold, there you are. And you're running for a second term as governor I see. You're chances at being reelected aren't too bad . . .but that rival of yours certainly looks promising. What if he beat you out? Well, we can't have that happening, now, can we?"
She smiled ironically.
"So what do you do?" Lyn pondered aloud. "Ohhhh, that's right! The kids! And, there's been a little bit of bad news – they've gone missing. But wait a minute, wait a minute . . . that's not as bad as it seems. You could USE that. Play the sympathy card, win the public over, and be elected as governor of Colorado all over again."
Laughing mirthlessly, Lyn continued, "I gotta hand it to ya, Daddy. You may have used one of the oldest tricks in the book, but . . . you did it well. You even had me convinced – well . . . not REALLY, but I'm sure you've gotten a lot of people on your side."
Smirking mischievously, Lyn took in the sight of her father as he thought over everything she had just said and as the mask of comprehension he wore morphed into horror. He gaped up at her, shaking his head. Lynné smiled with mock sympathy.
"Don't worry, Daddy, dear. I'm not going to tell the public. Blabbing's not my style, you understand. Although . . ." she murmured. "I would LOVE to get up there and inform them of your little plans once you're made governor. Oh, wow . . . I can see it so clearly: There are reporters all around, cameras are flashing like crazy, and I'm standing at this podium, surrounded by microphones.
"No matter WHAT he tells you," Lyn said, acting like she was giving a speech to a press team of gossip-hungry reporters, "Governor Sands IS going to raise our taxes, he is NOT going to try and help our economy – he doesn't even CARE about it. And, despite the fact that he claims to be neutral and says that everyone has a right to choose, he is very much against gay marriages. Thank you."
Lynné looked back down at her father and saw that he was on the brink of rage once again. This pleased her immensely; it had been too long since she had been allowed to irk her father, and now she finally had him in her power. Lynné Sands was back in control. Halle- fucking –lujah.
Finally, her father jerked his head towards Sands' door and demanded:
"What happened to him?"
"Cartel ripped out his eyes," Lyn answered flatly. "They're green now. Didn't you notice?"
Her father said nothing, but was at least civil enough to look at least a little stunned.
"So what will it be," Lyn proposed conversationally, "Ya gonna lay off and keep the press at a minimal or are we gonna have to have this talk about? What d'you say?"
And she held out her arms, her face plastered with a smile of sickening sweetness.
"Daddy?"
Her father rose from his chair, glaring daggers down at his daughter, who merely smiled up at him adoringly. Furious that the woman was unperturbed by his unfathomable anger, he turned abruptly on his heel, and strode out down the hallway without so much as a second look.
'Victory for me?' she mused quietly.
And the voice agreed, albeit, grudgingly.
Yes, yesss . . . victory for you.
Upon striding back into Sands' room, Lynné sighed with relief as she slid into her chair once more. Sands lay in the bed beside her, propped up by many pillows and scowling agitatedly as he flipped through the channels on the TV. However, when he heard his sister sigh, he put down the remote and turn his attention away from the television.
"So . . . did you let into him?" he asked.
"Well, I told him what I thought of him," Lyn replied, somewhat surprised that he hadn't listened in on the conversation, "and then I calmly informed him that I didn't think the idea of him using his children's disappearance to save his campaign would go over well with the public. I don't think he took it very well," she added as an afterthought.
"He left?" Sands inquired.
"Yeah, he left," his sister answered, nodding, "Though I'd be lying if I said that we weren't gonna have to appear to the press one of these days."
"Great. And I'd be lying if I said I thought that the CIA wouldn't want to hear about this."
"Groovy," Lyn responded sardonically.
"Well," Sands said reasonably, "at least things are . . . finally getting back on track."
Lynné gave a hollow, disbelieving laugh.
"Yeah . . ."
"What color are these things anyway?" Sands asked, gesturing to the new pair of eyes he had acquired, giving Lyn a questioning look.
"Green," she answered, still laughing quietly.
"Oh, they're green?" Sands mused. "How does that look on me?"
"Sands, dear, I must be truthful," Lyn said with a little sigh.
She reached out and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder, shaking her head sympathetically.
"It does absolutely nothing for your image."
Sands smirked as he leaned back into his pillows, knowing full well that Lynné was wearing the same exact look. He couldn't see her, but that didn't mean that he doubted himself. Was there such thing as men's intuition? No matter. In time, perhaps, he would be able to see, and then he'd know exactly how his sister looked when she spoke to him. For a while, he'd have to rely on his instincts, but Sands could dig that.
El Final . . .
La Fin . . .The End!
It's over! And I've changed my mind about the epilogue. I tried writing one but I just really liked this the way it ended and really hated how I was going with the epilogue, so I axed it. How did everyone like the ending, by the way? Was it all right? Or does it feel like there should be more to it? (bites lip) Hmm . . . well, if it does, then I guess now would be the time to say that, yes, I am going to write a sequel – (winces as people run screaming) o.o;; Um, I'm already in the process of writing it right now, actually. Speaking of which, I should be off. But before I go, I've got to give thanks to everyone who reviewed and post the lyrics to the song that this story is titled after. (Invader Zim style, because I must pay tribute to the little green guy) Here I go!
Adrejon: Hey, thanks! Glad you like the idea of Sands having a sister, I was hesitant about going with that at first, but I think it worked out. Thanks again.
I: Merci! I continued, as you can see. =)
FallenAngel: Thanks for the critique. In all honesty, I didn't notice the mistakes there and when I read your review I went and fixed them immediately cuz I'm so nit-picky about spelling and grammar errors. 9.6 Thanks very much.
DragonHunter200: I'm so glad I had you going in the chapter where their dad appeared on the news for the first time! That's what I was going for, actually. I really wanted him to come off as a loving and caring father who was very worried about his children's safety. That way the fact that he turns out to be a real jerk has a real impact. And I am pleased to see that someone got the 21 Jump Street ref. XD Thank you for your reviews and for sticking with this fic! =D
Dawnie-7: Yay! I actually kept some people amused throughout this thing. Actually, I kept worrying that some would think that this wasn't very believable because I would slip some light comedy in there every now and then. But this is Sands we're talking about! He should've worn a shirt that said 'Comic Relief' in OUaTiM, he really should have. Cuz aside from restoring the balance, he also kept us amused while El and the others were somewhat angst-y. But, yeah, anyway, thank you very much for reviewing and keeping up with this. And, sadly, I have yet to figure out why hotel rooms are always cold. Ah well.
Savvy TBird: Unexpected? Thanks! And funny as well, huh? Thanks! Glad I kept you interested! Merci beucoup!
The Gilatas Monster: Steph D! =D!!! 'Perché non Dormire Più' means 'and let him sleep no more,' by the way. Yes, you were right, dear. Do not strain yourself. u.u
Invader Nicole: Not exactly how he got his eyes back in the RP but he got 'em back all the same, hah. =) Lyn's still complaining about having to dispose of her Corvette, by the way. 9.9 Thanks, and good luck getting to Scotland! =)
To anyone else, thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Never gotten this many reviews on a story – especially this many NICE reviews, so I'm feeling a bit better about my abilities as a writer. Gah, I'll stop and post the song lyrics before I start getting all sappy. But, seriously, thank you, guys. I appreciate your comments and constructive criticisms very muchly. =) And now, on with the song!
(Note: Any words that have this before them are the words that I think relate to the story really well)
The Long Way HomeBy
Tom Waits (but sung by Norah Jones on her new CD 'Feels Like Home' in case anyone is interested)
Well I stumbled in the darkness.
I'm lost and alone,
Though I said I'd go before us,
And show the way back home.
Is there a light up ahead?
I can't hold onto very long.
Forgive me, pretty baby, but I always take the long way home.
Money's just something you throw,
Off the back of a train.
Got a handful of lightening,
A hat full of rain.
And I know that I said,
I'd never do it again.
And I love you, pretty baby, but I always take the long way home.
I put food on the table,
And roof overhead,
But I'd trade it all tomorrow,
For the highway instead.
Watch your back if I should tell you,
Love's the only thing I've ever known.
One thing for sure, pretty baby, I always take the long way home.
You know I love you baby,
More than the whole wide world.
You are my woman,
I know you are my pearl.
Let's go out past the party lights.
We can finally be alone.
Come with me, and we can take the long way home.
Come with me, together we can take the long way home.
Come with me, together we can take the long way home.
- - -
See you for the sequel, guys! And for all of those who have a severe terror of airplanes, elevators, or other such things that could possibly cause your death, please, stay away from such movies as Final Destination, Final Destination II, and any other sequels that may follow. It's for your own acutely paranoid good, guys. Thank you.
-- ESY