Author's Note: short chapter this time around, but I felt that adding any more to it would make it cumbersome to read.  Also, I wasn't sure if anyone is still reading this.  So if you are, let me know.  Reviews help stimulate the imagination.  I'm sure of it.  ^_^

Author's thanks at end.

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Sands didn't want to admit it, but he was worried.  Tess had disappeared off the radar over a week ago.  Literally.  The same necklace that had a microphone in it, also had a homing device.  She'd disappeared on a Tuesday, and had then been taken south.  The microphone was only good for a radius of twenty miles, and it hadn't taken long for her to move out of that range.  But it had been enough time for Sands to be content that she was with her family – or at least a representative of it.  There had been no mention of a 'Neva Velasquez,' or even a 'Neva Barillo,' but Tess obviously knew the woman.  And while she didn't appear to be on the best terms with her, she did seem to expect to arrive in Mexico safely.

   If only the name of the town they were going to had been dropped.

   -Ring-  Sands' phone started plating a Beethoven concerto.  He wasn't quite sure when his normal ringtone had been changed, but he was relatively certain who had done it.  It was beyond him though, why he hadn't changed it back yet . . . but he told himself it was because he had better things to do with his time than play with his cell phone.

   "Sands."

   "We found her."

   Immediately the CIA agent sat upright from where he was slouched in a chair.  He'd been getting little sleep for the past few days, most of his waking hours spent trying to locate Tess and come up with strategies in case she'd been lost.  No one would raise much of an alarm if another body was found in just another ditch somewhere.  And if that had happened, he would have been screwed.  "Where is she?"  I'm going to wring her neck if she's alright.

   "Mexico City.  She came in range last night.  We tried getting through to you last night, but the line was busy every time we tried."

   Rather than make excuses or be embarrassed that he'd been conducting a quiet but thorough manhunt for the wayward mole, Sands tried to remember the name of the agent he was talking to.  Hackshaw.  "Is her radio coming in?"

   "Yeah . . . nothing but road nose and some rather inconsequential talk so far.  Earlier this morning there was the beginning of what could have been an interesting catfight, but the other woman seemed to back off at the last moment."  The other man chuckled.  "Although, I must admit that your civilian was taking a verbal beating.  I can't say I think she's much of a match for these bastards."

   He wasn't surprised.  Tess stood up for others, not herself.  "You've got it backwards," Sands pointed out with some satisfaction.  This guy was starting to irritate him, and throwing him off balance would be a good cure for that.  "The cousins are legit.  It's Tess that's the bastard."  There was silence from the other man.  "Listen, just pipe the signal through, Hackshaw."

   There was grumbling from the other man as the necessary connections were made, but soon Sands was listening to the quiet sound of a car in transit.

   For several minutes there was silence, then a voice suddenly broke in.

   "Where are we going?"

   Tessa's voice was chilly and cultured, showing mild interest and indifference at the same time.  Sands strangely found himself thinking back to a conversation he'd once had with Tess.  He couldn't see her – could only hear her – and she'd been pissed at him.  He couldn't remember why.  Just that he'd been amused by the tone of icy unconcern in her voice.  Anyone who took the time to pay attention to her behavior would know that it was an act.  But then, he hadn't had much to do then besides unravel the puzzle of his unwilling nurse.

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"Where are we going?"  Tess was tired of being left in the dark and treated as unwanted cargo – important cargo, but cargo nonetheless.  For the past week she and her cousin had been traveling around what felt like the entirety of Mexico.  She hadn't been told why, but she guessed that Carlos was traveling to keep his people in line, and that she and Neva were playing catch-up.  They'd been in Mexico City since last night, and this was the first time they were traveling in something more comfortable than a Suburban.  Logic suggested that Carlos was nearby.  I wonder if anyone is picking any of this up, she thought as she adjusted her glasses.  Audio was one thing, but was anyone trying to record what the cameras in her glasses were picking up?

   "It's enough that we're going, ratón.  Are you going to complain about everything?"  Neva's voice was bored and slightly irritated.  She didn't enjoy Tessa's company any more than the other woman enjoyed hers.

   Mouse.  Tess hated the nickname.  It was a reminder of how she'd spent so many years creeping about the periphery of the cartel, literally and metaphorically.  The mouse has grown up though, she thought.  Into a rabbit.  A ironic smile twisted her lips.  A bit bigger, but still just as scared.  "I don't think it's unreasonable for me to ask where I'm being taken, Neva.  Especially since I'm going without a fuss."

   Her cousin glared at her with minor irritation – Barillo's bastard daughter didn't merit any stronger emotion.  It was several minutes before she answered as she looked out the window at the passing scenery of Mexico City.  "We're meeting Carlos for lunch."

   Tess only inclined her head in acknowledgement, knowing Neva wouldn't see it.  She'd never been close to the older woman, even when they'd lived under the same roof.  And now there was even more of a rift between them.

   A few minutes later the limo pulled up in front of a small but exclusive café.  La Garza.  The Heron.  All dining was al fresco, the grounds floored in grass.  A stream ran through extravagant landscaping, twining through clusters of forget-me-nots, poinsettia, marigolds, and poppies.  The wrought iron fence that surrounded the grounds was covered in Jessamine and ivy.  The birds that gave the café its name were verdigris, posed amidst the shrubs and by quiet pools.  In the pools were koi – carefully cared for by the groundskeepers.  It was a delightful place, away from the noisy bustle of the street, but Tess couldn't help but let down her guard here . . . even though she knew that was probably why this location had been picked as the meeting place.

   A waiter led the two women to an isolated table near a small waterfall.  Tess hesitated when she saw the man waiting there for them – she barely recognized him at all.

   Carlos stood as his sister and cousin approached.  "Teresa.  It's been a long time."

   "Apparently, if you've forgotten that I prefer to be called Tess."  Despite the chill to her words, she allowed Carlos to take her hands in his, not releasing more than a blink when he squeezed them gently in welcome.  But inside, she could feel more of her defenses lowering; it'd been a long week without touch.  She'd grown lax in the past year, becoming accustomed to getting hugs morning and evening from small arms, and even more spoiled by the feeling of Sands' body against hers.  The past week, having felt no more than harsh grips and indifferent pushes, she'd remembered just what it'd been like to be under the cartel's influence.  Her father's influence.

   Carlos tucked away a grin at her politely defiant words.  "No, I hadn't forgotten.  I just had no idea if you'd outgrown the old nickname . . . or if I was still on the list of people who could use it with your approval."  He pulled out a chair for her to sit in, and Tess took it, smoothing down her skirt as she did so.

   She watched as he preformed the same courtesy for his sister and waited for him to take his own seat before immediately going on the offence.  "I find it strange that you were waiting for my approval to do something so commonplace as use a nickname, especially when you see nothing wrong with nabbing me off the street."

   "Ah, but that is different.  Tell me, Tessa," she inwardly winced as he used the more intimate form of her name, "would you have come if I had simply sent you an invitation?  After so many years on the outside, would you have willingly come back?"  The answer was no, and they both knew it.  "I know what it's like, prima."  Cousin.  "I know what it's like to be sent away to learn, to be engulfed in a sphere not inundated by cartel politics.  How hard it is to come back, and adjust to one way of thinking after being exposed to so many others."  No, you don't.  "The transition is rough, and I understand that you didn't have a lot of support.  But it's different now.  Your father and sister are gone, they won't be able to intimidate you anymore.  And I promise to help you adjust.  If our family is going to survive, I'm going to need your help."

   Tess nodded.  "Yes, I can see that.  After all, I know next to nothing about what's going on, I hate drugs, and I don't support violence.  I'm going to be a great asset to the family business." 

   "No, Tessa.  You are an asset to the family.  Business is only secondary to that, and I won't ask you to take more than a peripheral role in that until you're ready."  He reached across the table and took her hand, shooting Neva a quelling look when she snorted in disgust.  "You've been gone for far too long.  Familia is a source of strength, one denied you for far too long.  It's true that I need your help to stabilize the politics that is the lifeblood of our family, and our family's family, but I ask for no more than your willing cooperation.  And the chance to know the woman you have become."

   Tess took a deep sigh as she looked at the hand folded around hers.  Part of her mind was telling her to trust him, that he was telling her the truth about what he wanted from her.  The rest was screaming at her to keep her guard up.  Carlos might sounds sincere, and might actually have some desire to get to know her.  But he was still el hefe.  He was still the enemy.  He was still a man who would do whatever was necessary to ensure his grip over his territory and the people who lived in it was ironclad.  She was seeing the silk glove, but she had to remember that it could crush her at any time.

   "I don't suppose I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?"

   Carlos looked this unknown woman in the eye, seeing her internal conflict.  If he trapped her, she'd just fight him, relentlessly and unreasonably.  But if he allowed this to be her choice . . .  "Do you see any men with guns here?  Is the gate locked to trap you here?"  He gestured around them.  "If you wish to leave, you are free to do so.  All I asked Neva to do was to bring you to me so we could talk.  We've spoken.  If you truly want nothing more to do with our family, then go, with my blessing."

   Tess felt the ground tilting under her feet.  She had a choice?

   Just because you don't see any men with guns –

   Doesn't mean they're not there.  Yes.  I realize that.  It was a figure of speech.  Whether she liked it or not, she had to stay.  She'd made a 'deal' with the government.  But that Carlos was not forcing her as well, made the pill a bit easier to swallow.

   Looking down at her lap, Tess confessed, "I-I have been thinking about . . . home . . . a lot recently.  Just wondering what would have happened if different choices had been made on all sides.  If we had been a family instead of a corporation."

   Carlos felt a surge of victory.  "That's what I'm offering you, Tessa.  Family, with no conditions."

   Tess nodded slowly.  Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.  Taking a breath, she said, "Fine.  I'll stay.  For now.  But I make no promises not to leave later."

   Her cousin nodded in understanding.  "Are you ready to go home?"

   It didn't matter whether she was ready or not; she had to.  Didn't she?  "Yes."  And strangely enough, she found that some miniscule part of her was.

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Two days later and she was 'home.'  Pausing on the threshold of the compound, she took a deep breath, trying to force down the feelings of mild panic and distaste that were building up inside her.  While Carlos was busy greeting the three Dobermans that ran up to him, she looked around, making note of the men with sunglasses and rifles, the women in black and red who were around to . . . keep the troops entertained, and the peaceful quality to the air around her.  Everything was . . . the same.  And that's why she was having trouble.  If this hadn't changed, what made her think that anything else had?

   You've changed.

   Yes . . . but is that enough?

   "I've had dinner set out for us on the verandah."

   Tess looked up from her internal musings at the sound of Carlos' voice.  The sun was setting, and the air was growing cool, enough that dining outside might be uncomfortable, but she really wasn't in a position to refuse.  Any hesitance on her part would show how uncomfortable she was here, and that couldn't be allowed.  "Sounds nice," she murmured, holding still as the dogs that had been greeting their master so enthusiastically cautiously approached her.  If dogs can smell fear, can they tell what causes it?  Her fear of this place and what it represented overrode her fear of the animals for the moment.  She'd seen what dogs could do to people, but she didn't really care at the moment.

   Carlos watched his pets, making sure they behaved themselves.  Tessa looked like she was ready to bolt, but she let them smell her.  Turning his gaze to his sister, he saw the frustration and irritation on her face.  She'd never gotten along with their cousin, believing Tessa thought she was better than the rest of them when she was merely reserved.  "Neva.  You're free to do as you will.  Dinner has been set out for you, but you can just as easily eat elsewhere if that's what you wish."

   Neva nodded her appreciation, then picked up her bag and left, heading for the main house.  Carlos turned back to his cousin, and offered her his arm.  She looked at it for a moment, before coming to stand by his side, a compromise between what they both wanted.

   "One of my men will take your bags up to your room," he said.  "I hope you don't mind if I put you in a different one than the one you grew up in."

   "No, that's perfectly alright."  Disconcerting that he had taken into consideration how disturbing it would be to return there, but alright.

   With a teasing bow, he said, "My pleasure, señorita."  Tess smiled weakly, and they started walking to the back of the house.

   The hacienda was just as she remembered.  The walls were a warm burnt sienna, wrought iron railings covered over by the same ivy that covered the outer walls.  The archways were lined in white granite, the doorways in brown granite tiles, and lamps hung inside the outdoor hallways to light the paths at night.  Heavy benches of dark wood, ornately carved by some of Mexico's finest craftsmen, were scattered around the perimeter of the inner plaza, offering loiters a place to sit.  Broad-leafed plants stood in bulky planters, completing the picturesque scene.  It was a place that offered rest to the weary . . . . . . a feeling totally obliterated by the gun-wielding henchmen that were spaced ever fifty yards apart or so.

   Glancing up as she was led to the back verandah, she saw that the underside of the archways were still painted a shockingly bright cobalt blue that seemed at odds with the stately color of the house . . . until one considered the overall effect that it added.  This was a house that was proud of its Mexican origins.  A house built by her great-uncle, the seventh of twelve children who had built his fortune on the backs of others.  And was proud of it.

   It was in the spacious ground behind the sprawling residence that her father had conducted much of his business.  And when she looked at her surroundings, she couldn't blame him.  The walls breathed serenity.  You could hear near-by fountains, and there were fantastic marble sculptures placed at either end of the wide verandah.  From here, one could look out over the back gardens – a series of terraced precincts, filled with plants that would flourish best in Culíacan's climate.  Even in winter, a vast array of flora was offered up to the eye.  The stately trees that lined the perimeter of the grounds, and hid the back wall from sight, were still green, and the skeins of Spanish moss hanging from the branches conveyed a sense of grand sorrow and the pride of decades spent sinking roots.  Of living a quiet, orderly, uninterrupted life.

   But it was the memory of what business that had been conducted here that ruined Tessa's appreciation for the place.

   Pulling out a chair from a small table that was placed in front of a small chimenea, Carlos said, "I planted most of the seasonal flowers myself."

   Tess murmured something polite – she wasn't sure what since she really didn't care about the flowers – but her voice was too quiet for Carlos to hear more than an indistinct mumble.

   "Your enthusiasm leaves something to be desired," he drawled taking his own seat.  Almost at once, several men in chief's uniforms appeared to set plates before them.

   "I'm afraid I have little enthusiasm for anything.  That was beaten out of me long ago."  Tess spoke bluntly because Carlos knew at least how her first few years with the family had went, and he'd be a fool to assume that had ever changed.  But still, she wasn't prepared for the reaction her words received.  Carlos reached across the table and took her hand.  What is it with this man and touching m–

   "I am not my uncle, Tessa.  He was a good leader for the cartel, but his personal life left a lot to be desired.  I hope to fair better in that department than he did."

   Tess glanced down at his hand pointedly.  "Yes, I can see that.  That's why you're married and have three kids, right?"

   Carlos laughed softly.  "Touché, prima."  Settling back in his chair and taking a bite of the tamales placed in front of him, he continued.  "What about you?  Is there a special man or any children that I need to whisk away for you?  Perhaps the man who gave you that?"

   "Gave me what?" Tess asked as she looked down at her chest, trying to see what he was looking at.  "My necklace?"  He nodded and her heart skipped a beat.  "No.  I bought this for myself a few years back."

   "What's inside it?"

   Tess smiled wryly, the first sign of humor she'd shown since leaving the U.S.  "It's empty.  I haven't found anything important enough to put inside it yet."

   "Still scared of men, jóvenes?"

   Young one.  "With reason.  I haven't had the best experiences with them.  They're either controlling, abusive, or a combination of the two."  Resolutely, she kept Sands out of her mind and her dream-father's warning.  Avoiding the wine set before her, she drank deeply out of her water glass.  "Besides, I've been too busy traveling to meet a lot of people.  What about you?  Any plans to eventually settle down and rear children for the glory of Mexico?"  The last part of her question was tinged with irony.

   "If I can convince the right woman to settle down with me, then yes.  I wouldn't mind having my own children.  I'd be sure to isolate them from all this, though."  He gestured to their surroundings with his fork.  "This is no place to raise children.  I mean, look at us.  Ajedrez is dead before her time at the hands of a gringo.  My sister all empathy or sensitivity pruned out of her like a gardener pulls weeds. . ." he trailed off.

   "And you?" Tess asked softly.

   "Un soldado puede marchar sin su corazón, pero él lo falta," he said cryptically.

   A soldier can march without his heart, but he misses it.  "Throughout my lifetime I've left pieces of my heart here and there.  And now there's almost not enough to stay alive," she commented seriously.  Silence rested over them for several moments before she worked up the courage to ask, "Y yo?"

   "Un niña olvidado."

   A forgotten child.  Tess nodded, suddenly weary.  Bowing her head and rubbing the bridge of her nose, she said quietly, "Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.  And having said that, I think I'm ready for bed."

   "Of course.  You've had a long trip.  I'll walk you to your room."  Carlos stood, but Tess motioned him back down.

   "That's alright.  I know this place rather well.  Just tell me where you've put me."

   "Second floor, the room next to the infirmary.  I hope you don't mind."

   No.  She didn't mind.  She wasn't even all that surprised.  She was a doctor, and Carlos would be foolish to not use all the tools he had at hand.  And for the time being, she was one of those tools.  "Why would I mind?" she murmured, turning to go.  But Carlos' final words to her made her pause.

   "I am glad you're back home, querida.  We have much work to do, you and I, to make our family strong again."

   Biting her lip, Tess forced her sudden sensation of guilt down and continued on, determined to get to her room for a bit of peace and quiet.  And booster shot of her dopamine suppressant since she'd been unable to take most of her pills for the last several days.

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Quotes: Richard Bach, Blow, Heinrich Heine

Author's Thanks: many thanks go to à normal human being (Cliffies happen, unless you write the entire story before posting it.  But you gotta admit, they can be fun.); C.J. Davis (don't let the suspense get to you now, or you'll never survive.  This is nothing yet.); Nimwen (Yeah, no one is so perfect as to be absolutely confident of themselves at all times, and I really want that to be reflected in my characters.  Normal people in extraordinary circumstances and all that.); Kontara (I really do try not to make people wait too long, but it happens.  *shrugs*  I'm trying to work on that.  ^_^); Dreamgirl21147 (thanks for the compliments.  I know how stories can get addicting, and that mine is one of them is always and honor.)

Additional Info: I've started a Secret Window fic.  It's called 'Fractured Secrets' and only the prologue is up yet, but I thought some of you might want to check it out.  It's on this site, in the SW movie forum.