Author's Note: this chapter is a little shorter than the last few, but I hope its just as satisfying. Or maddening, however you want to look at it.

Author's thanks at end.


Sands would be the first to admit that their situation was steadily growing worse. He'd never been one to pussyfoot around polite social traditions that kept one from saying just how deep the shit was getting. So when the car flipped over the graded edge of the highway and started rolling downhill, his first thought was, We're screwed, and his second was, Glad she insisted on the seatbelt.

It seemed as if the nightmarish ride went on for hours, but it was only seconds later that they hit level ground, and still moving forward due to the speed they'd been driving at, ran head on into a gnarled tree.

Or what passes for a tree around here, he thought dazedly, shaking his head. His neck twinged. I hope that's not anything worse than whiplash. He knew that anyone with common sense would sit still for a long time after such an accident, but Sands knew they didn't have time. Once the fate of their own men was determined, those cartel flunkies would be coming down to check on him and Tess.

Sands groaned as he moved his limbs. He felt like he'd been battered with a meat tenderizer, but he was otherwise uninjured except for a dull pain in his left arm. It was probably broken, but that was a miracle considering his track record. Releasing his safety belt, Sands crawled across the backseat, picking up weapons as he went. The door on his side of the car was too beat-up to actually open, and it was only by using considerable force that he was able to get the one on the right side of the car open.

Outside and free, Sands crouched down behind the car and listened. The night was too dark and the air too filled with dust for him to reliably see anything, but if men were coming down that slope, he'd hear them. When after several minutes he heard nothing more than a rolling rock or two that had surely been displaced by their precipitous fall, he risked a peek around the back of the car. There was no movement that he could detect, not tell-tale lights, and lights would have to be used to get down that hill without killing one's self.

Safe for a little bit. Certain that he wasn't in mortal danger, Sands inched over to Tessa's window. He might have been listening for the sounds of pursuit, and the lack of any might have been comforting, but the lack of those same sounds from the driver of the totaled vehicle worried him. Tess had been pretty badly beaten before they got tumbled like wet laundry in a drier.

Her window was broken in. Sections of her face, which was tilted towards him, looked black in the scant moonlight. Sands didn't know if that was due to her hair or to blood, so he reached out a hand – keeping the other occupied with a handgun – and ran his fingers along her brow. Hair caught on his fingers and he was able to push a few strands out of her face; there were still large sections of black marring her skin. She must have gotten lacerated by broken glass. Or possibly rocks. He saw now that there was a large section of the windshield missing. "Com'on, niña. Wakey-wakey," he muttered as he lightly ran his fingers down her neck to just under her jaw. Her pulse was slow and steady, but her body was in a state of shock if the temperature of her skin was anything to go by.

Just as he was going to explore to find just how badly she was hurt, Sands heard a new rock-fall and a quiet curse. Apparently everything was well enough on the highway for Carlos' men to come down and make sure that nothing was alive down here.

Well, it'd be a shame to disappoint them, Sands thought, sending Tess a mental warning to stay unconscious just a little bit longer as he took care of business. There was a small outcropping of rocks about twenty feet from the car. It was an ideal hiding place because anyone who wanted to reach the car would have to pass by him, and the way they could get shelter would be to get on the other side of the heap. It wouldn't be too difficult for Sands to pick off all the men before they could get out of range.

The men were all dressed in dark colors and were nearly indistinguishable from the landscape, but Sands didn't need to see them. If he'd learned nothing else during his months of blindness, it was that most people never thought about the sounds they made. Even if he'd been driven mad with pain, he could have taken these men out. Briefly he was disappointed in the lack of sport in all this – after all this hell, he would be more than happy to play with his victims a bit – but the glow of several flashlights made him resigned. Just kill them, get the flashlights, check on Tess, see if your cell phone is in any condition to work. Thos were his priorities at the moment.

The first two men dropped to the ground before their companions could even conceive that they were under fire. The third fell as he ran towards the car. The forth was smarter and simply dropped to the ground and started laying down fire. It would be an awkward position for Sands to fire at even if rock chips and dust weren't flying at his face. Sitting down with is back to the still slightly warm rock face, he emptied one of the handguns of its clip, then let the telltale -Click­- of an empty gun ring out. The hail of bullets stopped. When he heard the sound of footsteps inching towards his position, he grinned. That's it, hombre. Come get the helpless gringo.

When Sands estimated that the man was only a few feet away, he sprang up and nailed the man right between the eyes before he could react. Another report though, soured his victory. Somehow a man had moved up behind Sands, and had fired. If the agent hadn't stood when he had, the bullet would probably be resting very close to his heart now.

I'm going to get you, fucker. On the heels of pain came a surge of adrenaline, and Sands turned and fired his own weapon before the other man could pull his trigger. The agent's shot hit the man in the throat and he dropped like a stone, his breath rattling for a few hideous moments before stopping entirely.

Ignoring the pain in his thigh as best he could, Sands crouched back down and waited. Ten minutes went by and he heard nothing more than the wind. That was all of them.

All of them for now, he warned himself as he slowly moved back to the car. It would be foolhardy to assume that no more men would come looking for his runaway. Carlos had put too much energy into "training" her to allow her to ignobly slink off. We need to get out of here first. If I can just . . . oh, shit. His cell phone had been confiscated. Fuck. Well, he'd just have to search the dead men in hopes one of them had a phone. He could walk out of here, but Tess needed medical attention.

Scavenging a flashlight, Sands started searching the men one by one. He collected what weapons he could find, but kept his mind locked on his goal. As long as he thought about a phone, he didn't think about why it was so important to get Tess back to the States alive.


Pain . . .

Waves and waves of fiery pain. Everything from the waist up screamed. It locked her out of her own mind; if anyone had asked even her name in this moment, she wouldn't have been able to remember. The only reality she knew was the pain. What had happened to cause it didn't matter, how to make it stop wasn't important. It was enough of a task to force air down windpipe and into her lungs, and then force it back out. Her lungs felt oddly full, yet she couldn't catch her breath.

Hell . . . The whisper ghosted across the surface of her mind. Was that where she was? Was she dead?

You know death.

Yes, she supposed she did. Her mind cleared, and useless bits of memory came back to her. A blond man reciting a satiric poem: "Whether on the gallows high/Or where blood flows the reddest,/The noblest place for man to die – / Is where he died the deadest." People on a small, shabby stage: Hell is empty. All the devils are here." Words on a page: "Death, be not proud, though some have called thee/Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;/For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow/Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me./From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be . . ."

Are you dead, mon?

No. Not dead. Dying?

Could be.

Oh . . . The idea wasn't lacking in appeal. But then again, she couldn't remember what she might be missing by giving up.

"Always know all your options." That rule had been pounded deep enough into her head that she heard it now. It was so very dark though. What if this was all there was?

Your eyes are closed, dimwit.

That was rude.

Your point? I don't care. Of course, if you'd just come play with me, maybe I'd be nicer. I'm so lonely.

That's an option, I suppose. But I must have more. Before the voice could protest, Tess pried her eyelids open. They were so very heavy and prone to slipping shut, but she managed to catch glimpses of a landscape painted entirely in blacks and greys. Her nose picked up the faint scents of burned rubber as her mind latched on to this proof of the living world. The pain was still there, still invading her mind and making it sluggish, but it no longer consumed her. Wetting her lips, she inhaled through her mouth and choked as her lungs resisted the amount of air she sent them. Her ribs bucked against a hard surface as pain exploded in her chest.

The fireworks slowly faded, leaving her with a snatch of memory of how she'd gotten here. A car, disorientation, being thrown around. Blackness. There was a string attached to those images – running, danger, fear . . . but not alone. She'd had company.

Sands . . . Had he died? The thought made what energy she had left leak out of her. She remembered now. She'd been trying to prevent that. If she'd failed, Tess didn't think she'd be able to stand it. Sands? Where are you?

If you don't actually speak, he's never going to hear you. If he's even alive that is. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd been thrown from the car. Or got his neck broken. Or brained by flying rocks. Or any of the thousands of other ways a person can die in an accident this bad.

I don't want him to be dead though.

Too bad, chica. That's the way life goes. Oh, heads up. I think someone is coming. Tess squinted her eyes and tried to focus them. Everything was blurry and wavering, but she thought she saw a light coming towards her. The soothing light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train headed your way.

You're very pessimistic.

Thank you. It's one of my better traits I think. That was nonsense, and Tess returned her attention to what she was seeing.

The unidentifiable figure wavered as if injured, but it was definitely headed towards her. Tessa's mind pressed on her that it could be her companion. Licking her lips again, she managed to whisper/croak, "San . . ."

Talking hurt too much to continue, but it did managed to attract the attention she wanted. The light came towards her faster and she finally had to close her eyes because it blinded her. "You called, chica?" A hand settled under her jaw, and it was the gentlest touch she'd felt in a long time.

She expelled a puff of breath that sounded like, "yeah." Anything more than that was too difficult. "Alon–" Her throat was so dry!

"Here." The mouth of a bottle touched her lips. "I raided our friends' cars. It's not water, but it should help the pain."

Tess grimaced as the bitter burn of alcohol rolled down her throat. Her mouth wasn't so dry anymore, but there were rules. She remembered that much. "Not supposed to."

"We'll let it slide this one time." Sands settled one of his two flashlights between two rocks so it illuminated both their faces. With the light, he saw that there was a long gash along her forehead. That's where the blood had come from. It mustn't have been too deep though, because the flow of blood had already stopped. "How you feeling?"

"Sands?"

"Yeah. Do you remember what happened?"

Her head twitched in a parody of a nod. "Too nice."

"I'm being too nice?" Again the head-twitch. "We'll just tell people that I hit my head. Now, where does it hurt?"

"Every . . . where."

"Are you sure? Have you tried to move anything?" She closed her eyes. "I'll take that as a no. Well, no time like the present. Can you wiggle your toes?"

That was a good question. Until this point, Tess had even forgotten that she had toes. It was just too mundane a thought. With her eyes still closed, Tess tried to flex her toes. Nothing happened. She realized that she couldn't even feel anything below her waist.

"I-I can't . . . feel . . . my legs." Why was she so breathless? Tess didn't think that was good. Maybe it had something to do with the pain in her chest.

"You're sure?"

What kind of question was that? Of course she was sure. Tessa's eyes popped open to fix him with a incredulous gaze. But when Sands am I supposed to look at? "There's two of you," she breathed.

Aw, shit. Sands didn't let his thoughts show on his face. No point in needlessly worrying her, and Tess would worry if he started acting like a normal, caring human being. "How many heads am I holding up?" he drawled instead.

"Two. I said . . ." Sands shook her head and she didn't bother finishing her comment.

"Keep your eyes open for a minute, niña. And don't complain about how bright the light is. I already know that." Raising his other flashlight, Sands gently pulled Tessa's eyelids back when she instinctively tried to protect them. Her left pupil didn't respond to the light.

"Concussion?" she croaked, stifling the urge to cough. That would definitely hurt too much.

"Yeah. No taking a nap until we get out of here, comprendés?" Quickly he flashed the light around, noting that her seat had somehow moved forward, as had the steering column. She was pinned between them.

"Get out?" Her voice distracted him.

"Well, I gotta find a phone first. None of friends seemed to have one."

"I did . . . somewhere in . . . back."

"You brought a cell phone?" he asked, wanting to make sure he understood. The chance that it was still in the backseat was small, but it was a chance nonetheless.

"Sí."

"Alright. Don't go anywhere. I'll check." He saw her faint smile from the corner of her eye as he turned away. It was no more than a lightening of her pained countenance, but it was at least something. "How's your head? It getting noisy in there?" He asked the question simply to make sure she was staying awake.

"A little." She swallowed, frowning as she tasted something metallic at the back of her throat. However, since it didn't seem life-threatening, she didn't allow herself to become concerned. "Too much . . . excitement."

"That's understandable." There was nothing in the backseat besides pebbled safety glass. Just to be on the safe side, he checked both wells in the front. When he finally – and miraculously – found the phone, it was between Tessa's feet.

Coming back around to her door, he eased it open and laid a hand on her shoulder. "The phone's between your legs, niña, and I –"

"Never heard that . . . one before." Her lips quirked up.

"Very funny. The phone is on the floor between your feet. My arm was hurt in the crash, so I'm going to have to move your seat back, alright? I want you to just rest where you are until I help you back against the chair."

"Okay."

While Sands fumbled under the chair for the release that would allow him to slide it backwards, Tess sat still and waited. Her shortness of breath worried her, but she didn't know why exactly. It had something to do with the pain in her ribs, but the reason to justify that reason was elusive. I need to remember. It's important. Do you know?

No. Why would I? I only paid attention to the grisly parts of your classes.

Oh . . . well it would have been nice –

Whatever would have been nice was lost in a hoarse scream as a spear of pain arrowed straight through Tessa's torso.

"Fuck!" Sands stopped what he was doing and picked up his light again and shone it on Tessa's face. Her eyes were wide open and filled with pain; tears traced skin-colored paths down her bloody cheek, skin that was bone-white underneath the natural duskiness of her skin. "Where does it hurt?"

Tess couldn't answer. All she could do was gasp for breath and listen to the way the air rasped in her throat. She didn't even see Sands through the pain-red haze that covered her vision. Unable to stop herself, one of her hands fluttered to the point below her breasts that felt so icy-hot. Her fingertips touched wire.

Impaled. There's a thing I never thought I'd feel. The voice was so cool and collected that Tess doubted it felt anything she did.

"Sa-an-nds . . ." The weak gasp was all she could manage when she wanted to beg him to do something to make this all go away.

"Don't talk, necia. I see it." Now he saw what the resistance had been, and for the first time in many years, he was sick to his stomach. Sometime during the crash, one of the springs in the back of Tessa's seat had sprung, and sprung right through Tessa's body. He hadn't noticed the blood against her navy blue shirt before, and now he couldn't imagine how he'd missed it. There was a great, big, bloody patch just to one side of her spine. That was probably why she couldn't feel her legs.

"Sa-ands . . ."

"Didn't I just tell you not to talk?" He glanced up at her face and tried to appear calm. "Just relax. I'm going to get that cell phone, and then I'm going to call my men. They've got a private LifeFlight chopper on reserve. We're going to get you out. Do you hear what I'm saying?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Then just sit still and wait. Once someone manages to actually wrangle a promise out of me, I usually keep it. Besides, I owe the kid."

"Marcos . . ." The pain was slowly starting to die away.

"Yeah, that kid. Now be quiet and let me do my job."


It took some doing, but Sands finally managed to get the phone. Telling Tess he would be right back, he went a few yards away to make his call. He didn't want her to overhear as he told Agent Maddox just exactly what was wrong and what he suspected was going to happen if people didn't bust their asses to get down here. All agents had to undergo an intense first aid class as part of their field training, so Sands could guess just how long Tess was going to be able to stand the blood loss, possible internal injuries, and the rapidly cooling night.

"Remember the wire cutters," was the last thing he said before turning the phone off and returning to the car. He watched as Tess opened her eyes at his approach, glad to see that she was so far able to keep herself awake.

"It's kind of you . . . to visit me in my . . . in my loneliness . . ." she breathed, closing her eyes again.

For some reason that particular quote irritated him. It sounded too much like she was starting to give up.

"Don't talk like that, Barillo." If he had to annoy her to keep her fighting, he would.

Barillo? After all she'd done against her family, after all she'd done at his request and out of her confusion about what their relationship entailed; after betrayal, and risking her neck, and allowing herself to be in a situation where this could happen, he called her that? She wasn't Barillo. She refused to be. But if that was all he saw, then so be it. Her pride, however, kept her from showing him how much that'd hurt though. "Okay, how about, 'Few people understand the psychology of dealing . . . of dealing . . ." Oh god, she couldn't catch her breath.

Sands saw her agitation and finished the quote for her, knowing that getting it in the air was even more important to her than showing him up. Tess liked to finish what she started. "'Of dealing with a highway traffic cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow.'" He sighed, pretending to think it over. "I suppose that's better."

"Sands?"

"What?" He was sitting on the ground now, leaning against the chassis and listening for traffic. The threat of another appearance by Tessa's family wasn't one he'd forgotten.

"Scared."

"Don't be. I made sure I lit a fire under their butts. Someone will be here in thirty minutes at the most. You going to hold out that long, niña?"

"Trying. Hard to . . . breathe."

"Then stop breathing and conserve oxygen." There it was. The sound he'd been dreading. The sound of a car engine. "Hush. I'm going to go do some reconnaissance."

"Don't leave . . ." I don't want to die alone. I'm so scared. Don't leave me.

You're not alone, Teresa Adame. You never are.

I don't want to be left alone with you.

I don't think you're in any state to protest.

That much was true at least, however, she still didn't want to be alone. "Sands . . ." He covered her mouth with his hand.

"That car might belong to your cousin, chiquita. I have to go, but I'm not going far. Certainly not out of rifle range. I'll be close enough to hear everything, but I have to be far enough away to fight, or we're both fucked for sure. Just stay here and be a good. If you're still breathing when I get back, I'll even apologize for being an ass, and that's something I've never done before. I don't guarantee to mean it, but I'll make the effort. Savvy?"

She twitched her head and closed her eyes, not wanting to watch him leave her. Before she heard him leave though, she felt him press something into her hand. It felt like a gun; certainly the way he took the time to wrap her fingers around it hinted at that. Was it meant for defense or offense? And did he really think she'd be able to shoot anyone right now? Tess didn't get the chance to ask her questions though.

I just want to point out that he's getting himself to safety while leaving you exposed.

Did you think I hadn't noticed? It's his nature. It's yours as well. I don't see why you're complaining so much.

Don't you hate him for it though?

No more than I hate you. You're both irritants that I have to live with.

Yeah, but I'll be around for longer than he will.

Perhaps. And perhaps things really would be better that way. Sands was just too . . . unbalancing. Just because he understood her better than anyone else, didn't mean he wasn't a danger. Perhaps.


Sands returned to his outcropping of rock, and watched. He'd hidden the body of the man that had snuck up behind him so it wouldn't draw any unwanted attention towards him, and he felt fairly confident that this would be just as easy to take care of as the other men had. After all, he'd only heard one car. At most there would be four men. A bit more caution would be required though, since he hadn't wanted to try to close the door on Tess again, afraid of jostling her. He was going to have to time his first shot so that Tess was at the least risk. In her condition, he couldn't even be sure that she wasn't swimming in and out of consciousness.

This is that last time I come to Mexico he thought, moving a rock or two to make a better cradle for the rifle's muzzle. I just can't get a break around here.

Sands waited. Sweat broke out on his forehead and along his spine despite the cool breeze. Whoever had come by was certainly taking their time. It was only when he was starting to get stiff that he heard the engine start again and go back the way it'd come.

Oh no. That was just a little too convenient. A run-of-the-mill citizen would have kept driving, and cartel would have come to investigate. Thinking things over, Sands decided that he'd follow the sound of the engine for a little while. It wasn't beyond them to backtrack and then travel by foot until they found the crash site. And I'd much rather find them than have them find me.

With that thought in the forefront of his mind, Sands went hunting. Unfortunately he was so intent on just stopping all this, that he moved outside the range where he could easily hear what was happening by the car.


Carlos had made his men drop him off where the two cars belonging to the cartel were parked. He'd taken two men with him to go north down the highway a few hundred yards before looping back to meet him, and then sent a still yawning Neva and her partner back south to travel north from there. If his men were still alive, they'd be waiting near the sight of what appeared to be an accident, and if they weren't, then he was armed and had back-up coming. One way or another, this headache was going to be dealt with tonight.

Traveling slowly and using the scant light from the just rising moon to make his way out, he slowly climbed down the hill, taking note of the apparently abandoned hulk a few hundred feet away. His men had done an excellent job of running Tess off the road; he only hoped that someone was left alive for him to take his growing anger out on.

Halfway down the slope, he saw the first body. Soon after that, his eyes detected a second, third, and fourth dark splotch of what had once been humanity. Someone had gunned his men down. Nervous, Carlos drew his own weapon and crouched down. If there was anyone around still, he was going to take them by surprise.

There was nothing moving on the plateau though, or at least, nothing alive. There was enough of a breeze to set the low-growing desert scrub to waving, but he didn't see anything else. That was no reason to be reckless though. Despite the dust and dirt he was getting on his clothes, Carlos kept low to the ground.

"I don't ca-are . . . anymore . . ."

Carlos froze when he heard the rough human voice. It was quiet and weak, and had definitely come from the car. Hope burst into bloom inside his chest. If the traitorous bitch was only still alive, he'd donate a few hundred thousand dollars to the nearest archdiocese.

"You think that . . . matters t-to me?" This voice was even rougher than the last, and Carlos mentally doubled the figure if only that was the CIA agent. Having both of them there would be too good to be true. First he'd kill that bastard that had stolen Teresa from him, and then he'd kill her. It was nothing more than what she deserved, and long overdue. Barillo should have done it when he had the chance.

"S-Sands? That . . . you?"

God, just hearing her say his name was enough to make Carlos' finger tighten on the trigger, but he forced himself to calm down. Killing her would be pointless if he didn't first make his point.

"I d-didn't think . . . you were coming . . . coming back." The cold was getting to her. It was an effort of Herculean proportions to keep from shivering.

"I'm not Sands, Teresa, but I'd be more than happy to keep you company while you wait."

No! Not Carlos! Sands, where are you! You'd said you'd be close!

Alone, alone. So alone. Teresa is always alone. Alone in life, lonelier in death. I think that's what you should have on your tombstone.

"No . . ." she moaned. "Stop. Please . . . stop talking."

"I haven't said anything, Teresa." Carlos stepped close enough to see her in detail, and grimaced: she looked like a corpse. Pale skin, red-rimmed eyes . . . even her lips were starting to turn blue.

"Not . . . not you." Her lungs were starting to feel full. That wasn't a good sign. "Not talking . . . to you."

Enough nonsense. Carlos cocked his weapon, and raised it to point at Tessa's head. "If your lover is hiding, I suggest you make him come out, querida."

"No . . . no, he's not . . . here. Gone . . . gone away. Left me."

"He'll come back."

She seemed to think this over. "I think he goes . . . towards death, and is drawn . . . towards it. And so are . . . we all."

Obviously the crash had scrambled her wits, because she was not making sense. "And just what does that mean, Teresa?"

Her face contorted, and she coughed painfully a few times, then looked up at him. At the look of complete blankness in her eyes, he took a step back. Something was very wrong with her.

"Ahh . . . he begins . . . to understand." Her voice was even rougher, if that was possible. "Thinking to get at once all . . . all the gold the goose . . . could give, he . . . killed it and opened it . . . only to find – nothing." Her face grew thoughtful. "Well . . . nothing but madness in . . . in this case." A slow grin spread across her face even as her eyes remained blank.

Revolted, Carlos took a step back, but the grin only grew. "Your fault . . . dear cousin. You pushed . . . too much. Pushed her right . . . over the edge." Again Tessa's face contorted, this time moving into a more lax mask. "No, I'm still here . . . damn you."

"Mi, Christo," he whispered, crossing himself as he took another step back. "Tu es loco."

Yes. Yes she was. And so tired of having to hide it. The mask was getting to heavy, the voices and whispers too loud. "But the insane . . . are always mere guests on . . . earth, eternal strangers . . . carrying around broken Decalogues . . . that they cannot read."

"No wonder he left you," Carlos breathed. "You're not worth wasting a life on." Just then, a commotion a few hundred yard away distracted him. There was yelling, and gunfire. Before he could recover, Tess pulled the trigger of the gun in her lap. It flew in a straight path and slammed into Carlos' gut. His eyes widened in shock, and he stared at her.

"You shouldn't have st-stood so . . . close." As his knees buckled, she fired again. This time her bullet slammed into his chest. She watched as he fell, her eyes pitiless. He shouldn't have said what he did. I wouldn't have fired otherwise.

I would have.

I'm not you. I don't want to be you.

Doesn't matter. At least he's not a threat. If you die now, you won't die a failure. That's something I suppose.

Yes. I suppose. Tess coughed again, moaning at the pain of lungs trying for force something other than air out her throat. I suppose its enough.


The first gunshot that'd slammed into the dirt at Sands' feet had been a total surprise. The second – the one that had felled the man who'd just tried to take him out – had surprised Sands even more. By the time he saw who had just helped him out, he was ready to have a heart attack. But later, when he wasn't in danger of dying.

"Stay where you are!" he yelled, raising his gun and pointing it at the feminine figure.

"Calm down, agente Sands. I just took out one of my own men. Do you really think that you're next?" Neva just looked at him and didn't make a single move that indicated that she was going to surrender.

"It seems to me that listening to that kind of talk once got my eye ripped out of my skull, so excuse me if I don't believe you."

"Well, we have to solve this impasse somehow, because last I saw, my brother was headed in the direction of your amante. And he was not feeling charitable." Almost before the words were out of her mouth, there were two gunshots from the direction of the car.

"Fuck," Sands hissed, feeling his heart kick into overdrive. "In front of me, and you'd best move quickly." Once Neva was in front of him, they both broke into a jog, Sands with his gun in the small of her back to remind her to behave herself.

When they were a stone's throw from the car, he made her stop. "Call to him," he hissed, pressing the barrel of his weapon into her back with painful force.

"Carlos! Did you find her?" There was no answer.

"Again," Sands prompted.

"Carlos?"

"He found her," Tess replied for her dead cousin before another bout of coughing gripped her.

"Tessa?" Sands prompted Neva forward until he was able to see her. Fuck, she's not looking good. "One wrong move and I shoot you," Sands hissed to his companion before stripping her jacket from her and arranging it around Tessa's shoulders.

"What did I tell you about talking?" he chided, pulling her hand from her mouth. As he'd suspected, there were flecks of blood on it. "You're aggravating your lungs for nothing."

"You left . . . he knew."

"Knew what?" If Tess wanted to talk, Sands knew that he wasn't going to be able to stop her. The best he'd be able to do would be to keep it short.

"Everything." She looked around Sands and saw Neva. "What –" More coughs cut her off.

"Your cousin?" Tess nodded. "She's professing to be a turncoat." When he saw that her curiosity wasn't abated, he turned to the tall Hispanic woman. "Care to explain now that we can both hear you?"

"Carlos is –" Her throat closed as she looked at his body. "Carlos was becoming obsessed." Obsessed or not, he was her brother. While this had been inevitable, she hadn't wanted it to happen. At least she hadn't had to pull the trigger though. "He's a danger. I was only ever in this for him, and I don't care to run a drug empire on my own. I planned on taking my share of what money he had tonight, then hopping a plane for South America."

"And now?" Sands asked. Her story sounded remarkably like what he would have done in her place.

"Now the plan hasn't changed. I'm just going to withdraw more money and disappear. When I don't show up in a year, the money will revert back to off-shore family accounts, and Teresa and I will be the only ones that can access it. If she's alive to do so."

Tess made a face. "I will be," she breathed.

This moment of calm was interrupted by the sound of helicopter blades, and not a moment too soon. As Sands turned on a flashlight to signal their position, Neva turned to leave. "You don't have to worry about the other men," she said over her shoulder. "They were both very fond of hitting the bottle. I'm afraid it led them to a bad end."

Sands couldn't care less. Tess was starting to mutter things as she coughed convulsively. She needed to get to a hospital soon. Sooner perhaps than they could get her there.


Quotes: Ambrose Pierce, The Devil's Dictionary; Shakespeare, The Tempest; John Donne, Holy Sonnet 10; Cool Runnings; Metallica; Wizard of Oz; Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas; Ursula Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea; Aesop; F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Whew.

Author Thanks: for all your wonderful compliments, support, and at times, threats, I wish to thank . . . Beringae (wow! It's great to hear from you again. If I at least made you doubt what I could and couldn't allow Tess to do, then I accept your compliments. I think everyone knew that I wouldn't really let her kill him, but all I wanted was to plant that seed of doubt. Yes, I'm planning to write a From Hell fic, and while the basic concept might be a bit cliché – just like the one behind this series was – I think I can develop a decent story. The parts I've tested on some of my friends have been well received. I certainly hope that nothing I do on that fic, or in FS will be anything less than what you expect from me.); Merrie (Calm and resigned, eh? That sounds just a little bit scary, considering who I'm talking to. ); Kontara (It's alright. I don't mind be hated. It was what I was aiming for after all. I hope this chapter kinda soothed things over.); normal human being (There are times and places to be cruel and sadistic, but I'm a firm believer that it's not at the absolute end of a story. Unhinged reviews are just plain fun to read. Cliffies will go on for at least as long as the story, if not longer. You know I appreciate the reviews, right? So ditto earlier ones. ); Shannon (stupid It should know that eating reviews is a bad thing. sigh Anyway, I'm always happy to toy with anyone's emotions. That should be apparent from the situations I drop my characters into. I am sorry for making you cry though. Kinda. It's actually a pretty big compliment when I think about it though, so perhaps I'm not. evil grin); CaptainJackSparrowsGirl (I swear, you've got the longest name out of any of my reviewers. :P Here's your more, and yes, there will be more on the way as soon as I get to it. I'm ready to be done with this fic and move on to a new one.); quick29 (I hope you're satisfied. No more Carlos. I hope his death wasn't too anticlimactic.); C.J. Davis (I'm not sure Sands will ever tell her that he was at the hacienda to get her out. That just doesn't seem like the kinda thing he'd let spill unless he was going to hold it over her head. There will be no professions of the sort you mean, or at least that I think you mean. Sands is a wily guy, and Tess unconventionally sane, so I'm sure they'll be able to come to some sort of understanding that is perfectly and uniquely them. Eventually.); Raven (cool. I've got a reader in Israel. grins For some reason that always impresses me more than readers in the states. Perhaps because I expect readers over here to know English and read it. I don't necessarily expect that of anyone else because that seems a bit arrogant. shrugs But then again, I know absolutely nothing about non-English speaking countries and how prevalent English is. Anyway, I'm glad you do have to go into the army. You're actually the one that inspired Neva's behavior in this chapter. Just know that. ;D Tess isn't feeling any more than pain at the moment, so his concern isn't really getting through to her as something odd.); Dreamgirl21147 (No. I like cliffies, and I shall always keep them around. I'm glad you've got that seatbelt, but there's only a few more bumps along the road before we reach the station.)