..............Sands..............

An hour out of Culiacan Rana spoke.

"Stop the car!" she demanded so suddenly and with such ferocity that El slammed on the brakes and all the cars occupants were thrown forward and saved only by their seatbelts.

The girl threw herself at the right car door, burst out of it and ran off. Sands listened as her feet pattered across bitumen then desert sand.

Next to him, El also got out, but he stood at the open door. Not leaving the car, merely watching. He looked over the roof of the car as she ran a little further into the desert. Sands listened intently over the car's dull roar. From quite a distance away he heard the sounds of retching and allowed a lopsided grin onto his face. Well at least she had spared them.

Then he heard the return of her. She was running as quickly as her damaged state allowed her, over the blisteringly hot ground. Then she was back in the car, panting from her run and the pain of the hot road on sliced feet. El got back in the car and they continued on without saying anything.

An hour had passed before she spoke from the back again. But it was to Sands that she spoke; "I think I just figured out why you wear black" she said solemnly.

"Oh, and why's that?" he asked. Expecting some sappy, forever in darkness analogy.

"Black attracts heat; you wear it so you know when it is day and when it is night. When your clothes are hot, it is daylight. And when they aren't it is night..." she trailed off as if she was onto thinking about a new topic. Completely having forgotten what she had just said to him.

Sands sat there quietly. That had been it at the start, but Sands didn't need to be wearing black to tell if it was day anymore. He had become more sensitive to the suns light and could tell by sounds and feeling alone. He just wore black. It was almost a petty payback to the world. If all he saw was black, then all other people would see black, at least when they looked at him. He was just doing his bit to balance out the world.

They did not speak after that.

.............El...............

After the joyous car ride the three of them got to a hotel. Sands had been sulking the whole time in the front seat. And the girl had made no noise for two and a half hours. When the Mariachi parked and both men got out they stopped at the realization that it was only them who had gotten out. Their injured friend was still in the car. El looked in the back window and sighed. Then he opened the door and lifted her unconscious form out the back seat. She gave no indication of hearing them. Or of waking. Sands booked a room and went ahead, somehow counting the doors to their room. El watched in fascination. The man walked confidently and without falter. Then suddenly he stopped and fitted the key into the lock of their room. El raised an eyebrow and followed the despicable man in. He locked the door and went to lay her on the bed but Sands stopped him. "In the bathroom El" he drawled. "Don't want dirty sheets now do we?"

El frowned at him.

"She is bleeding" he told the ex CIA agent.

"Precisely why we should put her on tiles, they don't soak up blood".

"But..." El began.

"Tic toc El, she is bleeding to death while you fart around"

El's glare was wasted upon the blind man, but he made for the bathroom anyway.

"Good boy" Sands praised mockingly as he flung himself onto the bed.

"Uh" El hesitated. Sands raised his head to look at him.

"What now?" he asked in annoyance.

"I think we should get a nurse, to look after her" the Mariachi said haltingly. Sands cocked his head in mock questioning.

"Why El, I thought you'd know how to heal holes by now..." but the Mariachi cut him off.

"No, a female nurse" he said hastily. Sands stopped and then grinned. His grin threatened to crack his face. It just kept growing wider and wider until El thought that surely it must stop, but it didn't; it grew and grew until El said "Fine" and stalked into the bathroom.

...........Rana...........

She woke, but didn't open her eyes. She felt awful to say the least, and then she heard a voice above her. It was male, and that was enough to spike fear through her system.

She did not know where she was, she was hurt and for the moment the only thing she remembered was her few days of torture. She opened her eyes, but she couldn't see! She panicked, throwing a wild punch at the man hovering over her she threw herself sideways out of the bed, entangling herself in the blankets as she went. She hit the ground with a thump and crawled for the far wall when she stopped. Another man was laughing, his voice was American and he was laughing so hard that she almost forgot to be afraid. Then she heard the other man cursing and she remembered who they both were. She stopped her mindless run and turned back to them. Then she felt her face and found a black eye cloth for sleeping. She ripped it off and was greeted with the sight of the mariachi, rubbing his jaw and glaring at Sands, who was close to hysterics against the far wall.

In all her time with him she had never seen the former agent honestly laugh, now that he was he looked like he was in pain. Hunched over and only getting in short gasps. She felt her cheeks go slightly red, and shot the Mariachi an apologetic look. He rubbed his jaw once more ruefully and looked at her. He didn't smile but she felt no ill will from him. Sands was down to little bursts of giggles, as she stood and made her way over to them. She found herself extremely cautious, not out of her own will but her body's response, however she affected the air of casual comfort. And hoped they would not notice.

..........El..........

El noticed the flighty way she walked towards them and wanted to sigh. Whether or not she realized it, she was wary of them both. A natural reaction to what she had been subjected to; but still painful to behold.

It would take time.

..........Rana...........

The cut across her chest was not shallow. She ran into the bathroom, into the shower. She was wearing only her pants, leaving her cut chest bare. The blood was all down her front, it covered her so much she looked like she was wearing a red shirt. The water streamed onto her, washing the blood down and around her feet. It was not hot, but it wasn't cold. She panted looking at her stomach as it went back to its pristine white colour. She turned the water off, but blood welled quickly in the wound and leaked down her front again. Staining her red. She screamed and turned the water back on, the blood loss made her dizzy and she sank to the tiled floor. The water stopped and she lay as the thick red liquid seeped out of her, and down the drain. Leaving a red stain as the only reminder it had ever been there. She cried out, unconquerable fear and panic gripping her. She tried to brush the blood off but it just multiplied before her eyes. She was powerless and it scared her. Everything was red, all was lost; she was dieing and this time she was afraid.

............El............

The high pitched scream that ricocheted through the house seemed to puncture the very air.

Sands and El shot up from there respective beds at the same instant and stumbled towards her room in a blind rush. Both had guns in their hands, both guns were loaded and cocked and both men feared the worst.

El got there first, he busted in the door, slamming it open with almighty force.

The room he was greeted with was empty. It was bathed in moonlight, which allowed him to see the rumpled sheets and nothing else. His eyes roamed the room and then returned to the sheets. They were darker than they should have been. His eyes widened; they were soaked in blood. He stepped into the room, his gun held high. "The sheets are covered in blood" he whispered. Sands snorted from behind him and pushed past. Instead of going to the bed, he turned right, into the adjoining bathroom. El followed softly. Sands entered swiftly and went straight for her. She was bent over the sink. Her head submerged in water.

Sands grabbed her around her waist and heaved her into the air before she could react, water flinging everywhere from the sudden movement. She let out an explosive breath, as if she had held her head under for longer than she should of; and was placed on the edge of the bath.

She coughed a little then pushed her wet hair from her face.

Sands' hand flashed out and gripped her wrist where it was. Against her head halfway through the process of brushing away her hair,

"What did you see?" he asked in a voice made of steel. She tried to pull her hand from his but he wouldn't let go. Her actions grew more desperate. But Sands remained in possession of her hand, and he continued to frown, as if staring at her hard.

When she realized she could not free her hand he asked her again. She looked away from him.

"What?" he almost made it a command.

"Blood" she croaked out. "Blood I could not stop, blood that wouldn't wash away"

Sands made no reaction to her words. Then he stood and drew her towards him. She leant back and tried to free herself, but couldn't. And the end result was that Sands had her back against his stomach and his hands over her eyes. She stopped moving at this.

"What do you see now?" he asked angrily.

"Nothing" she choked.

"That's because there is nothing there" he snarled into her ear. Then he let go of her and she stepped out of his reach.

El watched it all from the door. He could not believe what he had just seen. It seemed that Sands felt for her, but also that he saw her as somewhat of an equal. Or maybe the man did not know how to comfort someone. That was also a possibility.

But there was no mistaking that there was some kind of understanding between them. Perhaps even a bond, a relationship. Beyond the angry facade and faked annoyance.

Sands was listening to her carefully, El could tell. Rana however was still breathing erratically. She was gripping her nightshirt just above her right breast tightly and El noticed that she was still trying to calm her evidently frayed nerves. That must've been some dream. Rana self control was second only to Sands. El shuddered at the thought of Sands losing it... This didn't explain the blood on her sheets though.

"There is blood on your sheets" the Mariachi informed her with a hint of questioning. He saw her eyes widen slightly in alarm and she clutched her chest again, then seemingly without thought she pulled her shirt up, El averted his eyes in time. Sands didn't, not that it mattered. Then she sighed in relief and stepped past him into the room.

"I don't know where the blood is from, not me that's for sure" she said as she became a silhouette in the moonlit room. El followed and she went to her bed. She pulled the sheets out, they were perfectly dry, and no stains other than old beer and grease were to be seen. El felt his face contort in confusion.
"Gee El, and I thought I was the blind one here" Sands drawled from behind him. How did that man always seem to know what was going on?

She didn't sleep after that. She returned to the kitchen and sat drinking soft drink all night.

Both men left her to it and went back to their rooms.

In the morning she was how they had left her. Only there were around twelve more empty cans on the table.

...........El..........

"Doesn't that hurt" the mariachi asked, watching her down a coke without stopping.

"Yes it does" she answered grimacing from the burning sensation in her damaged throat.

"Then why do it?" he asked again.

"Why do you play guitar after getting your hand shot, didn't that hurt too?" she answered with a question.

"Yes, but it kept me alive".

"It's the same for me too. I drink it because I drank it before and I will continue to drink just because I can" she said in an aloof manner, that El knew concealed her real thoughts on the matter. He nodded and moved off.

Sands was sitting on the couch, balancing a spork on his index finger.

.........................................
Yes, a spork... I don't know, don't ask me. I just had a mental image of Sands balancing a spork on his index finger, then when it slipped throwing it angrily at the opposite wall where it digs itself into the wood. With the 'thwang' sound and all. However the walls at the aprtment aren't made of wood, they're made of stone... :-( So no spork hurling happening here.

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