A/N: I'm updating earlier than planned as a big thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I'm sorry the last chapter was short, hopefully this will make up for it.
I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend. It's grey, cloudy and cold here in London and it's been a bit of a difficult weekend for me so far so thank you to everyone who cheered me up with interesting/kind/long/lovely reviews! I can't believe I've got over 100 now, I'm so immensely flattered.
Enjoy!
Chapter 15: Denial
"I'm sorry baby..." Her voice was echoing inside his head again. Then came the same dawning comprehension as he realised what was about to happen to him. He screamed, sat bolt upright and then felt a stab of pain more intense than anything in his dream shoot right up through his body. It forced Sands to lie back down again, his breath escaping in a sharp hiss. For a few moments his lungs refused to inhale, they felt like they were being stabbed with knives. Sands desperately wanted to make sense of the darkness but he couldn't, he wanted to know what was happening to him.
"Senor Sands, don't worry." A familiar, relieved sounding voice spoke from close beside him. Sands struggled to identify the voice's owner but his mind was working very slowly. Sands felt the person grab his hand. The hand that now held his was very small.
"Nino?" he asked rather blurrily.
"Si senor, it's Nino," replied the young boy. He sounded close to tears. Sands could still feel the stabbing pain; it had not faded with his dream.
"What happened?" he asked hearing his words slur together.
"Senor El Mariachi, he saved you. You were trapped and it was on fire. Senor Mariachi said you had some of the car right through you senor!" The boy's English always suffered when he tried to say things too fast. Sands could not make sense of what he was saying. El Mariachi? The guitar guy? His head hurt but he forced himself to remember everything that had happened. The cartel, the car, he was driving, Evelyn was next to him, Evelyn was screaming, glass breaking, pain...lots of pain...Evelyn reaching over to him, the cartel...
"Where's Evelyn?" Sands asked making another attempt to sit up. Nino stood up and placed his hands on Sands' shoulders to restrain him.
"Try and rest senor," he said soothingly.
"Where's Evelyn?" Sands asked again more frantically. Nino looked at Sands nervously before answering.
"With the cartel senor."
El had left Nino in charge of Sands. They had taken him to hospital but Nino had insisted that Sands would be most displeased if he did not wake up at home. He didn't like hospitals, Nino had said. El had gone along with the boy; he seemed to know what he was doing. The hospital had given El some strong painkillers, but had not looked pleased to be discharging such a seriously injured patient especially as that patient was not even conscious. El had not been in much of a position to argue. He was suffering from excessive smoke inhalation but he was not too bothered, he just wanted to sleep. As he settled in the guest room he thought about what had happened and what he had done. It had been the Sands he had known but with a difference. Nino had told him what had happened on the Day of the Dead. El had had no idea, the American might have been a bastard but he felt sorry for him none the less. He was a gunfighter, a CIA agent, a man in control; he did not suit being blind.
Sands had the same dream again that night. The dream that he had only had once before when Evelyn had come running to him. It was not him strapped to the table being leered at by Ajedrez, it was Evelyn. It wasn't him screaming in agony, it wasn't his blood everywhere. He woke up in a semi-drug induced delirium. Nino could not calm him down so he shouted for El who had to call a doctor. Sands felt the prick as a needle slid into his neck and then he knew nothing.
"How much did they give him?" Nino asked looking over at Sands' with concern. He had been out for almost twenty four hours now and was showing no signs of coming to any time soon.
"A lot," was El's somewhat vague reply. He had retrieved his guitar case and now had his guitar resting on his lap. He played a few chords.
"Senor?" Nino asked timidly.
"Si," said El not looking up from his guitar.
"What will happen to senorita Evelyn?" El paused before answering; he had been thinking about that a lot too.
"I believe the cartel may already have killed her," he said. Nino's lip trembled and he turned away on the pretence of fussing over Sands who had just emitted a low groan. El took himself and his guitar outside, he could not stand the guilt anyway but seeing the kid crying was just making it worse.
Sands felt oddly numb. He was not quite sure whether he was asleep or awake until he heard Nino's voice talking softly in Spanish.
"Please be alright senor," he was saying, "Please be alright."
"What's your definition of alright?" Sands knew that just by speaking he would have put a bright smile on the boy's face.
"Senor Sands!" he cried happily, "Can I get you anything?" Sands lifted one hand and ran it over his abdomen; he could feel a bandage there.
"Get me the Mariachi."
El was watching the ex-CIA agent. He did not know whether he was asleep or not since he had not moved or spoken. As he stood there El recalled Nino's telling of the Day of the Dead. He had retold it with childlike innocence, if such a story can be told with any innocence at all. El found his gaze drawn to the dark glasses that had rested on Sands' face permanently. Part of him wanted to see what was behind them, but another part hoped that Sands never took them off.
"How long do you intend to stand there watching me?" Sands suddenly asked. His voice was a little distant but his irritation was plain to hear, it masked the man's great deal of pain.
"As long as I like," replied El coolly, "How are you feeling?" Sands scowled at him which was reply enough.
"Why did you come back?" Sands asked, "You had your revenge, you took my money, what more do you want?"
"It is a good job I did come back," said El as he sat down, "Or you would be no more."
"And what a terrific loss to the world that would be," Sands snapped back painfully, "Are you going to answer my question or not?" His face was pinched with pain and his words were sharpened by it.
"Si," said El wearily, he had forgotten what it was like to deal with Sands, "Si, I'll answer your question. I came back because I heard the cartel had regrouped."
"And you wanted to win the country's heart by resuming your role as the gun toting hero, is that it?" asked Sands grimacing at the effort of having the conversation.
"No," said El who chose to view Sands' barbed comments as an encouraging sign that he would be ok, "I've been picking off the remaining members so I could save people from the pain I have suffered at the hands of people like them."
"How touching," said Sands sarcastically.
"Considering that I saved your life I think you should think about being a little more grateful," said El with a smile, he knew how much that would rile Sands but the ex-Agent did not rise to the bait. Instead he smiled, a chillingly creepy smile that made El want to shiver.
"Come over here," Sands said softly. Though it was spoken quietly it was a command and El found he was walking at once. He stopped by Sands and leaned close to him. That was what Sands had been waiting for. Suddenly El found that Sands had him held tightly by the shirt front and there was a gun pressed against his temple.
"Now that I've got your attention," said Sands all softness gone from his voice leaving it harsh and cold, "I want you to be absolutely clear on the fact that I owe you nothing, savvy? Not only did you save my life without my permission but more importantly than that you let the woman I love be taken by the cartel right from under your stupid Mexican nose and I am telling you now that if you do not get her back to me I will remove one of your eyeballs, insert this gun into the hole and skull fuck you to death." Sands let El go, fell back onto the bed feeling horribly dizzy and let the gun fall harmlessly to the floor.
El straightened up and surveyed the man before him with new interest. There had been a few elements in that little routine that had surprised El greatly. Firstly, Sands, Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, formerly of the Central Intelligence Agency, known for his lack of remorse, guilt or morals had just confessed aloud that he was in love with a woman. That seemed rather out of character, but, El reminded himself, the man had been through a hell of a lot since last November and a changed personality was perhaps to be expected. But loving someone so soon after Ajedrez's betrayal? So soon after Ajedrez had watched while they...El swallowed, he'd really rather not think about that right now. Secondly, threatening to remove one of his eyes had been an odd threat considering Sands' current condition; perhaps as he had experienced it first hand he knew it to be an adequate punishment. Again, El decided he would rather not dwell on that. Thirdly, Sands had released him and then promptly dropped his gun which was most unlike him, he knew better than that. It couldn't have been intentional which meant...El found Nino.
"Senor Sands is unconscious."
El sat with his guitar on his lap again. Nino was with Sands who had not woken. The kid was devoted to Sands like a son. This made El's thought drift to his own daughter. The pain of her memory travelled down his fingers and came out through the notes of his guitar so that the tune sang of sadness and a grief so consuming that everything else seemed utterly meaningless. Nino heard the tune drifting through the open window and felt a lump rise in his throat. Tears fell, running down his face silently. They were for Evelyn who he had grown to love in the time she had been a part of their lives, for the way she had been taken from them so cruelly and for all the bad things that happened to them all. El's fingers worked over the strings without conscious thought so his mind was free to think of other things. He thought of Sands and the woman he had seen being taken from the cartel. She would be dead now, he was certain of it. She was no use to them any other way as they clearly believed Sands to be dead too. El could tell Sands was not going to cope with Evelyn's death well, perhaps he would not cope with it at all. Had he coped with Carolina's death well? Not a day went past when he did not feel the pain of his wife's death like a knife twisting in his heart. The tune he was playing reached such a grief filled pitch that it was painful to listen to. El silenced the instrument and closed his eyes. There was nothing more terrible than losing someone you loved.
Sands was dreaming, and for the first time since the Day of the Dead he was not dreaming of the Barillo cartel's torture. It was also the first time he had dreamt without any visual image. Instead of seeing he could hear everything. He was in a room with a handful of people. There was a woman in pain, Evelyn. A frightened Evelyn, all alone with nothing and no one to protect her. He heard footsteps, heavy and masculine and his mouth went very dry. He heard Evelyn crying softly as the man approached her. Then there was a loud bang of a gunshot and the crying stopped. Sands woke and sat up, a movement he immediately regretted as a ripple of pain made him want to pass out again but he did not lie back down. He struggled to remember where he was and then realised he was in his own room, his own house. El must have got him back here somehow but he did not care, he did not feel the slightest bit grateful. He listened for a moment but heard nothing, Nino and the Mariachi must be somewhere else. He hated not knowing what time it was, he didn't even know if it was day or night. He swung his legs over the side of the bed with difficulty. His body protested but he ignored it. He stood up and almost collapsed on the floor but he was determined to stay standing so he did. He moved forwards his teeth set together. The pain was removing his ability to negotiate his way around the room so he was forced to stretch out a hand to find the doorway and he hated himself for it. When he found it he clung to the doorway for a moment before continuing.
El was sitting on a chair on the porch his guitar still on his lap. The night was cool and pleasant. The air so still that the tune he was playing carried for quite a distance into the darkness. Sands heard the guitar and followed its sound. El was so wrapped up in the music and his own memories that he failed to hear Sands approach. He realised he was there only when the other man was almost at his elbow. He gave a startled jump and the music stopped abruptly. Sands had a cutting remark on the tip of his tongue but the pain gripping him did not allow him to say it. He collapsed onto a chair opposite the Mariachi and his breath escaped him in a low hiss. El saw how he gripped the chair tightly and saw him swallowing down each wave of pain.
"You shouldn't be up," he said returning to his guitar.
"Fuck you," snarled Sands in a breathless tense voice. El imagined there was a lot more he wanted to say but couldn't. El's fingers played over the guitar for a while.
"You lost your nerve?" Sands asked abruptly.
"Pardon senor?" enquired El, his politeness infuriating Sands further. He winced as he moved to sit straight.
"I said," he spat, "Have-you-lost-your-nerve?" Each word was clearly defined and said with deliberate slowness.
"No," said El simply and he continued to play. Sands hit the table hard making the Mariachi look up.
"Why aren't you looking for her then?" he asked. El clapped his hand over the strings to silence them. Sands was talking about Evelyn which meant he was still in denial, this could not go on.
"She is dead Sands," said El bluntly.
"Did you see her body?" Sands asked calmly. The hand on the table top was clenched tight.
"No," replied El honestly.
"Then how the FUCK DO YOU KNOW SHE'S DEAD?!" roared Sands his voice filling the night air like a clap of thunder. El was silent, that outburst had cost Sands dearly. He sat back against the chair breathing sharply, one arm tight around his middle like a second bandage.
"Sands..." El began carefully.
"Shut up," said Sands weakly.
"Sands..."
"Shut up."
"Sands, I..."
"You deaf?" El gave up. He stood up and walked into the house, his guitar trailing by his side.