Chapter 2
Within a twenty-minute ride, Maggie arrived at the airport. After giving the large space the once-over, she quickly found Wattley.
"Ah, Maggie, thank God you're here! He's impossible!" Wattley's raspy voice said. An emaciated, aging man with thinning white hair, he stood proudly in one of his many expensive suits. As she approached him, Maggie noticed a slight purplish bruise developing on his cheekbone, just below his eye.
Sands, no doubt.
"Where is he?" Maggie asked, looking around.
Wattley pointed to a rather bloody and unkempt Sands sitting on a bench, casually speaking to anyone who dared go near him.
"What happened to him?" Maggie asked, she had heard the story of his encounter with the Barillo cartel, but had never imagined it had been that serious.
"He was shot three times, once in the arm and twice in the legs, and, uh… they took his eyes." Wattley responded, lowering his gaze to the floor.
"But why is he so… disheveled?" Maggie pondered, noticing his still dirty clothing and still bloody face.
"He refuses medical attention." He heard Maggie snort evocatively, but went on. "Look, Maggie, I'm sorry for having called you away from your much needed vacation, but I... no one's been able to go near him. He simply lashes out at them. So I thought you might be able to talk some sense into him."
Maggie sighed; she hadn't seen Sands in over a year. At first she had hated him for leaving her, but now, seeing him like he was, all she wanted to do was hold him in her arms and tell him everything was going to be alright, the way he had done for her those many years ago.
She casually approached him, making sure her footsteps were inaudible, a trait she had learned from him, and made her way in front of him. She kneeled to eye-level and tried to peer through his sunglasses. She gently put a hand on his forearm, but he quickly jerked away. Sands raised his good arm to hit whoever dared disturb him, but it was grabbed before he could lower it.
"Didn't I tell you stupid fucks to leave me the hell alone?" Sands spat out, bringing his arm back to his side.
"Hey Shel…" Maggie whispered, forcing away the tears that threatened to come.
"Maggie?" Sands cocked his head. He was facing the floor and his ear was turned towards her.
Maggie sniffled and stood. She took his good arm and helped him stand up. He rested most of his weight on her, but made no attempt to walk.
"Where are we going?" Sands asked, weary of the fact that he was now depending on a woman who most likely wanted to kill him.
Maggie slipped her arm around his waist and steadied him. "Home."
R&R greatly appreciated, no flames please!
