Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

By

E. S. Young

Chapter Forty-Seven: The L Word

For all you Liam-haters out there, this is the chapter in which he finally gets what's coming to him. For all you Cat-haters…well, you've still got one more chapter to go, sorry. Ajedrez-haters – your loathing for the woman will only increase after this chapter. Lyn-lovers, however, should be very amused by the time this is over. ;)

"I've been meaning to ask you," Lynné began, sounding calm and collected despite the dire situation she was in. "How do you fit in to all of this, Fusco?"

Liam winced outwardly. If Lynné had reverted back to calling him by his last name alone, then he had truly crossed the line. As for her question . . . how could he answer that? It wasn't that he couldn't come up with an explanation. He had one already formed in his mind; one he had been rehearsing for weeks. The only problem was sitting in the chair to his right. Cat. If he was going to level with Lynné, then the other agent needed to go.

Catherine sat in her chair, arms and legs crossed, swinging her foot in agitation. Having grown bored with examining her fingernails, she had taken to glaring at Lynné with the utmost revulsion. The agent in turn ignored her and looked up at Liam expectantly. But when her former partner failed to answer, Cat decided to lend a hand and speak for him.

"I can answer that," she announced, her shrill voice bouncing off the cement walls of the square room.

"Good for you," Lynné responded casually, still keeping her eyes on Liam. "Unfortunately, no one cares at the moment."

Liam swallowed hard, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. Beside him, Cat narrowed her sharp eyes in annoyance.

"He was tired of you," she continued, brushing Lynné's comment aside. "Tired of you treating him like an idiot, insulting him, and constantly ordering him around –"

"Honey, he's lost when he doesn't have someone there to tell him what to do," Lynné sighed in exasperation. "And as far as insulting him goes…well, it's not really an insult when it's true."

By the door, Liam shifted nervously as he watched the quarrel of the two stepsiblings slowly progress into a fight. He cringed, knowing that, if he didn't interject, it would soon turn into an all-out brawl. And Cat, having not been strapped to a table, would have the upper hand.

"Why are you here, Cat?" Lynné inquired suddenly. "I wouldn't think someone of Édouard Poisson's power would have much use for you."

The disdain, the spite, every bit of insolence Lynné felt for her stepsister hung in that single, condescending word. You. Liam knew that by simply looking Catherine from the side that Lynné had hit something. A weak spot, perhaps. Again he found himself marveling at how skilled his partner was – how she could upset a person by uttering a single word. A useful gift, and also a deadly one.

He didn't know when Cat had made her move, but suddenly she was at the table, standing over Lynné with the sinister ice pick hovering threateningly over her head. Catherine's dark, beady eyes had been reduced to thin slits as her face contorted in unfathomable fury. Her lips pulled back in an unbearable sneer to show every bleached tooth, Cat snatched up a fistful of Lynné's hair, twisting it painfully in order to keep her stepsister's head in place. All the while, her bony fingers were still securely twisted around the ice pick.

"You want to know why I'm here?" she demanded vehemently. "Because of you. Because I have had to suffer your taunts –" she took in a shuddering breath "—and your achievements for twenty-four years. I've had to live in the shadow of my younger stepsister for twenty-four years. And I'm tired of it."

"Killing me won't make you feel better about yourself," Lynné whispered harshly.

"Oh, but it'll certainly help," Cat returned with sadistic joy. "I've got three years that can prove that."

"You thought I was dead…" Lyn murmured distantly.

"Yes," her stepsister hissed. "That day when they finally labeled you a lost cause was one of the most satisfying days of my life."

"Satisfying?" Lynné repeated, confused.

"Oh, yes," Cat replied offhandedly as she tapped Lynné's frontal lobes with the tip of the ice pick. "What? You didn't think Barillo found out about you all by himself, did you?" She gave a loud, snort of a laugh and continued quietly. "No. He had help."

Like a slap in the face, it all connected in Lynné's mind. Her face fell, wiped clean of all emotion.

"You…"

"Yes," her stepsister announced proudly. "Me."

Anger like never before building up inside her, dark eyes burning with fiery hatred, Lynné growled, "Was it your idea?"

She did not need to further elaborate the question. Cat knew exactly what she meant and she smiled impishly.

"Your leg? Of course. Why else would Barillo have wasted the time? He wanted to kill you, but I interjected. 'She'll die, anyway,' I told him. 'At least this way, she'll get to wallow in her own self-pity first.'" Her thin lips pulled into a smirk, Cat looked down at her. "Sure enough, for three years we all thought you were dead."

Swallowing the raging lump in her throat, Lynné forced herself to continue.

"And Sands? Was that your doing as well?"

A cruel smile still playing on her lips, Cat cocked her head inquisitively.

"Oh yes…" she breathed softly. "I was happy for about a year after your supposed death, but something wasn't quite right. I knew immediately what it was and decided to take care of it. So I formulated a plan. Sands and I were both stationed in Mexico – him as the operation's controller and me as a simple spook. A hunter-gatherer, if you will. So I hunted and I gathered, and soon I learned about this nice sum of money Armando Barillo was intending to award General Marquez with for a job well done.

"I knew, after twenty-four years of living with your brother, that he would find this information very interesting. So I informed him of it and, sure enough, he was intrigued." She shook her head, laughing quietly. "Bastard nearly pissed himself. But he kept calm, for the most part, pretending that he could care less about the money when in reality he planned on stealing it for himself –"

"He planned on stealing it," Lynné interrupted bitterly, "so he could get me out of Mexico without the CIA knowing about it. He was planning to take some of it for himself, I'm sure, but the main idea of the plan was to help me."

To Lynné's chagrin, Cat chose not to acknowledge her interjection and continued as if her stepsister had never spoken.

"Miss Barillo was very helpful – reluctant, but helpful. She agreed to lure Sands into our trap, get him to trust her, and then…at the right moment…let it hit him right in the face – quite literally, actually. Dr. Guevera was very skilled with that drill of his."

Lynné snorted. "Not really. He was rather sloppy, if I remember correctly. And I think I do, considering how many hours I spent cleaning out Sands' empty sockets… Besides, I don't think Guevera was all that skilled in the ways of surgery. After all, Sands got his eyes back, didn't he?"

"Was that idea yours too, Kitty?" she asked suddenly. "Removing Sands' eyes?"

To her surprise, Cat shook her head, the smile still in place.

"No. That was all Ajedrez's doing."

As if she had expected this, Lynné nodded, a faraway look in her eyes.

"I should've known… You're not that creative," she told Cat calmly.

Instantly, her stepsister's twisted amusement vanished, replaced by the familiar rage that usually marked her face. With a feral growl, Cat gripped the ice pick tightly in her hand and raised the tool above her head, prepared to plunge it deep into Lynné's eye socket.

"I don't care if she said to wait," she muttered furiously, her words coming out in short, brutal gasps. "I've waited too long alread –" She stopped, her sentence hanging in midair, never to be finished. A glassy film covered the manic glint that had once filled her eyes. Catherine staggered and then she fell, the ice pick still clutched tightly in her hand as her head connected with the floor and a sickening crack filled the tiny room.

Lynné craned her neck upward to see the cause of Cat's sudden feinting spell and saw Liam Fusco staring down at her stepsister's unconscious body, holding one of the metal folding chair in his hands.

Standing over the lifeless body of a young, Spanish beauty, his gun smoking, Sands felt no remorse. Noting new. He would have been concerned if he did regret killing the woman – Rosa Hernandez. He was certain that's who the corpse belonged to. Even in the darkness, he could make out her startling blue eyes. Eyes that neither he, nor anyone else would have the pleasure of seeing again. But that was one of the consequences of shooting a person in the face.

Pity, the voice sighed. Bet she would've been a good lay. Well, you still have Zebbidy.

What? Where are you getting this shit?

What do you expect me to think after the past week? You know…how you spent three…four nights in a bed…alone…except for Zebbidy?

Her? She's the reason for the alluring comments?

The voice tsked in disapproval. Speaking so lowly of her after she was so sweet and took care of you in your hour of need. You make it sound like she means nothing to you.

That's because she doesn't mean anything to me, Sands informed it dryly.

Are you sure? the voice prodded. Take a good, hard look at that statement, Sheldon, before you agree to it.

And then his head became quiet.

"Who was it?" asked Zebbidy, her reddish eyebrows peaked with interest and concern. He could make out the pallid, frightened face of Joséphine Poisson staring at him over Zebbidy's shoulder. The little girl was obviously shaken, but she was trying her best not to let it show.

What the hell are you getting at? Sands demanded. His tone was cool, but the warning that dwelled within his words was all too prominent. If this is an attempt to wheedle me into a confession –

No confession, the voice insisted airily. I'm only curious to know what you're feeling for her.

The usual: nothing. Sociopath, remember?

Callous, maybe, but not sociopathic. Remember, I can see what's in your head, so I know what you're feeling.

Then why won't you get off my back about it?

Because I want to hear you say it, the voice hissed softly. Tell me: What are you feeling for her? And don't say 'nothing' because I know she has a fraction of a meaning to you. So what is it? You're fond of you, aren't you?

No.

You care about her…

…no.

Trust? the voice ventured.

Yeah, especially after the last time, which worked out so well, Sands commented sarcastically. I think not.

I know you at lest like her, the voice continued to say.

I tolerate her, Sands replied sharply, and that's all you're getting.

"Sands?" Zebbidy asked again, and this time she began walking towards him.

"Hernandez," he answered shortly.

"Rosa Hernandez?" She gasped and a hand flew to her mouth when she saw the body and the mangled, bloody ruin that was once a beautiful face.

"Yeah," Sands murmured gruffly. With one last look at the oozing corpse, he turned on his heel and gestured for Zebbidy to follow.

"Au cachot?" Joséphine asked.

Sands gave a sharp nod and continued through the living room and out into the hallway. The kid was right, he admitted as he led his small party down the gloomy hall whose fearsome shadows would not have looked out of place in a horror movie. He was following Vincent's instructions and taking them downstairs where his sister would hopefully be. To the basement. To the dungeon, indeed.

Liam had wasted no time in loosening the straps that bound Lynné. Stepping back, he watched with agonizing anticipation as his partner sat up and rubbed her sore wrists. Liam winced when he saw that the handcuffs had bruised them and how the leather straps on the table had rubbed the bruises raw. He tried not to let his emotions show as a spear of guilt rammed itself into his heart.

"What are you doing here?" Lynné suddenly asked, sliding her small frame off of the frigid table, taking care of her missing leg.

Liam didn't answer but merely watched as his partner – even on one leg – stooped to retrieve the ice pick from Cat's still miraculously vice-like grip. In no time she had erected herself once again and was standing – rather, just managing to maintain her balance in front of Liam.

"So tell me, Fusco," she whispered, her voice taking on a sultry edge that he had heard often before. "Why are you here? Was Kitty right? Did I finally push you over the edge with my commands and insults?"

He shook his head vigorously, not because he was bending under her strong intimidation, but because he was forcing himself to be truthful with her from now on.

"What, then?" Lynné prodded, wobbling ever so slightly on her only leg.

"I-I did it for you," Liam stammered. "Really," he insisted seeing how unimpressed Lynné was. "Be-because there was no other way to get inside – and you knew that! You knew the operation was taking too long and that the Company was beginning to get annoyed." He swallowed the build up of mucus in his throat and hurried on, "So…so I – well, when I went to meet with Stephan Damiano that day, Catherine and Harrington were there and they were talking to Poisson."

Lynné arched a skeptical brow.

"And I knew that they were planning on doing business with Poisson and that they had sold you out, so I…I decided to join them – undercover," he added quickly.

"And you let them kidnap me," his partner stated flatly.

"It was the only way," Liam explained lamely. "I swear, Lynné, I didn't want any of this to happen to you. And I never knew Ajedrez was involved, either. Not until a few days ago, or else I would've told you right away what was going on, I swear to it." He looked into her wan, emotionless face – still beautiful despite the slight discoloration to her lips and eyes – and took one last stab at making amends. "Please, Lynné… please…You've got to believe me…"

She stared at him for a long moment, sizing him up with those dark, calculating eyes. What went through her head during those agonizing seconds, Liam could never fathom. All he knew was that the moment Lynné opened her mouth to speak, his fate was sealed. "How unfortunate for you," she said slowly, "because even if you are being truthful and really do feel sorry for your actions… no apology can make up for what you've done."

Quick as a flash, she lunged, digging the ice pick deep into Liam's shoulder and twisting it painfully. Overcome by shock and agony, Liam's instincts acted before his thoughts did, and he lashed out, gripping Lynné by her tiny shoulders. He could practically feel her flesh turning purple beneath his strong hands. In an instant, Lynné was on the floor with the wind knocked out of her. As she fell, the ice pick slipped from her hand and tumbled and rolled, clattering along the cement floor until it came to rest harmlessly in a corner.

From her place on the floor, Lynné looked up at him, shock and… approval? …written on her face. Through her gasps she let out a weak laugh and raised her index finger to shake at him.

"Now… I thought," she panted faintly, "that you weren't in…to this kinky…kinda stuff."

"Yeah, well," Liam muttered nervously, "I lied."

"Oh," Lynné sighed, nodding in realization. "Well…"

The next thing Liam knew, she had swung her only leg out and knocked him on his back. His ankles throbbed where Lynné had kicked them, but Liam didn't have time to concern himself with pain. Lynné had straddled him and pinned his wrists to the ground before he ever knew what had happened. Her eyes smoldering with unfulfilled lust, Lynné leaned down and breathed huskily into his ear:

"So did I."

And she kissed him, slamming her lips into his and showing no mercy.

Ajedrez poked her head around the corner only to pull it back again. The moment she had peered down the hallway, a bright sphere of light had momentarily caught her off guard as it came bobbing towards her.

Uttering a silent curse, she plastered herself flat against the wall behind her. She raised her gun and turned so her shoulder was pressed against the wall instead of her back. Tension radiating off of her finely curved body, Ajedrez whipped around the corner, gun positioned in her outstretched hand…

…and collided with her lover.

"Adrián!" she hissed angrily.

"Mi querida, we have no time," her fiancé said in a rush. "Your bastard of a boyfriend is here."

"I know he's here," she shot back furiously. "Where is he?"

"I heard gunshots," Adrián tried to warn.

"Where is he?" Ajedrez demanded, urgency and fury blazing in her brown eyes.

Adrián swallowed, knowing that his 'lover' was not to be trifled with at the moment. Not that he normally played games with her. "The just left the living room," he told her honestly.

"For where?" she snapped in annoyance.

His voice was hollow when he answered her. "The basement."

No time was wasted after he threw open the door. All it took was seeing his sister in the arm's of a traitor and his guns were out. Ignoring Zebbidy's terrified outcry, paying no mind to Lynné's startled expression, Sands cocked his pistols and aimed them directly at Liam's head.

"Drop her."

There was no sarcasm to his voice, none of the usual cool drawl. Only fury shone through his words, cold and deadly. The thirst for vengeance was fierce. He was wrung dry from anger and determination and was now relying only on adrenaline to get by, but the burning desire to kill was strong. It filled his mind, turning carefully calculated thoughts into rash decisions. The need for revenge had begun to uncoil, and it throbbed painfully with every second he wasted.

His mouth had turned to dust; his tongue was suddenly made of sandpaper that grated horribly against his jaw, shredding his gums. They threatened to bleed and he wondered that, when his mouth was finally ripped to pieces, if blood would quench his unbearable thirst. But not his blood. No, his blood would only worsen the craving. But Fusco's blood would satisfy it.

"I'd hate to have to repeat myself, Fusco," he warned.

The Liam he was familiar with would have released Lynné the moment Sands had burst into the room. The nervous agent (with his constant fear of performing the wrong act) would have skittered away from Lynné, spouting half-formed explanations and apologies all the while.

But, miraculously, Liam maintained his hold on Lynné, even going as far as tightening his grip on her shoulders. Confusion broke through the thick fog of fiery scorn that filled Sands' mind, momentarily throwing off his senses. But Sands, aided by the familiar feeling of a gun in his hand, quickly regained his balance.

"I think he knows," he heard Lynné mutter into Liam's ear, not bothering to be conspicuous. She looked over her partner's shoulder, her dark eyes shining with relief, exhaustion, and another unknown emotion. But Sands' attention was drawn to the shallow gash that ran just above his sister's left eyebrow. Instantly, he felt his anger returning.

"That your partner – " Sands spat the word out like sour milk "— is a flunky for the Poisson Mafia? Seems likely."

"Do you know who else is working for him?"

"Cat?" Zebbidy suddenly guessed, nodding to the unconscious woman in the corner.

"And?" Lynné quizzed, still gazing at her brother as she looped her arms casually around Liam's neck.

"Un Agent Harrington," Joséphine spoke up, her voice sounding small and frightened as it echoed throughout the room.

"Hi, Josey," Lynné acknowledged lightly. "That's a good answer, sweetie, but it's not the one I'm looking for." Her eyes went to Sands again and her brows arched. "Still don't know?"

"Haven't got a clue, Lynnie. And I suggest you stop with the horse shit because, in case you haven't noticed, we're kinda running on a tight schedule, here."

Normally, she would have agreed with her brother. In fact, Lynné was certain that, in any other time or place, she would have spilled her guts the moment had Sands entered the room. Of course, the drugs that were flowing through her veins at the moment could have had a lot to do with her uncharacteristic carelessness. Snickering softly, she buried her face in the crook of Liam's shoulder, quite unashamed that she was resting her entire body against him, literally placing herself in his hands.

Damn drugs…she sighed, unable to even will herself to hate how weak she had become.

"So," she stated, once again turning her sights to Sands, "you didn't figure it out?"

When his only answer was to narrow his eyes in impatience, Lynné smiled slightly and shook her head. Lifting her eyes to meet her brother's, she murmured tiredly, "Promise me you won't freak out, okay?" She didn't wait for a response. "You remember Ajedrez, right?" She laughed humorlessly. "Guess what? She's alive and kicking. Well," Lynné added as an afterthought, remembering the cartel heiress's prosthetic appendages. "She's alive, anyway."

Whee! Praise me for having this chapter up early! I'm in a good mood, not only because I actually managed to update two stories two days in a row, but also because I finally got my braces off! Y'know. Just so you guys know. u.u Also, while you all now know the reason for Liam's betrayal, you do not know the real reason. You see, waaay back in Chapter One, there was a little scene that went something like this:

Lyn: (after giving Sands a warning about keeping his mouth shut) …unless you'd like to have your ass blown off.

Sands: Nah. I'm not into that kinky sorta thing. Fusco might be, though. Ask him; see if he'd take you up on the offer.

Liam: (panicked) o.o; What?

Lyn: (thoughtfully) Somehow he doesn't seem like the type, and even if he is, I'm not, so he's out of luck. Sorry, Fusco.

And anyone keeping track of Lynné's dead journal will know that, whenever she took an online quiz that had to deal with sex, the answer always had something to do with masochism or kink. And thus, I came up with the scene involving Liam and Lynné both confessing their passion for pain. Thing was, I couldn't think of anything that would lead to it. Then the betrayal idea formed and went with it, cuz, y'know, it was a neat twist to the story. So, now you can all go back to adoring Liam, cuz he loves Lynné and she…well, she wants to mercilessly bludgeon him with a mace – but in a passionate and endearing way ;D

Also, funny story involving the title of this chapter. This year, for my school's vocal concert, I get to sing the song "L-O-V-E." Y'know, it's the one that goes "L is for the way you look at me. O is for the only one I see…" and so on and so forth. Thing is, the choir director(who is deeply and devoutly religious) discovered a bit of a problem while watching TV the other night and decided to tell me about it…

Director: I don't know if you've seen this new show – do you watch CBS?

Sidney: Not really.

Director: Well, anyway, there's this new show on. It's called The L Word, and it's about…well, there are these women and they're…, well, lesbians.

Sidney: (arches eyebrows) Okaaay…why are you telling me this?

Director: You see, on the commercial for the show they, well, they sing your song. You know, "L-O-V-E."

Sidney: Oh.

Director: (muttering half to himself) I just…I just think it's a terrible thing to do, ruining a perfectly good song like that. People will get the wrong idea about it. Those lesbians…it's just disgusting.

Sidney: X3 But…I'm a lesbian.

Director: O.O

Sidney: (confused) O.o? You mean I never told you that?

XD I'm not a lesbian. Seriously, I'm not, though I'm not bothered by people who are. I just couldn't resist saying that to him because – homosexual or not – that was really inconsiderate of him and I wanted to put him in his place. Plus I wanted to see the look on his face. XD! It was great, seriously. But, in short, that's what this chapter basically revolved around. Sands dealing with his feelings for Zeb, Lyn and Liam discovering something they have in common... underneath it all, you find the L word. Not lesbian, but LOVE. Get it? ;D

Author's Thanks and Review Responses:

zigzag: Congrats, dear! You guessed right! It was kinda obvious that I was watching From Hell when the lobotomy sequence hit me, but whatever. Performing a lobotomy actually did the exact opposite of what it was supposed to do. Those who underwent the surgery usually wound up in an insane asylum after it was all over. …if they didn't die from the operation, that is. o.o;

fanfiction fanatic: I definitely recommend seeing PotO. u.u It's excellent. Even if you're not a fan of musicals, you should still check it out.

Dawnie-7: Well, the last chapter had a lot of cliffhangers to it, so maybe that's why you missed me :) Still, I'm touched either way. And it's no problem if you don't read my PotO fic; sometimes it just isn't appealing. I figured that Ajedrez might call Cat something like 'gato' simply because she knew it would get on her nerves, and it worked ;) From Hell, yes, definitely. :D Hmm…don't recall thinking of Secret Window while writing that line, but I may have just done it unconsciously ;D

Lynx Ryder: That big bro line cracked me up, seriously XD The 'caramel face' description is just another example of how useful a thesaurus can be. I didn't wanna use the word 'tan' so I checked out dictionary .com and it gave me caramel in return. I love it! Even though I'm certain the drill was the last thing Sands saw, I think he saw Ajedrez right before that. And even if she was the last thing he saw, I doubt he'd be very happy about that. From Hell is the movie, yes, and I'm with you – I couldn't stand the lobotomy scenes even when they performed it on the bad guy! XO It's just not nice… Describing the ice pick made me think of the kind of instruments dentists use (which terrify me) so I was rather uncomfortable writing that scene, if that makes you feel any better. Cat becomes a dog! 8O! Sadly, that didn't even occur to me. And I'm pleased to hear Rosa got some sympathy out of someone – that's what I was aiming for, truly. She wasn't a nice person and I never intended her to be, but she didn't have the greatest life so in a way her behavior and attitude are understandable. It's just too bad she never met a guy who would sing "Roxanne" to her, or else maybe she would've changed her mind about prostitution :(

Sands: My ego is feeling much better, by the way. ;) Not that I was all that worried to begin with, but, y'know… Fusco's another story, however.

Liam: (cowers under desk for fear of baseball bats) O.O;;;;;;

LadySparrowJack: I think From Hell is the only movie of his that involves lobotomies. Even if there is another one, that's the movie I was thinking of ;) All this talk about castrating Liam is kinda making me wish I could've written that in just so you guys could get a kick out of it :D Aww, and thank you for wanting to send me a brownie, dear; hope your migraine doesn't plague you for long!

morph: Nah, I'd never let anyone do that to Lyn, especially Ajedrez. Good to hear I had you on the edge of your seat, though ;D I can see where you would think OuaTiM; when I was looking up info on how to perform a lobotomy and read about inserting the pick into the eye socket, I couldn't help but be reminded of Sands' litte…incident.

Sands: … "Little incident?" No, no. When you have a one-night stand with your secretary and your wife finds out that is, henceforth, referred to as an "incident." What happened in Mexico is something completely different. They gouged my fucking eyes out of my goddamn head while I was nearly entirely conscious. You do...see...the difference, don't you?

Sidney: 9.9 Anyway… calling Sands and Company 'the good guys' cracked me up. They're anything but good, well, save for Zeb and Josey. But when you look at who they're going against, what else are ya gonna call them? ;D

o