Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
By
E. S. Young
Epilogue: Positive Friction
The final installment has arrived. The beast can at last be slain. Seriously, this thing is ridiculously long. I'm definitely going back and combining several chapters once all is said and done. For a while I will be busy working on my Phantom of the Opera story, as well as an Invader Zim parody that is based on the new PotO movie (shameless self-advertisement: It's posted here! Go read! And read Marketing Strategies of Present Day America if you haven't already!). Once again I am debating writing a third Mexico fic. Like I said, if I do, it will most likely be a series of one-shots rather than an actual story, but I do hope that it will suffice. 'Til then, please enjoy the conclusion of Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.
"I'm sorry…"
There was no response, which left her feeling oddly relieved. Had Sands been awake to hear her, she would have most certainly found a pair of hands wrapped around her neck before her lips curved to form the beginning of an explanation. Not a single doubt lingered in Zebbidy's mind that Sands would kill her. It was a false hope that he would ever hear her out. No, the agent was intent on killing her and Zebbidy knew that he would get exactly what he wanted no matter how badly injured or heavily sedated he was. Best to be done with her pitiful attempt at making amends now while the agent was still adrift on a sea of knock-out drugs and strong painkillers.
Good plan. Get in, get out. Never let him know you were here.
The thought both sickened and appealed to her.
He looked so peaceful, she could help but notice, for a man who nearly relived what was quite possibly the most horrific moment of his life. Bullets had torn through the air, thrice plunging deep into Sands' flesh and staining the ground with waves of blood. The agent had been blinded a second time, but had miraculously recovered his sight with her guidance. Zebbidy wondered if Sands remembered that he was in debt to her. After all, hadn't he said, rather, thought that he owed her?
He didn't kill me when he found out I was a Poisson. He has no debt to repay, now.
She nodded to herself, absentmindedly fingering the edge of the light blue bedspread. Beside her, an IV slowly drained as its liquid contents entered Sands' body. Zebbidy frowned at the needle that rested in the crook of the agent's elbow, but made no move to extract it. She may not have approved of using needles in medical practice, but she knew that there were more efficient than her herbal remedies. Still, she couldn't help the slight disapproval she was feeling toward the IV. Sands would have ripped the device out of his arm had he been awake.
Then he'll finish me off, which means I should just go –
"Shit. Didn't think I'd see you again."
Zebbidy turned in her seat so quickly she heard her bones crack. She winced, knowing that she would be paying for the hasty action tomorrow when her neck and back pained her, but hearing the voice of Lynné Sands would send any sensible person into panic. Despite the slight build and casual stance as she leaned against the doorframe, Zebbidy was well aware that Lynné was prepped to spring into action before a moment's notice. So she watched Lynné warily as the woman idly bit at a hangnail.
"How's Joséphine?" Zebbidy ventured cautiously.
The agent raised an eyebrow, a guillotine's blade climbing upwards before it's final, mortal fall.
"I would think that her cousin of all people wouldn't need to ask that."
Zebbidy's body ignored her mind's pleas not to cringe. Lynné smirked.
"Then again," she continued lazily, "my father doesn't know how old I am, so I can't blame you entirely. To answer your question, the kid's fine. Don't think she likes Virginia as much as Paris, but that isn't really my problem."
"You're her legal guardian, it's very much your problem," Zebbidy reminded her, treading dangerous waters.
Lynné raised a finger and shook it in correction. "No, no, no. That's where you're wrong, my little scissorlegs. Technically, you and M. Vincent Poisson are her guardians. But, after Vince informed me that he couldn't take her and we assumed that you wouldn't want her and we figured that an orphanage wouldn't be able to handle her…" She spread her arms out as if to say 'C'est la vie,' and shrugged. "So she's with me."
"What's the CIA think of that?"
The agent shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. Zebbidy decided not to test her luck and changed the subject.
"I'm…sorry," she blurted. "About Catherine, I mean. Your stepsister."
Lynné snorted. "Yeah."
"You're not?" Zebbidy had to admit she was not completely surprised at the other woman's lack of compassion.
"Does it look like I am? Because if it does, then I need to contact my shrink immediately."
After shaking her head, Zebbidy turned back to Sands. If he had moved during any part of her conversation, then Zebbidy couldn't tell.
"Feeling guilty?" Lynné inquired from the doorway.
"Yes…"
"See, this is why I'm the cold, unfeeling person that I am," she went on to explain. "When I lie and wind up hurting someone in the process…I don't care. Remorse has no effect on me."
"That's why you're such a good agent," Zebbidy murmured distantly.
"Why else would the CIA keep me around? Same thing goes for him," she said, nodding to her unconscious brother. "So I guess I don't have to ask why you're here."
"I wouldn't think so, no," Zebbidy replied dully, still gazing at Sands. Suddenly, she looked up. "Did you want me to leave?"
"Oh, no, by all means…" Lynné waved her off. "Someonehas to sit here and make sure he doesn't attack any of the nurses."
"What about you –"
"I have to make sure Liam doesn't have a slip of the tongue when we tell my family that dear Catherine is no more."
"You aren't worried abo –"
"To some extent, yes," Lynné admitted. "But am I losing sleep over him? Nah. Trust me when I say he's been in worse conditions than this."
Zebbidy stared at her, stunned. Lynné glanced at her nails again.
"So you're gonna stay?"
"Yeah…" Zebbidy muttered, dazed from her reverie. "Yes. I'll stay with him."
It was not until much later when Zebbidy realized the finality of her words.
"Oh…shit…"
"Oh, shit."
Weakly, Sands pried his eyes open, only to find himself staring up at nothing but a vast ocean of emptiness. He blinked. Or did he? The darkness was so consuming he was having difficulties distinguishing fantasy from reality.
"Oh…you're up," Zebbidy's voice sighed, sounding weary but relieved.
"Where the fuck am I?" the agent demanded.
"Langley, Virginia, US of A," she replied, ignoring the harshness of his tone. "You've been out for a while now. It's November fifth."
"What happened to France?" he asked dimly.
"It's still there," Zebbidy answered through a yawn. "The Poisson Mafia's crumbled. Everyone of importance is dead, save for Vincent, who is now part of the witness protection program, according to your sister, who, by the way, has adopted Joséphine. Am I going too fast?" she asked when Sands massaged his forehead, his face pinched with pain. The agent growled a "No" and Zebbidy continued. "Lynné, Joséphine, and Liam are visiting your parents, I believe."
Sands raised an eyebrow.
"They went to tell them that your stepsister Catherine died," she explained delicately.
"Oh." Sands sat back looking mildly surprised upon hearing this news. "How'd that happen?"
Zebbidy took a steadying breath. "From what the CIA has been able to determine, she appears to have killed her partner Richard Harrington and then in turn killed herself. But a few loose ends are making them wonder. While all evidence points to suicide, the manner in which she died is…unusual."
"Care to enlighten me?"
"It seems as though she used a heated fire poker on herself. They found it plunged into her right eye and pushed straight through her skull. The fact that it was pushed through her head leaves the CIA wondering if it was indeed a suicide."
"Cat's too full of herself to commit suicide," Sands said tiredly, closing his eyes.
"That's what Lynné said," Zebbidy told him.
"How'd the Company talk her into flying out to Colorado?" the agent wondered, perturbed.
"I think she volunteered, actually."
"No kidding," Sands stated flatly.
"Something about introducing your father to Joséphine and giving him a heart attack," Zebbidy explained further, her eyebrows peaked with curiosity.
"Ah. Now it all makes sense."
"What do you two have against your father?" Zebbidy questioned suddenly. "I've only ever heard you speak ill of him."
"I'd rather not go in to that if it's all the same to you, cheese-tits," Sands retorted and Zebbidy knew not to push him further.
"What're you doing here?" he inquired dully, gazing up at the ceiling.
"Lynné suggested I stay." She shrugged. "I don't think she cared for the idea of you waking up alone."
"Figures," Sands muttered darkly.
"She only worries about you, even if she doesn't say it aloud," Zebbidy said gently.
Sands rolled his eyes. "Okay." Although he knew she was right. "So she and Fusco are really –"
"Apparently, yes," Zebbidy. "And in all honesty I think it's perfectly safe."
"Aside from the whips, nipple clips, candle wax, etceteras…" Sands smirked. Zebbidy wasn't amused.
"That doesn't mean she can't take care of herself," she insisted rather hotly.
"Yeah, that's why her own partner screwed her over," Sands dryly reminded her.
"He was trying to help –"
"—and nearly killed us all in the process. Y'know…there's a reason Lyn was paired up with Fusco. The Company thought she'd be easier to bump off if they stuck her with an incompetent rookie." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Took while, but in the end they almost got their wish."
"It's almost unbelievable," Zebbidy murmured, shaking her head. "I find it hard to fathom the CIA just…getting rid of one of their people like that."
"That's why you wouldn't make a good agent," Sands informed her.
"This room's probably bugged," she remarked suddenly, though her tone contained only the smallest hint of excitement. Sands didn't even bother to lift an eyelid. Instead he shrugged gingerly, taking care not to jar his injuries, and muttered, "If that's true, then nothing we've said is news to them."
Zebbidy said nothing, choosing to stare at her hands as if they denoted the meaning of life.
"I've been debating," she intoned at last, "whether you would want to know what happened to her. Ajedrez."
There was no movement from the man in the bed. His eyes did not open. His heart rate barely changed. Not a single tremor rippled through his lithe body to indicate that the name had an effect. Only the way he spoke through clenched teeth told Zebbidy that she overstepped her boundaries.
"She's dead."
"Yes," she assured him, her voice reduced to a mere susurration.
"We know that she's dead."
"Yes."
"I killed her."
Zebbidy swallowed. "You did."
"And you're sure of this?"
"Absolutely."
Sands was quiet for a moment, momentarily distracted as he tried to remember what had happened on – he stilled, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.
"What's today?" he demanded suddenly.
"The fifth."
"So I've been out for…?"
"Three days," Zebbidy supplied obediently.
To her surprise, Sands raised a hand to his head and laughed hollowly.
"Figures…" he rasped through his painful snickering. "Bet she was pissed I didn't wish her a happy anniversary."
"What?" Zebbidy asked, lost.
"November second was…very special to Señorita Barillo and I," he explained, still not quite over coming his saturnine mirth.
"Oh," Zebbidy breathed, unsure of what else to say.
"You…stood between us, didn't you?" Sands turned to her, silently demanding an answer.
Zebbidy cleared her throat. "Yes, I did."
She waited for him to question her further, but he did not. He merely nodded distantly, more to himself than to Zebbidy, and said nothing more for the rest of the night.
Zebbidy was breathing deeply when Sands returned from his reverie. After many hours of watching his dull progress, she had finally fallen asleep over the bed with one arm was folded beneath her acting as a pillow, while the other lay stretched out beside her.
Reaching out to you.
Don't start.
I'm merely pointing out the facts, Sheldon. Granted, she kept information from you, but how was it any different from what you do all the time?
What are you getting at? Sands questioned suspiciously.
You didn't feel it necessary to tell her about your family; she felt the same way.
My history is a little less important than hers, if you didn't notice.
The voice sighed. Fine. She lied to you and in the same manner as Ajedrez. But that's what women do, asshole. Do you think you'd like Lynné half as much if she didn't feed you bullshit every now and then?
Besides, it continued, if ol' Zeb had truly betrayed you, don't you think you'd be dead by now?
So what are you saying?
What do you think I'm saying, dumbass? Zeb's one of those caring types who wouldn't dream of hurting someone as pathetic as yourself. She's probably an environmentalist, too, it added as an afterthought. And I wouldn't be shocked to find a PETA bumper sticker on her car.
She's compassionate. Fine. Yet another reason why she wouldn't make it in the CIA.
Doesn't mean she couldn't make it with a CIA agent, if you catch my meaning.
Sands rolled his eyes, deciding not to answer as he glanced at Zebbidy's dozing form.
It was not as if they were disgustingly mushy and lovey-dovey like the couples seen in movies and television, and they didn't grope like teenagers or hump like rabbits. And they certainly didn't have heart-to-hearts about their feelings. The closest they ever got to that was when he filled her in on the Day of the Dead.
He sighed.
Fuck. She cares. I know she cares. It's obvious to me , but to other people – those who aren't clairvoyant, that is – it isn't. And I like it that way.
The question is, do you care about her?
Yes, or else she would've been dead by now, dumbass, he snapped, irritated.
So is this one of these situations where you would do anything for her, or one where you'll just freak out if you catch her banging somebody else?
Depends, Sands replied casually, wishing he had a smoke. Does she even want a relationship? You're ruling that out.
Personally, it seems like she wants a big, strong, manly-man to save her. Now, she'll have to settle for you, but I think she's desperate enough to take anything.
Cute, Sands muttered dryly, scowling.
He bit his lip, eyeing the sleeping woman beside him. It was in his nature not to trust people, but even he couldn't help but feel that it would be foolish to discard Zebbidy because of his own issues. Lynné trusted Zebbidy enough to leave her alone with him while he was unconscious and weak from blood loss. And Lyn was as paranoid as he was if not more so.
Still, allowing Zebbidy to stay would mean giving up his own freedoms. He would not be able to have sex with anyone he wanted again. He wouldn't be able to pick up any more hookers. Zeb sure as hell wouldn't let him keep his porno mags. His subscription to Penthouse would be one of the first things to go. And it would make sense for a humanitarian like Zebbidy to want him to cut down on killing. Just a bit. Maybe. Killing people was, after all, part of the job. But still, no more sprees.
You have to think, Sheldon, the voice insisted. This isn't one of those times when you make a decision right away. You've had a lot of women and so far only one of them has meant anything to you. And she nearly killed you. So you have to take this into deep consideration. Are you willing to stay with this woman? Are you willing to make sacrifices for her? Defend her?
Sands fought past the gossamer haze of the morphine the doctors had send flowing through his veins. For some reason he felt the need to rouse Zebbidy from her dreams. He had the odd sensation of vomiting up his thoughts, but he was able to swallow his verbal bile before it made a disgusting mess. He rubbed his eyes and groaned, the sound muffled by his pillow. He returned his gaze to Zebbidy, still resigned to sleep and unaware of the war raging within his mind. Looking at her only angered Sands further. His head was beginning to pound. Was he willing to make compromises for one woman? Was he willing to do that for her?
With a sigh Sands let his eyes slide shut and he made his decision.
Hell, yeah.
La Fin
It's over. At long last, it's over. It's been over a year since I first began this story, actually, and I still have to go back and make corrections and, as I said earlier, combine chapters. Once again, I may write a third story, but I am not entirely certain. If I do, I hope that you will all follow it as well as you did these last two. My appreciation for your praise and, more importantly, your critiques is unfathomable. I cannot begin to thank you enough, but I shall try.Author's Thanks and Review Responses
Dawnie-7: David caught you off guard, huh? That's good. I always aim to surprise the readers. :) Just for curiosity's sake, though, who did you think it was if not David? Cat needed to have a nasty death. u.u There's just no questioning that. I'm shocked that so many thought I had killed off Sands:O I'd never do that! Even if I wanted to, he wouldn't let me. ;) And I'm glad somebody else likes the new crazy Tom Cruise, too.
morph: "Brilliant and gruesome." Thank you! That's what I was going for! I knew I was going to kill her off and I knew that Lynné would be the one to do it, however, I wanted Cat's death to be…well…nasty. Really bloody, really disgusting…that way no one, not even I could go "OMG! Plot twist!" and resurrect her like I did Ajedrez. Just…no. I don't like Cat and she needed to die. Thing was, I originally wanted her to get her head cut off. O.o This proved difficult to do, however, given the situation they were in. So, in the end, she got a head full of fire poker. It was gross, but I'm glad you liked it.
fanfiction fanatic: I couldn't let Sands die after, as you said, he's been through so much. It's like I said to my friend the Gilatas Monster, ya can't keep a good dog down, even if that good dog is really, really bad. :P And I'm glad you understand why I might not write a sequel. It is very assuring.
Lynx Ryder: Josey has been through a lot. I never took it into much consideration, but, yes, she certainly has. I'm surprised that the nasty chain of events she's had to endure hasn't traumatized her, the poor kid. I don't think Ajedrez just realized that depression can lead to suicide, just that that's what could happen to her and she hadn't realized that until now I apologize for Cat's death being so…icky. I'm not partial to gruesome deaths, but as I said to Morph, Cat needed to go and she couldn't come back. Everyone was caught off guard when Ajedrez shot Sands! (is pleased) That's exactly how I planned it, so hearing that I managed to shock some made my day. :D
Elven-Roarior Jeavryn: New reviewer! Hi:D No, no…I couldn't kill Sands. He may be a sociopathic, perverted creep sometimes (okay, most of the time) but that would just be mean after all he's had to endure at my hand alone. And of course he killed Ajedrez. It could not be any other way. u.u
And now, dear readers, I'm afraid I must bid you farewell. But not before I post the lyrics to the title song and not before I shamelessly ask for assistance. As much as I hate to sound like a mooch, I'm at my wit' s end, here, so…has anyone ever read Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostevsky or Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter? If so, please e-mail me or leave a note in your review, and I will explain the situation further. Until then, song lyrics!
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
Written by Jerome Kern (music) and Otto Harbach (lyrics) for the musical Roberta in 1933
They, asked me how I knew,
My true love was true,
I of course replied, something here inside,
Can not be denied.
They, said some day you'll find,
All who love are blind,
When you heart's on fire, you must realize,
Smoke gets in your eyes.
So I chaffed them, and I gaily laughed,
To think they would doubt our love,
And yet today, my love has gone away,
I am without my love.
Now laughing friends deride,
Tears I cannot hide,
So I smile and say, when a lovely flame dies,
Smoke gets in your eyes.
Wishing you peace, love, and much luck in the future. Until next time, as they say in the city of love… au revoir,
- ESY