Authors: Thanks to my reviewers. I know this chapter is long in coming. :) Much thanks to my partner in crime, Scarlett for beta-ing. ;)
El was not in the room when they got back, which Cerise was glad of, because she would have shot him on sight. "Where's El fuckmook?" Sands asked as he dropped into the chair.
"Gone back to his room, I imagine. I bandaged him up and sent him on his way," she replied, opening the first aid kit. "After I argued with him..."
"About what?" Sands asked, letting her unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. "You. I didn't like what he had to say about you," she said softly, wiping the blood off his shoulder. Sands raised his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. She had it lose, and he pulled all the way to it's long ends gently. "What would I do with out you?" he wondered out loud.
"I don't think considering the question right now, is a good idea," she replied, pulling the bullet out as gently as she could.
She'd just finished bandaging his shoulder, when it happened. The door swung open and a shower of bullets flew. Cerise dragged Sands down behind the bed. Sands was already loading his gun, but before he could move another shower rained down on them.
"Who the fuck?!" Sands shouted.
"Sheldon, don't. They've got the kid!" Cerise grabbed his arm, before he could fire.
"So?!"
"Sheldon!" Sands sighed, knowing she was right. Charlie didn't deserve to die.
"Stand up, Agent Sands, or we'll shoot the boy," a male voice ordered. Sands leaned his head against the bed for a long moment, with a sigh of dejection. Finally he stood, dropping the gun on the bed. "You too, bitch."
"Watch it, asshole," Sands growled. Cerise stood beside him.
"Take them." Sands heard three or four men move into the room towards him. He was about to put up a fight, when the man spoke again. "And if you struggle, we'll shoot her instead."
Cerise gave a cry of pain as one of them grabbed her by the hair, throwing her towards the man, who was a tall, broad shouldered Mexican. He grabbed her arm, pulling her close. "Though, maybe not before I have a little fun."
Sands began struggling with the men who grabbed him, at those words, growling. Cerise spit in the man's face and he backhanded her. Sands tried to lunge at the sound of the man's hand cracking across her face and Cerise hitting the floor but the men yanked him back and he felt a sharp pain in his neck.
"Ah fuck, not again..." Sands muttered, already going limp. He was only semi conscious when they began dragging him out the door.
"Let me go!" he heard Cerise yell, and the men only laughing in response when she cried out.
They dragged them out of the room, out of the hotel and towards a group of cars. Cerise looked around wildly and blinked. They had El too, and he was unconscious. They stuffed his body in the backseat of an SUV and shoved Sands in beside him.
Yeah, that's gonna work well... she mused, but to her total dislike they shoved her into the floorboards of the same car. They hadn't bound her up like they had El and Sands, so she curled up at Sands' feet, watching the men around her.
Sarah had seen the whole thing. She stood there, glaring as the cars pulled away, before striding toward the black neon she and Sammy had rented. She heard Sammy coming out of the hotel. "Hurry up!" she shouted at him, getting behind the wheel. Sammy came running and as she waited she took out her 45 automatic and checked the clip.
"What was that?" Sammy asked.
"Our wild turkey," she answered. "Now we give chase." She hit the gas and they sped off, following the SUVs.
Sands came to slowly. He took a moment to try and clear his fogged mind. As the drugs started to wear off, and found that he was unable of moving his arms. He struggled and pain shot through his injured shoulder but his fingers felt canvas and he realized just what was restraining him. He began trying to tear at the straightjacket that was restraining him.
No! This is NOT fucking happening!
You better believe it, that little nasty voice entered his mind.
Leave me alone...
Oops, sorry, no can do. You're stuck with me.
FUCK YOU!
In which position?
Sands gave a cry of rage, and struggled against the straightjacket more. "Sands!" a voice snapped.
Sands stopped struggling. He knew that voice. "What the fuck?! Get me out of this fucking straightjacket, El!"
"I can't pick locks," El replied.
Sands sighed irritably, shoulders hitting the stone wall behind him. "God damn it, look, I have a set in my back pocket."
"You did..."
"What do you mean!?"
"They took everything," El replied calmly.
Sands cried out again in frustration, slamming himself repeatedly into the wall behind him.
El grabbed his shoulders.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" Sands hissed dangerously, but El didn't listen.
Why he was even caring enough to stop this madman from beating himself senseless was beyond him. He supposed that he just couldn't bring himself to watch the man cause himself harm. "Not until you stop," El replied.
"Fuck you," was the only reply El got. El kept a tight hold on the other man's shoulders, despite his squirming and struggling against the straightjacket.
Finally Sands stopped, the pain of the wound in his shoulder too much. "Where's Cerise?" he demanded.
"They took her somewhere..." El said, glancing a the door. "The man said, that she wasn't to be harmed..."
Sands growled. "I'll kill them all."
"Is that necessary?" El replied hotly.
"Tell me El, if it was YOUR wife, what would you do?!" El didn't reply. "Then get me out of this fucking thing!"
"With what, magic?" El asked.
Sands swore, continuing to fight against the straightjacket.
El let go of him and moved towards the small window looking out. When the men had showed up, he was talking to Charlie about his employment with Sands. Charlie told him that Sands was indeed blind. The men hadn't removed Sands' sunglasses, and El wasn't sure they'd have had any luck, removing them, even when Sands had been unconscious.
Sands rocked back and forth, the little nasty voice in his mind was winning over.
She's going to die, and you can't do anything to save her.
Fuck off!
So you WANT her to die...
Sands screamed again, falling against the wall. He just lay there for a long time, perfectly still.
El had turned from the window at his scream. He stared at the man for a long time, before moving over to the chair that was in the corner, near Sands. "Sands.."
"What fuckmook?" Sands hissed, already irritated by the sound of El's voice.
"You can't keep acting like this... especially if you want to save your daughter."
Sands head snapped up. "How did..." He groaned. "Cherry..."
"Doesn't matter," El said. Sands suddenly felt the need to strike out at El, but instead he stayed curled up in the corner. El sighed and said nothing else, content to try and work on a plan to get them out of there.
Some time had passed, and it was well after midnight before Sands moved again. "This is gonna hurt like a mother fucker," he muttered. El stopped watching the guards outside to see what Sands was talking about, and he watched Sands move slightly. Then there was a sickening pop and Sands cried out. Under the straightjacket, Sands' arm moved around and over his head to the front. El's eyes widened. The rogue agent had dislocated his shoulder.
Another sickening pop and Sands was moving his injured shoulder, moaning in pain and stomping his foot in the ground to keep from screaming too much. Two pops, one right after another, and his shoulders were located again, his arms in front of him, pulling off the jacket. He stood, tossing it into a corner. "How many guards stationed at the door?" Sands asked.
"One," El answered, peering curiously at Sands.
"And outside?"
"Three by the gate, one patrolling the grounds," El said. Sands leaned against the wall, breathing hard, a hand on his bleeding shoulder. "Listen, agent," El said, in an attempt to talk any sense into the man's head. "Someone out there want's us both dead, . I've been listening to them talking about our double execution at dawn."
"Well that gives us what? Three, four hours?" Sands asked.
"Five and a half." ," El corrected.
"You wanna live, Mariachi?" Sands hissed. El didn't answer. "Then you'll help me get out of here, and you'll help me get Cerise out of here, and then you'll help me save my daughter. Because if you don't..." Sands pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled into El. El grabbed his shoulders, but Sands' righted himself. He did not jerk back from El's touch. It put him close enough to El for his point to be as deadly as he wanted it. "Cause if you don't El, I swear to God, I'll spend the rest of my days, hunting you down." Sands tone was soft and very dangerous, and for a moment, El was truly afraid of the man.
Then he pulled his courage together. El had suddenly found a common ground with the American. No matter how crazy he was, Sands was willing to do whatever it took for the woman he loved and his child. El respected that. God only knew, El would have done the same for Carolina and his little mockingbird. So now El had made up his mind. If it got this psychopath to leave Mexico, he would help him. "Very well." El muttered.
"Good! When I tell you to, start calling for the guard."
"And what do I tell him?" El asked.
"Say I... keeled over or something!" Sands said hurriedly. El frowned but agreed.
Sands positioned himself on the other side of the door and motioned to El. El moved close enough to the door and began calling out in Spanish, telling them that Sands had beat himself to death against the wall.
"Not the choice way of going out, but it works..." Sands muttered. He heard the guard's response, telling El to deal with it. Then El's reply that he didn't want to share his cell with a dead man. A moment of silence, then a turn of the lock. Fuckmooks... Sands grinned and waited.
The door opened and one set of footsteps moved into the room. Sands lunged, grabbing the man's neck. The man attempted to fight back, but Sands kicked his leg into the man's knees, dropping him to the floor. Then he twisted the man's head until he heard a satisfying crack, and the man's lifeless body dropped to the ground. Sands followed, on his knees as he began searching the body.
He tossed El a couple clips and handed him the MP-40. Sands himself took every 9 and 45 off the man, which was four in total. He also took the man's shoulder holsters and placed two of the three 9mm inside them, slinging it on. He tucked the other 9 and the 45 in his belt. "Let's go, El."
"Where?"
"To find my fiancée!" Sands snapped.
"You are..." El searched for the right word. "Engaged to her?" He asked finally.
Sands stopped at the door with an exasperated sigh. He leaned on it with his good shoulder, head lowered as if he were staring at the floor. Then he raised it, turning his head in El's direction. "Are, were... doesn't matter. I proposed the day I found out she was carrying my child." El moved forward a bit, waiting. "But... fate's a fickle dame, and four months later, she was torn from my side and I believed she was dead."
"Do you love her?" El asked.
Sands gave a brazen grin. "With ever twisted sick little breath in my body."
"Will you marry her?" El asked, in a tone that threw Sands off.
"Fuck off," Sands replied. But El grabbed him by his injured shoulder, and Sands gasped in pain.
"Will you marry her?!" El growled again.
Sands turned his head in El's direction and answered. "If that's what she wants, then yeah," Sands said quietly.
El looked at him for a long while. Each word, each sentence out of Sands' mouth was a clue to El that this man was not the killer he'd known only less then a month ago. He was still a dangerous man, yes, El had just seen that. But he had a twisted sort of honor. El had to admit that whoever wanted Sands out of the picture, was mighty low to use bargaining chips like Cerise and her daughter. Because the idiot that was doing it, wouldn't know what hit him when Sands arrived on his door step.
Sands said nothing as they started into the hall, but he made it clear to El that he needed him to lead. El said not a word, and led Sands out of the hall into the garden.
Sands' gun fired, dropping the man who was patrolling. and the sound brought the other two guards running. El watched, almost amazed as Sands spun in a graceful movement and fired only two shots, the men dropped to the ground lifeless. "Now where did they take Cerise?" Sands asked El.
"To the main house, this way."
El ran along the side of the building in the shadows. Sands two steps behind him. They were crouched low, letting the shadows cover them. Then El stopped. They were next to an open window, leading intothe library. He put out a hand, stopping Sands, who seemed to understand the need for silence. They heard voices.
"You fucker!" Cerise snapped as she watched the man pace. "How the fuck could you do this!? Seven fucking years, you worked on our team, SEVEN FUCKING YEARS!"
"I have my reasons," a man said. Sands did not recognize... why didn't he recognize the voice?!
"Reason such as what?!" Cerise demanded. They could hear the man pacing around. El saw that Cerise was standing in the middle of the room, looking worse for wear, covered in bruises and a trace of dried blood on her lip.
"She does not look very good," El whispered.
"I'll shoot the mother fuckers," Sands hissed, but El grabbed his arm.
"Not yet." So they continued to listen.
"How long did you think I was going to put up with it, Cerise?" the male voice asked, .
"How long did you think I was going to be under him? The psychopath? Not long. And now, now it's time for my revenge."
"You killed Matenize!"
"Yes, that was fun, I'll admit it. Should have seen the look on his face when I got out of the car, locking the door." Sands struggled to remember who the source of the voice was, but whoever it was, he'd worked with, and they were CIA.
"You've gone as insane as..."Cerise cut herself off. Sands grip on the gun tightened, he'd expected her to say his name, even willing to forgive HER for saying it.
"No..." Cerise said, her voice softening. "Sheldon's never been this crazy and he never will be," she said defiantly. Sands grinned slightly. Until he heard the sound of a crack and then her body stumbling into furniture. El turned his head away, shaking it slightly. The man would pay for that, he knew that now. But he had to keep Sands from making the mistake of doing something rash, when it could cost him.
Sands heard the man walk across the floor, then crouch. He heard Cerise's stifled yelp of pain as the man grabbed her hair and jerked her head off the floor. "This is a sad night, Cerise. Do you know why?" Sands realized the voice had an accent he knew well enough. Southern. He should know, he grew up in Texas.
"Why?" Cerise demanded.
"Because I loved you," the man hissed, and Sands heard the rustle of material, the movement of a gun and his heart beat faster, he pushed against El, but El held him firm. If Sands lashed out, they'd be heard. So now, all Sands could do was listen, seething in his own self hate for ever doing this to her. The day she was made his partner, he should have told his superiors to go fuck themselves.
"I'm very sorry I have to do this Cherry."
"Don't you dare fucking call me that!" Cerise shouted before gasping in pain. "And I'm sorry Lily will have to lose her mother as well as her father, but I can't let you live, knowing you will never really be mine, no matter how much I try to force you. I enjoyed this afternoon, and I'm sorry I did have to rape you."
Sands was now tearing at El's arms. Still El held him firm. "And I will raise Lily as if she were my own, letting her know how much you loved her." The gun went off with a deafening sound. Sands scream was muffled harshly by El's hand, while the other dragged him back from the window with every ounce of strength.
"Let go of me, fucker!" Sands seethed, fighting.
"No, you can do no good for her now," El whispered.
"I SAID FUCKING LET ME GO!" Sands screamed, not giving a damn how many men it brought. He was going to fucking waste them all! El's grip tightened on Sands' arm, drawing a sharp hiss from the American as pressure was put on his wound.
"You CANNOT help her!"
Sands snapped right there. He began screaming a dozen course swears. El heard men running towards them. "Don't leave our own behind!" Sands began muttering, along with her name. El did the only thing he was capable of doing. He brought the butt of his gun down sharp on the back of Sands' head and lifted him over his shoulder when Sands went limp. Then he made a run for it.
Hands where holding him against the wall, as he watched the scene in the alleyway all over again. But some things were changed. Smal,l but so drastic changes. But still, the hands held him to the wall, making sure there was only one thing he could do; stare.
One of the changes was Monterio was holding an automatic rifle, not the 22. he'd used before. It wasn't Monterio's voice, but the voice from the man he hadn't been able to see. And then there was the other element of the dream that caused Sands' heart to stop. Cerise was standing in front of the wall, long dark red hair lose, and in a soft light blue sundress, nothing like the jeans and T-shirt she'd been wearing that day.
Sands heart wrenched. Instead of the slight swell of Cerise's belly that had told him she was carrying his child, clinging to her now, with her little arms wrapped around Cerise's neck, was his daughter and for the first time, Sands saw what she looked like. She had her mother's pale skin and heart shaped face, but his sable hair and deep brown eyes. Never had he seen a more beautiful child.
Monterio spoke, "Will you come with me now?"
"Never." Cerise took another step back, straight into the wall, a look of defiance on her face. She shook her head, making those crimson locks bob with the motion. Sands tried to struggle against the hands holding him, to yell out, but he was frozen, terror gripping his heart. Monterio sneered and raised his gun. A round of bullets sounded and Cerise cried out, dropping to the ground, blood seeping though the delicate material of the dress.
Sands finally broke free, rushing to Cerise's side, but Monterio turned and opened fire again. Sands dropped to the dust next to Cerise, his hand reaching out to her. His last recollection was watching Monterio stoop and pull Lily from Cerise's arms as the child screamed and cried. It was the only time so far he'd heard Lily screaming and crying and Sands wanted to make the man's death slow and painful for making his child cry like that. But Monterio walked away, carrying Lily from the alley and disappearing from Sands' life.
Sands bolted upright, his hands searching. He found he was lying on an old mattress, the room was cool. He could smell the scent of a cheap hotel room. Sands didn't blame El for bringing him here, the enemy wouldn't have followed. But then, Sands was filled with rage as he remembered what El had done. So when he heard the jingle of the Mariachi's pants, Sands waited until he was in close range. Sands shot off the bed, intent on wrapping his hands around El's throat and strangling him to death, if not breaking his neck.
But El had been ready. They both hit the floor, and El began fighting for the upper hand and Sands squirmed and threw his fists. But El realized where this anger was coming from. Pure and simple, it was grief and Sands was not thinking clearly. So El found it easy to overpower him and pinned Sands by his chest against the floor, arms behind his back.
"Stop it, Sands!" he growled.
"FUCK YOU! YOU LET THOSE FUCKING CUNTS DO THAT!" Sands screamed.
"They shot her... there was nothing we could have done..." El muttered.
"I do NOT leave my team behind!" Sands yelled. "I do not leave them behind..." Sands' voice softened, too tired and too sore to keep yelling. "I don't leave her behind... I'd die for her..."
El heard these words in the perfect silence of the room.
As Sands spoke, something else happened. There weren't many of them at first, but they were hot and heavy. And they fell hard on his cheeks rolling off to hit the floor. Sheldon Jeffrey Sands was crying.