Darkness Rising

A Once Upon a Time in Mexico story by Merrie

Disclaimer: I own everyone but Sands. How about you just give him to me so I can say I own everyone? No? Damn. Well, it was worth a try anyway.  

Author's Note: This is it folks. The second part of the climatic chapter. It's been a long road getting here, and I'm certain it'll be a long way home.

Sooo sorry for not having this up sooner! I've been without a computer for weeks now and have just finally gotten it to working condition again. Sorry for the wait!

Rating: R for extreme violence and naughty words.

Chapter Fifteen: As the World Falls Down, Part II

Jeffrey was fucked. He crouched with his back up against the ticket counter, gun in his slightly trembling hand, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't see any way out of this that didn't end up with him going down with a fucking bullet between the eyes. He damned Sands again for getting him into this but if the other man heard the curses, he gave no sign. He didn't do much of anything, really. Jeffrey knew he was still there, and yet, he wasn't. Sands seemed to have buried himself away within his own mind, leaving Jeffrey in charge to deal with the huge fucking mess he'd left him in. It wasn't fucking fair. Jeffrey had been careful. He hadn't wanted this to fucking happen. He liked his life, his freedom. He didn't want that taken away from him.

"Throw your gun down and come out with your hands up you psychotic bastard," Roland yelled, earning an eye roll from Jeffrey at his reinvention of the usual police order.

What if he didn't feel like it? What if he'd rather just stay right where he was? He reached a hand in his pocket and checked the bullets in it. Fuck. Only enough to refill the clip one more goddamned time. If you're going to fucking do something, Jeffrey, it needs to be done now. You can't stay here forever. The problem was that he didn't know what to do. He was put between a rock and a hard place and he couldn't see a way out. While he might be relatively safe from the cops for now, an assault team could be moving in on his position at this very second and he wouldn't know it until they were already on top of him. He switched the gun to his right hand and wiped off his left on his red pant leg, smirking as he did so. He was still wearing the two-toned suit from the party last night. The jacket and bowtie were long gone, but the pants and red silk shirt remained. I still hate the fucking suit, but at least I'll be going out in fucking style. He thought to himself, brushing off some dirt from his legs before freezing. If his mind had already accepted the fact that he wasn't going to make it out of this fucking situation alive, then why bother waiting?

"Did you hear what I fucking said, you twisted asshole?" Roland's voice shouted through the blow horn again, although he seemed to have been cut off after the last word by someone else.

"Hey, Rivers! Are Emily and Susannah there with you? Wouldn't want them to fucking feel left out now, would we?" Jeffrey called out, not moving from his position.

"Give yourself up, please Jeffrey. No one else has to die. Just give yourself up and we'll see that you get the help you need. You don't have to ever hurt anyone else."

"That's not exactly what I fucking had in mind…Susannah, but thanks anyway," Jeffrey answered.

What exactly do I have in mind? Come on, Jeffrey. You're smart. You can fucking figure a way out of this mess. Why the fuck did you let the hostage go? "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he muttered in answer to his thoughts. "Sands? Are you still fucking there? I know you're listening. Why don't you fucking say something?"

Sands didn't reply.

"Well, that's just fucking great. Fine. Be that way. Don't say a word ever again. It'll save me a lot of fucking trouble if you didn't. Not that that matters now…" he muttered to himself, envisioning the battalion of cops that had him surrounded. Don't forget about the SWAT teams, Jeffrey. They'll be brought in to take you out sooner or later. Hell, they might even bring in the National Guard for you. Wouldn't that be interesting? You'll be fucking famous. Pity you won't be able to appreciate any of it since you'll be dead. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Jeffrey muttered. Hey, I'm just fucking telling it to you straight. I don't see anyone else doing that, do you? "No, I guess not," Jeffrey acquiesced with a frown. Well there you go. "Here I go."

Jeffrey rose to his feet, intent on raising his hands and offering up his weapon. He figured he'd take his chances with the police, or CIA or whoever the fuck caught him. It'd be far easier to escape them, than escape a large mass of pissed off and twitchy cops with their guns trained on his every moved, prepped to fire. He probably should have taken this into account before standing up so abruptly, for the bullet that tore its way through his abdomen probably could have been avoided.

When Roland saw Jeffrey go down, he both cursed the idiotic cop that had shot him when he seemed to be surrendering, and wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation. "Move in! Repeat, move in! But by God, be careful! He's still armed!" Roland didn't necessarily think Jeffrey was still a threat, especially after seeing him take the gut shot that had dropped him to the ground, but better safe than ventilating air through a few fucking bullet holes in your skull or chest.

"That…wasn't…fucking…smart," Jeffrey groaned, reaching a hand down to his stomach and pulling it up to his face. It was covered in blood; his blood. "This, is not good," he muttered, raising his hands as he saw the guns pointed at him, dimly aware of a barrage of voices telling him not to move. Then, he saw someone's fist, and everything went black.

WWW

"You didn't have to hit him," Emily muttered, looking down at the now unconscious and bleeding Jeffrey at her feet. "He just got shot, and he'd likely going to spend either the rest of his life in prison, on death row, or in some kind of institution. You could have at least let him be for a minute."

Roland rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer." He waited a few moments, watching the bustle of policemen moving around him quickly before frowning. "He's a killer! I should have shot him in the head instead and saved us all a lot of fucking trouble!"

"Yes, he's a killer, but you're not, Roland. You saw him. He was trying to surrender when that cop shot him. Killing him now would be lowering yourself to his level. You don't want that," Susannah stressed, keeping her voice firm but gentle. "Let someone else deal with him right now. Fuck, just look at him. He needs a doctor."

Roland took a step back and forced himself to look at the man beneath him as a whole rather than at his face which he'd like to punch in. There was a pretty little hole through the red silk shirt Jeffrey was wearing, and a not so pretty ever-widening field of blood emanating from it. "Fuck. Can we get a doctor over here? I don't want this bastard dying before going to trial!"

The trio of CIA agents watched a few minutes later as their prey was lifted up in a stretcher in front of them and wheeled to the back of an ambulance. "The man's a cold-blooded killer. My advice would be to keep him doped up," Roland warned the paramedics tending to Jeffrey. "We'll meet you at the hospital." The two paramedics exchanged a look before pushing Jeffrey into the back of the ambulance, one of the men climbing in with him while the other moved around to drive. Roland, Emily and Susannah followed behind closely through the streets of Baltimore in a commandeered cop car, the siren blaring.

WWW

"I can't stress the importance of keeping him sedated and restrained while under your custody, doctor," Roland said, getting more than a little irritated by the emergency room doctor's apparent incompetence.

Dr. Triana LaCroix looked at the lawman in front of her with an air of distaste. "And you're not listening to me, Agent Rivers. Mr. Sands isn't going anywhere. He just got out of surgery and he's not fit to lift his head off of the bed let alone escape. He won't even be awake for another hour or so."

Roland made a sound of utter exasperation. "Do you have any idea how many people that man has killed?! You're goddamned morgue is going to be full up today due to him!"

Susannah decided to step in before this situation got out of hand and Roland decided it would be a good idea to slap or punch the stubborn doctor. "We're just asking you and your staff to take precautions when it comes to dealing with Mr. Sands, Dr. LaCroix, and to notify us when he regains consciousness. That's all."

The doctor gave Susannah an evaluating look, scowled at Roland, then nodded. "I understand. You'll have a guard posted at the door to his room at all times, correct?"

Susannah nodded.

"I must insist that this guard does not interfere with any of the work that goes on inside the room unless either I or one of the doctors is in danger. Mr. Sands has just gone through a traumatic experience and whether he be a killer or not, he's still my patient and I must look to his interests first. Do I make myself clear?" The doctor's tone brooked no argument. While Susannah nodded again, it was clear the doctor was speaking to Roland.

"Crystal," Roland said through gritted teeth. "Just keep in mind, that he is coming with us to be tried and convicted for multiple counts of homicide when you're through with him, doctor. There will be no saving him then."

The doctor had just been about to storm off in a huff when Emily stopped her. "May I request you give Mr. Sands an MRI? By it I hope to answer some questions about Mr. Sands'…state of mind."

Emily hadn't spoken up before now and therefore hadn't specifically caused Dr. LaCroix any headaches, so the doctor nodded after a moment's hesitation. "I'll be sending you the bill," Dr. LaCroix said finally, turning on a heel and storming off to what Emily assumed to be Sands' room, leaving the three CIA agents in mutual silence and reflection.

WWW

It was quite a few hours before Jeffrey regained consciousness, and as soon as he opened his eyes he sorely wished he hadn't.

"Well look who decided to join us?" Roland drawled, his voice filled with venom. He rose from the rather uncomfortable chair he had been sitting in while watching over Jeffrey, and walked over to the side of the hospital bed. "Mr. Sands, a pleasure to see you again. How are you feeling?" he asked with mocking sweetness.

Susannah and Emily exchanged a glance at Roland's words and quickly made their way over to his side.

"I feel like I got fucking shot in the stomach by a fucking idiot flatfoot while I was trying to surrender. How about you? I didn't manage to catch you in the fucking crossfire did I? Pity. And I'm Jeffrey, not Sands."

Roland clenched his fists at Jeffrey's words and shook his head. "You must be insane if you think I'm going to buy that shit about you being crazy and having another person inside of that twisted brain of yours. You might be one sick son of a bitch, but you're not crazy. You knew what you were doing when you killed all of those people and you'll burn for them. I guarantee it," Roland said coldly, a vision of Yvette's laughing face flashing before his eyes making him want to strangle the man before him with his bare hands.

Jeffrey attempted to shrug with a wince. "I don't give a fuck if you don't believe me. That's not my problem." No, you're fucking problem is that you're caught and you're going to jail for a very, very long time unless they decide to fucking execute you, you fucking moron. "Think I don't fucking know that?" Jeffrey muttered under his breath.

"Are you aware of your actions…Jeffrey?" Susannah asked somewhat hesitantly.

"You mean do I know I fucking killed more people than I can keep track of? What was the final number, anyone know?" he asked casually. "Well actually I didn't kill most of them. That was Sands. I did kill Yvette though. She was a sweet little bitch. Looked twice as hot without eyes, let me tell you," he murmured, looking at Roland directly with a smirk. When Roland punched him hard on the face, he just laughed through bloodied teeth. "Well that was fun. What to try again? Hurt me just a little bit fucking more, Roland," Jeffrey taunted with a manic grin, not bothering to wipe the blood from his face.

Roland was about to oblige Jeffrey's wishes when his arms were pulled back forcefully by both Susannah and Emily. "You're just playing his game, Roland. Calm the fuck down," Emily instructed sternly, making sure Roland heard her and understood. "Sands, Jeffrey, whoever the fuck you are, shut up," she said with a glare in Jeffrey's direction.

"I'm Jeffrey as I mentioned Emily, and why should I? Why should I do anything you say? You're just going to A. send me to jail for the rest of my life, B. get me executed, or C. have me locked up in a fucking institution. Not happy choices, my dear CIA agents, but they are the choices I've been left with. Of course, there is always D. fucking kill you all and escape in a flood of blood and glory. I rather like that option," he said with a smirk.

"That's never going to happen, you fucking nutjob," Roland said coldly, having calmed down enough that Susannah and Emily had let him go.

"Tsk, Roland. There's no need for name calling. I was being civil," Jeffrey said with a smirk, still not bothering to wipe away the blood that had dried on his chin. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked, settling back into his hospital bed seemingly without a care in the world. "You must have wanted to talk about something. Spit it out. It's no time to be shy."

Roland was about to tell Jeffrey to go fuck himself when he was interrupted by the door opening and Dr. LaCroix stepping into the room. "Ah, Mr. Sands. Good to see you awake. How are you feeling? They aren't bothering you, are they?" she asked, sending Roland, Emily and Susannah a shrewd glance.

"Oh no, Triana. May I call you Triana? They have been a mite irritating, but it's just their way. I'm used to it, unfortunately. Don't you worry about me. I'll be fine. Scout's honor." He held up his hand in the scout signed and grinned wide like an innocent little school boy.

The smile she gave him was nothing short of beaming. "Of course you may," she said, not taking her eyes off of him as she handed Emily she scans she had asked for. They had done a full range of tests while Jeffrey had still been unconscious, and while she wouldn't admit it out loud in front of Jeffrey now, they left Dr. LaCroix feeling more than a little worried about her charming new patient.

Emily held up the images of the inside workings of Jeffrey and Sands' mind and frowned, biting at her bottom lip unconsciously in thought. She could feel Susannah looking over her shoulder, interested in what Emily saw, or what she thought she saw. "Take a look at the PET scan," Emily whispered to Susannah softly as Dr. LaCroix and Sands talked while Roland looked on. "There's a marked difference in the amount of neural activity in the frontal lobe here." She pointed to the chart. "There's less. What that means, in theory, is that most actions that normal people would shy away from as wrong or evil don't occur to him. They don't affect him in the same manner that we do. It's like this in almost every known psychotic's brain that has even been looked at in the way we're looking at Sands'."

"What about his schizophrenia? Is there any way of knowing whether or not that's real from that chart?" Susannah asked, keeping her voice low as she went over what Emily had told her.

"Not really, but I believe him. I know Roland doesn't, but I do. It's not the kind of story someone would make up and then adhere to so well as he has. I'm not saying that that makes him or whoever is the base personality innocent of his crimes, I'm not saying that at all. I believe that he's killed with all of them. They are all murderers and deserve to be judged for those crimes."

Susannah took a long look at Sands, shuddering a bit when he winked at her as if he knew every thought she had ever had or ever would have. She took a moment to steady herself, remembering that she was a field agent in the CIA; someone not to quail around the bad guys, and turned back to Emily. "I believe him too. But that doesn't change anything. I can't honestly believe he will try and go for an insanity plea to get out of jail. Just by looking at him you can tell he'd rather die than wind up in an institution somewhere."

Emily thought over that. The only thing she knew about mental institutions was from what she had seen in movies, but even given that limited frame of reference, she wouldn't have wanted to be in one either. But she didn't think that Sands would rather die than be put in one though. She believed he would fight for his freedom with his last breath. He was the type to not go down without a fight. That they had managed to catch him all was nothing short of unbelievable. She looked over him as he lay on the bed, obviously charming his way into Dr. LaCroix's good graces without even hardly trying. Emily herself had fallen captive to those charms, but unlike the doctor, she knew what Sands was capable of. She had seen him kill. She had seem the complete lack of emotion or remorse as he did so. The doctor had not, and that put her in danger. Emily made a vow to herself to warn the doctor off of Sands before something developed. She didn't necessarily think that anything would-Sands was well and duly caught-but she hadn't kept herself alive this long in a career as volatile as being a field agent for the CIA by being careless.

WWW

Jeffrey had the doctor eating out of the palm of his hand and he knew it. He had initially tested out his charms on the woman as a way to piss Roland off as he watched, but now that Jeffrey had the young doctor hooked he didn't feel like reeling her into the boat. He was bored with her hamhanded attempts to flirt with him in front of an audience of law enforcement people. It lacked grace. He wanted to end the conversation he had dug himself into with her, but he couldn't for the life of him see a way out of it. He cast a causal glance over at Emily and Susannah, smirking as he saw them holding whispered counsel. He wasn't close enough to hear the contents of their conversation, but he could guess. What else could they be talking about except him? The chart or whatever it was they were looking at gave him pause, however. He didn't know what it was. It looked like a scan of someone's brain. Oh. It must be a scan of mine. Fuck that bitch doctor for taking it while I was fucking unconscious. I hope they're enjoying the view. Inwardly he was seething, but when Susannah glanced over at him he winked at her as if he didn't have a care in the world. Seeing her shudder at his gesture lightened his spirits somewhat.

"Tell me where the bodies are, Sands. Now," Roland said coldly, interrupting Dr. LaCroix's offer to practically fluff his pillow for him. It seems as if the lean CIA agent had finally had enough.

Jeffrey gave Dr. LaCroix a look as if to say 'see what I have to deal with?' and smiled. "Could you excuse us, Triana? Agent Rivers and I need to talk." The doctor nodded, scowled openly at Roland, and left, closing the door behind her.

"Stop playing games, you psychotic bastard. Start talking. There's no way in hell you're going to get away with any of this so you might as well give it all up. Tell me about the people you've fucking killed," Roland seethed, his arms crossed over his chest only so that he wouldn't be tempted to pull out his gun and shoot the smug grin off of Jeffrey's face.

"I've always enjoyed a good bit of fucking story time, Roland. You might want to take a fucking seat. This is going to take awhile. You two ladies too, if you're done with your little meeting," he called out to the two female CIA agents. When they had both seated themselves; Roland remaining standing, Jeffrey went on. "So, just what would you like to know?" he asked, settling himself back into the bed with a careless grace.

"Tell us the name of the motel where you left Yvette's body, Jeffrey," Emily interrupted Roland's tirade before it could begin.

"That's all? Well, I must fucking say, I expected more," Jeffrey mocked. "Fine, she's in the Capitol Inn, room 13. Not that I think there's anything left of her or the transvestite desk clerk I left with her to find. Lye is nasty but fucking effective. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was just fucking shot you know. I need my rest."

Roland surely would have slugged Jeffrey in the face had it not been for Susannah and Emily holding him back. "Roland, my dear chum, you really need to learn how to control your temper better. Have you ever considered taking courses in anger management? Susannah, Emily, perhaps you could help him?"

"Don't test us, Jeffrey, or I'll let him do what he wants to you," Emily warned with cold eyes.

Jeffrey let out a genuine laugh at that. "Are all agents of the CIA as fucking entertaining as you three are? I swear, you're like fucking stooges," he said with a smirk. He was having a ball. It was so fucking easy to push Roland's buttons that it would be stupid of him not to try.

"Fuck you. You're a sad, psychotic little man who's just doing this for the attention. That's why you killed Yvette, wasn't it? To get Sands' attention? Well it looks like it didn't last. Poor you. Just where is he anyway? Did he get tired of cleaning up after your messes?" Susannah shot at Jeffrey coldly.

Jeffrey went very still, all traces of humour gone from his face as if they had never existed. His words were very crisp and deliberate, his eyes filled with cold steel. "You don't know what you're talking about bitch."

Susannah refused to be daunted. "Oh really? Well then where is he? I've not heard a word from him. Did he decide he was better off without you? I wouldn't blame him. You're a sick bastard that needs to be put down." Susannah was aware of Emily hand of warning on her arm. She didn't care. She didn't necessarily know where these words were coming from, only that they kept spilling out of her mouth.

If Jeffrey had had something to throw at Susannah, he would have; anything that would spill her blood to the tile beneath her feet. He couldn't ever remember being so pissed off before. He hadn't even been angry when he had killed Yvette. He hadn't felt much of anything, truthfully. He just went about killing her and mutilating her body with a carelessness that only a truly sick bastard could achieve and he knew it. He also didn't know why he had had to mess her up like that. He hadn't done anything quite like it since. He had killed, pure and simple. He had taken no trophies, he just ended lives.

Susannah backed down a little at his silence. She had been tempted to mock him for his lack of an answer, but she didn't. She guessed the path his thoughts were taking by the cold glint his almost black eyes gave off and remembered just who and what he was. Holy fuck, I must be insane. What the fuck was I thinking? If he had the opportunity I'd be dead right now. Just look at him. Susannah wisely kept any further comments to herself, turning to Roland and Emily. "I'm going to get some air." With that, she left them all in stunned silence.

TBC

A/N: Again, SOOOO sorry it took so long to get this up!! I haven't had a decently working computer for months! But all is well now. The computer is fixed and I'm back in business! Hope to see you all next chapter!!