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.

Summary: Sands and Jeffrey, after having a good long homicidal run have finally been caught. So what happens next? And how the heck does a wanted psychopath wind up in the CIA anyway?

Characters: Jeffrey (Sands), Roland Rivers, Emily Brisbane, Susannah Cartwright, Dr. Claire Harrington

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to get up. I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

Rating: R for extreme violence and naughty words.

Chapter Sixteen: The Trappings of a Fettered Mind

Transferring Sands back to DC had been an utter nightmare. The Baltimore Police Department wanted to hold him and more than likely cause a few "accidents" in his cell for the people he had killed. As it was, Roland had had to turn into a fucking bureaucrat in this instance; something he really hated doing. But he would have hated having the bastards of the Baltimore PD getting their hands on him even more. Sands' first murder was in DC. He had fucking killed Yvette right in the heart of the Capitol, and that's where he would be tried. If there was anything left of him once DC was through with him, Baltimore was more than welcome to it.

WWW

"We're going to have to talk about it sooner or later, Roland. You know that," Emily said softly but with a voice full of confidence-at least she managed to sound confident in any case-as he drove in the federal vehicle they had been issued to the Capitol Inn to finally put Yvette's body to rest. If Jeffrey-she had now come to believe that he really was a fragmented facet of Sands' brain and therefore real-had been telling the truth, that is. But she had no reason to doubt that either. He knew he was caught, and now would want to share his "accomplishments" with the world.

He would want people to know about the people he had killed. He would want them to mourn their lost, and to hate him. And he would feel off of that hate like a parasite. Also, the level of arrogance he was no doubt feeling right now-despite being caught-would probably incline him to inquire as to whether or not he had made it into any of the record books concerning the number of people he had killed. He had.

And yet, after Susannah's surprising inquisition of him yesterday, his personality had seemed somewhat…muted. Almost as if he were actually deliberating over what she had said. They must have struck pretty close to the mark were that the case. They had certainly sounded legitimate in Emily's ears.

"Talk about what?" Roland asked casually, not even turning his eyes from the for a brief second to look at her as he spoke. That stung.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps our little "indiscretion" in the pool room earlier at the hotel." If he wanted to play at being aloof, that was his business. But she sure as hell wasn't going to let him get away with it. They hadn't been able to track down Susannah before they had left, so now seemed to perfect fucking time to have this conversation. Now all she needed to do was to convince him of this fact.

"We fucked, Agent Brisbane. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less," Roland said casually. It was as if he were fucking ordering dinner rather than talking about the completely unexpected and utterly surprising sexual encounter they had shared. If he hadn't been driving she would have beaten the ever-living shit out of him for being such a callous bastard.

"Yes, that's right, Roland." Just because had descended into impersonal formality with the use of her title didn't mean that she was going to stoop to his level. "We fucked. Without thought or protection. Jest like old times, huh?" she asked dryly.

"We don't have any old times," Roland said evenly, refusing to rise to the bait over her comment about how they hadn't used protection during their little…tryst. She wasn't pregnant. She couldn't be. And fuck, even if she was, abortions were practically an in-office procedure nowadays. He wouldn't let such a notion bother him. What they had done was a mistake; a momentary loss of faculty in a meeting of passion. He just wanted to forget that it had ever happened.

Emily just smiled at him. "You're a real bastard. You know that? I can't imagine what I was thinking. Fuck, I wasn't thinking. You were just convenient, I suppose. That was probably it. The case was getting to me and I just needed to get laid. I should probably be thanking you."

Roland's hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, but he managed to sound calm and pleasant enough. "You're most welcome, Agent Brisbane. Glad I could be of service."

There was no more talk after that. Emily had more to say, but she was far too pissed off to voice it with detachment now. And that's what she needed. She needed to cut herself off from the whirlwind of emotions she was currently feeling right now and remind herself just what an asshole Roland was. There had been a reason the passion they had shared hadn't lasted, and she needed to be reminded of that reason.

"This is it," Roland said evenly as they pulled up to the Capitol Inn. He had already called the local ME to meet them here, and Emily could pick out the large white van in the parking lot. The man she assumed was the ME got out of the van and walked over to meet them.

"Agents Rivers and Brisbane," Emily said smoothly when the small balding man had approached, offering her hand.

"Dr. Theodore Norris," the man said, shaking Emily and Roland's hands in turn with a dry, firm grip. Once their hands had all dropped back to their sides he looked meditatively at the motel. "You say the body is in there? In one of the rooms? It's been there for several days, correct?"

"Yes. We have a confession from the killer that he placed her body in the bathtub with another victim."

"Yes, Agent Rivers explained that over the phone. Did the killer truly use lye on the bodies?"

Roland scowled and nodded. "He wanted to get rid of the evidence. He hasn't been as careful since."

"You've caught him, then?" Dr. Norris asked casually, as if he had dealt with this kind of thing every day. Given his chosen profession, it was probably true. Give his chosen place of residence, it was most assuredly true.

"Yes, doctor. We caught him. Unfortunately we were too late to stop him from killing a great many more people, but at least he won't have the opportunity to kill anyone else ever again," Emily said softly.

"In the end, that's all that matters. There's no use worrying for the dead. Their worries are over now. They're at peace. Funny advice to be coming from a pathologist, I know, but it's the truth," Dr. Norris said with a slight shrug.

Roland just rolled his eyes and walked past the clearly eccentric man and into the motel. He had better things to do that to stand around listening to some kook jabber about the living and the dead. There was no one tending the desk so he simply stepped behind it and searched out the key to room number 13 and kept walking until he had stopped in front of the door, Emily and Dr. Norris appearing silently at his side.

"You might want to take a little of this to rub under your nose," Dr. Norris said, offering an open jar of Vick's Vapour Rub to him. "If these bodies have been there as long as you say they've been, it's going to smell pretty awful in there.

Roland glanced over his shoulder and saw that both the doctor's and Emily's upper lips were gleaming so he sighed and took a dollop on his finger and spread it across his upper lip, nearly coughing as the strong medicinal smell assaulted his nose.

"It'll smell a lot better than what's in there. Trust me," Dr. Norris said softly. Roland opened the door.

WWW

Susannah didn't want to be found. She had flown back to DC in silence, refusing to answer the clearly inquisitive looks on her colleagues faces. They wanted to know why she had gone against Sands like that. She had shocked them all, including herself in throwing down the gauntlet before him. What had shocked her more however, was how Sands and/or Jeffrey hadn't taken it up. Neither man had said a word about it during the flight to DC. Now granted, they'd been doped to the gills and probably unable to form coherent speech even if they'd tried, but even afterwards there were no words. There had been actions-Susannah had no doubt that if he'd been able, he would have killed her in the hospital room-but their had been no rebuttals. He hadn't denied anything she had accused him of, which led her to believe that she'd been right.

"Would you like some more coffee, Miss?" A man's voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up, startled.

"What? Oh. No thank you. I'd like the check if you don't mind," she told the waiter with a small smile before checking her watch. Damn. She had been so lost in her thoughts that the hours had slipped by unnoticed. She had been sitting there for quite a while now. No wonder he'd asked to refill her coffee cup. It was probably full of the same sludge as when she had first sat down a few hours ago.

"Certainly, miss," the waiter said, disappearing only to return a few minutes later with the check in hand. "I can take that whenever you wish. There's no rush."

"I'll pay now. I've been here long enough," Susannah muttered to herself, grabbing for her ostrich skin purse and pulling out her wallet. "Keep the change," she said, handing the waiter a bill and rising from her seat.

"Thank you, miss. Have a lovely day."

Susannah nodded absently and made her way out of the restaurant. A lovely day, yeah right. We'll see just how lovely it is when the first order of business for the day is to check in on the psychopath you've got in custody to make sure he hasn't killed himself or anyone else. A psychopath she had foolish antagonized in their last visit. Oh yeah. Today's going to be perfect.

WWW

Jeffrey was in pain and bored out of his fucking skull. Hmm, if I can still feel the fucking pain, then it must be pretty incredible. Stupid fucking cop. If I ever found out who shot me I' m going to rip his fucking stomach out. See how he likes it. But such a thought didn't last for long. They had him doped up on painkillers for the gunshot wound that made it pretty fucking hard to concentrate on anything, but he knew for sure that he was back in DC again and that he might have been given a fucking anti-psychotic earlier to keep him calm. Whatever it was, he didn't feel like doing much of anything right now. Sure, the idea of an escape still appealed to him, but later. When he had the energy and didn't feel like someone had shoved a hot poker through his stomach.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Sands?" A professional sounding voice floated through his muddled consciousness. He might have corrected her, told whoever was speaking that he wasn't Sands, but it didn't seem worth the effort at the moment.

"Fucking spiffy, doc. A-ok. What's up?" he snickered. "What's up, doc?" He was fucking gone. Whatever combination of drugs they had given him had loosened his tongue and softened his brain. "You did something to me, didn't ya?" Jeffrey slurred, giving the doctor the best stern glance he could manage, which was little above a frown.

"You've been giving some painkillers for your gunshot wound and something to keep you calm, yes," the doctor answered in that same detached voice. "Please try and remain calm, Mr. Sands. The effects aren't permanent I assure you, but it was necessary. My name is Doctor Claire Harrington and I'll be looking after you during your stay here."

Jeffrey snickered. "Looking after me? I fucking hope that means what I think it does," he said, managing a leer.

Dr. Harrington wasn't amused. "Like I said, Mr. Sands, just try and remain calm. Don't bother trying to pull at the restraints either. You'll only end up hurting yourself."

"Restraints?" Jeffrey asked with a frown, looking away from the doctor for the first time to his chest. His wrists and bare feet were bound tightly to the bed with stiff restraints of tan leather. "What the fuck?" he pulled at them but they didn't budge. "Let me go!" The euphoria he had been feeling was beginning to change into something sharp and scary. He needed to get free. He couldn't stay here. They couldn't keep him. Not like this. "Please," he whimpered after a few minutes of frantic struggling. "Sands, where are you? I can't deal with this by myself. Sands!"

"Mr. Sands if you don't calm yourself I'll be forced to give you another shot. Now lie still. The restraints are for your safety as well as ours. They're not hurting you."

"They're hurting, they're strangling. Please let me go," Jeffrey moaned, his eyes rolling around the room frantically like a frightened animal. He needed to get out of here. "Walls are closing in," he moaned, actually imaging the walls moving in on him to crush him in moments. "Don't let them get me. Let me go!" He pleaded with her. "Sands, make her let me go!"

"I'm afraid we cannot do that, Mr. Sands. The walls are not closing in on you, I assure you," Dr. Harrington said in that same even voice, as if the sight of the hospital gown-clad man writhing on the bed pleading to be released had no affect on her. It probably didn't. She was a senior member of the hospital staff. She had probably seen much worse. With a nod, Dr. Harrington directed a young intern to give Jeffrey a sedative. Jeffrey whimpered when he saw the needle coming towards the IV that had somehow remained in his arm despite his thrashings and watched helplessly as the drug coursed its way through the tube into his arms as if he could stop it by will alone. It wasn't long before his struggles ceased, and he slipped off into the dreamless sleep of the heavily medicated.

WWW

Emily leaned against the outside wall of the motel and watched as the ME van rolled out of the parking lot with revulsion, sublimely thankful she had had the foresight to skip breakfast this morning. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and wiped at the sweat that had gathered at her upper lip. She then turned to Roland, her eyes widening as she saw his complexion was that of rice paper. "Are you alright?" Emily herself wasn't; seeing the leftovers of Sands' dirty work had left her reeling. The only way she was coping was that the grim visage she had seen was too horrible to be human in her mind. She allowed herself that detachment. That wasn't her friend and colleague Yvette St. Martin in the bathtub; that was something else. Not even a person.

"No, I'm not," Roland said softly, running a hand across his face in much the same way as Emily herself had just a moment ago. "He mutilated her." There was no need to ask who the 'he' was that he was talking about.

"Yes, he did," Emily responded in a whisper, the image of Yvette's smiling face trying to combine with the figure she had seen in the bathtub. It wasn't working.

"Why?" Roland asked with weariness. "He could have just killed her. Why…that?"

Roland's pain and confusion were so open and honest that Emily couldn't help but try and answer him. "I think Susannah was right. He wanted to make a statement. He wanted the attention."

"Well, he got it," Roland murmured. The rage he had been feeling towards Sands earlier had seemed to have just faded away, leaving nothing but a hollow emptiness in its place.

"He'll pay for what he did, Roland. He won't get away with this. Yvette will get her vengeance," Emily said softly, telling him what she thought he wanted to hear.

"It won't bring her back, Emily. She's dead; murdered. Nothing will bring her back now. She doesn't care for things like vengeance. She doesn't care about anything anymore. She's dead and she's not coming back." This was said with a quiet but pained finality.

"No, she's not, Roland," Emily said with a sad frown, looking into his eyes. She looked away almost immediately, disturbed by the amount of loss and grief she saw there. She didn't want to believe that Roland had genuinely loved Yvette; it was easier to deal with that way. "I'm sorry," she said finally, not knowing what else to say, reaching out a tentative hand to place upon his shoulder. He accepted the comfort and even moved a hand up on top of hers.

They stayed in this position for a long while, neither of them saying a word until Roland suddenly cleared his throat. "We should get back to the hospital and check on Sands. And we need to find Susannah," he said softly, but he didn't move away from her and she didn't take her hand off of his shoulder.

After a few long moments the two of them finally seemed to realize the position they were in and separated with a little more haste than was probably necessary. "Right. Let's go," Emily said, straightening her already immaculate blouse and skirt. Roland just nodded and together they walked back to the car, keeping as much distance between them that was humanly possible when riding in the same car.

WWW

"You did what?" Susannah asked Dr. Harrington incredulously, a hand moving up to run a hand through her short brown hair in a frustrated gesture. "He's the lead suspect in a number of crimes. We need him conscious to confess to those crimes not a fucking vegetable!"

"I don't like your tone, Agent Cartwright. As Mr. Sands' primary physician, it is left up to my discretion whether to medicate him or not. He was in hysterics. He surely would have injured himself were it not for the restraints. I did what was deemed necessary and I don't take kindly to your insinuations that I don't know how to do my job."

Susannah wanted to throttle the well meaning doctor, but she was one who prided herself on her self-control, so she settled on a glare. "And when will, Mr. Sands be awake, Dr. Harrington? He is of the utmost importance to our investigation, and I fear time is of the essence."

"So you say. I myself disagree. Respectively. From what I've seen on the television and read in the newspapers about my patient, he is a killer, correct?"

"That is correct. He has killed many people, doctor," Susannah offered, unsure where the doctor was taking this.

"There is nothing more you can do for those victims now that cannot wait then, is there?" Susannah faltered and Dr. Harrington pressed her advantage. "He won't be able to tell you anything that will save the lives of any of those people, so I suggest you kindly wait. Mr. Sands will awake when it's determined whether or not he's still a danger to those around him. Including himself. I'm placing him on suicide watch effective immediately." She hesitated. "You may observe him if you wish, but if you attempt to thwart what I am doing for him I will have you thrown out and barred from further visitations with my patient. Is that clear, Agent Cartwright?"

"Crystal, Dr. Harrington," Susannah said, just managing not to slug her. God save me from pompous, bitch doctors.

"Very good. If you would come this way, I'll direct you to Mr. Sands' room." Susannah nodded and followed Dr. Harrington down a series of twisting corridors and security-locked doors. "This hospital used to be a state-run mental institution in the 50s. It was renovated into the medical hospital you're in now a few decades later when it was decided that rehabilitation was the correct solution for the insane." The way Dr. Carrington said this indicated that she didn't agree with that particular philosophy. "While most of the hospital is indeed a modern medical facility, a few remnants of the old institution remain. The wing we're not entering was used to house the criminally insane. It seemed appropriate that Mr. Sands stay here. Everything is up to code of course. The building has been very well maintained over the years. Perhaps some day it will be an institution again."

Susannah remained quiet throughout the impromptu history lesson, trying not to think about what such a place had been like in the 50s, and sublimely thankful that she would be able to leave at the end of the 'tour.' The walls were painted in a nauseating puke-green, the fluorescent lights were garish, and the tile squeaked under their shoes as they traversed the halls.

After what seemed like hours, they finally came to a halt in front of a seemingly innocuous door, save that it had a pair of armed guards standing sentry in front of it. Susannah didn't recognize either of them, but nodded to them all the same as she passed into the room. She froze when she saw the man she'd come to visit, a hand going up to her mouth without thought. Jesus, they've got him tied up like a fucking animal.

Jeffrey was bound hand and foot in five-point restraints, but yet he didn't struggle. He didn't really even acknowledge their presence either. His eyes were open, but Susannah could see that they were glazed over and was fairly certain that if she were to wave a hand in front of his face she would get no response. "What did you give him?" she asked Dr. Harrington in a quiet voice.

"Geodon. It's an anti-psychotic and a mood stabilizer. Something to keep him calm," Dr. Harrington answered after a moment's hesitation.

Yeah, he's definitely calm. He's a step away from drooling like an infant. "Is he still cognizant?" she asked, taking a step closer to him. His eyes didn't follow her across the room. That did not bode well.

"More or less. The drugs keep him in an even state of mind. They prevent him from having extreme highs or lows of emotion. He should be able to answer your questions."

"Should be, or will?" Susannah asked, not taking her eyes off of Jeffrey.

Doctor Harrington didn't have an answer for that one.

WWW

Jeffrey was…aware; nothing more, nothing less. He wasn't aware of his surroundings, or who the two women speaking in muted tones really were-although they both seemed tantalizingly familiar-he wasn't really self-aware, either, but it was a kind of aware all the same. He knew he was awake, he knew he was alive, and he knew he was a prisoner. He wasn't entirely sure how he had come to the last conclusion…oh, it probably had something to do with the fact that he couldn't move his arms or legs. Was he paralyzed or chained down? He didn't know.

"Jeffrey? Sands? Can you hear me?"

He turned his head slowly towards the sound of the voice after trying to move his arms. The action was accompanied by a restricting force around his wrists. Chains then. "Jeffrey can hear you. Sands is gone. Don't know where he went. Maybe he's not coming back." His eyes came into focus on a face to match the familiar voice. "Susannah. Enemy. You ask too many questions. I wanted to kill you. Don't now though. How about that?"

"Yeah, how about that," Susannah repeated with a slight frown. "Jeffrey tell me, how many people have you killed? Is there anyone we haven't found yet?"

"Probably. Don't know. How many have you found? Because I've killed a lot of people. Sands too. 30 maybe? There were a lot in Baltimore," he supplied with a lazy grin. "I didn't kill most of them though. Sands did. He fucking lost it. Gone. Bye bye."

"Thirty. Jesus Christ," Susannah muttered under her breath.

"Is that some kind of fucking record? Because that would be…neat," Jeffrey slurred.

"You're definitely on the list," Susannah muttered absently, more than a bit horrified by the whole situation.

"On the list but not at the top?" Jeffrey inquired with such curious innocence that it made Susannah's skin crawl.

"No. Not at the top." The top was some 200 bodies more than that, but Susannah definitely wasn't going to share that bit of information. He might get the idea that he had something to prove.

"Oh. Well I guess that's ok. I made the list. That's enough right?" he asked with a lazy grin. "Are they going to execute me, Susannah?"

"I-I don't know, Jeffrey. It's a possibility." Yeah right. With as obviously insane as he is they'll consider it a mercy to lock him up in some institution for the rest of his life. For his own good.

"Yeah. That would be ok. I wouldn't mind. I'd rather die than be locked up, you know? I get claustrophobic in jail cells." He laughed at that and Susannah shuddered at the sound. "Will you come to watch when they execute me? Roland will, I'm sure. But will you?"

How could she answer something like that? This man had killed one of her best friends in cold blood. He had murdered scores of others in much the same way and now he was asking if she would attend his execution like a pimply-faced teenager asking a girl out on a date to the prom. "Do you want me to?" she asked at last.

Jeffrey nodded vigorously. "I do, I really do, Susannah. You're very brave. I'd rather kill you I think, but since I can't do that I want you to come."

Susannah had just been about to speak up again, when Jeffrey interrupted her. "Ah, Roland! Emily! You're all here! Now the party can truly begin!"

TBC

A/N: Well this chapter was fun. Poor Jeffrey's in a bad way. And Dr. Harrington's going to be trouble, I can tell. And don't ask me what's going on between Roland and Emily at the moment. You know as much as I do on that count. They haven't been telling me anything. Anyway, to all my reviewers, a hearty thank you. See you in a week with the next chapter!

Also, as I'm still without a full-time beta, all mistakes are my own.

-Merrie