Darkness Rising

A Once Upon a Time in Mexico story by Merrie

Disclaimer: Jeffrey, Sands, Roland, Emily, Susannah and all others own me. I would never even attempt to claim otherwise.

Summary: Sands and Jeffrey, after having a good long homicidal run have finally been caught. So what happens next? And how the hell 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: Roland, Emily and Susannah pretty much ran off without me in this chapter. I hope you like their scenes. And Dr. Harrington is just plain Trouble.

Rating: R for extreme violence, graphic imagery and language.

Chapter Eighteen: There's Someone in My Head… Part I

"You lock the door and throw away the key, there's someone in my head, but it's not me."

-Brain Damage by Pink Floyd.

These people are trying to thwart my work! Dr. Harrington thought irritably, once more injecting Mr. Sands with something to calm him down from the frenzied state the trio of CIA agents had left him in. She wouldn't be able to give him another dosage until this one wore off, however. Anything more could potentially put him into a coma. Dr. Harrington wasn't out to kill or injure patients-unless of course it was deemed necessary-she was out to save them; to rehabilitate them. She was of the belief that any person could be rehabilitated. It may take weeks, months or even years to reach that point, but it could be reached. And she would find that point with Mr. Sands if it took the rest of her career.

"You're time with Mr. Sands is through. You may come back tomorrow between the hours of 1 and 3. Now I must ask you to leave," she told the three CIA agents firmly, her tone brooking no argument. She had the power to bar them from further visits with her patient without extreme supervision and they knew it. Their time spent with him was a privilege, not a right.

The one named Roland looked as if he wanted to argue, but the two women at his sides-both of them probably fucking him if Dr. Harrington's intuition was correct-held him back. Then the pretty brunette spoke.

"Thank you for your patience, Dr. Harrington," Susannah said smoothly. "We will come back tomorrow during the times you specified."

"What? Don't leave, everyone always leaves me," Jeffrey called out mournfully. "Is there a jet plane involved?" he asked curiously.

"No, there isn't a fucking jet plane involved, you idiot. They're being kicked out by Dr. Dominatrix here. They'll be back tomorrow," Sands said with a scowl.

"Oh good. We know when they'll be back again, then? Visiting hours are very important. Wouldn't want to get caught out past curfew. That would never do. They lock you up if you do that. Is that why they locked us up, Sands? Were we out past curfew?"

"Yes, we are horrible, evil, wicked curfew breakers. They'll probably execute us just for that alone," Sands said with a roll of his eyes.

"They're mean to you here. I want to go back to DC," Jeffrey said plaintively. "No curfew then to lock us up and throw away the key there. Or did they lock us up and throw away the room? They can do that, you know," Jeffrey said with wide eyes and a quick nod of his head.

"You are in DC," Susannah said softly. The three CIA agents and the doctor had been watching the exchange between the two men with various looks of concern on their faces. Susannah herself was at one end of the spectrum, with Emily in the middle and Roland and Dr. Harrington holding up the other end.

"Land of the free, home of the brave," Sands muttered under his breath, his dark eyes flashing to Susannah, clearly filled with hate.

"But if we're home, then why are we stuck here? Home is on the range and this isn't a range," he said as he frantically looked around the room, tugging at his restraints for a few minutes then stopping as if he couldn't keep his focus on the task. He winced as the movement pulled at the healing gunshot wound to his chest. "Put down? Can this horse not ride anymore? I like being ridden," he drawled, giving Emily and Susannah a pointed look. "But they're not little cowgirls. You can tell. No spurs."

"They're fucking CIA agents! They're the ones who put you in this place you stupid son of a bitch," Sands reminded Jeffrey coldly.

"Why would they want to do that? And stop vituperating me. Why are you so angry? You need music. Music soothes savage beasts. Are you savage? No, you aren't really. I'm the savage one. You said so yourself. You just kill. You don't have the fun that I do. And it is fun, Sands. So much fun. Parties every day, see the children play."

"Until you've killed them," Sands muttered under his breath.

"Never killed a child before. You've killed as a child, but never a child. Is it the same? Like killing a really short adult? Do you know….Emily?" he asked suddenly before laughing delightedly. "'See Emily Play.' Do you play, Emily? 'When I was a child, I talked as a child, I thought as a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me." He laughed again manically.

"Where is that from?" Sands asked with a scowl. "You aren't making a whole lot of sense, Jeffrey. Did you know that?"

"Your head, not mine. I just use what's there," Jeffrey said with a wide grin, sounding almost lucid for a moment. That was, until he spoke again. "Am I a thought inside your head? I think therefore I am? Is that what you did? That was a good trick. You deserve a treat."

"You can take the fucking treat and shove it up your ass," Sands growled at him.

"Well that wasn't very kind, now was it? I think he needs a nap. He's very grouchy." Jeffrey's comment seemed to galvanize Dr. Harrington into action.

"It's time for you to leave," she addressed the CIA agents firmly. "Mr. Sands needs his rest." Her tone brooked no argument. The three CIA agents left the hospital room in a triangular formation with Roland taking point and grumbling to himself about pushy fucking doctors the whole way.

WWW

"Did you recover Yvette's body?" Susannah asked her two coworkers softly as they drove away from the hospital.

Roland nodded, not saying a word and Emily turned in her seat to address Susannah in the back. "Be glad you weren't there to see it, Sus. It was…horrible."

"The bastard fucking mutilated her," Roland ground out, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he spoke.

"We have to go to the coroner's office later today for his report, but Roland's right. There was…nothing left of her," Emily said with a curiously blank look on her face.

"We should make some calls about that other woman Sands mentioned…Halia. We could probably trace her address through her gun registration. I'll call the Maryland PD later today." She continued asking Roland and Emily questions about finding Yvette's body and was glad to see that the animosity that had been between them seemed to have vanished. There was still an awkwardness in their relationship-as to be expected given the circumstances-but at least they weren't at each others throats any longer. No, now they're just in each other's pants. She thought wryly.

She didn't really know what to think about the relationship that had been developed between her two co-workers. Not developed, rekindled. She vaguely wondered where Roland's wife Eileen played into all of this, before deciding she felt bad for the woman she had only met a few times. And isn't she home sick? Wasn't that the reason Roland had taken Yvette to the company dinner and meetings in the first place? Fate was sick and twisted sometimes. She also vaguely remembered Emily mentioning a boyfriend…Zach…who she had met in a department store of all places near her apartment. Susannah wondered if Emily had even stopped to think about him as she had been forming this relationship with Roland. Probably not, knowing her.

Susannah had never approved of relationships between co-workers. Especially in the CIA. She wasn't against dating in general, she had had a few boyfriends herself but had been ultimately disappointed by each, but dating a co-worker, especially when you were working on the same case, tended to be distracting for both parties. Susannah had already had to break up more than a few fights between the two of them when they still hated each other. She would not break up intimate moments between them in an attempt to get back to work. That was neither her business nor her job. She only hoped they had the combined common sense to keep their thoughts out of their pants and onto the case until this whole nightmarish mess was over and Sands was either incarcerated or sentenced to death. Then they could do whatever the hell they wanted on their own time and it wouldn't affect anyone else save for Roland's wife and Emily's boyfriend.

When this is all over, I'm going to take a long vacation. She promised herself with a sigh as she leaned back in the seat a little. She couldn't remember the last time she had been away, and she knew that if a CIA agent-or a member from any type of law enforcement really-didn't take a break every once and awhile, they would become burnt out and no longer able to do their job properly. Susannah didn't want that to happen to her. She had fought too long and hard to get into the CIA to be forced to leave for a stupid reason like that. No, she would take a vacation somewhere far, far away from her well-meaning but ultimately aggravating fellow officers and stay until she no longer had a care in the world besides staying out in the sun too long and what to wear to the party in the evening. Only after she had reached that point would she return. She could almost hear the waves crashing against the surf of some sandy beach in a remote location that only she knew about.

"Sus? Are you alright? I've been calling your name for the last minute," Emily's voice cut into her thoughts, and the sounds of the city replaced the sounds of her private beach once more.

"What? I'm sorry. I guess I got a little lost in my thoughts there for a second. What was your question?" Susannah asked, leaning forward a little to hear Emily better.

"Maybe you need to get some rest. If you can't think straight any longer, how are you going to be able to concentrate on the case?" Emily asked with a concerned frown.

Yeah, like you're one to talk, missy. Susannah thought dryly. "No, I'm alright. I've just been thinking, that's all. Now what was your question?" she prompted again.

"She asked you if you'd like to go back to the hotel or somewhere else," Roland put in, glancing in the rearview mirror to Susannah's form briefly before turning his attention back to the road.

"Oh. No, the hotel will be fine. Give my room a call when we're supposed to go down to the coroner's," Susannah said with a slight nod.

"Are you going to be there?" Roland asked casually.

Susannah fought not to scowl at him. "Yes, I will." Are you?

"Maybe we could go out to dinner tonight; the three of us. I think we could all use a break," Emily piped up in as cheerful a voice as she could muster right now.

Susannah almost appreciated the effort, but it seemed somehow callous to be going out and having fun after looking at your best friend's dead body and talking at length with her killer. Susannah didn't mention it though. "Yes, I think I would like that. You're right about the needing of a break," she admitted. Emily nodded her approval and the three of them sat in companionable silence for the rest of the trip back to the hotel.

WWW

Sands was slowly but surely losing his mind. With only a doped to the gills second personality to talk to, life was never dull granted, but it wasn't good for one's mental health either. "Why don't the drugs affect me?" he asked again for what must have been the tenth time since the CIA agents had left.

"Questions, questions everyone's got questions only nobody has answers," was Jeffrey's only response.

"Thanks for the help," Sands muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"Help. We need help. 'He helps those who help themselves. Is he going to help us?"

"I wouldn't count on it. But you're right. We need to help ourselves. We've got to get the fuck out of here before that bitch doctor comes back," Sands muttered with a furtive glance toward the closed door of his room/cell.

"She's broken. Lost. Has she been fixed and found yet? I don't like her when she's broken. She doesn't say the right words any more," Jeffrey said with a sad shake of his head.

"She'll be fixed soon. Don't worry," Sands assured him darkly.

"Oh good," Jeffrey said with a relieved smile.

Sands frowned with a curious look on his face. "Do you know what I mean by that, Jeffrey?"

Jeffrey nodded enthusiastically. "You're going to fix her so she won't be broken. Broken toys are of no use and must be thrown away."

"That's…right. I think," Sands said with a slow shake of his head. "We've got to get you off of all these drugs."

"This is your brain on drugs. Sizzle, sizzle. Any questions?" Jeffrey asked with a manic grin.

"Where the hell are you getting all of this shit from? I didn't even know you fucking watched television?" Sands asked exasperatedly.

"Television. The boob tube. The idiot box. I don't watch it. I watch you."

"Well that explains everything, thank you," Sands said dryly.

"You're welcome," Jeffrey replied cheerfully.

"I have got to get out of this fucking nuthouse," Sands whispered desperately.

WWW

Dr. Harrington sat at the security desk and watched her patient, Mr. Sands, on the monitor. Installing security cameras in each of the rooms had been one of the first renovations made to the old wing of the hospital building. "He's talking to himself and he doesn't seem to be relaxing at all," she murmured under her breath as she leaned back in her chair and watched the screen avidly. "That means the medications aren't working. That simply will not do." She made a note to change the dosage of the mixture of anti-psychotics and sedatives she was currently giving him. She hadn't wanted to give him so much that he was unresponsive to the world around him, but he was leaving her with no other options.

She sighed and leaned back in the chair, steepling her fingers and still watching her patient with a frown slowly forming on her face as she did so. It was hard to tell exactly was what was going on in the little black and white monitor, but it looked as if he were pulling at his restraints again. "He's going to have to learn that his place is here. With us," she murmured under her breath.

"Excuse me, doctor?" the chief security guard asked her suddenly, having heard her mumbled comment. He cast a glance to what she was looking. "So, is that him? The psycho? They're saying that little man killed something like 30 people in the last week. Is that true? He doesn't look like much to me. The papers are calling him the 'million dollar murderer.' You know, on account of the fact that's he's filthy rich or something like that. Some guys have all the luck you know? There's something definitely not right about that."

"I don't appreciate that term, officer," Dr. Harrington said evenly.

"What? The 'million dollar murderer?' I didn't make it up. The press did, doctor."

"No. Psycho." Her voice was cool now. "That's not a term I like to use in reference to my patients, officer. Mr. Sands is just a confused man who needs help like the rest of us. Nothing more, nothing less. And we well help him, won't we, officer?"

"Uh, yes doctor. Of course, doctor," the officer said turning away so she couldn't see him and blowing out a sigh with an expression on his face that said he considered her to be just as loony as the rest of the 'patients' she kept in this place. "Well…I should be getting back to work, uh, Dr. Harrington. If you need anything else, I'll have my radio with me all day."

Dr. Harrington nodded. "Thank you for your time. I'm sure we'll be speaking again later today."

"I…look forward to it," the officer said hesitantly. "Until then, doctor."

Dr. Harrington nodded and turned on a heel to head back to her wing of the hospital. Her patients needed her.

WWW

"I don't need you right now. Why won't you just leave me alone? Just…go back to sleep or whatever it is you do when you're not around," Sands grumbled under his breath.

"You need me. Always have. No want. Only need. Need, need, need. Need to blame. Need to talk. Need to save. Need," Jeffrey said with a solemn nod.

"Why?" Sands asked with a deep frown. He didn't like the notion of needing anyone, especially not a psychopathic voice in his head.

"Balance. You have to keep the balance. One on each side. More will tip the scale. Have to get rid of the others."

"Others? Scale? What the fuck are you talking about?"

Jeffrey clicked his tongue at that. "You should know. Your head, not mine."

Sands didn't want to think about the possibility of there being more people inside his head than just Jeffrey, so he didn't. It was much better for his so-called mental health that way.

WWW

The three federal agents made their way into the coroner's office with the somberness of a funeral procession, for that was what this little trip boiled down to; funerals and death.

Dr. Norris moved out from behind a desk and walked over to them. "Officers Rivers and Brisbane. Good to see you again despite the circumstances." He turned to Susannah. "Hello, I don't believe we've met. I am Dr. Theodore Norris. I was the one who did the autopsy on Ms. St. Martin there. I'd offer to shake your hand, but…" He held up a hand that was covered in a blood-stained glove.

"I am Agent Susannah Cartwright. I work with Officers Rivers and Brisbane. I was also acquainted with Ms. St. Martin," Susannah said softly.

"Then, I am very sorry for your loss. The same to both of you," he nodded towards Roland and Emily. "I'll assume you'll want me to hurry this along so you can get out of here, correct? I know I'd want to if I were in your position."

"Thank you," Susannah said with a small nod.

"Think nothing of it. Most people think that ME's and coroner's can be a bit cavalier about death, and while this is true, we still care." He moved back behind his desk, dutifully not drawing attention to the sheet covered body in the middle of the room which Susannah appreciated. "The cause of death was not the extreme facial lacerations but exsanguination."

"She bled to death?" Emily asked, trying to sound casual but with a clear tremor in her voice as she spoke.

"That is correct," Dr. Norris said with a nod.

"Tell me doctor, that she wasn't still alive when all of this happened to her." Please tell me that. Roland asked him.

Dr. Norris hesitated and cast a glance down to his notes. "About half of the wounds we found were indeed post-mortem, yes. Many of the stab wounds for instance were post-mortem, but not all."

"He kept stabbing her even after she was already dead. Jesus fucking Christ," Emily murmured under her breath.

"What about…her eyes?" Roland asked again. Dear god let her have been dead for that.

Dr. Norris hesitated just long enough for a sick feeling to develop in the pit of Roland's stomach. "The facial lacerations occurred pre-mortem."

"That's…that's not possible. Surely someone would have heard her screaming if that was what happened," Susannah insisted in a quavering voice.

"Were any drugs found in her system?" Emily asked.

Dr. Norris shook his head. "The toxicology report was clean. Although, we did find bruising around her mouth indicative of extreme pressure applied."

"He held a hand over her mouth as she screamed," Roland said distantly.

"That would be a safe guess," Dr. Norrington said softly.

WWW

Emily and Susannah watched as Roland paced across the hotel room, neither of them saying a word. There were no words now.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Roland spoke up suddenly, apparently having some words left after all.

"No, you're not. Don't be fucking stupid. You're going to leave him alone and let the law deal with him, Roland," Emily said firmly. "Otherwise you'll end up in the cell next to him for murder."

"Let the law deal with him? Be realistic, Emily. The law will either lock him up for the rest of his fucking life or throw him into an institution somewhere. DC doesn't have a fucking death penalty. Did you know that? I checked," he said bitterly.

"Maryland has one," Emily responded with a smug look.

"We're not in fucking Maryland, Emily," Roland said with a scowl. "And even if he gets the fucking death penalty for those people he killed there, he'll still get away with it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?! If he gets the death penalty, he doesn't get away with anything!" Emily shouted.

"He gets away with everything he did here!" Roland shouted before turning on a heel and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"God, I hate that stupid son of a bitch!" Emily yelled to the room in general upon Roland's leaving.

"No, you don't. Now just shut up for awhile. I'm going to go talk to him and you're going to stay here. Do you understand?" Susannah told her in a firm voice.

"Whatever. I don't care. He can run off and kill Sands and get his ass thrown in jail for all I care, the stupid bastard," Emily said bitterly.

"You don't mean that and you know it. Now we are going to have dinner tonight. All three of us, and you two are going to work all this shit out between you. No arguments." With that, Susannah left to find Roland. She would get things settled between the two of them if it killed her.

WWW

The dinner atmosphere between the three CIA agents was strained to say the least. Emily and Roland were dutifully not talking about anything but business with each other, and Susannah felt like she was caught in the middle while her parents fought. Conversations were stilted and the awkward silences grew longer and longer as time went on.

"Ok, that's it I've had enough," Susannah said suddenly, setting her fork down on her plate with a loud rattle. "You two are acting like children and the sexual tension between you is so think I can almost see it so why don't you save yourselves and me more headaches by just running off and having a nice, long fuck. Get it out of your systems before I lock you in a room together."

They were both taken aback, which both irritated and amused Susannah greatly. She had always played the quiet little mouse to Emily's wildcat, but now was the time to show them that even mice could bite back when pressed.

"It's none of your fucking business what I do or don't do in my private life, Agent Cartwright," Roland said, his blue eyes going icy. Susannah didn't stand for it.

"Oh give me a fucking break. Everyone in the fucking CIA probably knows about your affairs. You're life has never been private, Roland. And Emily, no offense, but you aren't exactly a blushing virgin either."

Emily shrugged, not denying what she knew to be true.

"For Christ's' sake. You two have been at each other's throats for as long as I've known either of you, and that tells me something. I don't know, nor do I want to know what happened between you two during training, but it's obvious to anyone with even half a brain that you're not over each other yet. Maybe you never will be. Maybe you'll live happily ever after and have a dozen fat children. Who knows? I don't. All I know is that I am tired of all the shit between you two, so either work it out or kill each other because I honestly don't care anymore." She threw her napkin to the table in a huff and rose from her seat.

"Where are you going, Susannah?" Emily asked in a soft voice, not looking at Roland who was not looking at her either.

"I'm going back to the hospital to talk to Sands some more. I don't care what that doctor of his said about visiting hours. I figure if I can't do anything more for you two then I may as well try and do some more for his victims. Like you should be," she said evenly.

"We'll go with you," Roland said, sounding uncharacteristically cowed.

Susannah hesitated before nodding. "Fine. But the instant you start tearing at each other's throats again, I'm sending you both back to the hotel. Do you understand what I'm telling to you? To the both of you?" Emily and Roland nodded. "Then let's get out of here."

WWW

They arrived on a war zone. Members of the hospital staff were moving about like ants in a stirred anthill and no one was telling them anything. As the trio of federal agents moved down the halls they could see more and more that doors were being locked on the rooms.

"What in the fuck is going on here?" Roland asked, turning his head back and forth to watch people running about as if their tails were lit on fire.

"I don't know, but I don't like it. Something's scared these people," Emily paused, her face losing color. "You don't think?"

"I don't know what to think but I'm certainly in a hurry to get to Sands' room now," Roland said, breaking into a run with the two female agents close on his heels.

They were intercepted at the door of Sands' room-conspicuously free of its armed guards-by an irate looking Dr. Harrington who fixed them with a glare as if they were the sole cause for everything wrong and evil in the world. "You three! This whole situation is all your fault! If you hadn't antagonized him during your visit, none of this would be happening! I am going to inform the proper authorities immediately for your gross misconduct. Anything else that happens here tonight will be on your head. Not mine."

"You're going to shut the hell up and tell us exactly what happened right now," Roland said firmly, letting Dr. Harrington's affronted gasp roll over his back like water. "Tell me straight. Sands escaped, didn't he?"

Dr. Harrington glowered for a few more minutes before speaking in even tones. "Yes, he did. He's somewhere in the building right now."

WWW

"Where are you going? We can't run free, you know. They hold all the keys to all the locks. Caged. Trapped with no sky above. Can you see the stars?"

"No, Jeffrey I can't see the fucking stars. Just shut up for awhile and let me think. We've got to fucking get out of here," Sands whispered desperately, casting his eyes around the empty room he was in. He was about to make a move across the hall into another room, edging his way nearer and nearer to what he hoped was the exit, when Jeffrey interrupted suddenly and loudly in the quiet room, causing him to jump.

"We're leaking life and death all mixed together. Death creates life and life creates death. All the same. Unending," Jeffrey said slowly.

"Fucking Christ, Jeffrey! Just shut the fuck up!" Sands hissed at him.

"Life is important though. So is death. Which is more so? I bring death as do you. Do our victims bring life?" Jeffrey held up his left hand for Sands to see. His fingertips were covered in blood.

"Is that what you're fucking going on about? Your fingers are covered in blood. So fucking what? So are mine," he showed Jeffrey his bloodied hand still gripping the blood streaked scalpel he had used in his escape tightly.

Jeffrey gave him a look that told Sands he thought he was a complete moron and jabbed a finger at the weeping wrapped bullet wound on their chest. After Sands' hiss of pain, Jeffrey continued. "This is my blood. It is very important. Not shed for you. Only for vampires. They appreciate it," Jeffrey said with a nod. "This hospital's full of them. Lurking in corners. Fangs sharp and gleaming. I want fangs. Stuck with cow's teeth."

"Aw fuck," Sands muttered, looking down at the red spot that was beginning to bleed through to the breezy hospital gown he had been running around in. He hadn't even noticed that the stitches he had gotten had broken open and he probably wouldn't have if Jeffrey hadn't said something. It didn't hurt. He was too full of adrenalin for minor things like pain from aggravated gunshot wounds to be a problem. "It doesn't matter. We'll get this taken care of when we can. But right now we have to get out of this fucking hospital."

"They have mechanics here, you know. For blood. Special tools to keep it all in so it's not lost."

"Blood…mechanics? Oh, you mean doctors. Yeah, I suppose they do. We could take one hostage, I guess. Have them fix us up," Sands said with a slight shrug. "Maybe they could even be our ticket out of here."

"Just don't lose him when you find him. Not a set of car keys. Won't fit in pockets. Too small."

"I wonder whatever happened to the Jag," Sands muttered with a frown. "I liked that fucking car."

"Did you check your pockets?"

Sands looked down to his definite lack of anything even resembling a pocket in his hospital gown and frowned. "Dammit, we've got to get some clothes."

"And a mechanic."

"Yes, and a…mechanic," Sands murmured before setting off again, not letting his sore and bleeding chest bother him. He had more important things to deal with right now.

WWW

"How did this happen? He was restrained and drugged for fuck's sake!" Roland yelled at the clearly flustered doctor in front of him.

"He faked a seizure and managed to threaten the nurse who checked on him into letting him go. She's dead now," Dr. Harrington said evenly. "I don't know how he got her to do that, but it doesn't matter now, does it? A woman and two guards are dead because of you and my patient is at loose in the hospital as we stand here speaking about it."

"I don't have time for that bullshit. If your nurse is dead it's only due to her own stupidity and your incompetence as a doctor. He was supposed to be drugged, doctor! You got those people killed. Not me."

"How dare you insinuate that I had anything to do with this," Dr. Harrington said icily. "It was you and your women who agitated Mr. Sands into escaping in the first place. I don't have to take this from you and what's more, I won't. I've got more important things to do that to deal with the likes of you." With a sneer in Roland's direction, she turned and walked down the hall, her heeled shoes clacking loudly on the tile as she walked.

Roland would have chased after her and likely strangled her had it not been for Emily and Susannah's restraining grips on his arms. "That arrogant, cock-sucking bitch! This is all her fucking fault and she knows it!" Roland yelled down the hall loudly enough for Dr. Harrington to have heard.

"Roland! We've got more important things to worry about! Sands has fucking escaped!" Emily tried to reason with him. Roland immediately calmed as much as he was able at the sound of her voice and turned his head in her direction. "Fuck. You're right. I'm fine, alright! You can let go of me now." The two female agents exchanged a brief glance, but did as he asked. "We'll have to coordinate this with hospital security. We won't be able to search the whole fucking place on our own."

"We should split up. Cover more ground," Susannah suggested.

"Fine. But no one travels alone, understand? This bastard is armed and dangerous as I know you're aware, so be careful alright? No one else is lost." Roland said firmly.

Emily and Susannah nodded and they all moved to find their partners so they could get the manhunt started.

TBC

A/N: This chapter got a little…long. You can thank Neon Daises for that. She's a good motivator. To all of you who have reviewed thus far, you have my never-ending thanks and gratitude. This story is for all of you.