Darkness Rising

A Once Upon a Time in Mexico story by Merrie

Disclaimer: If wishes were horses I'd sell mine and buy SJ.

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: Warning, character death. I'm not really sure why this chapter wanted written, or why I killed the person I did, but I hope you still like it in spite of all that.

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

Chapter Twenty: House of Cards

"You can't run like this forever. You know it as well as I do," Susannah said as she and Sands raced down an empty corridor. She could see the effects of blood loss and serious injury were taking their toll on him even if he was too blind to.

"Do not deign to think that you know me and what I can or cannot do. You don't. You don't know anything about me," Sands addressed her coldly.

"Oh really? I know that you're a spoiled rich brat who's probably never known a day of pain or hardship in his life before he decided to go insane and start killing people. You'll break, Sands. It's inevitable."

Sands' hand had swung out to make contact with her face before either of them knew what was happening. She was sent sprawling to the ground, her gun clattering out of her limp hand as she hit the floor. She remained on her hands and knees for a moment after that which told Sands just how hard he had hit her since she wasn't immediately going after her gun. "You will kindly keep a civil tongue or I shall pull it out of your fucking skull, bitch," he hissed to her. He had no idea whether or not he could actually do such a thing-it depended on how much further she continued to piss him off-but at least it sounded threatening though.

"Tongues can be as knives. Fall on them and you'll spill crimson," Jeffrey added.

"You sick son of a bitch," Susannah muttered from her place on the floor after reaching over to take ahold of her empty gun again. "You have no idea how twisted you are, do you? Do you honestly think normal people would do the things you've done? Kill the people you have? You should have been drowned at birth. But oh, I forgot. Poor little Sands didn't have parents who loved him, but didn't hate him enough to kill him either, did he? I bet they ignored you. And you hated that, didn't you? You hated them. That's why you killed them, isn't it? Poor lonely Sands who just wanted a little attention. Well you got your attention. You burnt them alive in their own bedroom. How did that make you feel? Did you stay and listen to their screams? You did, didn't you? Can you still hear them now? Tell me, Sands. What did your parents' death sound like? Oh, and how about the smell? I've been told the smell of burning human flesh is quite unbelievable."

"Smells just like chicken," Jeffrey murmured as Sands simply stared at her, too stunned and angry to do anything quite yet.

Susannah was undaunted by the comment. "Do you still hear their screams? Do you get off on it, you sick son of a bitch? I bet you do. And you know what else? I bet you've never had a woman in your life. Not a real one. That's why you like to kill them, isn't it? That's why every woman you've slept with has ended up dead. You don't know what to do with them afterwards. Is it impotence? Serial killers and sexual deviants often have trouble getting it up—" Her tirade was cut off as he hit her again, hard enough to send black spots dancing across her vision. Sands reached out and roughly flipped her over onto her back and straddled her, pinning her arms to the ground.

"Would you like to know what it's like, you nosy bitch? Would you like to learn first hand just how far my so-called sexual deviance goes? I've never actually raped someone before, but for you I'd be willing to make an exception. Someone needs to show you your fucking place," Sands hissed in a very cold and emotionless voice although Susannah could see the rage and hate dancing in his dark eyes.

"She does, she does, she does!" Jeffrey chanted. "She wants to know. She needs to know."

"You think it will make you better at your job? Help you become better able to know what a victim is going through if you've experienced it yourself?" The manner in which he asked the question was casual, but his voice and demeanour were filled with hate and malice.

The realisation that she had gone much too far with someone who wouldn't blink at the thought of killing her screamed itself in her mind, ordering her to keep her stupid mouth shut if she wanted to keep her life.

"What? Nothing to say? You don't want to know what it's like then?" he hissed at her. "But think of what a good officer you would be then," he taunted maliciously, neither moving off of her nor letting her arms free as she spoke.

"She doesn't want to know. She doesn't care. Scared as a mouse in a cat's jaws. Poor little mouse. Where's her tail? I want to hear her squeak," Jeffrey said, looking every bit as malicious as Sands was.

"Let me go, Sands. You've made your point," Susannah said cautiously.

"Have I now? And what point was it that I was trying to make?"

"The sharp kind. Glittering razors in starlight. Beautiful points," Jeffrey murmured.

"That you won't hesitate to kill me if I continue to piss you off," she said evenly.

"Oh, I was planning on doing that anyway. Try again," Sands said with a truly mad grin.

"That you've got control," she answered, trying her best to look submissive while still calculating a way to beat him. She was no weakling. She had survived CIA training when scores of her fellow classmates had fallen. She knew how to take care of herself, damn it. It was time to start thinking. Antagonising Sands, while rewarding in its own way, was ultimately a foolish course of action bordering on suicidal. What had she been thinking?

That had apparently been what Sands had wanted to hear, because he released her. "Don't forget it again or I will kill you where you stand. And not quickly. It would be easier to get out of this fucking place with a hostage, but I'm sure I'd be able to find a replacement for you easily enough. It is a hospital after all," he said evenly. "Do not test me, sugarbutt. You won't like the results."

"My word, my word. Thief. Fingers stick where you stand. Won't be able to let go of her hand," Jeffrey growled.

"Yeah, well I'm using it so shut the fuck up," Sands growled in return, growing tired of Jeffrey's ramblings. He rose to his feet with a wince as his stitches stretched, the bullet that was still lodged in his chest screaming for attention. He pressed a hand to the front of the stolen lab coat he was wearing and gently moved two fingers between the buttons to feel for blood as a telltale sign that his sutures had broken open. To his surprise, he found none. The sutures had held for now. Maybe it was a good idea to have let that doctor live after all.

Jeffrey retaliated for Sands' comment by biting down hard on his tongue causing Sands to yelp in pain and outrage.

Susannah rose to her feet and simply watched as Sands began to argue with Jeffrey over that with almost morbid fascination. If I can get the fighting each other enough, I might be able to escape and get back to Roland and Emily. She needed a gun damn it. Actually you need bullets not a gun, she reminded herself with a frown. Right now he holds all of the cards. He's in control.

"Our fly's beginning to think she's a spider. But even so, she's still caught in the web," Jeffrey commented suddenly, startling Susannah out of her thoughts. Had he guessed her intentions? Thankfully, Sands either didn't understand Jeffrey's warning or didn't care because he ignored him.

"We're going. I want out of this fucking hell hole," Sands ordered, grabbing Susannah's arm roughly and pushing her down the hall in front of him.

Susannah nearly stumbled in her high heels but she managed to keep her footing in spite of Sands' push and consequent laughing at her clumsiness. As his laughing turned into slightly pained coughing once more she knew that her chance would come. All she had to do now was wait. That, and try not to get herself killed.

WWW

"And after that he what, just knocked you out?" Roland asked the nurse they had literally stumbled across incredulously.

"Well…not exactly knocked out, per se," the nurse murmured, rubbing the back of her head where she had hit it when she had fallen and looking a little sheepish.

"She fainted," Emily responded before Roland could ask the nurse what she had meant. "You're lucky to be alive. I hope you realise that," she told the nurse firmly.

"Officer Stark wasn't as lucky as you. Your dear patient slit his throat and left him to die after taking our colleague hostage," Roland said evenly, not entirely sure why he seemed to be taking his frustrations out on the nurse, but not really caring at the moment either.

The nurse paled at that. "He-he killed someone? The man I helped?"

"He's killed quite a few people by now, actually. You'd be surprised; he gets around," he said dryly, beginning to pace a little as he spoke statement after statement, not letting anyone interrupt his tirade. "You helped a wanted serial killer to kill again. I hope you're proud of—" That was as much as he had been able to get out before Emily dragged him forcefully out of the small operating room that they had been using to interrogate the frazzled nurse.

"What the fuck is your problem, Rivers?" Emily hissed at him when they were alone. "You're treating that woman like she's some kind of fucking coconspirator and it stops right now. It's not her fault Sands got away. It never was. She was doing her job in fear for her life. That's all. Now you're going to go back in there and apologise to her for being an asshole."

"What? Fuck that. I'm not saying anything to her! She helped him!" Roland yelled back.

"Oh get over yourself, Roland!" Emily shouted, utterly disgusted with his actions. "She was scared for her life. She did what she was ordered to do because he would have killed her if she hadn't! You know this as well as I fucking do, so stuff a sock in it," she hissed. "This woman has done nothing wrong and you're treating her like she's committed a capital crime. Well she hasn't, Roland. And going after her like this isn't going to help get Susannah back either, so just stop."

Roland stopped. "God, I'm being an ass," he said with grim realisation. "Susannah could be…she could be dead by now and I'm standing here wasting time with accusations against some nurse."

"Don't tell me, tell her," Emily said calmly. "I'll be waiting out here when you're finished." She had no need nor desire to see Roland grovel. There were easier ways to get that kind of satisfaction from him. She frowned at this thought and tried to push it away. This was no time for lusty thoughts about white-blonde, luscious in those dark suits, incredibly pig-headed co-workers either; past indiscretions aside. She had better control of herself than that damn it.

"Let's go. They found a doctor unconscious in one of conference rooms down the hall who apparently did some kind of surgery on Sands," Roland said as he walked out to her.

"He's wounded?" Emily asked, not daring to hope.

Roland nodded. "And what's more, the doctor said that Susannah was with him when he saw Sands."

"We've got to talk with this doctor. Or…should we keep going? If Sands is truly wounded enough to require surgery, then he's not going to be getting very far very quickly."

"That, and I believe that Susannah will do everything in her power to slow him down. She knows we're chasing and that we will catch him." Please god if you're listening, if you've ever listened, keep Susannah safe until we can get to her. Don't let this bastard hurt anyone else. Amen. "Leave Emmerson. This is our job. It always has been."

Emily nodded without hesitation and they continued on their search. They couldn't be very far behind now. Roland wouldn't stand for it.

WWW

"Did you know Yvette was a member of the CIA when you killed her?" Susannah asked suddenly when Sands took a brief moment to rest against a wall. There was a marked shallowness to his breathing now that he seemed too stubborn to admit or acknowledge. She didn't know why she had asked that exactly, she just…wanted to know.

"I didn't find out until after. And I didn't kill her. Jeffrey did," Sands murmured.

"She upset me," Jeffrey murmured, trying his best to sound as lucid as possible and very nearly managing. "She didn't want me. She wanted him."

"And that was reason enough to kill her?" Susannah asked incredulously.

"Not just kill her. You didn't see her afterward. He fucking mutilated her, the sick bastard," Sands muttered to himself.

Susannah blinked at that, and spoke her mind before taking time to consider her words. "Jeffrey isn't real, Sands. He never was. He didn't kill Yvette, you did. You killed all of those people. Only you. You knew what you were doing when you killed each and every one of them. You're not insane; you never have been. Jeffrey's not real. He's an excuse. And I'm not buying it any longer."

"You don't think I'm real? A figment? A phantom? Dust in the wind? A ghost in fog?" Jeffrey asked, sounding curiously hurt that she would dare think such a thing. "What me to prove it to you?"

"There's nothing to prove. You're not real—" A sharp blade flashed in the glare of the fluorescent lights above her, momentarily blinding her as it moved. When she could see again she frowned, finding that she had somehow lost the ability to speak. A trembling hand moved up to her throat, and her fingers came into contact with something warm and wet. Her frown deepened and she brought her hand to her face, looking down at her fingers in confusion. They were covered with something that looked disturbingly like blood. Her blood. But, it couldn't be. If it was her blood, then clearly she would be in some kind of pain. But she felt nothing; only a dim numbness in her toes that seemed to be working its way up her legs with alarming speed.

"Ashes, ashes we all fall down," Jeffrey murmured as he watched her. Her eyes widened as she looked down at his hand to see the scalpel he clenched was dripping with blood. No. I won't let it end like this! That son of a bitch! Help me! She tried to scream these things, but the only thing she was able to manage was a wet gurgling sound that chilled her to the bone upon hearing it. As she fell to the ground, her own legs no longer able to support her, she vaguely heard Jeffrey murmuring what sounded like hail Mary's over her body as she quickly bled to death. "…now and at the hour of our death…" was the last thing she heard before the numbness overtook her and she felt no more.

WWW

"I'm not even Catholic. Where did you hear that?" Sands asked Jeffrey as stepped over Susannah's dead body. "And damn it, she was a hostage. You weren't supposed to kill her."

"Always carry a spare. Heard it while fishing," Jeffrey murmured in response.

"I don't fish either. Nevermind. Let's get the fuck out of here. Those fucking CIA agents are on our tail. You know it as well as I do. When that bastard Rivers finds out I've killed another one of his women I doubt he'll be too pleased with me," Sands said with a smirk. "Bitch was far too nosy for her own good anyway. And she shouldn't have gotten in our way. It was her own fault that she got herself killed."

"She didn't believe in me." Jeffrey almost sounded hurt at that. Almost.

"Yeah, that too. Well, I believe in you if it makes you feel any better. Now shut the fuck up and let's get the hell out of here."

WWW

"We've got to be getting close. It's like you said this hospital is not that fucking big," Emily muttered as they searched. "So why haven't we found him?"

"He's a clever bastard, I'll give him that," Roland responded. Truthfully though, if it hadn't been for the clear signs that he was still around-the frightened nurse, the unconscious doctor-he might have let his doubts take over considering the fact that they still hadn't caught him after searching for nearly an hour. "It has to be more than just cleverness. And I don't believe in luck. Someone's helping him."

Emily pursed her lips in thought at that. "Do you really think so? I mean, who would willingly-I assume you do mean willing help-help someone they knew could kill them at any second for no apparent reason at all? Psychopaths don't need reasons they need opportunities. That's got to be common knowledge, right? So who would help him?"

"Someone who didn't believe that he'd really do it." He scowled as a likely candidate came to mind. "That bitch of a doctor."

"Dr. Harrington? I mean, yeah she's a bit of a bitch, but do you honestly think she'd help Sands escape? She wants him in her care. I'd think she'd be more for chaining him to the wall and throwing away the keys than letting him go."

Roland considered this. "Fuck, you're right," he admitted with a frustrated sigh a moment later. "But he can't have managed this on his own, could he have?" He didn't sound quite as sure anymore.

"I don't know. I think we're underestimating him. Sure, he's crazy as a fucking loon, but he's also very smart. I don't know his history, but I can tell that much. And how often do you hear about geniuses who happen to be serial killers as well? The line between genius and madness is very thin, it seems."

"So…how are we going to fucking catch him then?" Roland asked slowly.

"You're asking me?" Emily asked incredulously.

"No. Forget it. We'll find him. He's not that fucking smart," he said defensively.

Emily nodded; still a little taken aback that he had asked her opinion without being prodded into it first. She couldn't remember another time that he had done that. "We should keep moving. The longer we wait the further Sands gets away from us."

Roland scowled a little at that intimation, but didn't say anything. In truth, despite his big words, he was beginning to doubt that they'd catch Sands at all. He had managed to elude them thus far, who was to say that he couldn't keep doing it? Not that he would ever say such a thing out loud, of course. Not even to Emily, one of the only people he truly trusted. Not that he would say that out loud either. He had a reputation as a mistrustful, headstrong bastard that he would maintain at all cost. The notion that he trusted her and perhaps had even come to rely on her over the past week was something that he could never admit to. Ever. It had the potential to change too many things that he didn't want changed. He settled for a nod that Emily didn't see because she had already started out ahead of him.

"Fucking smartass psychotic bastard," Emily muttered as they turned onto a hall that was pitch black; whether the lights either having been broken or simply turned off she didn't know and didn't particularly care. She scowled and stopped to pull a small penlight from her jacket pocket, holding it tightly in one hand while keeping her gun aimed ahead of her with the other.

Roland almost asked if she was talking to him, but figured it was better to lead well enough alone as he walked at her side, his own flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other making them a deadly matched pair. Well, they would have maintained that image had Roland not stumbled over something in the middle of the hallway, shattering the illusion of deadly grace. Once he had regained his footing, he ignored Emily's snicker and aimed his flashlight down to see what he had tripped over. As soon as the thin beam of light hit the floor, he froze, and Emily wasn't laughing any longer.

WWW

"Caught, caught, you're going to be caught. You hear them, don't you? I do and they're going to throw out the net. Little fishes can't swim any longer. They're all hooked. Do you see a hook? We are so screwed," Jeffrey muttered as they heard voices that were entirely too close for comfort coming up behind them from the darkened hall.

"Shut up," Sands hissed, doing his best to speed up. He could feel something warm and sticky coating his chest and knew that his stitches had finally decided to break open and cause him more problems than he could handle right now. That and he could feel his breath becoming shallow again as the bullet still within his lung caused its own problems. Fuck that. He wasn't going to be caught. Not like this. Not at all.

"Sands?" Jeffrey asked softly, startling him with how sane and lucid he sounded. Perhaps the drugs were finally wearing off.

"What?" he whispered back.

"Are we going to be caught? I don't want to be fucking caught," he said in a small nearly childlike voice.

"We're not going to be caught. We just have to keep running. We have to stay ahead of them."

"I can't run anymore, Sands. I'm tired. And I don't feel very good."

"Don't do this to me, Jeffrey. Not now. You don't want to be caught? Fine. You have to keep fucking running. I don't care if you're about to fucking die on me. Keep running. It's that or we're fucking caught. You don't want that, do you?" Jeffrey shook his head. "That's right. If we're caught, we're dead. And you don't want to die either, do you Jeffrey? Not after everything it took to get here." Truthfully, Sands couldn't care less if Jeffrey died, not really, but what would happen to him if he did? Would Jeffrey's death affect him? Or would he just be rid of the annoying thorn in his side that had started this whole fucking mess for good?

"It's too late to go back," Jeffrey said suddenly, having heard Sands' thoughts. "Death can't be undone. The reaper has them and he won't give them back. And they," he cast a glance back down the hall where they could now see the light of two flashlights, "won't let us go. Not after everything."

"There's no going back," Sands agreed with grim finality, gripping the gun he had taken from Susannah tightly. "I'll kill them all."

"Death is the only real adventure," Jeffrey murmured before he could stop himself. "Goddamn drugs," he muttered.

WWW

Emily took one look at her friend's bloody body, made ever more macabre by the harsh garishness of the flashlight in the darkness, and turned and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor behind her. "Oh fuck me, tell me that's not her," Emily moaned after she had finished, not wanting to turn back for a second look at the body that had tripped Roland up, but unable to look away.

"It's her. She's had her throat slit. Just like Officer Stark," Roland answered her in an emotionless voice as he stared down at Susannah's body. "Her gun is missing," Roland said as he crouched at her side and looked at Susannah's empty holster.

"Why would he arm himself now? Officer Stark still had his weapon when we found him." Emily was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. Especially since the only thing that she could really focus on right now was the way Susannah's blood spread out into an oddly shaped pool from her ruined neck. This was her friend. This was her friend's blood. "He's not going to get away with this," Emily said suddenly, her voice still unusually calm, though full of hate now. "He won't ever see the inside of a jail cell. He's a fucking dead man."

Roland didn't argue that, but he did look at Emily in surprise because he could hear in her voice that she meant every word. She would kill Sands. "You're not a murder, Emily. If you fucking kill this bastard then you'll end up just like him. And so will I because I would help you erase his existence without a second thought for what he's done."

"I don't care. She was my friend, Roland. And he killed her. She didn't deserve to die like this. She didn't deserve to die at all. He has to pay."

Roland had been about to respond when gunshots rang out, sounding very loud and close in the dark hall. With a quick glance at Susannah's body and a vow to come back for her, he and Emily tore down the hall towards the noise, determined to end this once and for all.

WWW

Sands knew that the gunshots he had fired off at the men coming up the hall to him had probably been overheard by those chasing him, but he had had no choice. That he had managed to kill them both with one shot each had been nothing short of miraculous, especially considering that they had both been police officers gunning for his life. That and he couldn't remember ever having any formal training on the use of firearms either. It seemed he had natural aim. With knives too, which was even more unbelievable. "Did you learn all of this?" he asked Jeffrey.

"Practiced with knives. Never had a gun before," Jeffrey answered Sands' question. "I wanted to become a better killer."

Sands scoffed at that. "You're insane."

"Sanity is a state of mind like anything else. And like all other states of mind, it can be changed."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sands asked, whirling around as he heard voices down the hall behind him.

"It means crazy is as crazy does," Jeffrey answered with a manic grin as he grabbed the gun out of Sands' and into his. "Let's play."

TBC

A/N: Sorry to the Susannah fans out there, she pissed Jeffrey off and simply had to die. We'll see how the rest of them fare next chapter. Until then, thank you to all who have reviewed! You guys keep this story going. Without your constant support, I might have given up on this monstrous fic a hundred pages ago. You guys rock.

-Merrie