Cracking of a Fragile Eggshell Mind
a tale spun by Mayor Tokey
Rating: R
Summary: The local police have all but given up finding the evidence necessary to put Mort Rainey in prison. That doesn't mean The CIA doesn't have plans in store involving a young rookie named Sheldon Jeffrey Sands.
Disclaimer: We still own Tokey and I think we own the newest member of the Sands' house. That'd be nice.
Author's Notes: It wouldn't be a good psycho SJ story if he didn't go a little psycho. Thanks for sticking with us this long. Honor roll at the end.
Harrison
At exactly 6 o'clock the next morning, there was yet again a pounding on the door. Mort moaned, unsure of whether it was his head that was pounding, or if there was actually someone at the door. His other shoulder was sore from having slept slouched on the floor with his wrist cuffed to the doorknob. At the next set of knocks, he moaned even louder, the throbbing in his head intensified.
Tom stood out on the porch mumbling under his breath. He was harried from having to spend the night in a cell. He'd called his lawyer as soon as he'd gotten his phone call, and he had been bailed out just past 5. He reached up to pound on the door yet again when he heard a muffled sound. He turned and saw Sands curled up on a lawn chair and frowned. Surely he wouldn't have left Mort inside alone.Unless...
"Sands." He went to where Sands lay sleeping. "Sands, wake up!"
"Dammit, can't you people lemme the fuck alone?" Sands grumbled, rolling away from Tom.
Tom knew it was dangerous, but leaned into Sands' ear and shouted. "Wake up, Sands!" Then he dumped the rookie agent out of the chair and onto the wood floor of the porch. He promptly stepped back out of reach and waited for him to get his bearings.
Sands hopped into a crouch, eyes scanning for danger and only finding a disheveled Tom. At first, disappointment crossed his features, then annoyance, then all out anger. He wouldn't shoot Tom-he couldn't-so he grabbed a blanket, flung the screen door open and stormed away, determined to sleep somewhere. The door slammed closed with a resounding thwack. It was enough to drive DB out of bed to stumble down the stairs.
"Just where the hell do you think you're going?" Tom shouted after Sands, following him. "And where's your captive?"
Mort closed his eyes trying to concentrate on the voices. He recognized Tom's as he tried to decipher what they were saying, but he was having difficulty as they moved off the porch and away from the door. He wanted to know what was happening, or rather what had happened. He looked around, seeing the girl still sleeping soundly on the couch.
"Psst! Hey kid!" he called out. "Hey! You! Um…Tookey?"
Tokey let out a snort and rolled over onto the floor. She hit with a thud. "Umph." She looked around, confused, and spotted Mort trying to get her attention. "My name's Tokey." She said, then spotted her trainer at the foot of the stairs. "Why're we up so-" she broke off with a yawn. "-early?"
"The screen door slammed. Someone's outside. I don't think Sands is the type to get the sudden urge to bond with nature, so I'm covering all the bases. Check the window, Tokey, who's out there?" DB murmured.
"It's Tom," Mort said as if they were stupid.
Tokey got up to look out the window and glanced at Mort. "Who's Tom?"
Mort rolled his eyes. "The 'agent friend?'"
"Oh..." Tokey looked out the window, but didn't see anything. Tom and Sands had already disappeared into the thick foliage. "Nothing to report, Capitán."
"Tom? Tom McCarthy? Tokey, he was supposed to be on vacation up here, not helping Sands on this asinine assignment. How did you figure Tom was in on this?" DB frowned.
"Uhm, I thought that he was part of this. I mean, they're friends, and isn't it rather convenient that his cabin is only 30 miles away?" she smiled sweetly. "Oh and the reports state that a one, Tom McCarthy was reported escorting Mr. Sands out of the hospital last Friday."
"Okay, Tokey, you've proven yourself to be a smart ass." Nicole replied sarcastically, "but now we've got bigger things to worry about."
XXX
Sands wasn't trying especially hard to outrun Tom, but he didn't exactly want his company either. The man obviously didn't get the clue that Sands wanted nothing more than to sleep until the fucking sun actually rose. He was power walking to the lake, determined to lie down on the beach and shiver under the comforter until breakfast. And fuck Tom if he thought he could change things.
"Sands! Slow down you stubborn bastard!" Tom huffed, panting as he tried to keep up. "I need to talk to you!"
"Fuck off, Tom, I can't deal with you now," Sands snarled.
"I don't give one shit if you can't deal with me! That's your problem. Now mine on the other hand seems to involve your shooting a guy who's now dead in my truck which points all fingers to me. Not to mention a certain bitch on my ass. I intend for you to get me out of this mess just as beautifully as you got me into it. Understand?" He gasped for breath as he reached Sands and grabbed his arm, turning him around to face him.
Sands' arm came around in a lightning hook and caught Tom in the midsection. Tom dropped to his knees, allowing Sands to crouch beside him, comforter draped over his shoulders like a bulky cape.
"Listen here, Tom, you want to know how much sleep I got last night? None. Have you ever tried to sleep outside in Maine at the end of fall? Have you done it in a plastic and metal lawn chair? I'll tell you; it's un-fucking-comfortable is what it is. Then you come waltzing up my porch steps without a fucking care in the world demanding I lend you my ear for your fucking woes. Well, Tom, if you'd just fucking listened to me way back there after the airport incident, you wouldn't be in whatever shit you're in now because you'd still be with me and I wouldn't have had to kill some poor asshole. Now who's the fuckup, Tom? It sure as hell isn't me. Go back to your fucking cabin. I'm tired, I'm pissed off, and I've got more people that you can shake a stick at on my ass. I do not want your problems added to my stack," Sands hissed.
Tom struggled to his feet, and glared down at Sands. "Don't you dare tell me how 'un-fucking-comfortable' sleeping on a lawn chair is! Whyn't you try spending the night in a fucking jail cell because of some fuckup who left you to clean up their mess?" Tom's hands were fists at his sides, and they were beginning to shake with his rage.
A similar night floated into Sands' consciousness. Marijuana bust. 2 days in jail until his friends managed to scrape the money together. It had been a good day, getting out on bail. And then the court date, when the police realized they had no evidence beyond a joint butt in his yard that didn't have his spit on it. That was even better. Now wasn't the best time to reminisce though.
"I'd play you the world's smallest violin, but I'm afraid my violin lessons ended with I strangled my teacher with a string," Sands shrugged. "Not my fuck ups, not my problem. I offered you help. You told me to fuck off. I don't care if you don't want my help, less work for me. I care if you're being a dick. God, I feel like a boyfriend dumping his pregnant girlfriend on prom night," he snorted. "Listen, Tom, you're not getting me. Fuck off. I don't care about your problems in any way shape or form. I'm not helping you now that you're fucking desperate and realize I'm, smarter, faster, cleverer, prettier and overall better than you. I don't know why you came here, but consider yourself uninvited until you get your shit together."
"Fuck you, Sands. You're a real dick you know that? Hah. Looks like you're no longer crippled at least." With that he turned and headed back through the trees towards Sands' cabin, almost running right into a woman with long dark hair and even darker sunglasses.
"Tom," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Nicole." He smiled coolly, "What brings you out to this neck of the woods? Or do I even have to ask?"
Tokey stood back a ways and silently watched the interaction. DB ignored the question.
"You weren't getting messy, were you?"
"No, that would be the rookie over there," he gestured behind him. "Got antsy and very nearly had a nervous breakdown. Saw a shrink and everything."
"A shrink?" She kept her voice light but was secretly concerned about the sound of that. Word was that he'd just barely passed the psych eval to get into the CIA. If it was coming back to bite people in the ass, that could only be a bad thing.
"Well," he smirked, "that was his title, but he wasn't very well educated in the field, so no worries about that. But-" He cut off when he noticed the young sidekick. "Who's this?"
"The name's Tokey."
Tom raised an eyebrow questioningly, at DB.
"Sidekick," DB grinned lazily. She'd been around Tom long enough to know the man's inner machinations, vision or no.
"Ah," Tom smiled knowingly. "Tokey, hon, would you excuse us for a moment? That fellow Mort's up at the cabin, no? Go keep an eye on him?" He winked at her.
Tokey turned to he trainer for approval. "DB?"
"Just make sure he doesn't escape the cuffs or anything. And don't go near him, right?"
Tokey nodded, "Sure thing."
Once she had disappeared through the trees, Tom sighed wearily. "Nic, I don't know what's going on with him. He's been acting…rather odd lately."
"Odder than normal you mean."
"Well, yes, of course! I mean, Nic, you have no idea. He's been…talking to himself."
"Talking…" she trailed off. "Not in the thoughtful way I take it?"
Tom shook his head. "It's like he's arguing with himself…or a voice he hears…" He murmured thoughtfully. "It's like he doesn't even realize he's talking to himself. It's as if he's in his own head when he's doing it."
"I'm not the psych major, that's Sands' realm. I don't think you're going to pry the information out of him either."
Tom shook his head again. "I know, but it worries me. That Mort guy, he's a strange one too. I wonder if he somehow incited this…this voice, or whatever it is."
"What, like Multiple Personality Disorder is contagious?" she frowned.
"That's what Sands said Mort had. You think so too?"
"I've been reading up on this guy for awhile now. So to speak. I know him almost better than I know Sands."
"Oh." Was all Tom could muster. "Nic…I really think Sands might endanger himself. I mean it. He put his knife to his throat and was seriously going to slice it open." Tom sighed heavily, "I'm really worried about him."
"Well, I don't hear him. You can't be too worried if you let him out of your sight just now."
"Arrrgh! What the hell am I supposed to do when the man threatens to put a bullet in my head if I don't let him have his beauty rest? Jesus! He'd do it too you know? He's done it before-" He cut off realizing what he'd said and quickly averted his eyes.
"He shot at you for waking him up?" Dangerbabe was more than mildly shocked.
"No! No, just forget I said anything." Tom held up his hand and started to walk past her. "I've got a mess to clean up remember?"
She reached out and grabbed a hold of his arm, but it was a gentle grip. "Why didn't you ever report him?"
"For what?" Tom feigned innocence.
"For being more insane than anyone ever gave him credit for."
"Because at times being a psycho can benefit the company."
"Not when he goes around threatening agents. No, that's not right, Tom, and you know it."
Tom just shrugged, "I-" He was cut off by a loud splash from the lake.
DB gripped Tom's shoulder. "We've gotta find Sands. Lead the way."
Tom nodded. "This way," he said, leading the way through the trees. He was all business. When he reached the clearing where the shoreline was, he came to an abrupt halt, causing DB to run into him.
Sands was face down in the water, not moving.
"Why can't I hear him?" DB whispered.
"Uhm...I'm not sure. I have no idea what he's doing." He forced his body to move. He made his way over to Sands and waded into the water, getting his jeans wet halfway up his calves. "Sands?" He gently pushed him. "Sands...?" He pushed a little harder.
Whether Sands was dead or unconscious or stubbornly not moving was up for debate, but he didn't twitch. DB had mixed feelings. After hearing some of the man's quirks, she had no doubt that he was dangerous and should probably be released from duty. But he shouldn't just die. Nobody deserved just to die.
"Tom, can you drag him onto the beach?"
"Yeah." First, he rolled Sands over on his back and jumped back, yelping in surprise as Sands spit a spray of water in his face. "AAAAHHH!" Tom yelled as he flailed his arms and careened backwards into the lake. He landed on his ass, glaring stubbornly at Sands, who was also sitting now. Sands looked confused and out of synch with his surroundings. He frowned at the soggy Tom beside him, then turned and tilted his head at DB, still on shore.
"Do I know you?"
"I think you may have met before," Tom said dryly, still glaring at Sands, despite his obvious confusion. "What the hell are you doing in the lake?"
"Lake...?" Sands looked down at the water flowing over his legs and out to the clear blue surf of Lake Tashmore. His voice had sounded…different…than Sands' normal conversational tones. Not really tangibly different, just enough that an alarm bell went off in the back of DB's mind.
"Lake. Did you pass first grade, buddy?" she asked lightly, trying to hide the nervousness.
"That wasn't me. That was someone else."
Tom frowned. "What do you mean someone else? Are you ok, Sands?"
"Yeah, him! That's the guy. I…think," the man who apparently was not Sands blinked.
"Oh Christ! Don't tell me that Multiple Person Syndrome is contagious?" He looked at DB questioningly.
"Wasn't when I took Psych," DB shook her head.
"Not contagious," "Sands" shook his head. "I was always here."
"Well just who are you then?" Tom proceeded to have a normal conversation with this alternate personality Sands was claiming to be.
"He…never gave me a name." He sounded sheepish. "Not-Sands. I'm Not-Sands."
"Hmm…Can't be any more original than that, can ya?" Tom said, standing from the water. He extended his hand to Sands-rather, Not-Sands. "Here let me help you up here, Not-Sands."
"Rub it in a little deeper," he rolled his eyes. "Would you prefer I be named Derek or something of that ilk?"
Tom shrugged. "Why not? Got any suggestions Nic?"
"Maybe we could name him Cornelius or Pearl or something equally embarrassing," she laughed weakly.
"Ha, ha no," the man with the identity crisis said sternly as Tom yanked him out of the water.
"Let's just get back to your-Sands'-cabin, and we'll figure all this out," Tom said, once again leading the way through the trees.
Tokey stood on the porch peering through the trees anxiously, wondering what was taking them so long. She ignored Mort's pleas to uncuff him.
"Hey come on! I'll-I'll take you out to dinner! I'll buy you a new watch! I'll-I'll do anything!" he pleaded.
"Just shut up would, ya?" She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, puffing on it nervously. It shouldn't be taking this long for them to talk. She began to pace the small expanse of the wooden porch, listening to the dull footsteps of her boots. When she spotted DB, Tom, and Sands breaking through the forest of trees, she quickly put out the cigarette. "Thank god!" she breathed as she pushed open the screen door to go out to meet them. "What took so long?" she asked, eyeing the two men that were dripping wet.
"Not the time, Tokey," Nicole muttered, relinquishing her hold on Tom. Sands eyed the young agent and the man on the floor.
"Do you people just crawl out of the woodwork or did you all come here to see that guy-"
"Sands," Dangerbabe sighed.
"Him."
"What the hell is he on? What's he talking about? I thought he was Sands!"
"He was," Tom answered, moving past her into the cabin, pausing to ruffle Mort's hair. "Heya Mort..." Then, he moved up the stairs, dripping water all the way.
"In short, he's not Sands," DB elaborated. "And we're not sure why."
"Sands was a pansy and disappeared." Not-Sands sounded scornful.
Tokey looked thoughtful. "So you knew Sands? What brought you out then?"
"I don't know Sands. I just rent a cozy little apartment in his occipital lobe. Good view," he smirked. "As for what brought me out…I couldn't say. Sands just sort of disappeared and I got sucked out to fill the void."
"I see. And why are you all wet?" She leaned back against the doorframe, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Something about a llama, a rusty nail and 3 bits of string," Not-Sands tapped his chin.
"Well, you're certainly a smart ass like him. Would you care to explain it on his behalf, DB?"
"I don't have the whole story either, Tokey," Dangerbabe snorted.
"Why not?" The man looked at her. "You were there."
"So you don't have all of Sands' memories. That's very interesting," she murmured.
"Doesn't answer my question, chica."
"Can anyone answer any of these questions?" Tokey sighed agitatedly. "Whatever happened to Sands anyway? You wouldn't be able to recall that, would you?"
"I already told you, he disappeared," Not-Sands snapped.
"People don't just 'disappear' within their minds! At least…I don't think so…"
Mort cleared his throat, causing everyone's attention to be averted to him. "If one of you wouldn't mind, would you be so kind as to allow me to use the restroom?"
Mort as usual, was ignored.
"Maybe that's something you should ask Sands when he comes back," the man snarled.
"I'm assuming there's no indication as to when he'll be making an appearance then," Tokey sighed. "Well, your buddy over there goes by Shooter when he's not Mort. What do you go by when you're not Sands?"
The man opened his mouth, but no sound came out for quite awhile. "I-We haven't really settled on anything yet." He looked down, avoiding anyone's gaze.
"Addison Norman Harrison," DB smiled faintly.
"Addison? What stupid fuck would name their kid Addison?"
DB silently substituted "Sheldon" for the sneered "Addison."
"Harrison… isn't bad. Norman if you have to. The first person to call me Harry gets a knife wound." He made a stabbing motion for emphasis.
Tokey's nose wrinkled. "Where'd you pull that name from, DB?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she smiled wryly at her sidekick.
Tokey rolled her eyes smartly. "Well Harrison, you kind of reek lake water and all, so why don't you go change, eh?" She pinched her nose shut in an exaggerated display.
Harrison swaggered over to the disgusted Tokey and slung a wet arm over her shoulders. "I don't rightly know, chica. I don't think I want to go change. It's not as if I smell of chlorine or anything."
"That would be twenty times better," she spat. "Instead you smell like dead fish!" She slipped under his arm, and went into the cabin. Mort being defiant, stuck out his good leg, causing her to trip. She turned around glaring at him. "Asswipe," she muttered, smacking him on the back of his head.
Mort hissed between his teeth, "Uncuff me!" He tugged at the cuffs, making them jangle. "Hey Harry the kid's right! You really do stink," he snorted.
Harrison frowned. Mort just blinked when he found a pen knife shivering in the door beside his head.
"Damn, I missed," Harrison yawned.
"Fuck you! You're just playing games! You're too much like Sands not to be him."
Just then Tom stumbled down the stairs, his hair damp, and almost hanging in his eyes. "What'd I miss?" He asked, joining everyone in the entryway.
"I'm not Sands. Sands ran away when he couldn't deal with me anymore. I'm not unbearable am I?"
"Well, obviously if he 'ran away.'" Mort rolled his eyes, wincing at the pain it caused. "How the fuck did you come about anyway? You said you were there before."
"I was. He just never let me play. Still hasn't," he shrugged.
Tom stepped in. "Just what is your definition of play?"
"Well...talk. Interact with the outside world. Which, incidentally, is why I don't know nearly enough about you people."
"You know all you need to know. Now then, I'm just having a blast getting to know you, but we really do need to be speaking with Sands if you don't mind too terribly." Tom gave Harrison a wily smile
"Don't you people listen? He's gone," Harrison growled.
"Why is he gone? What did you do to scare him off? I know he doesn't scare that easily," Tom frowned deep in thought. "Wait, are you who he was always arguing with?"
"Tomayto, tomahto. I never thought of it as arguing. Then again, I've never really argued with anyone before, either."
"I see," Tom absentmindedly scratched his head. "Well then! I suppose Sands won't mind if you take the blame for the guy he shot?"
"What?" Harrison's eyebrows furrowed.
"Oh nothing, nothing," Tom grinned. "I'm sure they won't mind you acting all innocent-they get it all the time."
"I don't shoot people. Guns are fucking impersonal. When I'm going to kill a person, I'd rather do it up close. With a knife," he added softly
"Oh that's just lovely! I'll make sure to keep the knives away from you. That's something you don't need to be playing with."
"That's all fine and dandy, but do any of you guys have a smoke? My skin feels like it's crawling and I think that's why," he tossed backwards on his way to the door to retrieve his pen knife. He didn't much care for Tom's blustery threats. Tom grunted, but left Harrison hanging. He went over to Mort and looked at the cuffs.
"Are you gonna let me out of this thing?" he asked hopefully.
"I ain't got the key, and I doubt ol' Harrison over there knows anything about it. Do ya son?" He looked over his shoulder at him questioningly.
"Hm?" Harrison jerked the knife out of the door and stared blankly at Mort.
Tom looked at the knife thoughtfully. "Say, could I borrow that a minute?"
"Why? You're going to confiscate it. I'd rather keep it."
"No, no, I'll give it back." He saluted. "Scout's honor."
"If you're sure," Harrison sighed and handed the knife over.
"Thank you." He crouched down near Mort and chuckled as he tried to move away. "I ain't gonna hurt ya. Quite the contrary. Don't want a repeat of the mess at my cabin now, do we?" Mort's face turned beet red at the memory. Tom grinned. "Didn't think so. Now, just hold still here for a minute…there!" Tom had expertly picked the lock on the cuff, and Mort's wrist sprung free. "Don't you go scampering off somewhere, ya hear? The bathroom's in that little alcove there," he pointed. Mort gave Tom a thankful look and then scurried off in the direction of the restroom. Tom stood and dutifully handed back the knife. Harrison slipped it back into his pocket.
"Ok, now who just had a cigarette? Please, just one smoke? One...?" he begged.
"Probably the kid," Tom muttered, making his way towards the bathroom to stand guard.
Tokey sat on the couch, flipping through one of the few magazines that wasn't porn. Harrison stared at his damp shoes, trying to combat his nicotine craving and his lack of social skills at the same time.
"Can I please have a smoke?" he whispered.
"What? What was that?" Tokey looked up from the magazine. "Did you just say please?" she sounded shocked.
He scuffed his shoe on the floor and nodded.
"How adorable." Her hand snaked into her pocket retrieving her pack of cigarettes. "A good boy deserves a treat." She smirked as she stuck out a cigarette. She pulled back before he could grab it though. "Ah, ah, ah! You've got to promise to take a shower after."
A look of hurt stole across his face. He certainly seemed to succumb to wilder mood swings than Sands.
"Be nice, Tokey. You of all people know what nicotine does to people," Nicole reprimanded gently.
"Fine!" She handed him the cigarette. "But you still smell," she muttered quietly.
He looked like a kid on Christmas Day. Until he realized the Zippo in his pocket was a tad waterlogged. "Shit."
"Something wrong, Harrison?" DB cocked an eyebrow.
"No light," he sighed.
Tokey chuckled as she continued to flip through her magazine. He wasn't too proud to ask her to light it. He just felt really embarrassed about the whole situation.
"What can I do to get you to stop being an ass?"
"You can kiss mine for starters," she said not even looking up.
"I don't brown nose," he looked away.
"Here." She chucked her lighter at him, hitting him square on the head still without looking up. He caught it and quickly lit up, savoring the first taste. He didn't seem to discriminate between cigarettes the same way Sands did either.
"'nk you," he mumbled, tossing the lighter back at the girl Tokey mumbled something incoherent as she pocketed the lighter. Then she thought better of it, and pulled it back out along with the cigarettes and lit up herself. "Mmm," she hummed contentedly.
"I'm surrounded by smokers." DB sighed and decided to have to some quiet time in the fresh air on the porch while the room fogged with smoke. Tokey followed her out.
"You know you want one," she taunted, blowing smoke in her direction.
"I don't smoke."
"Suuuurrreee. That's what you said yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and-"
"Maybe because it's true?" DB snorted. "I don't give in to peer pressure, Tokey."
"You consider me your peer?"
"Colleague."
"So in truth, it's colleague pressure, no?"
"Now you're just being extra stubborn," Nicole laughed.
"Hm," Tokey shrugged. "Comes in handy from time to time."
"So you can lock horns with other agents?"
"If the need arises."
"What problem do you find with Sands?" If DB could gain some other opinions, maybe she could find out what exactly was bothering her as well.
"Problem? I don't have a problem with the guy, I just met him last night. He just seems a bit...chauvinistic is all."
"Him or Harrison?"
"Him," she answered quickly. "Harrison...he's odd. He speaks like Sands, yet he's softer."
"Lighter. I wonder if the swearing and the mannerisms are trace amounts of Sands. Any opinion, sidekick-mine?"
Tokey sighed deeply, putting out her cigarette. "I think Sands is still in there," she said tapping her temple. "He's trying to come out but that's the best he can do."
"Why do you think he'd suddenly disappear?"
"Because he's an ass"
DB grinned. "You can tell him that. I just hope you can duck fast enough."
Tokey grinned. "Oh I'm pretty spry. So, what are we going to do about this Harrison guy? How are we going to lure Sands back? Not that I want him back, but this guy's starting to freak me out with his sensitivity."
"I don't know. I never studied Psychology, I just took a class in it. I'd guess try to appeal to Sands more than Harrison. Give him a reason to retreat," DB shrugged.
"Well you reprimand me every time I'm an ass to him!"
"Because we still don't know what to do with him. I'd rather be nice than have him show psychopathic tendencies."
"Well if you piss him off enough, I'm sure Sands'll come around," she grinned mischievously.
"I think we should wait on Tom, personally."
"Tom? What's that old fart gonna do?"
"He knows Sands. He'll have a better grip on this than we do. C'mon, Tokey, let's see if the house has burned down."
Tokey said nothing more, but followed her mentor inside. Tom still stood by the door, waiting patiently. Tokey frowned. "He still in there, Tom?" she called out to him.
Tom nodded. "I hear him movin around."
"Maybe he fell in the toilet," Harrison offered.
Tom glowered. "Just shut your trap! I'll take care of the suspects since you can't even take care of yourself. Got to go hide in your fucking head somewhere."
"I'm not hiding," Harrison frowned.
"Not you, dipstick! Sands! The person whose body you're in," Tom rolled his eyes.
"That's not my fault." Harrison seemed to shrink into the couch.
"Well, who the hell should we blame it on then? You're the one sitting there, not him!"
"It's not my fault," he persisted. "I didn't make him leave."
"No, but you're here now, aren't you?" Tom was just a wee bit stressed out and was near the beginnings of a panic attack. "Why are you here?" he asked for the umpteenth time.
"I don't know, don't you get it? I don't know!" Harrison shuddered, clutching his knees. The cigarette in his fingers fell to the floor, still glowing.
"Shit! You're gonna light the fucking cabin on fire!" Tom rushed over, picking up the cigarette and putting it out in a nearby ashtray. Then he turned to glare at Harrison. "What the fuck did you do to Sands?" he asked coming closer.
"I did nothing! I talked to him! He got angry and began pacing and just walked into the lake! I did nothing!"
"Yeah? Well, why was he agitated enough to pace and then walk into the lake?" Tom was now nearly on top of Harrison, his eyes were wild. "Why the fuck didn't you stop him? You bastard!" He hissed, leapt on top of Harrison, and began to choke him. DB heard Harrison's strangled cries and managed to pick her way over to Tom. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off of the struggling alter ego.
"Don't you dare kill him, Tom," she snapped.
"I'm only gonna kill him, not Sands you idiot!" He turned to glare at her the best he could while she maintained her grip on his shirt. It was futile, staring into void of black plastic.
"Don't kill either of them. You kill Harrison, you kill Sands."
Tom sighed in defeat. "But how do we get Sands back?" he asked almost in a whimper.
"You're asking the wrong person," Dangerbabe shook her head.
Tom pouted and sunk down onto the floor, keeping a wary eye on the man who looked like his friend.
"I'm sorry you hate me," Harrison murmured. His throat was raw from the strangling. He still didn't know where Sands was, but Harrison could only take so much more of the shit they kept throwing at him. It was beginning to wear on him.
Tom just snorted. "Well why don't you scurry on back to whatever hole you crawled out of in Sands' mind?"
"I don't know if I can."
"I don't give a shit what you know! As Nike says: Just Do It!"
"I don't suppose you'd like to crawl in here too and show me how," Harrison remarked bitterly.
"You want me to?" Tom stood up and took one step towards him, not daring to go another with Nicole's hand on his shoulder. "If I have to I'll shove you where the sun don't shine, you hear me, you fuckin' pussy?"
Harrison cringed away, trying to curl up in a ball. But Tom's presence was overwhelming; he couldn't escape it. In a desperate move, he reached into his pocket and slashed the pen knife awkwardly at Tom.
"Gimme that!" he lunged to grab the knife.
"No!" Harrison moaned, jabbing at Tom. By sheer luck, the tip managed to tear a shallow cut in his opponent's forearm.
"Goddammit! You fucking idiot!" Tom hissed. He turned to DB. "Did you see what he did?"
Harrison skittered away from Tom's voice while DB's eyebrow rose in question. "Guess my reputation doesn't precede me. Tom, I'm kind of at a disadvantage here."
"Oh right," Tom said sarcastically. "I forget about your disadvantage. He fucking cut me!" Tom looked down at his arm in shock. Despite Sands' vehement threats, he'd never laid a hand on Tom. Well, nothing more than throw a few punches.
"Well, Tom, if you're going to act like an ungrateful git, I'm going to let you duke this one out by yourself. But if you kill Harrison or Sands, the Company will be after you," DB hissed. "Tokey!"
"Hm?" She looked up from another non-pornographic magazine she'd managed to find. Tom stalked back to the bathroom mumbling agitatedly under his breath.
"Tokey, what have I told you about being distracted during a fight?" DB had heard the rustling of the magazine.
"Oh, but I thought you did a wonderful job of refereeing."
"Tokey."
"Sheesh, I'm sorry. I'll be sure to pay better attention next time." She mock saluted rolling her eyes. DB shook her head. This was all getting very out of control without Sands around. If one thing could be said about him, he could make things run like clockwork. She knelt beside what she hoped was Sands' body, ignoring everything else for the time being.
"Harrison?"
Tokey watched DB curiously, but was distracted by the pounding on a door.
"Mort? Mort! What the hell are you doing in there man? You've been in there for nearly half an hour!" Tom pounded some more on the door. "Open this goddamn door before I blow the hinges off!" He pounded a few more times, but got no response. He knew he was still in there, he heard him shuffling around. "That's it!"
Tom did an about face, and strode purposefully over to Harrison, who cowered away from him. Tom ignored this and reached for Harrison's crotch. He quickly unzipped his jeans, and retrieved Sands' infamous crotch gun.
Tokey sat at the other end of the couch, watching the display in shock. Her mouth gaped open as she watched Tom return to the bathroom door.
"If you don't open this door on the count of 3, I'm gonna blow the goddamn thing to pieces!" he hollered. "One! Two! Three!" He fired three shots in rapid succession and the door swung open hanging by a single hinge.
Mort's eyes were wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. He froze. He'd somehow come across another screwdriver and had been frantically working at the screws in the tiny window. Little did he know it was nailed on the outside.
"Just what the hell are you doing?" Tom asked, looking at Mort bewildered. He sighed instead. "Get out of here." When Mort showed no sign of moving, Tom's face grew red with anger. "Get the fuck outta here!"
Mort scurried out of the bathroom, and returned to the corner where he'd hidden under the staircase. DB sighed as Harrison whimpered. She wasn't going to get any information out of the guy with Tom on a glorious rampage.
"I don't suppose Sands stocks any beer, does he?" DB called loudly, to get Tom's attention.
Something clicked in Tom's mind, and he sighed. "No," he said flatly. "Nothing but tequila." He made a face of disgust. Tom looked around the room, which seemed much too full of people for his liking. "I-I'm gonna go get some beer," he stated, taking a few steps in the direction of the door. "Anyone want anything while I'm out?" He asked politely.
Tokey, who'd been quiet for the whole charade, spoke up then. "Grab me a pack of cigarettes! Oh, and a pack of gum."
"Tokey, I'm going with Tom. You stay here and make sure no one has a nervous breakdown, okay? You've got my cell number. Don't take your eyes off them, alright?" DB said sternly.
"Hm," Tokey nodded.
"Hey, wait just a minute! Why are you coming with me?" Tom frowned.
"Because I don't trust you right now. If you have a problem with that, take it up with someone else," DB frowned.
"Well, it seems you're the one that has a problem, so why should I take it up with someone else?" Tom looked at here warily.
"Do you want your beer, or do you not, Tom? It's as simple as that."
"Fine," Tom mumbled, crossing the room and opening the door. He stepped out into the cool evening air and inhaled deeply. His mouth twitched into a grin, and he pulled out a Marlboro and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. But he didn't light up until he was sitting in the cab of the ancient truck abandoned in Sands' driveway. As Nicole hopped up into the truck, he started it. "Watch out for the stains," he mumbled as he put the truck in reverse and barreled out of the driveway.
Honor Roll: depplove: Intense, you say? Oh, that's always a good thing! And no worries about reading fast. NeonDaisies: Very big pockets. Some things just tend to carry over, don't they? This second CIA agent's an annoying little bugger. But we say no more on him. And I wouldn't call it so much as an acceptance of his proposal than just getting to see him again… BraveSymbol: Good image, isn't it? And of course I care if you have a heart attack! Sara might have to come and rescue you. And get held up from comic relief in later chapters.