Cracking of a Fragile Eggshell Mind
a tale spun by Mayor Tokey
Rating: R
Summary: It's on the road again for Agent Sands and Mort Rainey. What sort of vicious demons will they have to face along the way?
Disclaimer: We own Ajedrez's bro. Ajedrez has a brother? Shame! The Barillos should not be breeding!
Author's Notes: Madness and drink and sex and…well, okay, no sex, but Ajedrez is a pain in the smeep. And WEIRD, but we knew this from the movie so it's no surprise.
Another Cuppa
Ajedrez's eyes grew wide, cursing as the door connected with her head with a loud smack, and she went careening into Sands. Her eyes rolled into her head as she moaned, "Fuck…" She subconsciously grabbed onto Sands' shirt front to keep her balance.
The force of Ajedrez and the relaxing effect of the joint had removed any tensions his muscles may have had as he tumbled to the floor with her. His unfocused eyes caught a glimpse of a baffled Hispanic in the doorway.
"Ajedrez, qué pasa?"
"What the fuck?" she asked. She first looked over to Sands, then pushed herself away from him, and looked towards the man in the doorway. She rubbed the back of her head. "Why are you here, Luis? What do you want?" she spat.
"Quiero saber por qué hay una turista en nuestra sala!" Luis snarled. I want to know why there's a tourist in our room!
"I can hear you, fuckmook," Sands replied, sitting up slowly.
"The monkey speaks Spanish, good choice, Ajedrez. Now we can't even talk privately!"
"Our room? Have you been smoking my shit?" She fixed a glare on him, glancing at Sands to judge his reaction.
"You may have paid for it, hermanita, but I sleep here just as you do. Or perhaps not." He finished with a glare for Sands.
"Oh do fuck off; I never laid a finger on your precious hermanita. Nor do I want to. No offense to your family," Sands answered grudgingly.
"Mi hermanita generally has a better head than this, with an eye on the mission." Luis seemed more subdued with Sands' statement. Ajedrez rolled her eyes.
"Get the fuck out, Luis!" She shoved him towards the door.
Luis stubbornly remained, not allowing himself to be pushed around by his sister. "Ajedrez, stop. I have every right to be here."
"No, you really don't," she hissed. She shoved him harder and slammed the door in his face.
Luis rolled his eyes, slid the keycard through the lock and shoved the door open again. "Ajedrez, you're being unreasonable."
"Fuck! What don't you understand about being unwelcome?" She snatched the keycard from his hand. "Now get lost!"
"No thanks, hermanita. I'm fine here." He closed the door and leaned against it to prevent her from opening it and shoving him out again.
She threw up her arms in frustration. "Get out of my fucking room, Luis!" she yelled. She pulled back her arm making a fist, intending to punch him.
Luis, having put up with her antics long enough during childhood, grabbed her wrists with a bored look.
"Ajedrez, he's not going to let you fuck him-"
"Here, here," Sands called, lighting up a new joint.
"-why do you need your privacy so much?" Luis finished with a faint hint of a smile. Nobody had ever refused his sister before quite like this gringo.
"Ugh! Because you're annoying! Now leave!" She gave him a petulant look, and then turned to glare at Sands. "You had no objections about fucking me the other night."
"Because it wasn't me. Duh," Sands snorted as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"If you don't kick him out, he'll smoke half the bag." She nodded her head toward the weed.
"Why'd you give it to him then?" Luis asked incredulously.
"I'm talking to him you idiot!" she hissed at Luis. She turned to Sands giving him a pointed look. She knew he wanted the marijuana bad.
But Luis had already ruined the effect. Sands shook his foggy head and stuck his tongue out at Ajedrez. "You're a rotten liar, you know that?"
She was seething. She snatched the bag of weed out of Sands' hands and held it in front of Luis. Then she strolled over to the balcony and dangled it over the edge.
"Father's going to kill you," Luis hissed. "Favorite or not, he's not going to let you get away with losing that!"
Sands hobbled after Ajedrez, a set look on his face. "You let that go, I won't let Daddy have the pleasure. I'll kill you myself."
She rolled her eyes melodramatically. "No one's going to kill me." With that she dropped the baggie off the balcony, and gave the two men and gave them a menacing smile.
Sands drew his gun with a quickness that wasn't tainted by marijuana. His arm wrapped around her throat and she shoved the gun against her temple. "You don't know me very well, do you?"
"Pandejo! You do not kill my sister!" Luis roared.
"She fucked me over one too many times, haven't you princess?" Sands growled into her ear.
Ajedrez smirked. "Actually we haven't fucked."
He jabbed the gun harder into her temple. "You're playing the wrong person."
"Couldn't agree more," Luis growled. He stomped hard on Sands' foot and punched Sands in the stomach as he was backing away.
"Luis!" she cried as the gun came away from her head. "You fucking idiot!" She turned to Sands. "Are you ok?"
"He was going to kill you!"
"You just wish I was," Sands wheezed.
She glared at Luis. "Get out! Get the fuck out!" She turned back to Sands, mumbling, "Fucking family. Are you ok?" She asked again, irritated that he was ignoring her. Fighting with him she at least had his attention.
Luis sighed. His sister had horrible taste in men and she never seemed to learn. Countless suitors had made this more than obvious. He strode over to the huddled people, shoved Ajedrez back and picked Sands up bodily. He ignored her physical assault and Sands' weakened protests to dump him outside the room. "And stay the fuck out, pandejo!" he cried before closing the door behind him.
Ajedrez's mouth dropped open in a scowl. "Godammit Luis! You piece of shit!" She hissed, jumping at him. She slapped him hard across the face to the point that he saw stars, then strode to the door and flung it open to go after Sands.
Sands was still sitting dazedly on the floor, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Seeing Ajedrez was enough to snap him out of his funk. He withdrew a new penknife he'd thought to replace when he realized his old one was gone.
"Are you just exceptionally stupid or do you have a fucking death wish, bitch?" he snarled.
Luis glared at Sands even as he picked up his feisty sister and dragged her into the room. "Get the fuck out of here!"
Sands didn't wait for the door to slam closed. He wanted out of the hotel, out of Mexico, whatever was easier. Nothing was worth this aggravation. He thought Luis had torn his stitches when he tossed him out. He made a beeline for the elevators, hoping he'd meet Mort or someone about as friendly.
The elevator doors opened, and Mort stood there with brochures and a half eaten apple. He took a bite and looked up from the brochure he was reading. He quirked an eyebrow at Sands. "Wha happen'?" he asked through his bite of apple.
"I don't really know..." Sands blinked. "Where's the room?"
Mort shrugged and handed Sands the half-eaten apple as he dug through his pocket for the keycards that had the room number on them. He handed the cards to Sands and grabbed his apple back, munching away.
"257? 257's a horrible number," Sands eyed Mort with a half grin.
Mort shrugged again, giving him a wry look. "Sorry," he mumbled, trudging down the hallway towards their room.
"Golly, you must be especially tired if you don't even have the heart to yell at me."
"You didn't get laid did you?" he muttered waiting for Sands at the door.
"Told you I wouldn't. But it wasn't for lack of trying," Sands murmured. He unlocked the door and allowed Mort to enter first before slipping inside himself.
Mort looked at him incredulously. "You actually tried?"
"Hell no. But she sure did." Sands flopped onto the couch and instantly closed his eyes to better ignore the throbbing.
"Oh. Well why didn't you let her?"
"Because she's a whore. I like my sex to mean something more than exercise. I need a reason to stick around in the morning," Sands snorted.
Mort snorted. "Like you would," he said under his breath.
"Probably not," Sands yawned. "You goin' to bed, John Wayne?"
Mort grunted as he took off his shirt and slid between the sheets on one of the beds.
"Good man. Sweet dreams, pilgrim."
"Go get laid," he muttered into his pillow.
"Shut up and go to sleep."
"Sure thing boss..." he murmured as he fell asleep.
Sands listened as Mort dosed off and felt himself soon follow into the pool of monsters and shadows.
XXX
Sands woke up feeling like his skin was going to peel away from his body at any given moment. His eyes were about to be pressed to jelly in his skull and the top of his head was going to pop off. Perhaps not one of the better night's sleeps he'd ever had. Short of smoking his entire pouch of tobacco, he didn't think there would be much to take his mind off the discomfort. The clock said otherwise; it was now 4 P.M., Acapulco time, which meant it was roughly 5 or 6 P.M. in Washington. The perfect time to drink, in Sands' humble opinion.
"Mort!" he called into the bedroom.
Mort jerked awake. "Huh? Wha?" He called looking around disoriented.
"Bar. You coming?"
Mort rubbed his eyes and stumbled into the other room. "You're going to a bar?" he yawned.
"Need alcohol. Again, are you coming?" He awkwardly pushed himself off the couch. Having not disrobed the night before, Sands found he was ready to up and go after a mouthful of water and some Tylenol.
"Yeah, lemme get my shirt." Mort went back in the bedroom and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head and joining Sands back in the living area to leave.
"Remind me to find a cane somewhere down there. I don't think I'm going to make it back up here totally under my own power. I'm going to get wasted tonight," Sands announced. "Lead on, Morton."
Mort cocked an eyebrow as he opened the door. "Is there a reason for your getting wasted?"
"What reason do I need? I've been hit on, beat up, shot at, stabbed at, thrown out of a room, robbed of a smoke, and insulted. I think I've been very sporting about the whole thing, wouldn't you agree?"
Mort shook his head from side to side and then nodded. "Good enough for me, I suppose."
"Good, come on." Sands limped down the hall to the elevator with an impatient air.
"Did you already call a cab?"
"All hotels have bars. We're staying close to home. I want you to be able to peel me off the floor and drag me back to our room when I'm finished."
"Oh," Mort said, feeling dumb. He pushed the button for the elevator.
Sands was the first through the sliding doors, unwilling to talk anymore. He was staving off the bugs crawling beneath his skin.
"Anxious are we?" Mort smirked.
"No shit," Sands murmured as he punched a button.
Mort chuckled as he watched Sands' foot tap impatiently as they waited for the elevator to reach the lobby. When it did, Sands was once again first off and hobbling towards the bar. Mort followed behind, limping at a more relaxed pace.
"Well, aren't you two quite the pair," the Mexican bartender smirked. At Sands glare, he hastily rearranged his features to a more amicable grin. "What can I get you?"
"Tequila," Sands replied.
"I want a shot of Jack Daniels," Mort piped up as he slid onto a barstool next to Sands.
"You ever get anything different, John Wayne?" Sands asked after taking a tentative sip. Yeah, that was good stuff.
Mort shrugged, "Never really fancied anything else." He took a swig, then nodded to the tequila in Sands' hand. "That stuff good?"
"If you don't mind liquid fire sliding down your throat. This stuff's better than most."
Mort nodded, and bit his lip. "Can I try?"
Sands swirled the last of the tequila around in his tumbler and shrugged. "Sure. No backwash." He slid the glass over in front of Mort absently, thankful he no longer felt maddeningly itchy.
Mort looked into the glass skeptically. He picked it up and tossed it back closing his eyes. He opened his eyes and shook his head, making a face. "Wow," he gasped.
"Good," Sands grinned. "It's supposed to do that."
Mort coughed a little. "Yeah...well that's not the type of kick I was expecting..."
"It's different than whisky, I'll give you that. An acquired taste. Barkeep, another tequila."
Mort nodded at the bartender and held up two fingers. "I'll give it a go," he said, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose.
Sands eyed Mort. "Thinking of taking me in a drinking contest?"
Mort grinned and grabbed his shot of tequila and turned to face Sands as he grabbed his. "You game?"
Sands downed the contents of his second drink with a lazy smile. "Sure, if you think you'll enjoy the morning breath."
Mort slowly chugged his shot, grimacing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Another?"
"Did I or did I not say the word 'wasted' somewhere in our conversation?"
"Exactly how much is 'wasted'?" Mort asked.
"Eyes crossed, can't get off the floor, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. The works."
Mort nodded. "Ok, let's do it!" He lifted another shot of tequila.
"You heard the man. Lots of tequila," Sands called.
They were on their sixth or seventh round, and Mort was laughing so hard that he was nearly falling off the barstool. Ajedrez strolled into the bar casually and slid onto a stool a scant two down from where Sands sat. She ordered a margarita and fixed her eyes straight ahead as she glanced at the two men-or rather one man-out of the corner of her eyes.
Sands never saw her come in, being more than a little inebriated himself. "Stay up here, pilgrim, you're gonna get all dusty and nasty and hog the shower all night if you fall over." He grabbed Mort by the collar to right him on the seat, laughing the entire time.
Mort laughed louder. "Is this what they teach you in the CIA?" he asked, laughing that much harder.
As Ajedrez sipped on her margarita, her ears perked up at that. She swiveled on the barstool to face in Sands' direction. "You're CIA?" she asked incredulously. They wouldn't possibly take nutcases like him would they?
"CIA? Hell yeah, Cheese Incarnates Anonymous! Hold your alcohol with your dairy products," Sands sniggered. "And what's it to you, young missy?" He spun around in his seat to try and face the woman only to almost fall off the chair.
She automatically moved forward to help him back on to his seat as a reflex. She rolled her eyes. "Just...interesting is all...similar careers," she smirked.
"Ugh, not the Fucking Boondoggle Idiots," Sands groaned. "I hates those dumbfucks."
"What? Are you ok?" Her brow creased as she slapped his cheek lightly. "I think you've been drinking a bit too much..." She chuckled and glanced at Mort whose eyes were bloodshot.
"Not nearly enough. You can't possibly be FBI, you'd've slugged me by now. So...who are you?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I never said anything about being FBI!" The corners of her lips curved slightly at the fact that he wasn't being so resistant to her presence now, even though she knew that was in part due to the amount of alcohol he'd consumed.
"No, but you did say similar careers. That...in my mind..." He coughed. "Says Fucking Boondoggle Idiots. Correct me if I'm wrong, please. Yeah, please don't. I'm...I'm right. That's it."
She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her margarita. "Sure," she said.
"Tell me...what...is a pretty little thing like you doing in this pit of a country?" Sands asked idly as he downed another drink.
She turned and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Ok...I know you're fucked up now," she muttered. "I'm here for...a little fun."
"I am not fucked up. I haven't been for...awhile now. At least since I met him," he jabbed a finger behind him at Mort. "John Wayne, when'd I meet you? How long ago?"
"Dunno." Mort slurred. "Was long timmego."
"Before cow jump over moon and lemming fell off cliff and land was untainted by white man stench," Sands laughed.
"Don't you guys think you're done?" the bartender asked sternly.
"Fuck no, I'm not on the floor yet," he snapped.
Ajedrez stood and took Sands' arm. "If you want to be on the floor I've got some more tequila," she offered, pulling his arm around her shoulders as she helped him to his feet. She didn't press close though, not wanting to push him away. She found the whole idea that he was Central Intelligence quite intriguing.
"Is it free?"
"Yeah, generally when someone offers you a drink it is," she remarked with a smirk. She glanced over at Mort. "You think your friend can make it back to your room? I think he's had more than enough." She chuckled as she watched Mort fall off his chair laughing at something or other.
"Aw, hell. Mort! Morton! Mortimer! Whatever your name is! Up! UP!" Sands jabbed at Mort with the toe of his boot.
Mort leapt into the air spinning around precariously. "Wha? Wha? Put em up!" He looked at Sands. "Whaddya want?" He frowned. "Did I win?"
"Win what?" Sands cocked his head.
"Drinking contest?"
"Well, sir, I'm still upright so I think I win by default."
Mort scratched his head. "I thought we were trying to see who could get on the floor cross-eyed first?"
"You haven't been in too many drinking contests, have you, boyo?" Sands sniggered. The stool began to lean forward and he had to pinwheel to keep standing.
"Whoa! Easy there cowboy." Ajedrez slipped under his arm supporting some of his weight. "Come on." She started to lead him out of the bar.
"Wait! Need Mortimer! Mortimer, 'mere, dammit!" Sands strugged weakly against Ajedrez's sure hand.
"Wha?" Mort asked irritably.
"I think we're leaving," Sands called.
"Don' think I was invited." He stumbled to his feet, and sat on the very edge of the barstool. "Gimme another!" Mort hollered to the bartender waving his hand around wildly.
"No, I'm not getting girl cooties alone!" Sands tore himself out of her grasp and fell to the floor with a thump. He began crawling over to Mort, intending to make him follow. "C'mon, there's more-Hic!-tequila!"
Mort spun around on the stool and promptly fell on Sands' back. "Where?" he asked.
Ajedrez watched the two and rubbed her forehead. What was she doing? She shook her head and spoke to them. "Come on boys, there's more upstairs."
"There!" Sands pointed at Ajedrez.
Mort nodded and pushed up on Sands, grabbing the barstool to pull himself to his feet. Sands grunted and slowly followed Mort up the stool.
"Think it'll be worth it? The tequila?"
Mort grunted and nodded his head looking Ajedrez over. "She look safe to you?" he mumbled.
"I dunno. She familiar?"
"A lil bit."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"How the hell should I know?" Mort glowered.
"Nuh, uh, no mean drunks! Mean drunks go outside!" Sands punched Mort on the shoulder.
"Fine!" Mort stumbled out of the bar.
Ajedrez cocked an eyebrow. "You still wanting more?"
"More? More what?" Sands frowned.
"Tequila, weed, shit, whatever?" She rolled her eyes.
"Uh...sure. Why not," he smiled.
She looked at him warily. "Okay...do you need me to help you walk?" She studied him hanging on to the barstool.
Sands took an awkward step and wound up grabbing Ajedrez by the collar. "I don't think that's a bad idea, no..."
"Okay," she choked out, removing his death grip from her collar and pulling his arm around her shoulders. She was once again supporting much of his weight. "You ready to try to move?"
"I wouldn't call it moving so much as stumbling and a half hearted attempt at going from point A to point B, but whatever floats your boat, you go with, savvy? Don't let anybody...tell you...otherwise."
"Mm. Okay. Well, come on then, cowboy." She led him from the bar slowly. They made it to the elevator and she pushed the button. As they waited for it to arrive she glanced up at him with a small frown. "You feelin' alright there?"
"A little sick, a little weepy, a little vomitty. I'll be okay if I find a nice porcelain bowl to hug pretty soon."
"We're getting there..." she said moving them into the elevator, and leaning against the back with his arm still around her for support. She watched the numbers click by and when they arrived on their floor, she helped him down the hall and into her room. Luis, by sheer luck, was gone. She kicked the door shut behind them and sat him down on her bed. "Okay, what do you want first? Tequila, weed, sex, or the toilet?" she asked with a smirk.
"Ah..." Sands looked to be in deep concentration. It didn't take him long to come to a decision. The combination of stale marijuana fumes, just enough liquour and stress from the past few days was coming to a head. His stomach heaved and he had to catch himself on the edge of the bed before he toppled off. "Bathroom," he ground out.
"Ok, ok! Just hold it a minute buddy!" She slipped under his arm so she could help him into the bathroom. She then placed his hand on the counter so he could support himself and slid out from under his arm so as not to be puked on.
Sands wasn't in the frame of mind to be modest. His protesting stomach needed to empty its contents before it got severe alcohol poisoning. In retrospect, Sands thought he probably should have sent for some room service before his romp to the bar. He coughed as the last bit dribbled out and wondered how he was going to get back upright. Or if he'd be getting a complementary teeth cleaning.
Ajedrez's nose wrinkled in disgust and she turned away until she heard his retching cease. She turned back and moved back into the bathroom. "You wanna move to the bed?" she asked.
He nodded slowly, trying not to incite another episode.
"Alright." She moved behind him and bit her lip, circling him to figure out the best way to help him up. "Do you think you can get to your feet at least?"
Sands managed to get one knee under him, but his twingeing fibula wasn't going to take much more abuse. He wouldn't be able to get up unless he dragged himself upright. He wasn't quite so desperate as to have to wrap his sweaty hands around a stomach acid slicked toilet bowl.
"No," he croaked.
She reached under his arms and jerked him upright. "Shit!" she hissed. Once she got him up enough, she slipped under his arm, causing her knees to nearly buckle as he was barely able to support himself. "Okay, cowboy, I'm gonna need you to cooperate here-suck it up and take some of your weight off me; otherwise, we're both gonna go down."
"Don't fucking remind me," he whispered. The toilet bowl swam into Sands vision, causing him to buck backwards. His back slammed into the wall with a grunt.
She gasped as she too was slammed hard into the wall. "Ungh. Come on let's get to bed before you kill us," she ground out. She was able to move him out of the bathroom at least, and managed to stumble to the bed. They more fell onto it than anything, their limbs tangled together. Ajedrez lay, breathing heavily, with his arm laying limply across her chest. She shoved it uselessly. "Would you move?" She grunted as she pushed at the limbs that were entwined with hers.
Sands groaned, more concerned with falling asleep than disentangling himself from someone else. Why'd he even wake up in the first place?
"Ugh! Fine." She sighed agitatedly, and allowed herself to relax. It wasn't all that bad really. His body was warm at least. She shifted under his arm to a more comfortable position and closed her eyes.
When the girl under his arm stopped shifting and moving, the bed began to feel more welcoming and pleasant. His eyes drifted closed and his body settled into an uncomfortable but quiet sleep.
Ajedrez shivered as a chill fell over the room. She slid closer to Sands, her side pressed against his and absorbing his body heat. She sighed contentedly as her head fell on his shoulder.
Sands never moved once during the entire night. It was the dry mouth and the headache that eventually drove him to wakefullness with a moan. He felt the heat of another body beside him and couldn't recall who it could possibly be. It was too feminine to be Mort; and judging by how he felt, it was entirely possible he got lucky at the bar. He slitted his eyes open to check and had to suppress a startled cry.
It was Ajedrez. Dame Bitch. He was in her room. He'd gotten so hammered, he couldn't even tell the horny toad from any other broad in the room. He couldn't remember what had happened last night and could only pray he hadn't done anything stupid. Oh fuck. He wouldn't be able crawl out of her arms without waking her.
This is the end, beautiful friend. This is the end, my only friend, the end...
Ajedrez stirred and let out a little moan in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him with a groggy smirk. "Mornin' cowboy." She greeted him hoarsely, making no move to get away from him. It was much too comfortable.
Sands felt his stomach contract. She was awfully content for someone who'd tried to ruin him so many times before. That could only mean she'd gotten what she wanted.
"Oh fuck."
Ajedrez's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him with a grin. "No, actually we didn't." She murmured with a sleepy sigh.
Sands frowned. "No?"
She looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow. Was he disappointed they hadn't? "No," she confirmed.
"Quizas me querrias a fijar esto," Sands replied before his eyes widened in shock. He'd just said "Maybe you would like me to fix that." Or, not him exactly. "No, I didn't mean it!"
Ajedrez smirked and moved closer. "How do propose going about that?" she inquired, ignoring Sand's comment. She slid her arm across his chest over his arm that was across hers.
"No! I don't want to fix anything! Get the hell away from me!" Sands scrambled off the bed and fell to the floor. "I'll not be seeing you anymore if I've got a say in it. I don't give a damn about your fucking cops or your fucking grass! Just leave me the fuck alone!"
Ajedrez pouted as she propped her head up on her hand looking down at him on the floor. She shrugged her shoulders. "Fine, go. I don't suppose the CIA would be too happy to hear where you're at and what you're doing though..." She murmured, almost as if to herself.
"Well, I don't think I'm in good standing with the Company anyway, so I don't think I'm particularly worried by that threat either," Sands snapped, gaining his footing slowly.
She sighed irritably, "Well hell that's the last time I try to help anyone."
"Whadduya mean, 'help?' You tried to take advantage of me!"
"The hell I did!" She sat up, her eyes flashing. "You were piss ass drunk and I helped you up here and into bed. Not with me, but you kind of pulled me down and as you can tell you're a bit larger than me!" She spat seething. How dare he accuse her of anything! She'd done nothing!
"Why were you in a position to get me into your room? Why are you stalking me?"
"Stalking you! I went down to the bar to have a fucking drink!" She stood up nearly eye to eye with him. "You were literally falling off of the stool."
"Maybe I wanted to," he hissed.
"Well, excuse me then! Next time I'll let you make an ass of yourself and stand back and laugh." She moved closer to him with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed.
"Why do you care?"
"Who said I did?" Her face was in his; she was fuming.
"You would have left me downstairs if you didn't," he muttered.
She didn't say anything just leaned in and kissed him hard.
"Christ on a cracker!" Sands swore and pushed her away. "I'm going back to my room. Keep whatever I leave here, I'm not going to want it anymore."
"Shit!" She cursed as she fell backwards hitting her head on the nightstand and everything spun. "Fuck! Is there something wrong with you?" she muttered before everything faded to black.
"Yeah, you," he muttered. He was wondering if he should leave her unconscious on the floor, but he was not one to totally forget favors. Even when it would be in his best interest to walk away. He hated debts. He nudged her with his foot, trying to get a rise out of her. "C'mon, get up."
She was out cold, a knot forming at the base of her skull where there was a good sized gash. Her long hair was getting matted by the blood that was seeping from the wound.
He wanted to slug her for doing this to him. He wanted to beat her for putting him in this position. He didn't pretend it was because he was a nice guy that he held back. He detested cheap shots.
A rummage through the bathroom yielded just about everything he could want by way of first aid. He would have to improvise, but it didn't matter much. So long as she lived to tell he wasn't a total ass and that she was simply a whore who got hooked on the wrong man.
He began to clean the cut slowly, while she was still passed out. Head wounds tended to bleed worse than others, so he wasn't overly worried by the blood leaking into the carpet. He just had to stop it soon. A few stitches and she'd be-unfortunately-good as new.
She hissed as she felt something burning on her head. Her eyes remained squeezed shut though as if she were afraid to open them to see what had happened.
"Easy, Sunshine, I'm almost done," Sands murmured as he set to make one last stitch.
She winced and opened her eyes and looked up at him earnestly. "Sunshine?" she asked with a slight smile.
"Would you prefer 'sugarbutt?' "
"Sunshine's nice." She slurred slightly as she looked up into his eyes. "Thank you."
"Right. You keep thinking that, Sunshine."
She just stared up at him in a daze, smiling softly.
He frowned, wondering what was wrong with her. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah...one hell of a headache but other than that I'm fine." She gave a dazzling smile. "And you? How are you feeling?"
"Uh...peachy, I guess. Look me in the eye for a minute, chica."
She looked into his eyes and gave him a crooked grin. "You've got really nice eyes," she mused aloud.
"Thanks," he mumbled, trying hard to concentrate on the pupils of her eyes. They looked fine, no evidence of concussion. Which didn't exactly explain the personality change to his satisfaction.
"What is it?" she asked. "Is something wrong with my eyes?" She struggled to sit up.
"In truth, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your eyes. It's rather astounding, I must admit. Tell me, are you always this...charming?"
"That's good then right?" She frowned. "I'd like to think I'm a nice person..." she murmured thoughtfully, sitting up to face him with a wince. She touched the back of her head tentatively.
"Try not to pop those. I'm not sure how hospitable I'll be in the not too distant future," Sands muttered.
"Why wouldn't you be nice?" she asked.
"You don't know?"
"Don't know what? Did I do something to offend you or something?" She scratched her head. Perhaps she'd hit it harder than she thought.
"You really don't know, and you've got no sign of a concussion. Curious." His mind was on fast forward. It looked like amnesia, but did amnesia cause mood swings? He wondered if he had been absent the day they learned about amnesia. "Do you not remember anything? Or just...certain things. Like dealings with me for example."
"I remember bringing you up from the bar last night and how you were drunk...and then..." She frowned. "I fell, I think?" She looked at him questioningly.
"You fell," Sands nodded. Okay, perhaps not amnesia. And that left an option he wasn't entirely fond of. "And assuming I was as shitfaced drunk as I feel, I probably didn't have the pleasure of meeting you. Who are you?"
"Excuse me?" She looked at him blankly. "We met several days ago."
"We did?" he asked evenly. Now he was supremely confused.
"Yes...on the plane in Denver. Do you remember?"
"Then I guess I don't. Terrible memory, you see," he replied guardedly.
"Oh...right." She nodded as if she understood, then extended her hand. "Ajedrez," she said with a small smile.
"Sands," he grasped her hand with an awkward grin of his own. Maybe it was a fluke. She hit her head some other time.
Schizo...
"No, stop it," Sands groaned.
She frowned, looking at him concerned. "I didn't do anything. Are you alright?"
"No...not you. Memory." He shook his head. "Listen, I think I'd better get back to my room. Fantastic meeting you though. Really...swell."
She smiled up at him uneasily. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Nope. Haven't been in over a week. And you, pretty pájaro that you are, are partially to blame. No offense, meant, but if I don't freak out soon, I think I'm just going to spontaneously combust," he smiled tightly.
"I'm sorry..." She murmured genuinely apologetic. "I don't want you to freak out and I certainly don't want you to spontaneously combust." She stuck out her hand. "Help me up?"
Sands groaned and steadied himself against the bed with his hip. He extended his good hand with a frown. "Just don't pull me down with you and try to screw me, alright? I've had more than enough of that."
She looked at him disgusted. "I wouldn't 'screw' you. Why have you done that so much if you dislike it all that much?" she asked, puzzled.
"Aha, see, there's the problem. Wasn't me." Sands laughed harshly, even as he tugged her upright.
She gasped as she shot up and into his arms. She pulled back and looked down her face flushing. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"Yeah, thanks. I...I'm going to crash. In my room. If it's all the same to you."
She nodded slowly. "Okay." She looked up at him. "Will I see you again?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Que será, será."
"Oh." She sighed almost wistfully. "I'd like to if...that's ok with you?" She looked up at him questioningly.
"Perhaps. If you're...good," he answered awkwardly.
She laughed. "Have I been anything but?" She reached out and touched his arm. "It's been nice..." she said slowly.
He worked hard not to shy away. "Right. Nice. So, before it gets even more bizarre, I'm just going to go now."
Her brow puckered. "What do you mean more bizarre?" She had no idea what he was talking about.
"I'll write you a book about it someday," Sands muttered, turning around and maneuvering towards the door.
She followed him to the door and gave him a soft smile. "I hope you have a good day, Sands," she said.
"You too," Sands nodded shortly and slid out the door. He leaned against the wall to slowly and calmly collect himself before tackling his own room. Ajedrez was freaking weird. He spotted Luis coming down the hall looking as sharp and jaunty as Sands had last seen him.
"What are you doing outside our room?" he snapped.
"Your sister is fucking insane. Keep an eye on her," Sands replied, passing him without a backwards glance. Luis rolled his eyes as he entered his room.
Mort had somehow made it to their room and passed out on the bed half on and half off. He was in a deep sleep and snoring loudly when Sands came in. Sands ignored Mort, more concerned with his mental health than ever.
I wouldn't worry. If she's got issues, they're hers to deal with.
"You never fucking worry. That's not your fucking job."
Nope, it's not. It's someone else's. Not that I'm complaining.
"Just shut up. This is too damn unreal."
Mort grunted and rolled to the middle of the bed. "Umphf. Who's there?" he muttered groggily, not quite waking.
"Me. Go back to bed, Mort."
"Me? Me? Ahhh!" He sat up, pulling at his hair with one of his arms wrapped around neck.
"John Wayne, you been smoking crack again?" Sands stuck his head into the bedroom with an amused look.
Mort frowned and looked down at the arm that was nearly strangling him, and let it fall limp to his side with a wince as it pulled at his shoulder. "Where'd you go?" he mumbled, rubbing his bloodshot eyes wearily.
"To see an old friend, where else?"
Mort scratched his head and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "You have friends?"
"I had a few. Don't know anymore. Don't really care either, to be perfectly honest."
"Oh...right." Mort frowned remembering Tom. He groaned as he stood up and stretched. "Is there a coffee pot in here?"
"I'd ring room service. I wouldn't trust hotel appliances farther than I could throw them."
Mort nodded. "So you'll ring 'em? I don't know how to. Don't usually stay in places this nice." He looked around their room.
"Nice? Hardly. Where's the phone?"
Mort nodded his head towards one of the nightstands. Sands wasn't more than a minute on the phone, having been used to camping out in hotels before.
"I'm going back to bed. Living's wearing me out. The door knocks, answer it."
Mort nodded and settled into a chair in the living room to wait. He wondered what exactly had happened. Sands didn't seem angry enough to have actually slept with Ajedrez, but he didn't think she'd have let him out of it staying the night. He shrugged his shoulders: not his problem.
XXX
"Ajedrez, why do you toy with him?" Luis sighed as he dropped his bag to the floor. They were finally alone in their hotel room and Ajedrez was being reasonably sane for once.
"Toy with him? Luis, what are you talking about?" She frowned as he set his bags down. "Are you staying here with me?"
"What do you mean 'stay here with you'? Ajedrez, don't play games with me. I've lived with you too long."
"Yes, but this isn't home." Her brow furrowed. "Why are you here? I don't want you to be here," she said softly. "Will you please get your own room?"
"We're going home when we rendezvous with Father's associate. We already lost part of the order, thanks to you," Luis remarked sourly. "You'd better hope Father forgives you. And you know I can't get my own room."
"I didn't lose it! It was your fault! And why can't you get your own room?"
"You're the one who threw it out the window, hermanita, not me. And I can't get a room because Father wants me to keep an eye on you, remember? You're the favorite."
She sighed and rolled her eyes, moving to her duffel bag and removing several more baggies. "Look, I've got plenty more, see?" She smiled at him. "I'm always prepared, mi hermano."
"Hermanita, we're still one bag short. Unless you planned ahead and stole an extra one for your personal use," Luis raised an eyebrow.
"I told you I plan ahead." She withdrew another bag from her purse.
"Father will still be angry with you for stealing."
"I didn't steal, I borrowed," she said with a grin.
"And how are you going replace it, Ajedrez? Someone's going to recognize if he's selling inferior product and complain. Then we'll get in trouble anyway."
"Do you not listen to yourself Luis? I'm father's favorite; there's no need to worry." She gave him an easy smile and tossed the baggies of marijuana at him.
"I hope so, hermanita. What are you going to do about that man you fancy? Continue to play with him until he bites back or let him go back to where he belongs?"
"Play with him? I'm not playing with him. I find him a nice handsome man is all. He's somewhat of a gentleman as well." She lifted her hair wincing slightly to show him the stitches. "He helped me when I fell."
"I bet he only helped you because he thought you were mentally ill," Luis grinned slyly. "You know he hates your guts."
She frowned. "Why would he hate my guts? I've done nothing to him! He certainly didn't act like he hated my guts." She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. Ajedrez whirled around and plopped on the bed with a sigh.
"You mean he enjoys the radical moodswings you have and the sudden lust for manflesh under the guise of the name Kandi? He must be a tolerant man," Luis snorted.
"You understand nothing, Luis," she sighed. "I don't use the name Kandi."
"You do. You're just too stubborn to admit it, hermanita. But I love you anyway."
"Well that's good to know!" she laughed.
Luis hugged her close and planted a kiss atop her head. "Don't hurt him too much, ok, hermanita? I've seen you ruin too many men that way and this one looks like he could do something about it."
"I wouldn't hurt him!" she protested. "What do you think he would do though if I did?" she asked thoughtfully, thinking about it herself.
"Kill you?" Luis shrugged.
Her nose wrinkled. "Naw. He wouldn't kill me."
"If you pulled that puta madre thing on him again, I wouldn't doubt it." Luis deposited his jacket on a nearby chair and went into his room. It had been an eventful night.
"What puta madre thing?" she asked. "I did no such thing!"
"Come off it, hermanita. What may work for you may not work for him. Give it a rest, it's been a long night."
She shook her head with a sigh. "Get some sleep, mi hermano." She patted the top of his head and slid past him to the bathroom.
Honour Roll: Merrie: I hope the killer peanut went down easily enough. No more House, no twins until future installments, no Ajedrez revenge until future installments and not so many personalities running around this chapter. Bummer, huh? midnightmuse: Not quite evil, but lots of muddle and confusion. That work?