Thank you! Everyone for your reviews! It's really great to see both old and new "faces" – it really just makes my day.

Sands and Beth aren't out of the emotional woods yet… but they're getting there! This chapter was really challenging to write – as you can tell by how long it's taken to get it posted. So here it is – it's short – but more is on it's way after the weekend.

Chapter Twenty Four:

Love is not a Victory March

"I do trust you," I tell her softly. If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here, with my guns slung over the back of a chair in another room. (Ok, so I've got a couple others on me, but….) But – the thought of letting her in is accompanied by the 'memory' breaking glass and flying bullets and even if I tell myself those were just nightmares, I know how easily nightmares can come true. Besides, letting her in would mean having to tell her all the things I've done. Maybe not all at once – but it would all come out eventually – and the only consolation I have is that at least now I can't see the way she'd look at me once she knew what kind of man I really am. (We're not just talking a few casual screws here – we're not even talking some of the sensitive stuff I really couldn't tell her – but, my Christ what would Beth think if she had any idea how much of the shit that went down on the Day of the Dead was because of me? What would she think of me once she realized I could have stopped it – I knew what Barillo and Marquez were planning. And I mean – I would have stopped the general's little army from turning Culiacan into a war zone if I'd gotten a few fucking guns from Collins – slimy bastard – but it wasn't like my reasons were exactly altruistic. I only wanted to stop Marquez's men because frankly, trying to escape quietly into the night necessitates that the night is quiet. I hate dodging bullets on my way outa Dodge.)

I make no apologizes. I have no regrets. There's no going back. And even if I can't say I've done good things – I have done necessary things. I've kept the balance. But – well you've seen the way I work. Imagine Beth's reaction to the intimate details of my involvement in that shit that went down on the Day of the Dead.

Demons and angels just don't mix... But Christ, I don't want her to leave … I want to make love to every inch of her body. I want to fill all those hurt places inside her with pleasure. I wish I could be the guy who makes her happy… I wish I knew how. I wish she wouldn't hate me, just for being who and what I am – but I know she would. Demons and angels – we just don't mix…

…Nothing worth while is ever easy…

I reach over and find Beth's hand – and I am so grateful when she doesn't shy away from me – because I just want a few minutes with her before she goes. I want to hold her, if she'll let me. Nothing more – just – feel her body next to mine.

I slide over so my back is against the wall, drawing her with me (dislodging an irate feline along the way) and I pull Beth in front of me. I wrap my arms around her midsection; she lets me draw her in and holds my arms in hers, hanging on to me. (Hanging on to me… that is just so fucking astounding…but then, she doesn't know any better. She has no idea the kind of man I really am – and I just don't think I could tell her…) But just for now I want to feel what it would be like if I could be that guy who makes her happy. It's just a game – just – pretending. Just – fulfilling a little bit of that fantasy that's kept me going since I – since I realized I wanted this.

I allow the warmth of her body against me, that sweet, musky floral-orangey scent and the soft beating of her heart become my whole world. Just taking what I can get when I can get it… I assure myself. Just enjoying this one little moment… knowing it can't last but pretending that it might… pretending she's never going back to Mexico… and trying not to pretend too much because I'm not willing to admit to myself just how happy I could be… guys like me don't get happy endings… but wouldn't it be nice if we did? Wouldn't it be nice to be the one who gets the girl?

…...Nothing worth while is ever easy……

And she's so quiet – I wonder what she's thinking – but I'm afraid to ask. So I'll settle for talking instead. "You're not difficult to look at Beth," I lift a hand to her face. She leans into my touch. Her skin is soft and smooth and warm – I feel her smile – my finger tips linger on her lips for far longer than anyone could possibly consider polite, but she doesn't seem to mind. I imagine she's tanned from living in Mexico for so long – I can almost see her, golden skin, honey coloured hair and those green eyes – what I wouldn't give to be able to look into those eyes… "You're absolutely beautiful." An angel.

"I'm no angel," her whisper is only barely audible.

"You were my angel – in the dark – when I was – afraid." When I knew I'd never see again – as that – reality settled in. When I didn't know who I could trust – when I didn't think I could trust anyone – she was there to prove me wrong.

"I didn't do anything special."

"Everything about you is special." You'll always be my angel… what was it she said about that book Cicily gave me? Even without the book, she'll always have the memories of sitting and reading it with her mother. Well, I'll always have the memories of my angel, holding me in the dark, chasing the nightmares away. No one can take that away.

"I understand –"

"Shhhh," I cut her off because I just don't want her to finish that sentence – I don't want to hear her say she's leaving. We both know I can't meet her terms – I trust her, but I can't let her in and I sure as Hell will never stop worrying about hurting her… but…. "Just a little longer," I whisper into her ear, resisting the urge to nibble on her earlobe. I draw my knees up around her body holding her completely within my grasp – but my grasp is gentle because I don't want to frighten her either. I just want to feel as much of her against me as I can.

"A little longer?" she asks.

"To pretend that this is real."

I feel her shudder in my arms. "It is real – it's real to me – you're real – real to me." And there is such heartache in her voice – it slices right through me. I'm not sure if she's crying or not but I pull her closer anyway – and she lets me.

"Beth I don't mean it like that – I mean a little longer to pretend that there's no – Mexico – no CIA – no – nothing." To pretend that the only reason I can't see her is because I'm sitting here with my eyes closed, just because I want to – not because I don't have eyes… she's still trembling – still holding onto me. I turn her face towards mine, and brush my lips against her cheek – she leans into my kisses. I just wish I could make that hurt go away as easily as I kiss away the tears. But at least she stops shaking.

"Is – is that how you really live your life – pretending?"

"No. It's just how I get through the – the bad days. I learned a long time ago how to just be somewhere else, when where I am isn't – isn't someplace I want to be."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm right here, holding you." Desperately trying to memorize every little detail so I can call it up later…

"But – you are here – you are holding me. If this is where you want to be – and I can tell you it's where I want to be – "

"Shhhh," I run my fingers through her hair, enjoying the softness of it – I can even smell the remnants of that vanilla floral shampoo of hers… "What I'm pretending is that there's no Mexico. No CIA. Nothing to stop – " remember what I said about being careful not to play the fantasy out too far? Yeah. "Nothing to stop anything. It's just a game – I know it isn't real – but – it's nice, isn't it?"

"So why – why not – make it real?"

"Because –" because nothing good ever lasts – nothing good is ever really real…happiness is a counterfeit emotion… "It just isn't real, that's all. It can't be. I am who I am – I made my choices a long time ago, Beth – I chose this life."

"Than you can choose another life."

Talk about words that slice right through… and possibilities I don't even know how to think about…

"I do trust you," I tell her. "But – but you deserve someone who can give you – everything – everything you need – everything you want –" and all I have is nothing… "I can't give you anything." I'm sorry…

"But what if you're wrong? What if your nothing is my everything? What if there really are happy endings? I'm not talking about a white picket fence in the suburbs – and I didn't come here to play house – I only came to hear you tell me you didn't want any part of me – but – you – you do. I don't know why, I'm not much of a catch – but if you want her, the girl is really right here – you get her – if you really want her." Her words are just tumbling out.

"I don't suppose you could stop that for just five minutes," I ask – very gently. Because somewhere along the line, I figured out the real reason she gave me the silent treatment earlier. It wasn't that I snapped at her – it was what I snapped at her over. Because she's had at least two men hit her for the way she seems to answer a question that hasn't been asked yet. But – this time she laughs, just a little, through the tears.

"Sorry Cowboy, that's just a part of who I am. I can't help it."

"Than you have to know I'll never not be afraid of hurting you, Beth. And – even if I somehow managed not to hurt you myself," because I would be so careful not to – and despite what you might think, I'm not always a bull in a china shop when it comes to life, "I'm – I'm up to my neck in some real major shit over here – and when it hits the fan – it's going to make just a fuck of a mess."

"I kinda figured that one out for myself."

"Sweetheart, you have no idea." And I'm really going to wring Milo's neck – we both know the Company's gotta be shadowing me – why the Hell would he expose her to that…?

"I don't understand the inner workings of the CIA – but – I'm not that naïve, either. You showed up on my doorstep full of lead in the middle of a coup – "

"Beth – they think I tried to assassinate El Presidente Corazon." Which I probably shouldn't have just said…

"Is that what you do?"

Now, I should be taken aback by the question itself (and I am a little, even if I opened myself up to it) – but it's her tone that gets me, because she might as well be asking me if I'm a butcher, baker or candlestick maker, her tone was just that fucking casual. "It's – not my area of expertise. But – it is something I've done," I admit – another mistake and I know it – but I need to know if it'll make her hate me... maybe I want her to hate me for something 'small' so I don't ever have to cop to the big stuff. (And I wonder what she'd say if I told her that assassination was Milo's field – because I'm sure she just adores him. Everybody just adores him…)

Beth says nothing for a long moment – but I feel her holding onto my arms. Fearlessly. Christ – doesn't she have the good sense to be afraid of me yet? Finally she seems to find her voice: "You are who are you are, Cowboy. I saw your collection of firearms, and cheesy disguises remember?"

"Cheesy?"

"Yes." (I'm quite sure she's trying very hard not to laugh at me…)

"A lot of time and thought went into – " but I really am having a hard time finishing that thought – mostly because I just don't want to 'argue' about anything right now. All the same, on a serious note, "Um – anyway – look, the official word is that the CIA doesn't – you know, sanction – assassination, political or otherwise."

"Don't worry, mum's the word," her smile is audible.

"I'm serious." I'm not smiling. Not this time.

"So am I. Who would I tell, anyway?"

"I don't know – but – " but I really shouldn't have said anything at all…

"So what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Obviously something happened if someone thinks you tried to assassinate Corazon."

"Um. Yeah."

"All right – I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

"Beth – I – just – it's not like – not like I could ever come home and tell you about my day."

I feel more than hear her soft chuckle – and I really have to wonder how she's imagining a conversation like that might go…

What did you do at work today dear? – Oh nothing much, took out a major drug cartel, foiled a military dictator and gave a country's entire political system one great big enema ensuring a reign of chaos that should last for at least the next few months, and no, I didn't forget to pick up the dry cleaning on my way home – That's nice, we're having dinner at the Peterson's on Friday and Sheldon Jr. has a soccer game tomorrow…

Christ… no wonder I don't date. "The long and short of it is that I was set up by the people who were supposed to be covering my ass while I was out in the field. I was deliberately given faulty intel just so – so I'd screw up and I got orders that didn't really come from back home – so – some of what the boys back here think I did, I really did do – it's just that I thought I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. I was set up to commit a crime and I don't know why – I don't know what Corazon's death was supposed to accomplish, not yet. But – one thing I do know – I was set up so that I wouldn't walk out of Mexico alive," (Which is another really fucked up saying – I mean, unless we're in some tripped up zombie flick, how the Hell do you walk at all if you're not alive…?) "And the fact that I'm still alive has got to be pissing some people off pretty good about now."

"Am I allowed to ask – anything?"

"The less you know the better. Just believe me when I say that if it weren't for Milo, I'd be wearing an orange jumpsuit by now and I know it. Other than him – I really don't know who I can trust – and – and I still don't really know that I'm going to come out of this a free man – because – it's not as if I'm exactly – a play it by the book kinda guy. My own shit really did catch up with me this time." If you were burned, it was only because you were already a lost cause, Jeff. You've been a lost cause – a liability for years – you're just too blind to see it… just too fucking funny. "See, back at Langley – CIA central – they call guys like me 'cowboys' – because we shoot from the hip – and ask question later."

"Guess I pegged you pretty good, then."

"Yepperooni."

And she giggles at me (which I knew she would – I do love the sound of her laugh.)

"So – can you tell me – what's going on? I mean – I don't know – just – tell me something."

"Well, Darlin', it goes like this: I got my ass shipped down to Mexico after I'd pissed off just about everybody there was to piss off. Truth is that even before all this, I don't think anyone expected me to ever come back – 'cept in a big ol' black bag, if you get my drift." I decide not to tell her about the office betting pool. That part's never bothered me. The only thing that really bothered me about today was when it became crystal fucking they'd already decided I was guilty – even Marcus. Maybe he doesn't think I'd gone over to the other side – but he doesn't think I'm going to walk away from this unscathed… he has no fucking idea how scathed I really am. Although that's probably all over the office by now, too… "But now my bosses at the CIA think I've turned traitor – gone rogue. And that is some pretty heavy shit. We're not just talking breaking a few laws in another country – they really believe I – I signed on with Armando Barillo. And – no matter how many different ways I say that's bull hockey no one seems to want to believe me."

I feel her shifting in my arms – pulling away? But then I realize she's just shifted so she's facing me. "For all it's worth, I believe you. And I know – I know it was Barillo and his pet surgeon who – "

"Yeah," I cut her off, thus saving her the trouble of finding some graceful way to finish that sentence. We both know how that story ended… and I wonder just how much else she knows, how talking I really did when I was out of it for almost a week… I wonder if she knows about Ajedrez… …. and… and I'm not real sure I want to know how much she knows. As it is, I honestly don't know how she can look me in the face and – and not hate me just for being who I am…

The soft warmth of her hand on my cheek startles me a little – but I lean into her touch just because I've wanted to do it every other time she's touched me like this – and because it feels so damned good to be this close to her. Before I quite realize I've done it, I catch her fingers into a kiss as they slide over my lips…her laugh is very quiet, almost like she's afraid for me to hear it.

I take her hand into mine and brush my lips against her knuckles… ok, so I'm doing just a little bit more than just 'brushing' there – but it's not like I'm actively trying to get her into my borrowed bed. I just – I like the way she feels, so as long as she lets me, I'm going to enjoy this. Is that really a crime? (And I'm being careful not to take it too far… I don't let my mouth wander off her knuckles, no matter how much I want to kiss her palm – her wrist… yes, I know a thing or two about the art of seduction.)

"So – what's going to happen now?" Beth asks softly after several long (but not at all uncomfortable) moments.

"Officially, I'm suspended from duty pending further investigation. I know what'll happen if the CIA gets its way."

"Somehow I don't see orange as your colour," she pulls twines her fingers into mine.

"I own an orange shirt."

"And I believe I've commented on your fashion sense."

I just shake my head – everybody's a critic… but… "I'm not real keen on the idea of wearing an orange jumpsuit for the rest of my life, no. Even though American prisons are a whole lot nicer than anywhere I've ever been – ah – incarcerated," I almost forgot how little Beth knows about me. She's too darned easy to talk to, too comfortable to be around – I can almost forget everything else... "Let's just say that prison isn't an option."

"Sheldon – please don't tell me you're thinking about doing something – really – stupid."

Really stupid in comparison to what I wonder. "Not yet. Although it's been pointed out that what I have done already is pretty stupid – or at the very least anyone who wasn't pissed at me before is bound to be pissed at me now – and I should have left you with the accurate impression that no one around the office exactly misses me when I'm gone – although their aim is improving."

She giggles just at little at my joke… it is really scary that she gets my off-colour humour.

"But – the ah – 'good news' as it were," I continue, "Is that equally officially I'm working for the DOJ – and – it's a pretty swell gig, it just gets me labeled as a rat with the Company – the CIA."

"Which is what has them pissed off?"

"Give that girl a prize," I grin at her. Then, "I still feel that ol' noose around my neck – but I think I might maybe manage to walk away from this without being fitted for that orange jumpsuit – I just won't know for sure until I know for sure."

"So I should start working on that hacksaw cake just in case?"

"That's not funny," although you know I'm trying very hard not to laugh. It really isn't funny… mostly because I can see her doing it.

"Yes it is – but – tell me something seriously – how long do you intend to keep pretending that – that there's no Mexico – no CIA?"

"That illusion is pretty much shattered," I admit, brushing her knuckles against my lips one last time before letting go of her hand… letting go… Christ it hurts. I don't want her to go.

"So why not give reality a shot?"

"Beth – I – " I want her to go be happy. I want her to go find someone who can give her everything she deserves and more. I want her to go find a guy who – who can honestly love her. But I just don't want her to fucking go. But I don't know how to ask her to stay… "I will always worry about hurting you, Ange," (that's 'angel' in French, mes amis.) "Both of you. I can't help it – between me – and my life – it would just be too easy for you to get hurt. There are way too many people in this world who want to see my ass dead."

"Then – then just tell me that you won't treat me like I'm so fragile that – that a sneeze could break me."

It feels like the wind has just been sucked right out of me – because it sounds as if – as if she's willing to renegotiate her terms…? Christ… do I really have the guts to crawl blindly out onto that narrow little limb…nothing worthwhile is ever easy… "Beth – "

She brushes a stray bit of hair from my face, "Look – Sheldon – there's only so many ways I can say it. I'm not afraid of you. I – want to – be a part of your life – but I can't play pretend the way you do – even when I'm having a bad day. And right now, I just need you to tell me if – if you're willing to give reality a shot – or not. Please. Just tell me what you want – what you really want – because I can't keep trying to figure you out on this one. And – hey – no hard feelings either way, ok?" she adds. "I really am just happy to have seen you – to know you're – you're going to be ok. I just need to know if I'm staying or going."

"I really don't want you to go," fuck me… again… nothing worthwhile is ever easy… "It's just that my life is pretty ugly." But I want her in it… I just don't know how to make that work, but I want her in it… nothing worthwhile is ever easy…

"I'm not afraid of ugly."

"Are you sure you shouldn't be?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll – I'll try not to – to treat you like sneeze could break you – I'm just not sure how well that's going to go."

"I guess I'm willing to take my chances."

…nothing worthwhile is ever easy…

"Come here," I pull Beth gently towards me, and use both hands to capture her. I draw her in and bring her lips up to mine... Very, very gently I twine my fingers into her hair. I don't want to spook her (knowing what I do of her history) – I just love the feel of a woman's hair in my hands… and given the distinctly positive response I'm getting, I tighten my grip, just a little… hmmmm… yeah… anyway... I know our respective offspring will be returning far too soon to do more than this – but this is the most amazing thing in the world…

---------------------------------------------------------

It doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I've left behind me
is a cold room
I've crossed the last line
from where I can't return
where every step I took in faith
betrayed me
and led me from my home

And sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

You take me in
no questions asked
you strip away the ugliness
that surrounds me
(who are you?)
are you an angel?
am I already that gone?
I only hope
that I won't disappoint you
when I'm down here
on my knees
(who are you?)
And sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

(who are you?)
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

And I don't understand
by the touch of your hand
I would be the one to fall

I miss the little things
I miss everything about you

It doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I left behind me
is a cold room

(who are you?)
And sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

- Sarah Mclachlan -