Disclaimer I don't own Sands I just like playing with him.. to help with playing along with Sands twisted littel games.. I do however own my OC
all reviews welcome thanks for the great responses I've got so far they are most appreciated, especially over what has been a slow build towards any kind of action lol
It was significantly harder to throw shapes when you couldn't see what the hell you had hit. Not to mention the pleasure of watching them fall was seriously diminished when you couldn't watch the action. It fed Sand's frustration and there was too Damn much of that as it was already, and it meant he craved a more vicious kind of revenge, one he could hear, screams featured a lot in his imagination; other peoples screams to cover his own, the ones that echoed inside his head in the early hours, and burst through his sleep. He was beginning to hate falling asleep and resisted it as long as possible. He didn't so much 'fall asleep' these days as he had to be dragged kicking and screaming into its clutches. Of course at the point of his actually falling asleep this 'kicking and screaming ' was just an expression. The reason he hated the weakness of sleep, was because it did not stay that way for long, or he feared it didn't.
He tried to distract himself from the fact that at some point the long night, that was all there was, that and his lone thoughts. There had been a few small distractionsthrugh the day. It had been mildly amusing having Sara attempting to play the part of reasonably affectionate wife at the hotel restaurant, all the while while she was more than obviously annoyed, over his stance over the bed situation. She could hardly argue with his point that the settee was her's, as he had taken great pleasure in stating, she wasn't barely out of hospital, and before the doctors really said he should be, and the more significant point she was the one with a problem with it.
Not nearly enough to occupy the early hours, the hotel had fallen silent many hours ago, and he found himself listening to Sara's soft calm breathing over on the other side of the room, for lack of anything else to do. He even regretted claiming the bed, despite the way he had been able to goad Sara over her having to have the settee, it would have been more uncomfortable, and just now, that was what he needed; some hook to hang his desperate attempt to stay awake on. He felt a deep tiredness pulling at him, he resisted it for as long as he was physically able, before it dragged him down into the depths of the dreams... the nightmares.
his lover of old was not dead here.. here he had exacted no revenge.. she mocked him. taunted him, a never quiet voice that bit with as deep a sting as Guevera's drill.
he didn't see it coming...
Yet he had seen too much... just not enough to save his skin..
To save his eyes...
His lover smiled as the torture began, the drill moved closer to his face, it felt like it was tearing his whole body up in the acid burn of its agony.
In the darkness all that existed was the pain... A world of pain
that and the fact they were silently laughing at him...
thinking him a fool
Thinking he had lost..
... lost in the bitter darkness..
"No!" he heard as he found himself sitting up in bed, he must have shouted it, at least he thought he had said some word, instead of just some mindless scream, it might be that it was merely his mind that had begged 'no'
Begged for this reality to be the dream that he could wake from, and not into.
He flinched, she was beside him. He frowned at conformation he was right , that he must be letting the nightmares show in his unguarded sleep. That is why he hated sleep so much. "You couldn't resist climbing into my bed?" he said, wanting to cover the cold sweat of fear, with a glib comment. He hated his weakness, and he wanted no one to pander to it, he wanted to kill it down here in Mexico
"You know your a complete arsehole Sands" she stated
"Yeah.. so your the type of girl who climbs into bed with complete arseholes " he countered, it felt more a playground taunt than his usual dry vicious razor-edged comeback, but he was still shaking slightly from the nightmare, so he forgave himself for that. So apparently did she. She gave it the same weary sigh as she gave his worst barbs.
"Don't you ever let anyone in?" she asked
'Always the doctor, trying to climb into my head as well as my bed' he thought dryly "You climbed in all by your pretty self Doc" he selected instead. Anything else might have shown some fear of not being alone. It was only now he realized she was gently stroking his arm. He could only assume she had been doing so all along, his recent attitude was hardly likely to elicit this response. It felt strangely threatening, in its tender aim at comfort, he tilted his face in her direction. for some reason part of him wanted to hear that comforting tone in her voice, and it surprised him. A surprise he attempted to cover. "Are you making a pass at me Honeybun?" he said with a glib humorous tone in his voice
"Tell me when you stop being an arsehole and I'll let you know" she countered dryly, "You know I have to ask you about those dreams, at some point" she said softly, as soft as an apology
"I never remember them" he lied. He was relieved she didn't punish him for this lie by stopping holding him, already the trembling was passing, it usually lasted much longer.. with nothing but the nights silence there to distract him. He welcomed the distraction of her, where he could focus on the warmth of her body touching his, the scent of her and that quality in her voice. He was already building mental barriers to all this, they were just slow at getting going at this time of night, thats what he told himself
"You know its not hard to guess what they are about" she countered, gently
"The there isn't much point in asking me about them then, is there?" he said defensively.
"No, but there is a procedure, you know how to follow procedure, don't you Sands?"
"Yeah just put your lips together, and kiss the CIA's butt" he muttered
"Well some do, not you though, right Sands?" she said in a bemused tone.
"No..Not me" he confirmed
"Must be why they think so highly of you" she sounded like she was smiling
"Highly enough to send you down to me?" Sands countered
"Oh.. nice one, you are feeling better", she seemed to be smiling again
"Must be" he said, he hardly sounded convinced
"Sands?" she said, that tone was there, he should have tensed instantly at it, but somehow he didn't quite.
"What?" he said tilting his face in her direction, becoming aware she was very close, close enough to feel her breath against his skin
"I don't know how you can come back here, after everything" she said softly. That voice seeped into him,.
Some poisons could seep through the skin Sands remembered reading.. you didn't even have to consent to drink them, to be part of the play that brought you down. On the theme of poisons, not his favourite tool, too passive aggressive.. but he knew them. Literary poisons too, the random , or maybe not so random though came to him, that Hamlets father had been killed by poison dropped into his ear while he slept. He decided Sara's voice was like all of these. It lulled him, against his will, seeping into parts of him that he didn't even know had existed, or had stayed alive in him after all these years, it was disconcerting. There is something rotten at the heart of Denmark...
He didn't want to think of why he was really doing this, but he replied to Sara anyway "Survival instinct" he said with a shrug, for all he knew it was the exact opposite. he after all had been handed a poisoned barb, and survived, what could you describe walking back and grasping the same barb more firmly, as, nothing other than to ensure that this time a fatal dose was given. There had been many sleepless nights, and he was still divided between the two theories swirling through his mind.
"Is that it?" Sanra said, there was no judgemnt or trace of anything in her tone, no disbelief, or accustation. Certainly no cynical jibe. She wan't like him then, somehow what he did hear, and hardly recognised it when he finally did hear that sound, was acceptance.
"I don't know" that slipped out before he even knew he was speaking, it was too honest to sound like it really came from him.
Sara smiled, even blind he knew she was too, and she gently stroked his cheek "Well I guess we will find out together as we go along then" she said.
Sands leant into her touch, together he hadn't used that word applied to him in a long time, and one he trusted as much as he had trusted the good intentions of Guevera's drill. He nodded warily, unfortunately he was in no position to tell everyone else to go to hell.. or stay safely the other side of a cell phone, he needed her to help him. Trouble was she seemed intent on guiding him through more than the streets of Mexico, but through all his barriers, that kept the world at bay so long.
His twisted pyche was not just waving red flags, but sending up distress flares. No one was meant to get inside and see the inner workings of his mind.. that would be a very bad career move.. it would mean them moving his office straight to a nice softly padded room, with its own little uniform of nice jackets where the sleeves tied at the back. No he was not letting her in. An idea flashed, through his mind. keep her off balance, insulted. It was how he kept people away.. cross the boundary, make being around him an increasingly uncomfortable experience. Cross the line.. He thought That might work. He smiled that dry little twisted smile of his, and said "I guess we will. " as he leaned closer and took a kiss.. some kisses were given, some shared, none like that would serve his purpose, he needed to take from her, for her to step back, this would do it, he was sure. It wasn't like he was going for subtle, or holding back
He wrapped his arms tighly around her so she coldn't pull away, as soon as she wanted too. It took a moment or two for his mind to quite register that she wasn't trying to.