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Darkness Rising	By : SaMe Category: M through R > Once Upon A Time In Mexico Views: 1846 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time in Mexico, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Darkness Rising

A Once Upon a Time in Mexico
story by Merrie
fucking stomach out. See how he likes it. But such a thought
didn�t last for long. They had him doped up on painkillers for the gunshot
wound that made it pretty fucking hard to concentrate on anything, but he knew for sure that he was back in DC again and
that he might have been given a fucking anti-psychotic earlier to keep him
calm. Whatever it was, he didn�t feel like doing much of anything right now.
Sure, the idea of an escape still appealed to him, but later. When he had the
energy and didn�t feel like someone had shoved a hot poker through his stomach.

�How are you feeling, Mr. Sands?� A professional sounding
voice floated through his muddled consciousness. He might have corrected her,
told whoever was speaking that he wasn�t Sands, but it didn�t seem worth the
effort at the moment.

�Fucking spiffy, doc. A-ok. What�s
up?� he snickered. �What�s up, doc?� He was fucking gone. Whatever combination
of drugs they had given him had loosened his tongue and softened his brain.
�You did something to me, didn�t ya?� Jeffrey
slurred, giving the doctor the best stern glance he could manage, which was
little above a frown.

�You�ve been giving some painkillers for your gunshot wound
and something to keep you calm, yes,� the doctor answered in that same detached
voice. �Please try and remain calm, Mr. Sands. The effects aren�t permanent I
assure you, but it was necessary. My name is Doctor Claire Harrington and I�ll
be looking after you during your stay here.�

Jeffrey snickered. �Looking after me? I fucking hope that
means what I think it does,� he said, managing a leer.

Dr. Harrington wasn�t amused. �Like I said, Mr. Sands, just
try and remain calm. Don�t bother trying to pull at the restraints either.
You�ll only end up hurting yourself.�

�Restraints?� Jeffrey asked with a
frown, looking away from the doctor for the first time to his chest. His wrists
and bare feet were bound tightly to the bed with stiff restraints of tan leather.
�What the fuck?� he pulled at them but they didn�t budge. �Let me go!� The
euphoria he had been feeling was beginning to change into something sharp and
scary. He needed to get free. He couldn�t stay here. They couldn�t keep him.
Not like this. �Please,� he whimpered after a few minutes of frantic
struggling. �Sands, where are you? I can�t deal with this by myself. Sands!�

�Mr. Sands if you don�t calm yourself I�ll be forced to give
you another shot. Now lie still. The restraints are for your safety as well as
ours. They�re not hurting you.�

�They�re hurting, they�re strangling. Please let me go,�
Jeffrey moaned, his eyes rolling around the room frantically like a frightened
animal. He needed to get out of here. �Walls are closing in,� he moaned, actually
imaging the walls moving in on him to crush him in moments. �Don�t let them get
me. Let me go!� He pleaded with her. �Sands, make her
let me go!�

�I�m afraid we cannot do that, Mr. Sands. The walls are not
closing in on you, I assure you,� Dr. Harrington said in that same even voice,
as if the sight of the hospital gown-clad man writhing on the bed pleading to
be released had no affect on her. It probably didn�t. She was a senior member
of the hospital staff. She had probably seen much worse. With a nod, Dr.
Harrington directed a young intern to give Jeffrey a sedative. Jeffrey
whimpered when he saw the needle coming towards the IV that had somehow
remained in his arm despite his thrashings and watched helplessly as the drug
coursed its way through the tube into his arms as if he could stop it by will
alone. It wasn�t long before his struggles ceased, and he slipped off into the
dreamless sleep of the heavily medicated.

WWW

Emily leaned against
the outside wall of the motel and watched as the ME van rolled out of the
parking lot with revulsion, sublimely thankful she had had the foresight to
skip breakfast this morning. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and wiped
at the sweat that had gathered at her upper lip. She then turned to Roland, her
eyes widening as she saw his complexion was that of rice paper. �Are you
alright?� Emily herself wasn�t; seeing the leftovers of Sands� dirty work had
left her reeling. The only way she was coping was that the grim visage she had
seen was too horrible to be human in her mind. She allowed herself that
detachment. That wasn�t her friend and colleague Yvette St. Martin in the
bathtub; that was something else. Not even a person.

�No, I�m not,� Roland said softly, running a hand across his
face in much the same way as Emily herself had just a moment ago. �He mutilated
her.� There was no need to ask who the �he� was that he was talking about.

�Yes, he did,� Emily responded in a whisper, the image of
Yvette�s smiling face trying to combine with the figure she had seen in the
bathtub. It wasn�t working.

�Why?� Roland asked with weariness. �He could have just
killed her. Why�that?�

Roland�s pain and confusion were so open and honest that
Emily couldn�t help but try and answer him. �I think Susannah was right. He
wanted to make a statement. He wanted the attention.�

�Well, he got it,� Roland murmured. The rage he had been
feeling towards Sands earlier had seemed to have just faded away, leaving
nothing but a hollow emptiness in its place.

�He�ll pay for what he did, Roland. He won�t get away with
this. Yvette will get her vengeance,� Emily said softly, telling him what she
thought he wanted to hear.

�It won�t bring her back, Emily. She�s dead; murdered.
Nothing will bring her back now. She doesn�t care for things like vengeance.
She doesn�t care about anything anymore. She�s dead and she�s not coming back.�
This was said with a quiet but pained finality.

�No, she�s not, Roland,� Emily said with a sad frown,
looking into his eyes. She looked away almost immediately, disturbed by the
amount of loss and grief she saw there. She didn�t want to believe that Roland
had genuinely loved Yvette; it was easier to deal with that way. �I�m sorry,�
she said finally, not knowing what else to say, reaching out a tentative hand
to place upon his shoulder. He accepted the comfort and even moved a hand up on
top of hers.

They stayed in this position for a long while, neither of
them saying a word untolanoland suddenly cleared his throat. �We should get
back to the hospital and check on Sands. And we need to find Susannah,� he said
softly, but he didn�t move away from her and she didn�t take her hand off of
his shoulder.

After a few long moments the two of them finally seemed to
realize the position they were in and separated with a little more haste than
was probably necessary. �Right. Let�s go,� Emily said,
straightening her already immaculate blouse and skirt. Roland just nodded and
together they walked back to the car, keeping as much distance between them
that was humanly possible when riding in the same car.

WWW

�You did what?� Susannah asked Dr. Harrington incredulously,
a hand moving up to run a hand through her short brown hair in a frustrated
gesture. �He�s the lead suspect in a number of crimes. We need him conscious to
confess to those crimes not a fucking vegetable!�

�I don�t like your tone, Agent Cartwright. As Mr. s�
s�
primary physician, it is left up to my discretion whether to medicate him or
not. He was in hysterics. He surely would have injured himself were it not for
the restraints. I did what was deemed necessary and I don�t take kindly to your
insinuations that I don�t know how to do my job.�

Susannah wanted to throttle the well meaning doctor, but she
was one who prided herself on her self-control, so she settled on a glare. �And
when will, Mr. Sands be awake, Dr. Harrington? He is of the utmost importance
to our investigation, and I fear time is of the essence.�

�So you say. I myself disagree. Respectively.
From what I�ve seen on the television and read in the newspapers about my
patient, he is a killer, correct?�

�That is correct. He has killed many people, doctor,�
Susannah offered, unsure where the doctor was taking this.

�There is nothing more you can do for those victims now that
cannot wait then, is there?� Susannah faltered and Dr. Harrington pressed her
advantage. �He won�t be able to tell you anything that will save the lives of
any of those people, so I suggest you kindly wait. Mr. Sands will awake when it�s
determined whether or not he�s still a danger to those around him. Including himself. I�m placing him on suicide watch effective
immediately.� She hesitated. �You may observe him if you wish, but if you
attempt to thwart what I am doing for him I will have you thrown out and barred
from further visitations with my patient. Is that clear, Agent Cartwright?�

�Crystal, Dr. Harrington,� Susannah said, just managing not
to slug her. God save me from pompous,
bitch doctors.

�Very good. If you would come this
way, I�ll direct you to Mr. Sands� room.� Susannah nodded and followed Dr.
Harrington down a series of twisting corridors and security-locked doors. �This
hospital used to be a state-run mental institution in the 50s. It was renovated
into the medical hospital you�re in now a few decades later when it was decided
that rehabilitation was the correct solution for the insane.� The way Dr.
Carrington said this indicated that she didn�t agree with that particular philosophy.
�While most of the hospital is indeed a modern medical facility, a few remnants
of the old institution remain. The wing we�re not entering was used to house
the criminally insane. It seemed appropriate that Mr. Sands stay here.
Everything is up to code of course. The building has been very well maintained
over the years. Perhaps some day it will be an institution again.�

Susannah remained quiet throughout the impromptu history
lesson, trying not to think about what such a place had been like in the 50s,
and sublimely thankful that she would be able to leave at the end of the �tour.�
The walls were painted in a nauseating puke-green, the fluorescent lights were
garish, and the tile squeaked under their shoes as they traversed the halls.

After what seemed like hours, they finally came to a halt in
front of a seemingly innocuous door, save that it had a pair of armed guards
standing sentry in front of it. Susannah didn�t recognize either of them, but
nodded to them all the same as she passed into the room. She froze when she saw
the man she�d come to visit, a hand going up to her mouth without thought. Jesus, they�ve got him tied up like a
fucking animal.

Jeffrey was bound hand and foot in five-point restraints,
but yet he didn�t struggle. He didn�t really even acknowledge their presence
either. His eyes were open, but Susannah could see that they were glazed over
and was fairly certain that if she were to wave a hand in front of his face she
would get no response. �What did you give him?� she asked Dr. Harrington in a
quiet voice.

�Geodon.
It�s an anti-psychotic and a mood stabilizer. Something to keep him calm,� Dr.
Harrington answered after a moment�s hesitation.

Yeah, he�s definitely calm.
He�s a step away from drooling like an infant. �Is he still cognizant?� she
asked, taking a step closer to him. His eyes didn�t follow her across the room.
That did not bode well.

�More or less. The drugs keep him
in an even state of mind. They prevent him from having extreme highs or lows of
emotion. He should be able to answer your questions.�

�Should be, or will?� Susannah asked, not taking her eyes
off of Jeffrey.

Doctor Harrington didn�t have an answer for that one.

WWW

Jeffrey was�aware; nothing more, nothing less. He wasn�t
aware of his surroundings, or who the two women speaking in muted tones really were-although
they both seemed tantalizingly familiar-he wasn�t really self-aware, either,
but it was a kind of aware all the same. He knew he was awake, he knew he was
alive, and he knew he was a prisoner. He wasn�t entirely sure how he had come
to the last conclusion�oh, it probably had something
to do with the fact that he couldn�t move his arms or legs. Was he paralyzed or
chained down? He didn�t know.

�Jeffrey? Sands? Can you hear me?�

He turned his head
slowly towards the sound of the voice after trying to move his arms. The action
was accompanied by a restricting force around his wrists. Chains then. �Jeffrey can hear
you. Sands is gone. Don�t know where he went. Maybe he�s
not coming back.� His eyes came into focus on a face to match the familiar
voice. �Susannah. Enemy. You ask too many questions. I
wanted to kill you. Don�t now though. How about that?�

�Yeah, how about that,� Susannah repeated with a slight
frown. �Jeffrey tell me, how many people have you killed? Is there anyone we
haven�t found yet?�

�Probably. Don�t know. How many
have you found? Because I�ve killed a lot of people. Sands too. 30 maybe? There were a
lot in Baltimore,� he supplied with
a lazy grin. �I di kil kill most of them though. Sands did. He fucking lost it.
Gone. Bye bye.�

�Thirty.us Cus Christ,� Susannah muttered under her breath.

�Is that some kind of fucking record? Because that would be�neat,�
Jeffrey slurred.

�You�re definitely on the list,� Susannah muttered absently,
more than a bit horrified by the whole situation.

�On the list but not at the top?�
Jeffrey inquired with such curious innocence that it made Susannah�s skin
crawl.

�No. Not at the top.� The top was some 200+ bodies more than
that, but Susannah definitely wasn�t going to share that bit of information. He
might get the idea that he had something to prove.

�Oh. Well I guess that�s ok. I made the list. That�s enough
right?� he asked with a lazy grin. �Are they going to execute me, Susannah?�

�I-I don�t know, Jeffrey. It�s a possibility.� Yeah right. With as
obviously insane as he is they�ll consider it a mercy to lock him up in some
institution for the rest of his life. For his own good.

�Yeah. That would be ok. I wouldn�t
mind. I�d rather die than be locked up, you know? I get claustrophobic in jail
cells.� He laughed at that and Susannah shuddered at the sound. �Will you come
to watch when they execute me? Roland will, I�m sure.
But will you?�

How could she answer something like that? This man had
killed one of her best friends in cold blood. He had murdered scores of others
in much the same way and now he was asking if she would attend his execution
like a pimply-faced teenager asking a girl out on a date to the prom. �Do you
want me to?� she asked at last.

Jeffrey nodded vigorously. �I do, I really do, Susannah. You�re
very brave. I�d rather kill you I think, but since I can�t do that I want you
to come.�

Susannah had just been about to speak up again, when Jeffrey
interrupted her. �Ah, Roland! Emily! You�re all here!
Now the party can truly begin!�

TBC

A/N: Well this chapter was fun. Poor Jeffrey�s in a bad way.
And Dr. Harrington�s going to be trouble, I can tell. And don�t ask me what�s
going on between Roland and Emily at the moment. You know as much as I do on
that count. They haven�t been telling me anything. Anyway, to all my reviewers,
a hearty thank you. See you in a week with the next chapter!

-Merrie
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