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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

Disclaimer: If wishes were horses I�d sell mine and buy SJ.

Summary: Sands and Jeffrey, after having a good long
homicidal run have finally been caught. So what happens next? And how the hell
does a wanted psychopath wind up in the CIA anyway?

Characters: Jeffrey, Sands, Roland Rivers, Emily Brisbane,
Dr. Claire Harrington

Author�s Note: This chapter is a dark one. I�m telling you
know. That, and it takes place almost entirely in
flashback. Hope you like it.

Rating: R for extreme violence, graphic imagery and
language.

Chapter Twenty-One: Darkness Becomes You

Washington DC, 11 March, 1986, 17:23 pm

�Have you even thought
about schooling yet, Sheldon?� Sara Sands asked her 17 year old son
incredulously.

�He had better. He�s not going to be supported by us, I can
tell you that much,� Anthony Sands added with a disapproving frown.

Sheldon Sands sighed and tried not to look too hatefully at
his parents. God, they didn�t understand anything. They didn�t care. They just
wanted their fucking heir and toy to show off to their stuck-up friends and
that was it. He wasn�t their son; he was their fucking possession.

�Sheldon! Answer me when I speak to
you!� Mrs. Sands yelled at her son.

�I�ve already been accepted to Cornell mother,� Sands said
calmly. If you had bothered to pay any
attention to me whatsoever, you�d know that, you dumb bitch.

�Cornell? Why not Stanford, like your father?�

�Because he probably couldn�t get in,� Mr. Sands said
derisively.

�I didn�t apply for Stanford, mother. I didn�t want to go
there.�

�You didn�t what?�
Mr. Sands asked, practically throwing down the newspaper he had been reading at
Sands� statement. �After all the money I�ve paid for your schooling you think
you can just pick and choose which
college you go to? You ungrateful little brat.�

�I wanted to go to Cornell, father. It�s a respectable
school,� Sands said, keeping his voice as calm as he could while inside he was
fuming.

�That is not the
point. And if you ever talk back to
me like that again, I�ll make you wish you never had,� Sands� father said
coldly.

Sands gritted his teeth, but bore it. �Yes, father,� he said
with all the meekness of a frightened lamb before a wolf when in actuality, he
was a hairsbreadth away from baring his own claws at his father and seeing
whose were bigger.

�You�re going to go where I tell you to go. Do you understand me?�

�Yes, father.�

�Now go to your room and don�t come back until you�ve done
what I�ve told you to do. Dinner can wait.�

�Yes, father,� Sands said evenly, getting up from his seat
at the dining room table as they waited for their dinner to be brought out and
stalking out of the room.

�This is your fault, you know,� Anthony Sands informed his
wife before turning back to his newspaper. �You indulge him too much. All that
time spent in the rose garden. You�ve made him weak.�

�Oh, spare me you bastard. If I thought we could get an
annulment still, I�d end this marriage in a heartbeat.�

�The feeling, my dear, is more than mutual.�

WWW

Washington DC, 11 March, 1986, 20:15 pm

�Stupid fucking parents,� Sands muttered to himself as he
finished the last application essay for�god, he didn�t care where it was for
anymore. Maybe he should just go to Stanford. At least then he�d be on the
other end of the country and away from his fucking parents. �They probably
wouldn�t even miss me. Except as someone to order around all day long,� he
muttered to himself.

They don�t care about
you. They never have, a voice whispered malevolently in his thoughts.

Sands rolled his eyes. �No shit, Sherlock,� he muttered.
�I�ve know that they don�t love me since I was nine. It�s old news.�

And yet it still
pisses you off. Doesn�t it?

Sands scowled. �I�m their son. You�d think they�d at least
notice that I seem to be just a little insane,� he murmured ruefully. �I�m
talking to myself for Christ�s sake.�

No, you�re talking to
me. Not the same.

�Oh, and that makes me feel so much better,� Sands said dryly.

You know what would
make you feel even more so? Getting rid of your fucking parents.

�Explain �getting rid of,� oh mysterious voice inside my
head.�

What are you, a
fucking moron? What do you think I meant?

�Oh fuck you. What, you think I�m just going to kill my
parents? Just like that? I�m not a killer.�

The voice scoffed.

�Ok, fine. But I haven�t killed any people,� Sands tried to reason.

But you want to. Admit
it. You want to know what it�s like. You want to know how it feels to hold
someone�s life in your hand and simply�squeeze.

Sands didn�t want to answer that. It was true, he had
thought about killing someone else. Perhaps one of the fucking kids who had
called him �shellfish� when he was younger.

Fuck them. They�re not
here. And shellfish? Come on, was that the best they
could fucking come up with? They don�t matter. They don�t
affect you. They�re not holding you back like your parents are. And I know
you�ve thought about killing them. Matricide. Patricide. You know the words as well as I do.

Sands eyes narrowed as he grew wary at the voices�
insistence for him to murder his parents. �Why are you trying to get me to do
this? What�s in it for you? No, don�t answer that. I don�t care. I don�t even
know why I�m talking to you. You�re not real. You never have been. You�re just
a voice inside my head; a figment of my imagination. I�m done talking to you.
And I�m not going to kill my parents.�

Sands might have said more, but he was interrupted by a
polite knocking on his bedroom door. It was probably one of the help. His
parents never came to him directly. He wouldn�t be surprised if they didn�t
even know which room was his. He was always sent for, never visited. He had
come to accept this. �Come in,� he murmured.

�Pardon me, sir.� He heard one of the younger maids voice
before he saw her. �But your mother said I should tell you not to come for
dinner. It�s already over.�

Typical.
Sands thought to himself bitterly.

�Would you like me to bring you something from the kitchen?�
the maid asked in a too sweet voice that made him want
to scowl. He kept his face free of that emotion however by years of practice.
He had long ago learned not to show people what he really felt about them.
They�d be horrified if they knew.

Sands shook his head. �No thank you.� He didn�t want the
fucking false hospitality. He couldn�t stand it. And even more, he really hated
having people wait on his hand and foot. He wasn�t a fucking child.

And yet they treat you
like one. Doesn�t that piss you off?

�Shut up,� Sands muttered.

�Excuse me, sir?� the woman asked with a frown.

�I wasn�t talking to you. Leave,� Sands said evenly, tired
of this woman�s presence.

You could just kill
her, you know. That�d be a quick way to get rid of her.

�That wouldn�t be quick at all,� Sands muttered under his
breath. �And I am not killing someone just because you think it might solve
some of my problems. I am not a monster.�

�I never said you were, sir,� the young woman said in a
slightly trembling voice. She looked scared of him.

You like that, don�t
you? You like having her fear you. You get off on it, I can tell. Do you want
to fuck her before you kill her? She�s easy enough on the eyes. And no one
would have to find out. We could be careful. You want her, don�t you? You don�t
even need me to convince you.

Sands frowned as he thought about it. The voice was right.
She was easy on the eyes. With auburn
hair that he knew would fall to at least her shoulder blades if he was to take
it down, a slim figure and large breasts just begging to be held, she was
definitely worthy of his notice. But it was her eyes that got him; wide bright
blue eyes that were like two jewels set in a sea of cream that was her
complexion. Yes, he definitely wanted her.

Take her.

But he wouldn�t result to rape.

Oh really?

Not unless she fought him.

That�s better. You
like their struggles. I know it. You like to be in control. You want to hear
her scream. You�re hard right now just thinking about it.

�What is your name?� he asked the maid in a soft voice,
moving past her to close the door. He didn�t lock it, not yet.

�Alice, sir,� she said in a voice matching his, staring up
at him with those wide blue eyes of hers.

�Alice,� he repeated in a seductive drawl. �What a beautiful
name.�

Oh please. You hate
it. Stop lying to yourself and just fuck her already.

�You-you really think so?� Alice asked timidly.

Sands very nearly rolled his own eyes at that, but somehow
managed to stop himself in time. �Of course I do. I�ve
noticed you from the first moment you started work here. Don�t say that you
haven�t noticed me.� He reached past her to lock the door.

She noticed what he was doing and her eyes grew impossibly
wider. �What are you doing, sir?� Her voice had regained the slight tremor to
it that Sands discovered he loved.

I told you you got off on it. Just fucking take
her already. You�re wasting time. You know what? I don�t think you�re going to
even do it. You�re a fucking pussy, Sands; a mama�s boy. And you know what?
You�ll always be one. You might as well just let her fucking go. She�s
obviously not going to get anything out of you, you spineless prick.

Instead of answering the voice aloud again like he had
earlier, he glided towards Alice and kissed her long and deep. She squeaked
against his mouth and her hands beat at his shoulders, but he didn�t let up and
she wasn�t able to stop him even as he moved a hand to the front of her livery
to squeeze one of her breasts.

�Sir, don�t. We shouldn�t. It�s not right. What if your
parents��

Oh that definitely
wasn�t the right thing to say. You shouldn�t have said that sugarbutt.
He�s very prickly when it comes to talking about his parents. Haven�t you
noticed that?

�What about my
parents?� Sands hissed, moving his hand from her chest to grab one of her
wrists tightly.

�Please sir, you�re hurting me. I didn�t mean anything by
it, I swear,� the woman tried to plead with him.

�Oh I am, am I? Well what if I like hurting you? What about that?� Sands asked curiously, not
letting her go.

Alice whimpered and tried to squirm away from him. Sands
held on fast. �Please, let me go. I won�t tell anyone about this, I swear to
you.�

Sands laughed and Alice whimpered again at the sound. �I
know you won�t tell anyone about this. You won�t get the chance to.�

Yes. Fuck her, kill
her. You want to. You need to. Look at her, she wants it too. Listen to the way
she�s breathing. Look at the rise and fall of her chest. She�s fucking hot for
you right now. Smell her fucking cunt. She wants you.
And you want her.

Sands did. He didn�t really know how he wanted her or why-at
17 he was feared by his classmates and therefore hadn�t had any real girlfriend
and had remained a virgin-but he knew enough to know that she was to be his. He
didn�t care that she wasn�t willing. That only made it better. Rape wasn�t a
new word to him-every one of the guys in his class had been given the �talk� by
teachers about sex and what to do and not to do in situations they might
face-he simply did not care. He liked her fear. The voice was right. He was
getting off on it right now.

�Oh,� the girl moaned. She began to understand now, and her
fear grew tenfold. �Don�t do this, sir. Please.� She could see that her pleas
weren�t working and tried a different tactic. �I�ll scream. I swear to you I
will. I�ll scream so loud the entire household will hear me. And they will
come. They�ll stop you.�

�I want you to scream. I want to hear you beg for your life.
I like it.� He leaned in and darted out his tongue to lick her cheek slowly.
�And no one can stop me.� He moved his hands to her chest again, tearing open
her clothing with a loud ripping noise, sending buttons flying across the room.
�Scream for me.�

She did.

WWW

Washington DC, 11 March, 1986, 21:57 PM

You made a mess. And
you�ve killed the person that�s supposed to clean it up. Bravo.

�Leave me alone,� Sands muttered, wiping the blood from his
hands on the top sheet of his bed. It didn�t really help much, but he just
wanted it off. He didn�t want to be
covered in a dead girl�s blood. Not really.

I didn�t hear you
complaining a half an hour ago. I think you like the blood. You�re lying to
yourself, Sands. You enjoyed yourself. You enjoyed taking someone else�s life.
Well, the voice laughed in Sands head, causing Sands to press his bloodied
hands to his temples in an attempt to get it to stop, you didn�t just take her life, did you? You didn�t stop there. And to
think, you didn�t even need my help at all. I think I should feel fucking
offended. You did do a good job though. You should be proud. Congratulations,
Sands. You are now not only a rapist, but a murderer as well. And you loved
every minute of it.

�Shut up,� Sands muttered, but he couldn�t deny the truth of
the voice�s words. He had enjoyed
himself. He had liked killing her. What did that say about him? And fuck, he
didn�t just kill her, he fucking mutilated her.

A
fledgling killer�s first attempt towards greatness. You didn�t do too badly, actually.

Sands tried to ignore him. It wasn�t hard when faced with
the results of what he had done. Blood was everywhere. On the bed, on him,
Christ, it was even on the walls. Where had it all come from? How had it gotten
there?

You put it there, you
fucking idiot. You said you liked the way it made patterns on the walls.

He didn�t remember that at all. In fact, the last�however
long he had been here�was somewhat fuzzy. He knew what he had done, there was
clear evidence of that, but he couldn�t really remember any of the actual doing.
He looked over at what had once
been the body of a beautiful young girl and frowned. He felt nothing; no
regret, no sense of guilt, only confusion that he couldn�t clearly remember
having killed her. But he clearly had. With what, he was unsure. He didn�t own
any weapons; at least, he didn�t think he did.

A
letter opener. A dull, flat, letter opener. That�s what you used. It was
quite interesting to watch, actually. Especially when you tried to cut her
throat and it wouldn�t work. That seemed to anger you somewhat.

Sands could practically hear the voices� smug smirk within
his head. �Why did I do it? I�m not a killer,� he said dully, shaking his head
back and forth at the clear evidence that he was.

Please. Stop deluding
yourself. You�re a killer. What do you think you just did? Normal people don�t
do that kind of thing. A normal person in a fit of homicidal rage might kill
someone, but not like that. And you didn�t feel any rage when you killed her,
did you? You didn�t feel anything. Well, except for when you found out you
couldn�t slit her throat with a dull letter opener.

�I didn�t feel anything,� Sands acknowledged slowly. �I
killed her and I didn�t feel anything.� Well he was certainly fucking feeling
something now: fear. �I should have felt something. I took another human
being�s life. I should feel guilty. Why don�t I feel guilty?�

Because
you�re a sociopath. Haven�t
you ever wondered about this before? I thought you were supposed to be fucking
smart. Going to college at 17? Does this ring any fucking bells, halfwit?

�A sociopath? No, I can�t be. It�s
not possible. I�m just in shock. That�s it. That�s all it is; shock.�

The voice laughed again.

�Stop that. You�re not even real. You made me do this. I
didn�t do it, you did. I haven�t killed anyone,� Sands argued, throwing himself
out of bed, desperate to get away from the body and the blood. �I don�t even
know if this is real. It could be a dream; a bad fucking dream. That�s what this is. It has to be.�

Listen to yourself.
You�re freaking right out, aren�t you? The thought of actually have gotten laid
once in his miserable life is just too much for the poor little mama�s boy to
handle.

�Shut up!� Sands yelled. �You don�t know anything about me!
You�re not even there!�

I�ve always been here,
Sands. Always listening; always watching. I�ve just been waiting for my moment,
and guess what, it�s here. You did exactly what I wanted you to. How about
that? And I didn�t even really have to fucking persuade
you. You were more than fucking happy to not only get a good fucking, but to
kill her as well. Your first fuck and your first kill all in the same moment.
Dear me, this isn�t going to develop into a complex, is it? The voice asked
with a manic laugh. You�re pathetic. I
should have tried to take over years ago. If I known you were going to turn out
into such a fucking pussy, I would have.

�You�re just a voice in my head. Why can�t I get rid of
you?� Sands moaned, clutching the sides of his head again, leaving bloodied
handprints on his skin. He didn�t seem to notice.

Because I am a part of
you, Sands. You�ll never be able to get rid of me. I�ll be with you forever.

�Oh yeah?� Sands asked with a desperate
laugh that made the voice a little nervous. �We�ll see about that.�

WWW

Washington DC, 11 March, 1986, 23:36 PM

What the fuck are you
doing, Sands? Don�t do anything crazy now, alright?

�I thought you told me that I was crazy? Well, I�m just doing what comes naturally,� Sands
answered in a two calm voice for someone who was walking back to their house
carrying a can of gasoline in each bloodied hand from the car garage. �I�m
going to burn this fucking house to the ground.�

Oh, a little arson. Always
a fucking cathartic thing for me�

�And I�m going up with it. My parents too.
That�s what you wanted, right? Well congratulations, you�re getting it. My
parents will be dead in one fiery swoop.�

Well good for you. Death to the bastards. I�ll even help if you want me to�wait
a fucking minute. You said you were going up with them. What are you fucking
talking about, you crazy son of a bitch?

�You fucking heard me. I�d rather be dead than spend the
rest of my life taking orders from you,� Sands hissed. The voice had a response
to that, but Sands ignored it. He knew what he had to do. This had to end. If
he truly was a killer, then he couldn�t be allowed to run free.

If that�s what you
really think, then why not just kill yourself? Why kill your parents as well?
The voice asked smugly. And you don�t
really expect your parents to just lie down and die, do you? There are easier
ways to fucking skin a cat, Sheldon.

�Call me that again and I swear I�ll put a gun to my head
and blow our collective brains out,� Sands said evenly as he silently climbed a
side stairway up to the rooms where his parents slept.

Don�t get your nose
all bent out of shape, Sands. It is your
name, you know. And you didn�t answer my question.

�Because I want them fucking dead,� he said simply. �I
didn�t care about the girl. I had no feelings whatsoever for her.�

But you feel for your
parents, don�t you? You fucking hate them. It hasn�t always been that way, you
recall, but as of late that�s all you feel towards
them, isn�t it? An all-encompassing hate. Well, that
and a strong desire to see them dead. I�m sure I fucking blame you, really.
They never loved you, Sands. You know that as well as I do.
And killing them will make you feel
better. But you won�t get a fucking chance to feel anything if you fucking kill
yourself too!

�I don�t care. I just want it over. I�m fucking tired of
this,� he said wearily as he stopped in front of the door to his father�s room.
It was a toss up if his mother was there with him or not tonight-she often
slept in her own room at the other end of the house-but he was feeling
inexplicably lucky. There was no cause to feel this way, especially given his
day, but he felt it all the same. It was as if this was meant to happen.
Perhaps it was.

If you truly believe
that, you�re dumber than I fucking thought you were, and that�s saying a lot. There�s
no such thing as fate. We make our own destinies.

�Then this is me making mine,� he murmured as he set one of
the containers of gasoline down so he could push the door open.

Wait! What if they�re
still awake? What are you going to do then, genius?

But it was too late. Sands had already pushed the door open
to enter the master bedroom, immediately going very still and silent. It was
dark, that was a good sign, and his parents generally went to bed almost two
hours earlier, so he thought he was ok.

For
now. Are they both even here?

Sands squinted into the darkness. Yes, it seemed that there
were indeed two figures on the bed, each of them turned away from another and
as close to the edge as they could possibly be. In a king size bed this was
pretty far. He just hoped that the woman in bed with his father was his mother
or else he�d have to make two trips. But his luck held. As he drew closer, he
could see the sleeping profile of his mother Sara clearly. She was a beautiful
woman in every way except on the inside. Beneath the lovely outer shell was a
cold hearted bitch who only cared about her
appearance, her money and possessions, and her fucking rose garden. He hated
the last most of all because he had genuinely grown to like the rows of
delicate flowers too and she knew it. She knew the power she held over him as
only a mother could. He hated her.

He turned his now even more hateful gaze to his father�s
sleeping form. For a brief moment he debated which one he hated more and
couldn�t come to a decision. His father was one cold son of a bitch. Always had
been, always would be. He only cared about furthering Sands� education through
any means necessary and grooming him to take over the investment firm he ran
someday. That was it. Sands knew he was to be a replacement. Not a son, an
heir. His father wasn�t someone you could talk to; he was someone who forced
you to listen to him. His will was law, and he quite frequently laid down that
law. There were only two things that existed in Anthony Sands� world: his work,
and his money. In that order. There wasn�t room for
anything else. The only reason he had started a family was that it was expected
of him. Just as it would be expected of Sands someday.
He already knew he never wanted to get married; never wanted children. Any
progeny of his would end up just like he had. It was a grim thought, but it
wasn�t necessarily a wrong one.

Are you going to fucking do it or just stand there looking at them?

The voice was right. The time for waiting was over. It was
time to act. He began pouring the gasoline.

WWW

Sands slid down the wall outside his parents� bedroom, his
hair and clothing reeking of gasoline, smoke and burnt flesh. He had left the
doors open so the fire could spread more easily, but for the moment neither
flames nor his mother came out. He had seen to the latter. The screaming had
only just stopped and he knew in the grim silence that followed afterwards that
he had been successful. His parents were dead. He wouldn�t have to deal with
them ever again. Nothing could hurt him now.

Nothing except for me,
the voice said evenly. Get off your ass
and get the hell out of here Sands. I refuse to let you kill me. We�re getting
out of here if I have to drag your lazy ass every inch of the way.

�You can�t. You�re not real,� Sands murmured with a hacking
cough as the hall began to fill with smoke. He could see flames on the ceiling
now as well. They spread down the hall like liquid; consuming the old wood of
the mansion that had been in Sands� family for centuries without hesitation or
consideration for the loss of something that had meant so much to so many
people. Sands just wanted to watch it burn.

Well I�m not going to
let you. Deal with it.

�Leave me alone. This is what I want. Their fucking dead and
I�m tired of it all. I�m going to sit here and let the fucking fire come.
Engulfed in flame; consumed by fire; cremated alive. You can�t stop me. No one
can.� Sands coughed again, his head beginning to spin from smoke inhalation. He
would lose consciousness soon and then he would be free.

You�ll never be free.
We�re getting the fuck out of here whether you want to or now. Now come on.

Sands didn�t answer. He didn�t want to answer. He just
wanted to close his eyes and not wake up. That�s it. That�s all he wanted. Fuck
college, fuck any future life he might have had; this was it. This was where
life ended. No bang, certainly not any fucking whimpers if he could help himself,
just an end. He didn�t believe in any kind of afterlife. He didn�t want to. He
wanted oblivion when he died; nothingness.

With your luck you�d
wind up in hell and take me with you, you fucking crazy bastard, the voice
muttered. Fuck that. You�re coming with
me.

Sands just laughed. He realised that it would help speed
things up if he stood up so that he was closer to the smoke, so that was what
he did. He nearly fell back down again as he began to cough violently, but he
held his footing and breathed deep.

You�re going to get us
killed! The voice shouted within Sands� head as he looked up to the ceiling
and the wave of flame that passed overhead. He reached out to touch those
flames, but they were too high for him to reach and too hot for him to stand
being close to for very long. He pulled his arm back and watched the place burn
as spots began to dance around the edges of his vision. He could see the
expensive paintings his mother had meticulously collected melting, and it
brought a smile to his face to see such destruction. Fire had been the right
thing to kill his parents with. Fire was pure; without cause or motivation. It
had only one purpose: to burn. It didn�t matter what was in its way, whether it
be living or dead, it burned all with equal prejudice. It was beautiful.

Fine, it�s fucking
beautiful. But wouldn�t it be even more so to see on the outside? Just think,
Sands. The entire place will be burning. You can watch it until its ash if you
want. We won�t let anyone stop you. Don�t you want that? I know; you can even
sit in the rose garden.

Sands shook his head. �Don�t want to see it. I want to die
in it. No survivors. No witnesses.� His voice was a raspy whisper now but still
he stood, breathing in smoke.

NO! I WILL NOT LET YOU KILL ME! The voice
screamed.

Sands just laughed again as he finally fell to his knees,
his oxygen-deprived body unable to hold itself up
anymore. �You have no choice. This is my choice
and I�ve made it. I choose oblivion.�

Sands dimly heard the voice practically roar in rage and
frustration before he finally succumbed to the darkness with an expectant smile
on his face as he waited for the fires to come.

WWW

Washington DC, 12 March, 1986, 0:13 AM

�That�s right, son. Just breathe deep now. You�ll be ok,� a
voice drifted into Sands consciousness. He frowned, not understanding. He
reached a hand up to his face to remove whatever it was that was covering his
mouth and nose, but a firm hand stopped him. �You breathed in a lot of smoke,
understand? You need to breathe the oxygen for awhile to re-oxygenate your
blood or you�ll have real problems.�

Sands didn�t care. He wanted to know what was happening and
he wanted to know now. He was supposed to be dead. Was this death? Was the
voice right and this was hell? He wasn�t sure. He pushed the oxygen mask away
from him and sat up. He collapsed back down again immediately afterwards.

�Hold on there big man, you�ve had quite an ordeal. I
wouldn�t get up right away if I were you. Now, you just lie here and let me
look after you, alright? I promise someone will tell you what�s happening soon
if that�s what you�re trying to figure out. You were in a fire. That�s all I
can tell you right now, buddy.� Sands
tried to question this, but he couldn�t form a clear sentence through a sudden
onset of coughing and wheezing that had the people around him scurrying to put
the mask back on his face. �Don�t try to talk. You�re throat is swollen from
the smoke inhalation. That�s why it�s so hard to breathe as well. But no
worries, we�ll get you set right soon.�

Sands tried to shake his head; tried to tell them that he
didn�t want to be �set right� but they didn�t understand him. He didn�t want
their help. He had wanted to die. Why hadn�t they let him die? Who had gotten
him out of there? The last thing he remembered was fire�no�wait.
There was something else� A rose. A rose framed in
flame. Why was he thinking about that now? He hadn�t seen it? He couldn�t have.
He was passed out.

�You�re lucky we found you when we did, you know buddy? Just sitting there in the garden. I�ve seen some pretty
strange things in this job but I think that has to be hitting the top of the
list. It was like you didn�t even know you were there. Know anything about
that, kid?�

Sands obviously couldn�t answer because of the mask, but
glared at the man in an attempt to get him to stop calling him �kid.�

�Hey, what�s wrong now, kid?� If Sands could have sighed, he
would have.

WWW

Present Day

�Alice,� Sands murmured, ducking as a bullet ricocheted over
his head.

�What? What the hell are you talking about?� Jeffrey asked. �And why now? We�re being fucking shot at if you haven�t
noticed!�

�I remember Alice. I killed her. You told me to kill her,�
Sands said with a scowl.

�Who?�

�Alice,� Sands hissed loudly. �The night I
killed my parents. You had me kill her.�

�Oh, you mean that busty maid that you fucked and killed
before torching the place? Hey, that was your idea, not mine. I merely gave you
a push in the right direction.� Another shot ricocheted overhead. �But now
really isn�t the time to talk about it.�

�Oh fuck them,� Sands said, jerking the gun they held
towards where Emily and Roland were shooting at them. �I�m asking you about
Alice. Why did you want me to kill her?�

�You�re obviously not remembering everything yet. I didn�t want to kill her. I just wanted
you to fuck her so that I could too.� He shrugged. �I don�t recommend living
life by proxy, by the way; very unsatisfying. You�re the one who wanted to kill
her. And you�re the one who in fact did. And you made quite a fucking mess of
it, if I recall. You�re lucky the fucking fire took care of all the evidence
for you. Otherwise you might have burnt down one home only to end up in a new
one behind fucking bars. Lucky, lucky, lucky.�

�Think about it, Sands! You haven�t got any spare clips left
and we both know it! Officer Brisbane and I can just keep shooting at you until
you run out! That, and backup�s already on its way! Just give yourself up, you
murderous bastard!� Roland shouted over the gunfire.

�Shove it up your ass, Rivers!� Jeffrey yelled back with a
smirk. This was actually kind of fun, near death experiences notwithstanding.

�You�re insane, you know that?� Sands muttered, picking up
on some of Jeffrey�s carefree emotions.

Jeffrey laughed. �Pot? I�m kettle,�
he said wryly.

�Oh shut up. The bastard�s right, you know. We�re running
out of bullets more quickly than I�d like and we don�t have anymore. Once we
run out, we�re basically fucked.�

�Basically,� Jeffrey agreed, firing another round in Roland
and Emily�s direction.

�Jeffrey! You�re not helping! Have you been listening to a
fucking word I�ve been saying? We need to conserve
our ammunition!�

�Oh, I�ll say at least one for each of them. Don�t you
fucking worry.�

�I�m going to worry anyway, so deal with it you crazy
bastard. You know as well as I do that Rivers isn�t bluffing when he said that
he�s got more CIA fuckwits coming to save his sorry
ass. You better save some bullets for them too.�

�Oh. Right. Fuck. We need to get
fucking out of here before that happens.�

�No shit,� Sands muttered with a roll of his eyes. �But
where do you suggest we fucking go? We have barely enough cover to not get shot
as it is, and no fucking hostages to bargain with.�

�Well then let�s go where there are hostages then. This is a
hospital if you haven�t noticed, Sands.�

�I was aware of that, thank you,� Sands said dryly. �How are
we going to get to these so-called hostages anyway? We�re fucking pinned down
by a pair of pissed off and accurate shooters. Not to mention we still have a
fucking bullet lodged in our chest,� Sands said with a wince as he rubbed a
gentle hand across his aching chest. It felt as if a weight had been pressed on
top of it, making it incredibly hard to breathe properly.

�Easy. We run,� Jeffrey said simply. Before Sands could ask
any more questions, they were already racing down the hall amidst the sound of
echoing gunfire.

TBC

A/N: Done! Whoa I thought this chapter would never end! I
sincerely hoped you liked the insight into Sands� life pre-Jeffrey. The
wonderful Lady Arenas egged me on to write it and I have to say, I was a little
surprised at how much Sands had to say. Anyway, I hope you liked what I came up
with. Please continue to send me your comments and reviews. Thank you!
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Darkness Rising