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This is a crossover smutty story featuring the character of
Tess/Salida ie Tess' Voice in Neon Dasies' OUATIM fics on ff.net, More Than
Eyes Alone Can See, and More Than Life,
and Sands/Jeffrey from Merrie's OUATIM fic on ff.net, Darkness Rising. This story
will make some sense, probably, if you read it without having read either of
our stories, but it'll make a hell of a lot more if you just read them. They're
all worth reading, we promise. Anyway, on with the show.

Rated for what has happened, and what might happen. We’re really not quite sure ourselves. On with the story.

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

Salida came home and wearily thought that she needed to
learn how to drive, and that she needed to go shopping for maternity
clothes. She’d need some money for that,
but she could get it from Jeffrey. At
the moment, though, all she wanted to do was get a snack and a nap before
hitting the books again.

It’s funny how good it feels to have
something meaningful to do again, she thought as she walked up to the door,
juggling her armloads of stuff around to fish out her keys. I
suppose I miss it, the college scene.
Having something to do every day. Of course, she also had personal stakes in the
outcome of her research, so maybe that added to its lure.

She opened the door
awkwardly, and slammed it behind her.
Her books and bags she let fall to the floor, then kicked off her
shoes. Padding through the entryway, she
headed for the kitchen, smiling when she acquired a displeased, calico shadow. “I’ll feed you too,” she promised, reaching
into the fridge for some grilled chicken she’d bought to make a taco salad
with.

Jeffrey woke up
suddenly at the slamming of the door, slowly and gently extracted himself out
from under Aida’s sleeping form without a word, and padded his way into kitchen
to find Salida. “Vixen? You here?” Jeffrallealled out after yawning
wide enough to make his jaw crack. He was
still rubbing sleep out his eyes when he encountered her.

She was chopping
tomatoes, peppers, cilantro, and a very small amount of onion to make her own
salsa. After tasting what was in the
jar, she’d deemed it unacceptable and had gotten to work making her own.

When Jeffrey came
into the kitchen, she raised her cheek for a kiss, but didn’t let herself be
distracted. She was hungry and she was
going to eat. Except that she wanted
grapes, or grape juice, and she didn’t think they had either.

Scooping her salsa
onto her salad, she went to rummage in the fridge, looking for either
variations of the fruit. The best she
could find was an empty produce bag that had once had grapes in it.

“Who ate all the
grapes?” she complained.

Jeffrey took a seat
at the table and watched her, not able to stop his eyes from rolling at her
complaint. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen
him do it. “I’ll go get you some more
when I’m awake enough to be able to remember what you want long enough to
actually get to the store and get you some, vixen.”

“That’s okay,” she
murmured, deeply disappointed . . . until she saw the oranges. Shrugging, she picked up one of those instead
and brought her meal to the table. “Besides,
you shouldn’t go out. Not until I’ve
talked to Saand and have figured out what his state of mind is. Not to mention that last night’s visitor
makes me more than a little nervous.”

Jeffrey sighed and
tried not to feel like a prisoner within his own house. “You can talk to him now if you like, vixen. He’s . . . almost awake. Maybe he’ll be able to tell you who showed up
last night.”

“Can I finish my
food first? Because that seems like a
long discussion and I’m hungry.”

Jeffrey waved a
hand in her direction as an assent and leaned back in his chair a little. Curiously, he wasn’t hungry at all. That
must have been Sands’ breakfast then, he thought to himself as he looked
down at the collection of dirty plates on the other end of the table. “Just wake me up if I fall asleep,” he sighed.
“This is annoying.”

“It should be
wearing off soon. I didn’t give you
enough to keep you down for days,” she assured him, taking another bite of her
salad.

Within a few
moments she was done, and nodded to Jeffrey, a signal that she was ready. As she waited, she reached for the orange and
started peeling it.

“Thank god,”
Jeffrey muttered before pushing Sands into wakefulness

Sands snapped into
consciousness and looked across the table to Salida. “Ahh, you’re here. I need to talk to you. Why the fuck do I have a bullet wound on my
arm, sunrise?”

“Because someone
wearing your body tried to kill me,” she said plainly.

“Oh.” Sands paused for a long moment. “Did this someone have a name? Say anything specific? I’ve got more than a few candidates up here at
present,” Sands muttered.

“Umm. . .” She thought about the question. “Well, he knew things. Like how I was pregnant and . . . and how I
had reacted to finding out. He offered
to give me a home abortion, and said he didn’t mind if it killed me too. He called me a slut. A whore.
He called Jeffrey a pussy. When I
threatened to shoot him if he came near me, he said that I had spirit, more
than . . . than the ‘corpse upstairs,’
and that –”

Sands paused, his
eyes growing dark and cold and his body still. “Son of a bitch. That mother-fucking bastard,” he hissed,
realization dawning on him. “It doesn’t
have a fucking name except what I call it, which is bastard. He likes to show up some time and dig at me. Real nasty fucker. Likes to prey on weakness.” He paused again, his fist clenching and
unclenching in rage. “Sorry you had to
meet him.”

“Not as sorry as he
was,” Salida murmured. “Although he did
leave with a few choice threats. I don’t
know why he came after me though, if he likes to come after you.”

“I’m sure he would
have eventually, given time,” Sands muttered darkly.

“I’ve met that
fucker too,” Jeffrey spoke up. “He likes
to fucking tease and berate,” he said with a scowl.

“Yes, but he can’t kill
you without killing himself. Me he wants to rape while gutting me, so
excuse my concern.”

“He wanted to
fucking what?! You didn't fucking tell me that, vixen!”
Jeffrey shouted, his temper flaring.

“Good Christ,”
Sands said softly, trying not to let himself be affect by Jeffrey’s hot-blooded
rage. Sure, he was angry, but his anger
was cold and calculating whereas Jeffrey’s was fiery and consuming. “No wonder you fucking shot him.”

n stn style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “I didn’t tell you
because you were in no state to do anything,” Salida defended herself. “You’re still not. And I’m fine.”

“I’ll fucking tear
him to shreds,” Jeffrey seethed. If he
had to traverse all of Sands’ fucking mind, he would find a way to kill that
son of a bitch.

“As long as he can
come back, no one’s fine, sunrise,” Sands pointed out.

“Then that leads me
to my own question: how are you feeling?
Is your head clearer than it was yesterday?”

“I . . . don’t
know. It’s hard to think straight still,
but that’s probably due to the lingering traces of the drug rather than
psychosis.” He shrugged. “Ask me again a little later when I’m more
awake.”

“But I take it that
you’re certain as to who you are. Your
boundaries are a bit more firm.”

“For the moment,
yes,” Sands agreed with a slight nod. “I
still kind of knew yesterday. I mean, I
had a vague notion of who I was, but it was confusing. Like all the personalities in my head were
suddenly fed up with being sepa and and tried to form into one. It was . . . unsettling.”

“Is that what
fucking happened? Fucking hell, Sands. Try and warn me beforehand next time your
fucking mind wants to take a vacation,” Jeffrey muttered. “It was like a fucking whirlwind suddenly
swooped in and tossed us all around.”

“You’re one to
talk,” Salida muttered. Both man turned
to look at her, and her mouth snapped shut as she realized what she’d said.

“Ah yes, I had
forgotten. Care to share about your
recent fucking hallucinations, Jeffrey? Or
were you going to keep that to yourself?”

Jeffrey sent a mild
glare in Salida’s direction before speaking up. “I had a fucking hallucination, ok? A few days ago. It didn’t last long, and I knew it wasn’t
real.”

“What did you see? And how long did it last?”

“I don’t know,
maybe a few fucking minutes. I saw
blood. Blood fucking covering Salida,
alright? And it was real. I could see it staining the fucking carpet. I could fucking hear it, for fuck’s ,” h,” he
muttered.

“Perfect. Has it happened again?”

Jeffrey hesitated. “No, but it happened before.” Sands groaned in irritation and Jeffrey went
on. “While you were in fuckist1:st1:State>Hawaii.
I thought I saw faces in the waves. They were fucking laughing at me. I gave them the fucking finger and ignored
them.”

“Just great,” Sands
muttered. “That was when bastard really
started bugging me too.” He frowned at
the realization.

“Sounds like I
should get back to work,” Salida sighed, not exactly looking forward to the
prospect. She really wanted a nap, but
daylight was burning, and like she’d reminded Jeffrey yesterday, time was a
terrible thing to waste.

Jeffrey saw her
weariness and leaned forward in his seat a little to speak to her. “Take a nap, vixen. Sands and I will fucking do the same and keep
out of trouble. And kitty’s still here
to keep an eye on things while you sleep.”

“No. It’s not a good idea. If something happens. . .” If
someone comes out. . . “Grant is
less likely to do what needs to be done for the protection of all of us than I
am. If you need to sleep, you
should. I’ll sit here and hit the books
again. I’ve got a few leads that I
should check against some theories I only skimmed last night.”

“I don’t want to
sleep. I’m fucking tired of sleep,”
Sands muttered. “I’m going to take a
shower, get dressed, and go outside for a little while. Don’t worry, I’m not going to go anywhere, I
just . . . to get out of the house for a little bit even if it is only to the
back yard.”

“Alright. I’ll be here.” As
fucking always. “Enjoy your shower.”

****************************** are cute. . . she admitted reluctantly. They
must take after their daddy. They
were going to be a handful – more than a handful – but the prospect didn’t seem
too daunting at the moment. It was
almost . . . anticipated.

A tug on her arm
made her look down. The little rascals
had made their way over to her. They
were talking to her, asking her for things, but she couldn’t understand
them. Their voices sounded as if they
came from a long way off and were garbled by the distance.

“What is it? I don’t understand.” Instead of repeating themselves, they moved
away and their voices became fainter.
Disturbed by this, Salida woke herself, and found that she was staring
at her husband who was sitting against the wall. “I fell asleep,” she murmured.

Jeffrey didn’t hear
her. He could only shake his head slowly
and mutter to himself softly, “Nothing’s left. Nothing but ash and death. She’s gone and there’s nothing.” When he saw her lips moving, he pressed
himself back into the wall with a hiss of pure fear, his face going ashen as
looked at her. She had lifted her head
and was speaking to him out of blue lips, looking at him out of sunken eyes. He could see the skin sagging off of her face
and her beautiful hair losing its shine and beginning to fall out. She was dead, and she was talking to him. He pressed his hands against his eyes and
would have screamed had he the opportunity to catch his labored breath. He could smell the sweet scent of decay
wafting over from her and moaned in a mixture of disgust and abject horror. This can’t
be happening. Oh god oh god oh god. Leave me alone. She’s dead, isn’t that enough? Oh vixen. He began banging the back of his head against
the wall as tears of overwhelming sorrow began to fall down his aggrieved face.
“I can’t take this. Please make it stop! Please!” he begged. It didn’t stop.

“Jeffrey!” When he started to hurt himself, it was as if
he’d thrown a bucket of icy water over her.
Getting up, she raced over to where he was, her hands wrapping around
his wrists and trying to pull his arms down.
He was too strong for her; his arms didn’t budge, but she managed to
pull him forward enough that his head was no longer in danger of going through
the plaster. “Jeffrey, lover, what’s
wrong? What’s happening? Talk to me.
I can’t help unless I know.
Please.”

“You’re dead, you’re
not real!” Jeffrey moaned, trying with all of his might to escape her touch. Any ideas? Or do you want to wait until you find out what
they’re going to be first?”

“I don’t know. It might be nice to be prepared. Not that we don’t havee toe to change our
minds. Do you have any you like?”

Jeffrey frowned in
thought. “Caroline,” he spoke up after a
long moment. “And Alexander. Rose. I
don’t know. I’m not good with names,” he
mumbled afterwards. “I just chose what
was available for myself,” he muttered under his breath. “And it wasn’t going to be fucking Sheldon,” he
whispered even softer.

“Why those names?”
she asked, rolling to meet his eyes. “Do
any of them have any importance?”

Jeffrey shook his
head. “Not really. I just picked them. Maybe I’ll pick different ones by meaning
later. Names to have meaning, right? I mean, most of them?”

“Most of them. But I meant, were any of those special? To you?
Did you know someone Caroline? Do
you want a son who’ll be like Alexander the Great?” She was intrigued.

“No, I’ve never
known anyone named Caroline before. At
least, I don’t think I have. And
Alexander the Great wasn’t all that fucking great. He was a fucking idiot. And gay. I don’t know why I chose the names, vixen. I guess I just . . . liked them.”

“What d’you mean he
was gay?” she laughed. “And why wasn’t
he all that great?”

“One of his fucking
lovers was rumored to be his best buddy Hephaestion,” Jeffrey said dryly. “And he didn’t plan ahead. What kind of idiot conquers everything before
he’s fucking thirty? Challenge is what
makes life fucking interesting.”

“I bet it was a
challenge seeing to the ruling of his empire,” she teased.

“Fine. Whatever. Maybe it was. That’s still not why I chose the name, vixen.”
He paused and conred red what he had
just said. “It doesn’t really matter
what they’re called, because each of them will have a fucking nickname before
they can walk.”

She frowned. “They’ll more than likely have more than
one. That’s why it’d be nice if they had
a given name too.”

“They will, Salida,”
Jeffrey said with a small smile. It wasn’t
much, but it was a smile. “I haven’t
heard your choices for names yet, vixen.”

“I don’t know. . .” She took the time to think about it. “I like Charity. And . . . Gabriela. And Julian.
And Pierce. I think.”

“Why those names? Charity?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “As a name one of our kids?” he continued wryly.

“I like the way
they sound.” She shrugged.

“I guess I’ll buy
that. Wait . . . what will their last
name be?” he asked with a frown. Sands
was the viable answer, but the not the one he really liked.

“We should choose
our own. I don’t like mine . . . I’ve
been using Tessa’s middle name.”

“Choose our own?” Why hadn’t that ever occurred to him before? “Yeah, that could work. Only, what would we chose?”

“I don’t know. What’s something that’s important to us? I mean, something like ‘fate’ would be ‘sino’
in Spanish."

“And destino in
Italian, destin in French, schicksal in German, and fatum in Latin,” he
muttered absently. “How about . . . survival?
Love? I don’t know.”

“I like
survival. What’s that? It’s not the best in Spanish. Supervivencia.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Sopravvivenza,
survie, Überleben, and salus. Take your
pick.”

“How about
Salus? It sounds like it should be a
last name.”

“Do you want to be
an SS like Sands? If you don’t care, it’s
fine with me. I’ve always liked Latin
above all the other languages Sands knows.”

“Well, since my
other chance was Überbenz, I don’t think I have much of a choice,” she teased.

“Überleben,”
Jeffrey corrected with a slight laughed.
“Beyond life, roughly translated. But you’re right. Salus is good.”

“It’ll be good for
everyone,” she murmured, squeezing his hand.
“But if you wanted me to get a tattoo of Ülerben, I wouldn’t be opposed
to it.”

Jeffrey just
laughed again and shook his head. “No,
you’d only end up misspelling it and then you’d be stuck with an incorrect
fucking tattoo for the rest of your life. Salus is easier.”

“But I like the
sentiment of ‘beyond life,’” she whined, kissing the corner of his upturned
mouth.

“Do you really want
to be known as Salida Überleben though?” he responded, enjoying the contact. While they were back to light banter as if
everything was normal again, the image of seeing her dead hadn’t left him. Perhaps it never would.

“No . . . but that’s
why I’d get the tattoo. I’d get it for
you. Because that’s what we’ve promised.”

He gave her a soft
smile at that. “Then get ‘beyond life’ tattooed,
vixen. Not Überleben.”

“But. . . Über. . . Überluben?
It’d be more fun.”

“Alright fine. But I’ll be the one writing it out for the
tattooist. Not you,” he said dryly. “And it’s Überleben.,” he said with a smirk.

“Überlebun,” she
automatically and instantly repeated.

“Close enough,”
Jeffrey muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“One more try,” she
begged, pressing her body against his. “Please?”

Jeffrey sighed
again and laughed. “Fine. Überleben. U with an umlaut – those are the little dots
above the letter that make it a pain in the ass to say – b, e, r, l, e, b, e,
n. Euah-ber-leah-ben,” he tried
phonetically.

“Überleben,” she
said slowly, trying to say it the same way he did.

“That’s my little
linguist,” he said with a grin, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “And thanks. For, distracting.”

She grimaced. “I’m better at Spanish. I speak beautiful
Spanish.”

“That you do, mi
amour,” Jeffrey said, rubbing a thumb along her jaw line gently. “When you’re not cursing at me in it, that is,”
he said wryly. “Then, it’s a little less
beautiful.”

“I don’t curse at
you in Spanish!” she protested, not able to remember a single instance when she
had.

“Of course you don’t,”
Jeffrey agreed hastily. Except when your hormones are running rampant.
It’s probably best she doesn’t remember.

“You’re lying,” she
said, depressed. “I don’t want to curse at you.”

“I’m lying,” he
agreed without hesitation or argument. “And
I curse enough for the both of us. But
you do have beautiful Spanish, vixen. Better
than min/p> /p>

“You’re not a
native speaker.” She was still
distressed by the thought she cursed at him, and that he’d cared enough about
it to remember.

“I’m not really a
native anything, vixen,” he said, frowning when he saw her frown. “It’s in the past, vixen. It’s already forgiven and forgotten.”

She smiled in
gratitude and kissed him. “Now I’m keeping you awake and you’re
distracting me. You should get some sleep.”

Jeffery frowned. “I like distracting you. And I’m fucking tired of sleep. I’ll sleep later,” he muttered, laying back on
the blanket in mild irritation and glaring up at the sun.

“Alright, then make
yourself useful and give me a back rub will I study.” She laid on her stomach and opened her book,
a highlighter seeming to appear in her hand from out of nowhere.

Jeffrey just shook
his head in amusement and rolled over to her. “As the lady commands,” he whispered, laying a
gentle kiss on her shoulder before sitting up and beginning to rub her back
slowly but thoroughly, enjoying watching her as he did so. He tried not to pay attention to the books she
had in front of her – he didn’t want to pin all his fucking hopes on something
that she may or may not be able to do. He could tell Sands felt the same way. Neither of them had asked Salida the specifics
of what she had found, and he was fairly certain that neither of them would
until she was either successful or not.

Salida sighed and
tried not to move into Jeffrey’s hands.
He was distracting her enough in his effort not to that she didn't want
to add to it. Something had to be done
to help both men, and she had to focus to do itan
an
style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Who knew what could happen next?

With that thought
in mind, she was tempted to tell him to stop, but she couldn’t do it. It simply felt too good. With her head bent down as if she were
reading her book, Salida closed her eyes and concentrated on the strong
kneading motions of Jeffrey’s h. Cuidado de la toma de se, y haré igual,”
Jeffrey whispered, looking over at her. Don’t be. I’m not mad. Take care of yourself, and I will do the same. He then cracked a tiny smile. “See, I told you yours was better than mine.”

“But I should be
able to take care of you,” she whispered as she turned her face towards
him. “I shouldn’t have to struggle at
it.”

“Why? Why should you have to when I can’t fucking
take care of myself? It’s not your fault
this is happening, vixen. Don’t even
start thinking that.”

“I know it’s not,
and I don’t blame myself, but . . . I’ve always known what to do. n’t n’t now.
And I should. I just should.”

“Who says? I fucking don’t. So you don’t know everything. So fucking what? No one does. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re trying, vixen.”

“But I feel like I’m
not trying hard enough.” She rolled
towards him and confessed part of what was making her so intent on find a
solution so fast. “I . . . I don’t like
having to do this. When I read these
things, and I look up information, I loose sight of you. In my mind you become a
case to be solved, and . . . and I like it.
I like having something so engaging
to do. But the part of me that’s your
wife is so ashamed of that. You deserve
to have your own wife treat you as more than a science project.”

“You do, vixen,” he
said softly, reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t feel so ashamed
by thinking that way. And I don’t care
if you if you fucking look at me like a science project, vixen. For the moment, it’s true. It fucking
******************************

“Come on,” Aida whined, pulling at Sands’ hand after
dinner. Salida had disappeared with her
books, and the two of them were left alone.
Finally. “Exercise will be good
for you. Get the blood pumping, the
lungs working. Not to mention that it
might help the rest of those drugs get through your system.” Sands wasn’t buying it. “Please?
I’d like to go for a walk. I
slept all day so I’m feeling strangely energetic.”

“So? I slept all day too and you don’t see me
running circles around the block,” Sands said dryly.

“Just a short one,”
she cajoled. “It’s a beautiful night
out. “It’s breezy, not too hot, not too
humid. . .” She tugged on his arm
again. “Sa-ands. . .”

“Alright, alright! I’ll do it! Just promise me you’ll never do that again,”
he muttered, making a show of rubbing his ears after her whined use of his
name.

“Desperate times,”
she muttered, not letting go of him for a second.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go.” He called out their intentions to Salida – who
either didn’t care or didn’t hear them because she didn’t respond – and
followed his wife out the door and into the night. He had to admit, it was pretty nice out
tonight. He mourned the fact that he
couldn’t really see the stars from the lights of the city, but he didn’t let it
bother him for too long.

Aida wrapped her
arm around his waist and settled into a slow and easy gait. For Sands it could only barely be considered
exercise at all, but she figured he’d appreciate that.

Sands turned and
kissed her temple as they walked, his eyes taking in his surroundings. This was the first time he had actually walked
through the neighborhood in which they lived, and tried to take it all in. He found himself a bit annoyed by the sounds
of people outside – throwing parties, barbecuing, watching various sports games
– but tried to put it past him and focus on his wife and the obvious enjoyment
she was having. They didn’t matter. She did.

“I should teach you
to barbecue,” she murmured after smelling steaks on the air. “It’s very manly. Cooking things over open flame.”

“I didn’t know one
had to learn how to barbecue,” Sands replied. “I always figured it was rather obvious,
really. And I never really liked the
image. Too . . . domestic,” he muttered.

“What if we did it
with fire breathing dragons?” she asked idly, just waiting for his response.

“If you manage to
find a couple, I’ll be more than happy to have you teach me how to barbecue,
spitfire,” Sands said wryly.

“You’re no fun,”
she decided, stopping him for a quick kiss.
He responded as predictably as she’d known he would, but the sudden
cessation of laughter from a nearby house confused her. It was as if they’d done something
inappropriate.

Sands looked over
at the group and sent a glare in their direction before turning back to his
wife. “I don’t know what the fuck that
was about, but just keep walking.”

“No, lets go talk
to them. We haven’t been very friendly
since moving in.” When she tried to move
in that direction, it was as if she were tied to a rock; she wasn’t going
anywhere.

“Let’s just keep
walking, Aida. I’m not in the mood to be
real friendly right now,” he said softly, shifting his weight a little so that
she could walk with him again.

“Sands –”

“What?” he asked in
return, his eyes moving to where she was looking. What the
fuck is wrong with these people? He
reached down at his belt and his fingers found the hilts of his knives
reassuringly.

“Stop it.” She batted his hands back down to his
sides. “I just think that we need to go
introduce ourselves. New Orleans is a
friendly place. We’ve been rude.”

Sands could see
that she wasn’t going to let up, so he sighed and nodded, letting her lead the
way.

Aida was in the
lead when the couple was intercepted by a big man who was obviously a Notre
Dame fan.

“Hello,” Aida
started pleasantly enough, holding out her hand, but the gesture was ignored.

“You’re not welcome
here. Or at least your husband isn’t. We don’t welcome perverts around here.”

Sands went very
still. “Just what the fuck is your problem?
She was just saying hello you rude hwoon
dahn.” Sands used the Mandarin he knew
without thinking about it, automatically switching into another language as he
cursed just to piss the man off. Aida
had once accused him of liking to piss people off just on principle, and he
hadn’t denied it then, and he wasn’t going to deny it now.

“We saw you sleepin’
with your pretty little housemate. Tell
me, are you just having an affair, or is the little woman in on it to?” He threw an ugly look at Aida.

Aida herself was
speechless. She stood mutely at Sands’ side,
simply watching events unfold, not able to say a word in her defense.

“I don’t know what
kind of sick, alternative lifestyle you’re engaging in,” the man went on, “but
we don’t want none of it. So you can
just mosey on the way you came.”

“You huh choo-shang
tza-jiao duh tzang-huo! Are you fucking
ignorant or just plain stupid?” Sands seethed, red flashing before his eyes. “I ought to fucking eviscerate where you stand
for talking about my wife that way. In fact, I think I will.” He took a step forward, murder in every line
of his body. He had killed a hell of a
lot of people in his life, but very few of them actually gave him a reason.

“Sands, don’t.” Aida stepped between the men at the last
moment, desperate to avoid violence. “Please,
it’s not worth it. Let’s just go home.” They were causing a scene, and to Aida’s
mind, that was just inviting disaster.

“You’ve got her
trained well, don’t you, fucker,” the unnamed man taunted. “And what kind of freak are you to be talking
gibberish?”

Sands wasn’t so far
gone with rage that he didn’t notice the gathering crowd and realize that if he
did what he really wanted to do to this man he’d be going to jail for a very, very long time, so he held back. Barely. But he marked the man’s face. If he saw him again, he would make good on his
threats. But for now, he balled up his
fist tightly and laid the man out with a single hard punch to the face. It didn’t really cool the rage he was feeling
any, but it made him feel a little better. That done, he grabbed Aida’s hand and together
they walked back home; the crowd that had gathered giving them a wide berth.

Aida was breathless
and pulling on Sands’ arm by the time they’d gotten back to the house. He’d stalked home so fast that she hadn’t
been able to keep up. If he’d letting go
of her hand, she would have arrived on their porch five minutes after him.

pan>pan>Of course, she
understood his anger. She was still
somewhat shocked herself. Any
possibility of crafting a lie to explain Salida’s appearance with another man –
such as Sands his his ‘cousin’ having a very
close family resemblance – had been lost the moment she’d stood mute and let
Sands carry on in his righteous anger.
It’d been satisfying to see him knock that guy out, but not
practical. That single action had
picalically validated their accusations, and there was no way the damage could
ever be repaired. Even patching would be
a job and a half at this point.

Sands opened the
door and practically flung Aida inside, bellowing for Salid get get her fat ass
downstairs on the double.

“What are you
thinking?” Aida demanded, trying to calm her husband down. But he didn’t seem to be in any sort of mood
to be calmed or questioned. “Sands –”

“Was that your
soft, melodious voice I just heard, Sands?” Salida inquired from the top of the
stairs. “Or did a menopausal bull just
wander by?” The dark-haired woman looked
extremely irritated and well on her way to being pissed off. /p>

Sands began to pace
back in forth in rapid steps, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “They fucking saw you. They must have,” he growled as he paced.

“They who saw me do
what?” Salida asked irritably. This was
utter nonsense, and her last train of thought had just left the station without
her. She’d been on to something. Or at least she thought she had.

“Congratulations,
sunrise. I’ve just become the local
fucking pariah of the neighborhood for my evil polygamist ways,” he muttered
darkly,ll pll pacing.

“Oh my god,” she
muttered. “I have more important things
to do, thank you very much, than to worry about your social standing.” Salida turned to retreat back to her room.

“Fuck you! That’s not the fucking point! “There are benefits
from going slow, as you’ve so often pointed out, spitfire,” he said with a
smirk at her yawn as he removed his shirt and tossed over his shoulder and off
the bed causally. He then removed his
knives, belt, wallet and cell phone and dropped each of them on top of the
shirt without looking down. “But as I’ve
already said, anything you me me to do, I’ll do. If you want me to go faster, just ask and I’ll
be more than willing to oblige you,” he said with a grin, moving over to her
once more.

“I wanna be on top,”
she said, pushing on his shoulders.

“Alright,” he said
after a moment's hesitn, ln, letting her push at him but then sitting back up a
moment later and holding out a hand. “Let
me take off my shoes first.” He did so
quickly with his pants following them so that he was left wearing nothing but a
pair of dark red boxers. “I’m all yours,
spitfire,” he said, spreading his hands a little and giving her a smile. s'> “Do with me what you will.” It rankled – more than little – to lose even
more of his already diminished control, but he would deny her nothing right
now.

She climbed onto
his lap and started placing kittenish kisses on the neck and on the underside
of his chin. s'> Once she’d suck, once she’d
nip, and once she’d lick. Over and over,
she worked her way up his jaw to his ear, where she nibbled for some time,
before working around to his other ear.

He arched his neck
back into her touch instinctively, his eyes drifting shut as she kissed him. The feeling over her hot breath on his skin
quickened his own, and the way she rubbed herself against his hardening arousal
quickened it even further. His hands
practically leapt into action as he began tracing lines over her bare back up
and down her spine.

Aida shivered
agreeably, and moved her mouth until her lips just barely brushed against
his. “Come and get me,” she breathed.

“With pleasure,” he
drawled in a thick voice, moving up to capture her lips in passionate kiss to
end all passionate kisses. She opened
her mouth and didn’t move further, letting him tease the edge of her lips and
the tip of her tongue. It only served to
arouse him further and he wasted no time in thrusting his tongue into her mouth
and deepening the kiss, his hands unconsciously pressing against her waist so
that their lower bodies were even closer than they had been.

Aida let out a
breathy moan, and leaned into her husband.
The only thing she did was slowed down the motion of her mouth until she
was lazily kissing him back, taking her own sweet time to search out every nook
and cranny, tasting every plane she found.

Sands let out a
moan of his own into the kiss as she slowed, her actions seeming to arouse him
that much more. It was as if she was
putting every once of love for him that she possessed into each kiss and it left
him heady with sensation. He could only
kiss her back as his hips began to rock against hers ever so slightly.

Her breath caught
in her throat as his ly cly clad body rubbed against her lower – still dressed –
half. Jeans were good and practical until
you wanted more intimate contact. Then
they were a pain in the ass.

Whimpering softly,
she started to move with him, whining as he trapped her hands when she would
have unbuttoned her jeans. He secured
both wrists with one hand while his other explored the numerous holes in what
was her oldest pair of jeans.

He passed fingers
over the bare bits of flesh that seemed to play hide-and-go-seek with her jeans
and his good fingers, taking time to identify where they all were. The one on the inside of her left thigh was
most . . . agreeable. The only problem
was, that with his good hand keeping hers at bay, he was left with his left and
its fucking cast and broken fingers. With
a growl of utter frustration, he let go of Aida’s wrists – ready to grab them
again should she attempt to flee – and began attacking at the burdening cast,
determined to get the stupid fucking thing off. Right now.

“Sands,” she said,
some of her desire leaving her face. “Don’t. You’re going to hurt. . .” The cast came off. “. . . yourself.”

Sands made a little
grunt in both victory and pain as he tested his seemingly healed fingers. They seemed to work alright, but they still
hurt like a motherfucker, and he hissed at the sensation before using his good
hand to scratch over almost every area that had been covered, letting out a
little sigh of relief once he was finished. “I’m alright. It’s a little sore, but everything seems to be
working,” he said to her, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure?” she
asked, still worried. She took his arm
in her much smaller hands and examined it, turning it this way and that to look
for bruising that would indicate it wasn’t fully healed.

He let her look. “I’m sure," he hesitated before
continuing. “I’ll get it looked at if
you want tomorrow. I have to get these
fucking stitches out anyway.”

“Okay.” She let him go then started to climb off his
lap as if she was afraid to hurt him.

“Where are you
going?” Sands growled, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her against
him once more. Aida exhaled sharply at
the sensation, and wiggled against him briefly, but then calmed herself.

“I don’t want you
to strain that arm,” she murmured, once again trying to back away.

He once more pulled
her flush against him. “It’s not my arm
that’s under strain right now, spitfire,” he drawled, arching his hips a little
to rub his noticeably hardened arousal against her. “You’re not going to break me, so stay right
here.” He leaned over to nip at the side
of her neck for her presumption thhe whe would just allow him to let her leave
so easily.

She pushed at his
shoulders in a half protest, only to get both wrists caught again. She looked at him over the tangle of their
arms, and he cocked an eyebrow. Her
husband was certainly enjoying himself. I think it’s a good thing that all those . .
. goodies . . . didn’t make it back from Hawaii. Or did they?
Oh dear. If they did, I’m going
to have to hide them I think.

With his newly
freed hand he was able to sneak fingers into the various wide-spread holes in
Aida’s jeans before moving his hand across their laps and through the hole on
her inner thigh.

For a long moment,
he did nothing. He simply rested the
palm of his hand against her flesh, feeling her pulse beat rapidly through his
fingertips. He then looked at her and
moved his fingers further inside her jeans and underneath the edge of her
underwear. This maneuver caused his
tender fingers some pain, but the ends were far worth the means.

Tracing his fingertips
along her clit and wet opening slowly and softly – just enough to give her the
sensation but not relief – he watched her as he did so, utterly enthralled by
the very sight of her. He loved this
woman more than anything on this earth. He
would do anything for her. “Anything,”
he murmured out loud softly without realizing.

Aida’s eyes were
closed, her head thrown back, and her arms close to her chest where Sands still
held them firmly. She was no longer
trying to get away. All that mattered
was the fluttering of heat in her belly and the steadily more demanding one
between her legs. He was being so very
gentle with her, caressing her as if she were a crystal glass that would
vibrate and ring with his every touch.
And he was bringing her very close to that point with nothing more than
the pure adoration of his touch.

His fingers drew
back and she shifted her hips, wanting more.
She wet her lips with her tongue then swallowed hard, unaware that Sands’
gaze was focused on the pale, delicate column of her throat. All she knew were the warm hands trailing
over her body, teasing and tempting.

Sands couldn’t help
himself; he leaned in to kiss, lick and nip his way up her throat and neck, his
head spinning a little at the taste of her skin. He had no idea if she really tasted of
strawberries all the time or it was just his arousal and the moment playing
tricks on him, but he didn’t care. “You
taste of strawberries and cream, my love,” he murmured against her skin, loving
the way a flush had spread its way across her arms and chest, leaving her
covered in red splotches. He found them
utterly endearing. “You’re wearing
entirely too much clothing, however,” he murmured absently, turning them both
and pushing her back down on the bed just long enough to remove her pants and
underwear before settling her once more on his lap. Now that she was completely naked, he could
feel her arousal hot and wet against his still clothed and almost unbearably
hard length. He would have removed his
boxers in turn when he removed her own underwear, but he wanted her to do it
for him. In her greed she sucked at his
tongue and her hands found his hips, pulling him more firmly against her. He was always with her, always around, but
she missed him so much. Always. As if she knew she needed to get as much of
him as possible while she had the chance.
It was a morbid thought, and she easily pushed it out of her head in
favor of his teeth pulling at her bottom lip, but it would come back
later. To them both.

Sands couldn’t get
enough of her. With every kiss, every
thrust of his hips, every press of her hands against his flesh he only wanted
more. He continued kissing her,
unconsciously beginning to match the rhythm of his kisses with the movement of
his hips until he was grunting and moaning in time too as her hands pressed at
him even harder. He felt his climax
looming like an idea in the back of his brain, just waiting for its chance to
be discovered. Aida’s little hands
pressing at him like that were certainly insuring that discovery would be
sooner rather than later.

Aida could no
longer breathe through their kiss. She
had to roughly pull away from him, panting, telling him he had to stop, but not
stop. Never stop. Begging for his hands, his lips, his
arousal. “Just a little more,” she
whimpered and moaned, starting to writhe under him, her hips rising and
falling.“Why do you say
that?” Sands asked her, a hint of desperation in his voice. “That’s not true. I love you and of course I want to fucking be
with you!”

“I know you love
me, Sands. I’m not denying that.” Her tone was suddenly weary. “What I’m saying is that you don’t need to be with me.
You need me to be with you.
There is a difference. Or at
least there is for me.”

“What have I done
to make you think that?” Sands asked, his voice full of hurt and confusion.

“Don’t you think it’s
terrifying enough for me to seriously consider the fact that I may die while I’m
still young? Do you think that my worry
about what you’ll do makes things any easier?
Do you ever consider that I’m exhausted day in and day out, but that I
drag myself out of bed every morning because I know what will happen if you
really knew how I felt? Do you think that.
. .” She stopped and buried her face in
her pillow, unable to go on.

“What do you want
me to do, Aida? Tell me what to do! Tell me how to fix this, please!” he pleaded
with her, clear desperation in his voice now. He felt like he was watching her walk away
from him right before his eyes and he was unable to do anything about it. “I need you. I love you. I want to make you happy. I’ll do whatever you want me to do, I promise.
Just don’t . . . don’t talk like you’re
going to leave me. Please. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to act, what to say, I’ll do it
all. Anything you want. You say I don’t need to be with you . . . tell
me how to change that. I don’t want
this, Aida. I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t.” He didn’t dare to touch her at this point, so
he sat with his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands at the sides of
his head gripping his hair tightly but not moving.

“Sands . . . there’s
nothing wrong. I’m not thinking about
leaving you, I’m I’m not even blaming you for anything. I’m just tired and emotional. Just ignore me and come to bed.”

“I . . . can’t,” he
responded with a shake of his head, wanting more than anything to push what she
had said out of his mind and obey what she was telling him now, but unable to. He obsessed over things. She knew it as well as he did. He couldn’t let this go so easily. “I’m so sorry, Aida. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t know you felt that way. I’m sorry.”

“Not your
fault. You’re not a mind reader.” She turned onto her back and looked at
him. “Just please come to bed. You shouldn’t stay up all night. It’s not good for you.”

“Don’t fucking tell
me what to do,” he snapped at her in a vicious mood swing that left him
reeling. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Yeah, sleep’s probably a good idea,” he
murmured absently.

“Fine.” She smiled tightly and got up. “I’ll be on the couch.” She grabbed her pillow and wrapped the sheet
around her, wondering how things had gotten so bad so fast.

“Don’t go. I’m sorry. “Ok, that was
fucked up,” Jeffrey murmured, feeling incredibly pissed off at something or
someone and not knowing why. Where the fuck is kitty? After a few minutes he decided he didn't really
care and made his way out the door and down the hall, not bothering to get
dressed. He caught the sound of someone
moving around downstairs and figured that’s where Aida must have ended up, but
didn’t stop until he had crawled under the covers next to his sleeping wife and
wrapped his arms around her.

****************************** ***
******************************

Aida woke up and was irritated to find that she was still
mildly pissed off. Sands had really
gotten to her the night before. There
was something to the way he’d reacted to her list – as if she did things just
to get to him – that made her want to scream.
After a lifetime of being waited on hand and foot and getting nothing
but the best, she supposed anyone might get a little spoiled, and most of the
time she didn’t notice that he was, but last night. . . .

She didn’t want to
think about that. Her promise to talk
everything through with him this morning hung heavily over her head, and she
wondered if there was any way she could escape before he came hunting for her.

****************************** ***
******************************

Jeffrey rolled over with an incoherent mutter into his
pillow, cursing his sudden wakefulness. He
didn’t know what had brought it on – a brief glance out of a single cracked eye
at the too-bright sunlight told him that Salida was still asleep – but now that
he was awake, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. This usually meant play time with his wife,
but after a glance at the clock he groaned to see that he had plenty of time to
do so before she would wake up. Need coffee. Don’t think about how much you don’t really
like it. Just get some.

He grumbled and
moved out of bed with consideration to his still sleeping wife and pulled on a
pair of boxers and a sleeveless t-shirt – not yet awake enough to notice that
his hand wasn’t in its cast – and stumbled his way out of the room and down the
stairs to the kitchen.

Aida heard the
stumbling footsteps come down the stairs and threw herself back down on the
couch, pulling the sheets up around her.
If she didn’t have enough time to escape notice, she could at least
pretend to still be asleep.

Jeffrey didn’t even
notice her on his way to the kitchen in his quest for coffee. When he opened the refrigerator to pull out
what he wanted however, he just stood there and stared in stoic shock. We’re
out of coffee. Why are we out of coffee
when that’s all I fucking wanted this morning? After a few more minutes of staring and intensely
willing the coffee to appear, he sighed and pulled out the carton of orange
juice instead and poured himself a glass. It wt wat want he'd wanted, but it would have
to do. It was then that he remembered
that Aida had been down here last night and curiosity got the better of him as
he wandered into the living room, his glass of juice in his right hand as he still hadn’t noticed his healed left.

Aida heard someonoverovering over her, and did her best to stay relaxed, to keep her breath
even. She didn’t want to talk to her
husband, she certainly didn’t want to talk to Jeffrey, and it had to be one of
them. Salida would have ignored her.

“I know you’re not
fucking asleep, kitty,” Jeffrey’s voice floated over to her from a chair across
the room where he had seated himself. “But
if you want to fucking pretend, be my guest. I don’t care.”

“Fuck you. Leave me alone.” How embarrassing.es'> She couldn’t even get up and leave because
she didn’t have anything on under the sheet.

“Oo, and the kitten
shows its claws this morning. How
charming,” Jeffrey muttered dryly and had been about to finish his orange juice
when he noticed his hand. “Well fuck me
sideways. Thank god,” he muttered,
wiggling his fingers experimentally and setting his glass down on the coffee
table and rubbing his hands together. He
had been about to try snapping his fingers, but a twinge of pain told him that
probably wouldn’t have been the best of ideas at the moment.

Is he just going to sit there and torment
me? The longer he does, the more chance
Sands will show up. And he’s probably
still going to be pissed at me. “I
don’t hear you leaving,” she muttered.

“Did you really
expect me to? Because I’m not,” Jeffrey
responded absently, still looking over his hand with something akin to wonder. It seemed paler than his other one.

“If you don’t
leave, he’s going to wake up, and then you’ll get to witness a rather . . . messy
. . . discussion. So leave.”

Jeffrey finally
turned his attention away from his hand and looked over at her. “It must have been one hell of a fight if you’re
still anticipating it to continue now.”

“Fuck off!” she
yelled, sitting up right, one hand holding the sheet around her chest and the
other pointing up the stairs.

“Don’t yell,” Sands
muttered irritably, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes after Jeffrey’s rude
awakening. Jeffrey himself seemed to
have gone wherever the hell he went when he wasn’t an annoying gnat in his ear.

“Oh my god,” Aida
seethed, getting off the couch and walking past Sands to the stairs.

Sands seemed to realize
what was going on and got up to follow her, Jeffrey’s glass of orange juice
forgotten on the coffee table. “Wait. You’re still fucking pissed at me, aren’t you?
What the fuck did I do to upset you? I already told you I’m fucking sorry! What the hell else do you want from me?” he
asked as he ran to stop her.

She spun around. “And if someone says sorry to you, do you
automatically feel better?” she demanded.

“That’s not the
fucking point! I already asked what I could do to make you feel better and you
fucking blew me off so I’m stuck with fucking sorry.”

Her eyes went
icy. “Yes. I suppose you are stuck. I’m sorry I can’t tell you how you can make
yourself feel better.”

“Fuck you, that’s
not what I want! I want to make us better!”

“No, that’s not
what you want. You don’t like feeling
guilty and you want me to make everything better.”

“I don’t feel guilty. I fucking did last night, but all that fucking
faded when you slammed the door on me. Now
I’m just fucking pissed off.”

“So you I’ll get out and dry off soon . . . just not yet.

No one was that
patient. Sands had evolved from sitting
on the bed as calm as a buddah to pacing the room as furious as a devil. What is
taking her so long? Does she know I’m
out here? Is that why she’s not coming
out? Is something wrong? “Fuck
this. She can yell at me if she wants,”
he muttered to himself, crossing the room and making his way through the
bathroom door that fortunately wasn’t locked, to find his wife. “Aida?” he called out tentatively, resolving
to not actively piss her off if he could help it.

Aida stirred
slightly, but then wrapped herself into a tighter ball and tried to drift back
off to that place between dreams and life, where there was no fighting and she
was warm.

“Ah hell,” Sands
murmured as he stepped into the blanket of steam and saw her huddled form on
the bathtub floor. “Come on, spitfire. No more bath time for you,” he said gently,
grabbing a towel and reaching down slowly to her as if approaching a wild
animal that could turn on him at any second. “Let’s get you warmed up,” he said with a
frown as his fingertips came into contact with her chilled skin.

“What’s wrong?” she
muttered like a rebellious child. “Am I
too cold for you?”

“You’re too cold
for you at the moment,” he muttered
in return, drying her skin with the towel but not moving her yet. “Either get out yourself and come with me, or
be carried out. I’d prefer the latter at
this point but you said you don’t like it so I’m giving you the choice.”

Ok, well he’d done
the right thing by giving her a choice and taking her feelings into
consideration. Aida pushed herself up
and tried to stand. Muscles too cold to
work properly promptly dumped her into his arms, but she didn’t try again. She was tired.

“Gu>“Guess you’re being
carried. Sorry,” he murmured as he
picked her up into his arms and carried her through the bathroom door and
deposited her gently on the bed where he immediately tucked her in under the
covers after drying her off as best as he could. “Get some rest, spitfire. I can’t imagine sleeping on the fucking couch
was very comfortable.” That was as far
as he was going to go in bringing up their argument. He was in no mood to fight, and it didn’t look
like she was in any shape to ether.

She sniffed, and
shook her head.

“Was that a no it
wasn’t very comfortable, or a no you’t w’t want to sleep, Aida?” he asked
softly, taking a seat next to her on the edge of the bed so that his feet were
still planted on the floor.

“Wasn’t
comfortable.” She swallowed. “Sands . . . I can’t take care of you all the
time.”

“I know. I feel. You-you never react
well.”

Sands’ face was
deeply pained. How had it gotten so bad
that she couldn’t even talk to him? Had
it always been like this? “I’m sor-I’ll
do better. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“Last night . . . the
list. You didn’t even ask. You just assumed I was giving up. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m
not?”

“You don’t. That was the last, I promise,” he said softly,
his voice filled with steely determination.

“Do you want to see
it?”

“Please,” he said,
his hopes rising a little that she would offer to show him now in spite of
everything.

“It’s umm . . . I
think it’s in my sock drawer. In the
package of insoles. It’s about time for
me to add to it anyway.”

Sands gave her a
look as if to tell her to stay put and went to retrieve the list. It was exactly where she said it would be and
he retuned and handed it to her. He didn’t
look at it, and wouldn’t until she showed it to him.

Aida gave it
back. “Go ahead, open it,” she murmured,
looking up at him.

He did, and scanned
the list. Bungee jumping. Learn the
violin. Learn how to make a stained
glass window. Play the role of Katherine
from Taming of the Shre>.. Go to a
NASCAR race. Attend a private
concert. Read War and Peace. Go to Maine.
Go to Hawaii. Attend a taping of
the Jerry Springer Show. Invent a
recipe. Write a play.

The list went on
for two pages. Some of the items were
hazardous, some were tame, some were humorous.

“That’s . . . quite
a list, spitfire. A good list. There’s not many things on here that I’ve done
and wouldn’t want to. Although inventing
a recipe or climbing the steps like in ‘Rocky’ aren't really want I had in
mind. And good luck reading War and
Peace.”

“Well, I have to do
everything on the list before I can croak.”
Aida yawned, then rubbed her eyes.
“We should add to it.”

“Now?” he asked
pointedly, noting her yawn.

“Sure. What should we do? What do you want to do?”

“I want to bulldoze
my old house to the ground and put something, anything, else in its place,” he
responded almost immediately as if he had been waiting all day long for her to
ask such a question. “Uh,” he muttered,
clearly a bit flustered. “Go to Venice
before it sinks. Take a picture of Mt.
Everest. Compose a symphony. Skydive. Learn how to ice skate.” When he was finished he turned his head away
from her slightly, a little embarrassed. “We could do anything you want, Aida. Anything.”

“Add them. We’ll do them all together.” Her eyes slipped shut. “But first I need a nap.”

“Alright. It’s still early, Aida. I think I’ll join you. If . . . that’s ok?”

“Mmm-hmm. I missed you last night.”

“I did the stupid
stubborn thing and let Jeffrey take over last night so I wouldn’t have to be up
here alone,” Sands said softly, leaving just how much he missed unspoken but
evident in those last few words.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You did the right thing by leaving,” he said,
moving around to the other side of the bed so he could crawl in next to her.

“I know. But I still hurt us both.”

“We’re both ok now,
spitfire. Don't worry about it. Don’t worry about anything. Just sleep. I’ll be right here beside you.”

“All right. Love you.”

“I love you too,”
he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close as they both
drifted off into sleep.