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More Than Darkness	By : SaMe Category: M through R > Once Upon A Time In Mexico Views: 4591 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-63
- 64-64
- 65-65
- 66-66
- 67-67
- 68-68
- 69-69
- 70-70
- 71-71
- 72-72
- 73-73
- 74-74
- 75-75
- 76-76
- 77-77
- 78-78
- 79-79
- 80-80
- 81-81
- 82-82
- 83-83
- 84-84
- 85-85
- 86-86
- 87-87
- 88-88
- 89-89
- 49
- 50
- 51
�Is this kind of what you had in mind?� Jeffrey asked
softly, moving a little so that he could reach out and play with Salida�s hair
while she closed her eyes and settled herself under the covers.

"Mmm-hmm," she sighed. "I love feeling you play with my
hair."
�I suppose that�s a
good thing because I like playing with it,� he murmured as he began running a
hand through her black waterfall of hair from her scalp on down, being gentle
and moving slow so he didn�t pull too hard and hurt her.
"I thought
about cutting it once...but now I'd never consider it."
�Good. I�m glad you
aren�t. I like your hair. It�s pretty,� Jeffrey said with another smile,
raising his hand up off the bed and letting the strands of her hair he had in
his hand fall out slowly before picking them up and repeating the process,
seemingly fascinated by the way her hair looked as it fell.
"Your hair is
pretty too..." she teased softly, trying to withhold a yawn.
�My hair is getting
long,� he muttered in response.
"It is. I
liked the length it was the day we met. Perhaps you're due for a trim."
�How long was it
when we first met? My mind was on other things at the time than hair.�
"Not quite
brushing your shoulders."
�Oh,� he said,
looking down at his hair that was definitely brushing his shoulders now. �Time
for a trim.�
"Not too short
though. I'd miss..." she yawned.
�You can tell me
what you�d miss later. Time for all good vixens to take a nap. That means you,�
he said fondly, still running a hand through her hair while using the other to
prop up his head so that he could look at her.
"Not
good," she protested. "Good vixen is," -yawn- "a
contradiction."
Jeffrey pretended
to think about it as she yawned again, swallowing a cough as he did so. �Then
what are you if not good, vixen?�
"I'm yours. You
wouldn't keep me if I were good..."
�Oh I don�t know.
I�d keep you around for a little while. But you�re right. I much prefer devil
horns to halos and naughty to nice,� he said as he kissed her very gently on
the shoulder. �I guess it�s my nature.�
"And
mine."
�I know. And I�m
thankful for it. Being good all the time is boring. I�d never have any fun.�
"You have too
much fun sometimes."
�What do you mean?�
he asked softly, still moving a hand through her hair but slower now.
"Get in trouble.
Too much fun."
�Would you be upset
with me if I told you I like getting into trouble sometimes?� he asked softly.
"No. It'd
upset me if you liked getting caught."
�I haven�t yet and
I won�t later. You don�t have to worry about that, vixen.�
"Okay." Salida
sighed deeply.
�Was that a tired
sigh or a resigned sigh?� he asked, trying to sound casual, but wanting to know
how she felt.
"Mmm?" She yawned again.
It was Jeffrey�s
turn to sigh. �Never mind. Get some rest. Do you want me to stay?�

"Sands..." she murmured. "He'll want to see Grant."
�Alright. I�ll
check in on you later if I can.�
"I'd like
that. Kiss before you go?"
�Since you asked,�
Jeffrey said with a smile, turning her gently so that she was lying on her back
and meeting her lips in a kiss that while gentle and slow, was not lacking in
passion.
Salida sighed again,
this time in contentment. She was warm, and drowsy, and in her husband's arms. It
wasn't until she stopped responding to him, that Jeffrey realized that she'd
fallen asleep.
Jeffrey laughed
softly upon the realization and kissed her gently on the forehead before moving
his arms out from under her slowly as to not wake her, and moved off of the bed
with equal caution. Once he was standing at her side, he sent her a final look,
sighed a little that he was leaving her when he wanted nothing more than to
stay and watch her sleep, and sent Sands off to find Aida.

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

Aida was sitting in bed reading, flushed and miserable
because of a sore throat. Against her own better judgment, she'd run out and
done one or two errands while Sands had been gone, the results of one of those
sitting next to her on the bed, wrapped in black paper with a iridescent bow.
It was a small token, and she wasn't sure how it'd be received, but she'd
wanted to do it. And now I'm paying for
it. She wasn't sure, but she thought there might be more behind her flush
than exertion, but she forced herself not to think about that. She was not getting sick. She was not going to spend any time in the
hospital.
Sands walked down
the hall towards his and Aida�s room, stopping suddenly as he had a small
coughing fit that left him a bit hoarse. �No, don�t tell me. I do not have a cold,� he muttered to himself
as he entered his bedroom and saw Aida sitting there. �Hi. What are you doing,
spitfire?� he asked, moving into the room a little and coughing again into a
hand, cursing as he did so.
"Reading,"
she croaked, wincing as her throat informed her that it did not appreciate
being used right now.
�What are you
reading? And do you need a glass of water?� he asked with a frown, ignoring the
obvious coincidence that he was coughing and that she sounded as if her throat
were filled with sand.
She nodded in
answer to his question and then held up her book so he could see the title.
�Hmm, never read
it. I�ll be right back with your glass of water though. I could use one
myself,� he muttered with a frown.
Aida smiled
encouragingly, and sank down into her pillows.
Sands left to get
her water, drinking his down in the kitchen so that he would only have to carry
one glass up the stairs. �Here you go,� he said, handing her the water. �Are
you feeling alright? You look a little�peaked.�
"I had to run
a few errands," she murmured, sipping from the glass. "In hindsight,
it wasn't my best idea."
�What errands? And
what do you mean it wasn�t your best idea? What�s wrong?� He groaned as it
suddenly came to him. �Don�t me. me. You�ve got a cold.�
"I hope its
just a cold," she mumbled.
"I'll be pissed if its not."
�What? What do you
mean?� he asked, taking a seat down on the bed at her side, not noticing the
small bit of wrapped paper because he was focused on her face.
"If I get sick
or start coughing, I'll have to go to the hospital, and they'll put me on all
sorts of nasty antibiotics."
�Have you been
coughing?� Sands asked with a worried frown. �And how are antibiotics nasty if
they help you? They do help you, right?�
"No, I haven't
be coughing, and I don't like having to take so many pills. And they're
enormous ones at that."
Sands, still
worried, moved to lay the back of his hand on her forehead. While he had never
really dealt with someone who was sick before, he knew at least some of the
signs. His frown deepened when he felt that she was warmer than she should have
been. That meant she had a fever, right? �I think you have a fever, spitfire,�
he said softly. �Do we have a thermometer? I�m not sure I trust my hand.�
She grimaced. "There should be one in the top bathroom
drawer. And before you freak out on me,
let's see if Aspirin helps."
�I�m not freaking
out. Did I say I was freaking out? I just want to make sure you�re ok.� He got
up and went to retrieve the thermometer, rinsing it off a little in the sink
since he knew it would be going into her mouth. He remembered being sick a
handful of times when he was younger. It was always more of an inconvenience on
everyone than something to worry about though.
Aida obediently
opened and closed her mouth around the thermometer. She didn't want to admit that she could be
sick. When a few minutes passed, she
allowed Sands to pull the instrument out of her mouth so he could read it.
He squinted a
little at the small numbers before frowning again. He knew what normal body
temperature should be and hers was definitely not normal. �It�s a little higher
than it should be, but I�m not frng ong out. It�s about 101 degrees.�
"Bah,"
she growled...then winced. "If Aspirin doesn't help, then I'll let you
talk me into whatever you want."
�I�ll hold you to
that,� he murmured before moving back into the bathroom again and pulling a
bottle of aspirin out of the medicine cabinet. He walked back to her side and
shook out a couple onto his hand and offered them to her. �Bottoms upit, it, do
you need more water?�
Aida shook her
head. "No. I'm fine." So saying, she managed to show off by
swallowing the pills without any water at all.
�That can�t feel good
on your throat though,� he murmured with a wince as she dry-swallowed the
pills. �That�s why� � He coughed into his hand again. �I was going to get you
some more water. I suppose it doesn�t matter now though.�
"I should be
pushing fluids," she admitted softly. "But you don't have to go
downstairs. You could just get it from
the bathroom sink."
�I will if you want
water. But we have orange juice as well if you�d rather have that. At least, I
think we have orange juice.�
"Water's
fine." In all honesty, she didn't want to send him running all over the
house.
�Alright.� He took
her glass and went to refill it, handing it back to her a few moments later.
�Is there anything else you want?� he asked, before coughing again and rubbing
at his throat absently.
"I got you a
present." It wasn't the answer he was suspecting, perhaps, but she did
want to see him open it.
�You got me a
present?� he repeated incredulously. �Why? My birthday�s in February and it�s a
long ways off from Christmas.�
"I wanted to. But
you have to promise not to think that I'm silly for buying it."
�Why? What is it?�
he asked curiously.
"You have to
open it to find out." Suddenly nervous,
she grabbed his hands. "Promise me you won't think I'm silly for giving
this to you."
He looked at her
and saw that she was both nervous and serious. �I promise. If I�m going to open
it though I�m going to need my hands back eventually,� he said with a small
smile.
She held his hands
for a minute longer as if contemplating whether or not she really wanted him to
open it, but finally let him go.
He took the small
wrapped object and lifted it into his hands, doing everything but shaking it
like a little kid before looking at her. �No one�s really ever given me a
present before. Why did you?� he asked, flipping it over and untying the
ribbon.
"I-I don't
know. I just saw it and had to buy it." She watched anxiously.
After a moment more
of just looking at the wrapped object in his hands, he finally pushed the paper
back and just stared for a long moment, not knowing how to reaA raA rabbit. She
had gotten him a little white plush rabbit. Not
completely white. It�s got a brown spot on its right eye, see? Aloysius didn�t
have that. �You got me a rabbit,� he said softly, his gaze fixed upon it.
"Y-yes."
She couldn't tell what he thought by the tone of his voice, and that made her
even more nervous. Sometimes he was soft before he got angry too, and she
didn't want to fight right now.
�Well, I don�t
think you�re silly,� he murmured, unsure of whatdo wdo with the thing. He could
feel three reactions buzzing through him. Sheldon�s reaction was to hug the
thing and drag it around by it�s ears for the rest of the day. Jeffrey really
didn�t give a damn about the whole thing, and his�he di kno know what his
reaction was. He did know he was a little shocked, although he probably
shouldn�t have been. He had told her about Aloysius and she had went out and
gotten him a rabbit. It shouldn�t have been so surprising.
"You don't
like it, do you?" she asked, absolutely certain that was the cause for his
hesitance. "Well, I kept the receipt so it can be taken back if that's
what you -"
�No, it�s not
that,� he interrupted. �I honestly don�t know what to think. Sheldon will like
it,� he murmured. �He does. I�m not so sure about me. I�m a little surprised.
That�s all.�
"I don't care
if Sheldon likes it," she whispered. "I didn't get it for him."
He looked up at
her, the rabbit still in his lap, and cocked his head to the side slightly. �I
know you got it for me, but why?�
"I don't know.
To make up for Aloysius I suppose."
His brow furrowed
at that. �You didn�t have to do that, Aida. It was over twenty years ago,
remember? But�thanks I guess.�
She shrugged, and
restlessly picked up her book again. It wasn't quite the reception she'd hoped
for, but it was better than what she'd so nervously anticipated.
He saw her turn
away and frowned. �How did you think I was going to react?� the question wasn�t
angry, but curious. �Or how did you want me to?�
"I don't know.
I guess this is right in between what I expected and what I hoped. I should
have known better than to get it in the first place."
"No it's�it's
ok. I don't know what I'm going to do with it, but I'm not upset with you for
getting it," he murmured, looking the rabbit over. "It's
different."
"And you would have appreciated something else
more than this." She shook her
head. "It's alright. Once I got home I realized it wasn't a
particularly bright idea."
"It's still�
You got me a gift, Aida. It doesn't matter what it is. That's enough for
now," he said with a small smile.
The "for
now" didn't escape her notice, and it didn't do anything to cheer her up.
"Thank you for
the rabbit, Aida," he said softly. "But maybe I'll leave it up to you
or Sheldon to name this one. Aloysius was always a bit unwieldy for a
rabbit."
"But it was
typically you...or at least the intension behind it was." s'> She didn't want to name it, and she didn't want Sheldon to name it. She
wanted Sands to, but he was so obviously uncomfortable.
"Yeah, I
suppose so," he murmured, passing the stuffed rabbit from hand to hand
absently. "Saturninus," he said suddenly.
"Why?" As soon as she asked the question, she took
it back. "I mean, I like it...and
I'm not at all surprised that you chose a Latin name."
"Saturninus is
the emperor of Rome in the play Titus Andronicus," he murmured with
a slightly confused look on his face as if he hadn't meant to blurt out the
name.
"And is there
some strange symbolism in that?"
He looked askance
at her. "What? Oh. No, I don't think so. I don't know. It was the first
thing to come to me."
She nodded to
indicate her understanding. "You
realize that now you've named him, you can't take it back."
"I wasn't
going to take�him back, spitfire. I don't know what I'm going to do with it,
but I wasn't going to take it back."
"It'd be
alright if you did. I understand that I
may be being pushy about all this."
"Maybe a
little," he murmured, giving her a half smile. "I'm not upset with
you, though. You wanted to do it and you did it. I understand
impulsivity."
"That doesn't
mean I have the right to make you uncomfortable. I wanted the first gift I gave you to be
special, but perhaps I should have chosen more wisely."
"It is
special, spitfire. I just haven't decided or don't know to who yet."
"But that's
not something you should have to decide," she murmured, taking a sip of
water. "I should have gotten you
something that the moment you looked at it, you thought, 'This is
mine.'" Despite all his reassurances,
Aida still felt bad about buying the toy.
Any answer Sands
might have given was cut off by another round of coughing that left him just a
little bit more hoarse than before. "If that's really the way you feel
then you'll get plenty of other opportunities, spitfire. Besides. You're not
supposed to be buying me things. I'm not the one who has a birthday coming
up."
"That and I
have no money," she murmured, handing over her glass so he could take a
drink. "So I suppose that even that
isn't really a present."
He took a small sip
from the glass of water handed to him and gave it back to her with a thankful
smile. "If you want money, all you have to do is ask, spitfire. But that's
not the point, is it? Never mind. Don't worry about the rabbit. Just because
I'm a little surprised and don't quite know how tt art around it doesn't mean
you were wrong in getting it. I'll�do something with it."
"You don't
have to do anything with it," she sighed.
"You can use it for target practice if that's what you really want
to do. Its yours."
"I'm not going
to use it for target practice although it's been awhile since I've�Never mind.
Mine, huh?" He looked at it. "Aloysius had floppy ears, I think. Not
straight. But I can't really remember. Maybe it looked like this and I've just
forgotten. Ask Sheldon. He'd know," Sands murmured to himself.
"You're not
hearing me," she said tightly.
"I don't care what Sheldon thinks about the rabbit. When I bought it, I wasn't thinking about
him. I don't care if it looks like
Aloysius or not. I was contemplating
buying a stuffed yak, but it was blue with yellow spots and I wasn't sure how
you'd react to so much whimsy. So I got
the rabbit."
"Well thank you for that at least. I'd
take a rabbit over a yak any day of the week, spitfire," he said with a
small smile. "I guess�I like it. I don't know. I don't mind it like I
thought I would or you probably thought I would, but�I don't know."
Aida suddenly
didn't want to talk about this any more.
"I've been up here all day.
I think I'd like to go downstairs now.
Perhaps we could watch a movie."
"Sounds like a
good a plan as any," Sands murmured, happy for the change in subject.
"I'm pretty sure sunrise is asleep as well, so we pretty much have the
house to ourselves."
"Alright. Help me up?" she asked, holding out her
arms.
He floundered for a
bit trying to figure out what to do with Saturninus before deciding to place
him on the bed in front of his pillow next to Aida. Once that was finished, he
pulled her up as gently as he could.
When he would have
swung her up into his arms, Aida shook her head. "I just needed help up. I can walk. I want to walk."
"I'm well
aware of that, spitfire. Technically, you've probably been walking longer than
I have," he said with a bit of a smirk. "I just like carrying you.
Maybe it's a possessive thing. I don't know. Come on."
On slightly
unsteady feet, Aida followed him down the stairs, taking a seat on the couch as
soon as she was able.
"Did you want
anything? I think I'm going to get a glass of orange juice," he said,
distinctly not asking her if she was alright. It was beginning to become a
redundant question.
"I should
probably eat something," she admitted since she couldn't remember the last
time she had.
"What do you
mean, 'should probably?'" Sands asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"It's been
awhile," she admitted. "I
don't think I ate yesterday."
Sands let out a
breath in utter frustration. "Damn it, Aida. You have to take care of
yourself. I can't be around all the time," he said with a deep sigh.
"What would you like?" he asked with a slight air of resignation.
"Nothing, I'm
not hungry," she said stubbornly.
She knew better than he what she needed to do to take care of herself.
"I don't
care," he said, just as stubbornly. "You're going to eat
something."
"You can't
make me eat if I don't want to," she said, looking away from him.truly don't want to watch it.
Then you can pick something else."
"I know you
are. I don't doubt it," he said, giving her a small smile even though she
still had her head to his chest and couldn't see it.
"And if you
treat me with kid gloves now, and not when I'm better, I'm going to suspect you
of being a..." Well, hypocrite
wasn't quite the word she was looking
for. "Well, I expect you to treat
me now how you'll treat me then. Let's
just leave it at that."
"Alright. No
kid gloves for my strong Southern belle. I promise. I'll treat you the same as
I always have. And if I'm not, feel free to remind me."
"Good
enough." Content at last, Aida
squirmed around until she could actually see the TV screen.
"What have I
missed?" he murmured, resting his chin on the top of her head gently and
casting his gaze forward to the television as well.
"Well, Scarlet
O'Hara - and that's the girl talking now - is at a house party on a friend's
plantation. She just found out that the
man she loves is marrying another woman, and she's scheming to get him
back. Rhett Butler - that's the man next
to her - liker, er, but he's a Yankee, and the South has just declared war on
the North."
"Sounds
complicated already and I don't thit's t's been playing for that long."
"It doesn't get
too much more complicated," she assured him.
"If you say
so. So it's about unrequited love, is that it? Or something else?"
"Watch and
see. You have four hours to figure it
out."
"What happens
if four hours?"
"That's how
long the movie is."
"And you
honestly expect my attention span to last that long?" he asked with a
raised eyebrow.
"You can nap
if you want," she offered.could get up if I wanted to."
"Yeah, you
could. But I don't want you to. I like you here."
"I know. I like me here too."
"Good. Now
keep rubbing," he demanded gently with a small smile.
"Yes,
highness. Shall I peel you a grape while
I' it? it?"
"No, because
then you would have to get up to get one."
"Jerk,"
she muttered, not for a moment stopping the soothing motions of her hand.
"Yeah, but you
love me anyway," he said slowly.
"Yes. I do."
"I love you
too." His voice definitely had a hint of a sleepy slur in it now.
"Rest your eyes," she advised.
"Alright� I
wasn't going to take a nap, you know�"
"I know. But you don't have to be asleep to rest your
eyes. You can still listen to the
movie."
Sands nodded
against her lap and folded an arm against his chest so that his hand was lying
on her leg in front of his face.
After that, Aida
stayed quiet, wanting her husband to get some sleep if he needed it. He was sick too, and with all that'd been
going on lately, she wouldn't be
surprised if he was run down.
"Just�for a
little while�" he murmured before turning his face a little so that he was
looking more down to her lap than to the television and settling with a soft
sigh. He didn't say anything else after that, and for all intents and purposes
had fallen asleep.
Looking down at
him, Aida almost wished he'd brought his present down. It'd be an adorable picture, but one she was
unlikely to ever see. Ah well, this was
just as good.

****************************** *** /p>

"Oh my
god..." Aida breathed, coming into the living room. "What...what happened?"
"Someone
seemed to think it would be a great idea to throw a brick through our window.
Mind the broken glass," he muttered, his cold gaze still fixed out into
the street where he could see the neighbors across the street looking out
through their blinds and curtains at him. He just glared back.
"Who would do
that?" she asked, surveying the ruin and feeling herself torn between
getting the broom and going er her husband.
"I'll let you
know when I've found him," he said evenly.
His tone alarmed
her for some reason. "What do you
mean?"
"Whoever did
this is not going to get away with it," he answered, still looking out the
broken window.
"Are you
talking about informing-the-police not getting away, or
talking-matters-into-your-own-hands not getting away?"
"Can't go to
the police. Too risky." This wasn't exactly an answer.
"So's doing
anything yourself," she said, ignoring his warnings to stay back. "You promised me," she reminded
him."
"You can't
honestly expect me to just let this go, can you?" he asked, casting an
incredulous look her way.
"I can and do
expect you not to do anything that will call undue attention to yourself."
He turned his
attention back to the window for a long moment before muttering
"Fine," through gritted teeth and a slightly pained look on his face
as if he were spitting up broken shards of glass with the single word.
"Please don't
be upset, at least not with me," she pleaded as she plucked at his
sleeve. "I...what's
that?" When Sands turned, he saw
that her gaze rested on the brick. It
had a paper wrapped around it.
"You didn't
think someone could just throw a brick through our window without braggingout out it, did you? I'm sure it's something to do with the fact that we are
technically one man and two women living in the same house which the
neighborhood already fucking knows. Bastards." He made no move to look at
it. He truly didn't care about it. He only cared about finding and killing
whoever had done this, and slowly. But Aida wouldn't let him. Maybe Jeffrey
could. It wouldn't be the same, but it wouldn't be a total loss either.
Aida shuddered and
leaned against him. "We should
clean this up. Elsewise we'll be invaded
with bugs before the hour is out."
Sands nodded.
"Sweep or tape up the window?"
"I'll
sweep. There should be some cardboard
and duct tape in the garage."
"Alright. I'll
be right back. Be careful. It might be a good idea if you put on some shoes
rather than slippers."
"Alright." Reluctantly, she moved away so Sands could go
find what he needed. When he came back
in from the garage, he found his wife with a broom in her hands, and a pair of
his shoes on her feet. On her, they
looked like clown shoes.
"I suppose
those are better than nothing," he said, almost smiling as he dropped the
pile of cardboard he had carried in on the couch. "I'll wait until you're
finished."
"We should
vacuum the couch just in case I miss any slivers. And the rug I suppose." The sight of in in over-large shoes might
help him cheer up, but Aida was deeply disturbed. Whoever had done this truly hated them...and
that was a position she'd never found herself in before.
"Alright,"
he said with a sigh, his almost smile fading into nothingness as he was
reminded about what had happened. "You were right, you know. I wasn't
thinking clearly. I was�upset." That was a bit of an understatement, but
he said it anyway. "I'm alright now." He took the cardboard in his
arms again and grabbed up the roll of grey duct tape and walked over to the
broken window.
"Sands?"
Aida asked carefully as she focused on the rug.
"What is
it?" he asked, casting a glance over his shoulder as he held a taped piece
of cardboard in place.
"If I said
that I wanted to cry over this, what would you tell me?"
"That that's
what whoever did this wants."
"So I
shouldn't?"
"No."
They worked in
silence for a few more minutes before Aida murmured, "But I still want
to."
"Then do it.
I'm not going to tell you want to do, Aida."
"But you just
said -"
"What I said
doesn't matter. If you want to cry, then cry."
His voice was so
cold and flat that even though she was thoroughly miserable, she couldn't
cry. "Never mind," she
whispered, trying to keep her mind on her work.
A few more minutes
passed and Sands took a step away from the window to admire his handiwork. It
wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. "I never said you couldn't cry,
Aida."
"But you never
said I could either. You don't like it
when I cry."
"No, I
don't," he said with a slight shrug. "I don't like not knowing what
to do, and whenever you cry, that's what happens."
"I don't need
you to do anything when I cry. Well...nothing
more than to hold me."
"I guess I
know that, but still�. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't like to see you
sad."
"And I can't
always express my feelings in ways that don't use tears."
Sands frowned at
that and walked over to stand next to her, spinning the roll of duct tape in
his hands absently as he did so. "Do you still want to cry now?"
"I don't
know. It's not something I'm really used
to doing on command. At least not real tears. But if I ever decide to, you'll be the first
to know."
"I'll keep
that in mind," he said with a slight sigh, turning to look at the now
blocked window. "I really hate people sometimes," he muttered under
his breath.
"Me too,"
she agreed.
"What are we
going to do about this? I ask you because you know my thoughts on the matter,
and that's not an area you're willing for me to go."
"No. You're right about that. A window is nothing when compared to your
life." She shrugged. "Perhaps I should just make a call to
the police and report this. You don't
have to necessarily get involved."
"If that's
what you want to do."
"Well...we
have to do something. Right?"
"If we don't,
then something like this will happen again."
"And it's the
choice that's the least risk to you, right?"
Sands shrugged.
"I guess so. There's always risk in the world, Aida. You can't avoid
it."
"Then I'd
rather not report it."
"Fine. But
this only means that we'll have to solve this ourselves. No, not my way, don't
worry about that. What I meant was that we can't be seen to hide away after
this. If we do that, we will have lost."
"Alright,"
she whispered. "I'd rather do that
than risk someone recognizing your license plate or something."
"Guess I
should be glad I didn't opt for the vanity plates on this car then, huh?"
he said in a dry tone.
"Please don't
joke about this," she whispered roughly.
"Just...please don't."
"If I don't
joke, I start to realize just how angry I am still. But alright. I won't."
"Then don't
joke about that. Joke about anything else. Just not that."
"Forit. it.
It's fine. If you don't wan to to joke about it, I won't. No big deal."
His sentence was interspaced by ill timed coughs and sniffles. His cold, it
seemed, didn't like being ignored any more than he did.
"You should
take some medicine," Aida insisted, absently setting the broom down and
wandering towards thtchetchen.
"Do we even
have any medicine for colds?" he asked, following behind her after setting
the roll of tape down on a small end table.
Aida shed his shoes
and climbed up on the counter so she could better search the cabinet. "We'd better. I think all mine made it over with the rest
of my things."
That wasn't exactly
the answer he had been wanting, but he figured it was his own fault for asking.
He hated medicine. He hated doctors. He hated hospitals. They were all equally
despised in his book. But the hatred for this cold was beginning to outweigh
even all of that. And the fact that his own wife wouldn't let him sleep in his
own bed for fear of getting sick-something he didn't like, but
understood-overbalanced the scales even more. "Well I haven't been using
it, so it should still be there," he murmured.
"Here it
is," she called from the depths of the cabinet. Turning, she waited until her husband got
close enough to help her down from the counter, and then she crossed the
kitchen to dig in a drawer. A few
seconds later she had a small plastic cup in her hand, and was pouring the
thick red liquid into it. "Drink
up," she instructed, handing the medicine over.
He made another
face but took the cup from her. He sniffed at it, made another face, and looked
up to his wife who seemed to be both amused and slightly frustrated with him as
he stalled. "And this stuff will really make me better?"
"It'll make
your cough go away."
He eyed it as if he
didn't fully believe it, but took a deep breath and upended the cup of cough
syrup like a shot of alcohol. Once he had swallowed it all he made an utterly
disgusted face, sticking his tongue out and screwing his eyes shut like a
little boy. "God, that stuff is horrible. I'd rather have the cough."
"Baby,"
she muttered, rinsing out his cup and then getting him a glass of water. "Just rinse your mouth out. Don't swallow. The medicine will work better if its allowed
to line your throat. It'll get into your
bloodstream quicker."
"I don't see
you taking any," he muttered over his glass of water, swishing a large
gulp around and walking over to spit it in the sink. "That stuff is
wretched. Why would anyone ever want to take it? And why can't they at least
make it taste better if people have to?"
"I don't have
a cough," she said tiredly.
"If I did, I'd be on antibiotics so fast it'd make your head
spin. And I've taken cough medicine plenty
of times. Enough to know it doesn't
taste that bad. And when they try to
make it taste better, they only make it taste worse. It's like a rule or something."
"Well that's a
fucked up rule," he murmured. "How long does it take to work?"
"Half an
hour. Give or take." God, she was exhausted. Aida rubbed at her eyes and wished that she
had joined her husband is nas nap. Then
she wouldn't be so tired now.
"Are you
alright?" he asked, noticing her looking very weary all of the sudden.
"It's all well and good that you tell me to sleep, but what about
yourself? Take a nap. The couch isn't so bad. You can even lay your head in my
lap this time."
"No." Shaking her head, she amended her refusal. "I want to, it's just that it needs to
be vacuumed still. I don't want to get
glass slivers."
"Then uhe
he
bed. Supposedly that's what it's good for. The glass isn't going anywhere. We
can deal with it later."
"You won't
breathe on me?"
He gave her a
confused look. "If you think that will help."
"And you
should wash your hands."
He nodded and went
over to the kitchen sink and washed up thoroughly, shaking the water from his
hands as he walked back to her. "Anything else?"
Aida shook her head
and held out her arms. "Help
please," she murmured.
"What do you
want me to do?" he asked, taking a hold of her arms and looking at her.
She might have been
tired, but Aida still had her pride.
"Never mind," she murmured.
"I'm tired."
"Then come on.
We'll go as slow or fast as you want. Just don't fall asleep mid-step. That
might be a tad awkward on the stairs," he said with a small smile.
She wouldn't have
to worry about stairs if he'd just carry her.
Aida sighed.
Sticking close to
her husband, Aida managed to get up the first few stairs without mishap, but
her feet felt like lead, and she eventually tripped before they were even
halfway up. Falling awkwardly, she
gasped as her left wrist twinged, sending a bolt of pain up her arm.
"Aida, Aida!
Are you alright?" Sands asked with a worried frown, crouching down to help
her.
"I don't
know," she whispered, trying not to cry.
"I think I sprained it, but I'm probably overreacting. I probably just twisted it." Twisted or sprained, it didn't matter; it
hurt all the same.
"Well in
either case, you're done with stair-climbing for the time being." He moved
her into his arms, mindful of her injured wrist and of gravity trying to claw
at him and pull him backwards down the stairs, managing to pull her tightly
against her chest and moving up the rest of the stairs. "I'll get you some
ice once you're on the bed, alright?"
"I don't want
ice," she sniffed. "Too
cold."
"Ice may be
your only option, Aida," he said kindly, laying her down gently on the
bed. "But if won't be that cold. It'll be wrapped in a washcloth."
"Okay." Holding her injured wrist to her chest, she
squirmed on the bed, arranging pillows to support her back and neck.
"Do you need
anything else?" he asked, unable to keep the worry from his face as he
watched her move, her arm clutched against her chest.
"No." Her eyes met his; she looked utterly pitiful.
"I'm sorry. I
should have carried you from the beginning after you said you were tired. If I
had, this wouldn't have happened."
"It's not your
fault. I could have been a bit less
proud."
Sands shrugged.
"I'm still sorry." He stood there for a moment, unwilling to leave
her like this.
"I don't need
icuot;uot; she said, seeing his reluctance.
"You...you could stay."
"If you don't
put ice on it and it is twisted or sprained, then it'll just swell up and be
worse. I'll go get your ice." He looked resolved enough, but still he
didn't move.
"Fine,"
she conceded with a sigh. "But
you'll hold it on?"
He nodded.
"I'll be back." With a last glance at her, he hurried out of the room
to get her ice, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he wouldn't have left at
all.
He came back a few
minutes later, wrapping a handful of ice tightly in a couple of clean
washcloths. He could still feel the cold coming through, but it wasn't that
bad. He took a seat on the bed next to her and gently laid the ice onto her
injured wrist.
"Not like
this," she murmured, climbing into his lap. Within seconds, she was curled up against
him, her left arm held away from her so he could continue with his icing.
He leaned down a
little and kissed the top of her head, trying to soothe her as much as possible
while he pressed the ice filled washcloth against her wrist. "Shh. Let me
take your pain away," he whispered. He began to murmur soothing words to
her as he held both tight against his chest and gently in his arms at the same
time. His words weren't all in English, but then again, they didn't really all
need to be. His message was clear. He loved her and would never let anything
bad happen to her. She was safe in his arms.
His tenderness was
all it took to make her start crying.
She was utterly miserable between the exhaustion, the naggy cold she
had, and her arm. Not to mention what
had just happened downstairs. Her tears
didn't come fast or heavy, they just trailed down her cheeks as she sniffled.
Sands heard her
crying and did the only thing he could. He held her. Actually, it turned out
that that wasn't the only thing. He tilted her head up slightly so that she was
looking up at him and began to kiss her cheeks; began to kiss her tears away,
still whispering soft endearments as he did so.
Aida didn't know
how long she cried, just that when she was done, her throat was sore, her
eyelids were like lead, and her wrist was numb.
On top of all that, she was utterly enervated. All she could think about was climbing under
the covers and taking a long nap.
Sands seemed to
sense this and gave her a quick kiss on the bridge of her nose and then gently
moved her off of his lap so that she was laying on the bed. "Get under the
sheets, spitfire and I will too if you like. We can both nap the day away like
cats if that's what you want right now." It actually didn't sound like
such a bad idea.
"Tired,"
she agreed, her voice gravely. So tired
that she didn't even bother trying to move.
"Then
rest," he murmured, pulling the sheets out from under her and laying them
across her body. He then crawled under the covers beside her, careful not to
bump her injured wrist and thankful that he had taken his shoes off downstairs.
He truly didn't feel like doing anything more than sleeping next to his wife.
"See?" he murmured into her shoulder as he held her close. "We
use our bed for sleeping sometimes."
"I hate this,
Sands," she whispered. "I hate
it. I just want to be well again."
"You will
be," he responded gently, believing every word.
"I know. But I want to be well now. I want to go back to work." She looked at him apprehensively. "Do I get to go back to work?"
"No it
wasn't," she assured him, bending down so they were face to face.spanspan>"It wasn't your fault at all because you
didn't give this to me."
"But I tried
to look at it and you didn't want me to. No excuses. I'm sorry."
"You didn't
know," she said softly. "I
don't blame you, so you shouldn't either."
Sheldon nodded.
"We don't have to go on a walk now."
"I actually
think that would be best," Aida said tiredly as she straightened. She must have done so too fast though,
because the next thing she knew she was seeing spots and swaying on legs that
didn't want to keep her up.
Sheldon immediately
reached out to steady her, worry clear on her face. "Are you sick?"
he asked slowly. "I've been sick before. I didn't like it."
"Yes,"
she whispered. "I am a little
unwell. I think I should sit down."
He nodded and
helped her to a chair, looking down at her and hugging Saturninus even tighter
in his worry. "What can I do?" he asked with a frown. "One of
the cooks made me some chicken noodle soup one time when I was sick. Maybe
that's what you need."
She should probably
eat, but she didn't want Sheldon trying to cook either. He surely didn't know how. "I'll be alright," she lied. "I just need to sit down for a little
bit."
"Ok," he
said, taking a seat on the floor at her feet and looking up at her. "I
don'nt ynt you to be sick."
He really was a
sweet-heart. "Why don't you play
with Saturninius for awhile?" she suggested softly. "I'll stay right here and watch
you."
"Alright,"
he agreed with a small smile. He played with Saturninus for a few minutes,
pantomiming vast worlds around him for the hopping rabbit to explore. After a
little while though, something occurred to him. "Where are the cats, Miss
Aida? I would like to play with them too if I can."
"If you go
shake the food bag in the kitchen, they'll come running," Aida murmured.
"Ok. I'll be
right back." He got up, taking Saturninus with him, and walked into the
kitchen to find the bag of cat food. Once he had it in hand, he gave it a good
shake, careful not to spill any on the floor. Sure enough, a few minutes later
four pairs of feet could be heard and Sheldon could see the two cats running
towards him, nearly tripping over each other in a race to get to their food
bowl. Sheldon let out a delighted laugh and bent down to pet both of the
meowing cats. He then walked back to where Aida sat with the cats in tow.
Aida reminded him
to be gentle with the animals and to allow them to leave if they wanted to go,
but soon felt her attention wandering.
She knew she should ask Sheldon to wake Sands for her, but she couldn't
manage to make the request. Instead, she
closed her eyes and let her mind drift.
Sheldon whispered
to the two cats and to Saturninus to be quiet while Aida rested her eyes. She
was sick, didn't you know that? He had a lot of fun crawling around on the
ground as he chased after the cats. That is, until he caught a sliver of glass
into his palm. "Miss Aida, Miss Aida!" he called after her, bringing
his bleeding hand to her attention.
Aida barely managed
to drag her eyes open, and even then she had a hard time focusing on his
hand. "What's wrong?" she
asked, her voice rough.
"My hand. It
hurts," he moaned to her. "I was just chasing after the cats on the
carpet. I wasn't doing anything wrong."
"You must have
gotten a splinter," she decided after a few minutes of sluggish
thought. "You're going to have to
ask Sands for help. I'm not feeling
well."
"But�" he
cut himself off and nodded. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have asked," he
said with a wince. "You're tired. Don't want to be bothered. I'll ask Mr.
Sands for help. You can go back to sleep."
"I'd
help," she murmured weakly, "but I'm not well."
Sheldon suddenly
shook his head a little and Saturninus dropped to the floor at his side with
Sands staring back at her. "Oh spitfire," he said as he knelt down in
front of her in much the same way as Sheldon had earlier. "What are you
doing out of bed? You look like you could still use a year's sleep. Maybe
more."
"No. I need something to eat. I'm all lightheaded. Or fuzzyheaded. I can't tell.
And Sheldon got a splinter."
"Not a
splinter. Glass," he said with a pained grunt as he yanked a large piece
of broken glass out of the middle of his left palm. "Fuck. That
hurts," he murmured, trying to keep his hand level so his blood wouldn't
drip dowto tto the carpet. "You stay here. I'll go get this cleaned up and
I'll get you something to eat. What do you want?"
"I don't
care. Something with sugar. Fruit."
"Ok. I'll see
what we have. I'll be right back." He got up and moved into the kitchen
after placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. He dropped the piece of bloodied
glass into the trash and rinsed off his hand in the sink. It was still bleeding
freely under the water, but at least the cold seemed to numb it a little. In
lieu of Band-Aids at the moment, he wrapped it tightly with a handful of paper
towels and set about getting Aida some food. He returned to her with all the
fruit they had in a large bowl, a knife to cut some it with, and the bowl of
sugar and a spoon. He set each item on the coffee table in front of her before
pulling back to press at his bloodied palm through the paper towels, frowning a
little when he could see blood beginning to seep through. "Enjoy."
"Go take care
of that," she instructed in a whisper as she reached for a banana. "Make sure you wash it too."
"Alright,
alright," he murmured. He moved into the bathroom quickly and opened the
medicine cabinet above the sink and pulled out Band-Aids and set them on the
edge of the sink as he unwrapped his hand and threw away the bits of paper
towel into a trashcan beneath the sink. He washed the cut thoroughly, dabbed a
little alcohol on it for good measure, making a face as he did so, and covered
it with a Band-Aid. It still stung like a motherfucker, especially with the
added alcohol, but at least his hand wasn't becoming covered in blood anymore.
Satisfied, he returned to his wife.
Aida was halfway
through the banana and chewing slowly.
Her color was off, and her eyes were heavy-lidded. She looked like hell.
"Ok, that's
it. Aida, if you still have a fever, you're going to the hospital. I don't want
to make you go, I don't want to take you, but if I looked the way you did right
now, you'd sure as hell be taking me." Before she could respond he hurried
back into the bathroom and returned with the thermometer after he had rinsed it
off. "Open wide, spitfire."
Aida sighed, but
did as she was told, praying that she didn't have a fever.
He saw her face and
guessed her prayer. He hoped she didn't have a fever either. After a few very
long moments, he pulled the thermometer out of her mouth and looked at it.
"101. Still. It either hasn't gone down since last time, or it's risen
again. Either way, it looks like we're taking a trip." He sighed.
"I'm sorry."
Aida groaned, but
didn't protest. Instead she set the
banana down and pressed the heels of her hands to her teary eyes.
"They'll make you feel better in the
long run, won't they?" Sands asked hopefully, running his fingers over the
her cheek beneath her hand gently to offer comfort and to just touch her.
Slowly she nodded,
but that didn't help with the fact that she just felt downright miserable.
"You stay here
and rest. I'm going to go and tell sunrise where we're going. Do you need
anything from upstairs?" he asked gently.
"No." The word was a defeated whisper.
Sandsed ted to hear
that tone in her voice, but what choice did he have? Hadn't everyone been
telling him the minor illnesses alone could have devastating effects on her now
that her immune system was down? He was just trying to take care of her; to do
what he was supposed to and needed to do. He gave her a final look and mounted
the stairs and walked into Salida's room, calling out her name softly, not
knowing if she was awake or asleep.
Salida was still
soundly asleep despite everything that had gone on in the house since she'd
started her nap.
Sands didn't really want to have to wake her,
so he figured a note would work. He found a pad of paper and a pen on the night
table, and let Jeffrey pen the note after explaining to him what was happening.

Vixen-
Kitty's
sick so she and Sands are going to the hospital. They'll bring the cell with
them if you want to call. I'll be back as soon as I can.
-J
PSou'rou're sexy when you sleep.

Jeffreacedaced the
note on his pillow next to her and gently moved a lock of her hair aside so
that he could look at her face. He wanted nothing more than to climb in next to
her, but he could feel Sands' urgency thrumming in the back of his head, unable
to ignore it. With a sigh, he kissed her gently on the cheek and let Sands go
back downstairs to collect his wife.
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More Than Darkness