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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
- 60
- 61
- 62
Sands� fingers were drumming a frantic beat onto the
steering wheel as they drove back to their motel. He had survived meeting every
single member of Aida�s family�barely. He had sat through the meal like the
polite new member of the family that he was supposed to be, answering the gamut
of questions directed his way with as much grace and aplomb as he could muster,
but god, he needed to get out of there and away from those people-right fucking now-or he couldn�t be held
responsible for his actions. His head was killing him, his every muscle was
clenched in anxious tension, and his nerves were like live wires just begging
to be set to overload. He couldn�t fucking take their over-sharing and their
cheerful willingness to accept him into the family only after they had gleaned
everything there was to know about him as quick and painfully as possible. Stop thinking about them. You�ll give yourself a stroke,
he tried to tell himself, knowing that he needed to calm down; that it hadn�t
been that bad at all actually. But it wasn�t working. He was beyond rational
thought or reason now, and the only thing that ran through his mind that he
actually put in stock into, was; Run away
before they get you. Just leave and never turn back. They�ll hurt you, stab
you, break you, beat you, yell at you, toy with you, kill
you. You know they will. It doesn�t matter how nice or generous they might have
seemed. It�s all a ploy. They�re out to get you. They all are.
He would ask himself later how he had managed to make it to
the motel without crashing the car under the onslaught of these thoughts. For
now, he simply drove on autopilot, doing everything he could to get away.
"Sands?" Aida had been
trying to get her husband's attention for some time now, but he didn't seem to
hear her. She was getting worried. "Please, talk to me."
Sands shook his head. No
time to talk. Just need to get back; get away.
"Will you please pull over? We passed the motel five
minutes ago."
That registered,
but he couldn�t make himself stop. The need to flee was still running strong although the need for home, safety, security was nearly as
important.
"Sands, please." Aida
laid her hand over his on the steering wheel. "Just pull over. Everything is going to be alright. I
promise."
He seemingly had at least one part of him that was still
listening to reason, for at Aida�s touch-although he flinched and nearly jerked
his hand away-he did stop, not quite having the presence of mind to turn the
car off and put it into park, but he stopped all the same.
His wife reached over and did the honors for him. She let
the engine to fall into silence before doing or saying anything, using that
small amount of time to prepare herself. For what, she wasn't sure; she just
had a hunch she was going to need it.
"Sands -"
A violent shudder went through him at the sound of his name
and he tried to start the car up again when Aida stopped him. �Don�t. Have
to�have to get away. They�ll come. They�re coming. They�ll get me. They�re out
to get me. They�ll get us both.�
"No one is coming," she soothed. "It's
alright. We're safe right now. No one knows we're here. It's just you and me,
Sands and Aida. No one else. Shhh....shh..." Gently she removed the keys from the ignition
with one hand as she used the other to soothingly rub the nape of his neck. "Just us, alone together. It's alright,
alright..."
He shook his head and attempted to shrug out of her touch. �Never alone. Always someone here. With me. Yelling, crying, pleading,
threatening, always. Never quiet. They all want. They never give.� He
pressed his hands too his head as if to contain its contents. �Always taking,
fighting, deceiving, lying, berating, rebuking, killing.
They like to kill. They want to. But the others want to run. Run far and never
come back.�
"I'm not running," she said softly but
insistently. "I'm right here, and I'm willing to give what ever you
need."
�We-I-they�I don�t know. Everything.
Nothing. If not running, then
killing. Aida doesn�t like it when we kill. It upsets her.�
"You're right," Aida whispered. "It scares
her. When she looks at her husband, she doesn't see a murderer. She sees the
kind, loving man who saved her life. And she's scared that if he doesn't stop
killing, she may loose him one day."
Sands moaned then and pressed his head to the edge of the
steering wheel and began whispering, �Just stop. Leave me alone. Please,� over
and over again. The voices held within his subconscious had sensed his distress
at the events of the day and were taking advantage of the situation. Sands
repeated his mantra a few more times before slipping into vague whispering,
each whisper in a different tone of voice, ��don�t want to be here�what is this
place�.where are we�.we�re not alone�.i want out of
here�.let us out�let us play�let us kill�you want to�you want blood�you want to
taste it�.i just want to be left alone�kill me
please�i can�t do this�give up�embrace oblivion�.live
life�fuck a pretty girl and drive a fast car�� more whispers came but they
faded into incoherency.
"Sands!" Aida barked
suddenly. "Snap out of it!"
Sands jumped at the sound of her voice and pressed himself
as far away from her as he could until he was pressed against the side of the
car, looking at her and yet past her at the same time with wide, confused eyes.
He kept silent though.
"Are you with me?" she asked, letting her demeanor
soften some. She hated to see him like
this, hated even more the thought that this was her fault. "Oh god," she whispered to
herself. "I should have made you
stay at the hotel."
He blinked at her for a moment, either not understanding or
not hearing her words before slowly shaking his head.
"You're not with me?" she asked, reaching over to
take his hand.
He shook his head again but seemed unsure of his answer. He
still attempted to pull away from her though, but not with the same
forcefulness he had a moment ago.
"Okay." Aida rubbed her forehead, trying to think
of what to do. They needed to get back to the motel where it was cool. They'd
roast in here. "Sands, will you let me drive us back to the motel?" She
wondered if cooling him down would help him come back to her.
He seemed to consider this-either that or ask the voices
within his head for their opinions-before slowly nodding.
"Alright. Just...stay right
there." Moving slowly, Aida got out of the car, walked around the front
where Sands would always be able to see her, and came to his door. She gently
helped him out of the car and into the back seat, taking the time to softly
reassure him as she strapped him into the backseat. "Just stay here, baby.
I'll drive us back to the motel and then we'll get you nice and grounded again,
okay?" Without waiting for an answer, she got into the driver's seat and
slowly drove them back to their temporary residence, helping him out of the car
and into their room with the same slow, gentle movements until she finally had
him seated on the bed.
His hands twitched as the choice to either get up and pace
around the room blindly or sit and simply try to be still warred at him as the
decision to kill or to run did as well. He couldn�t decide, couldn�t get his
mind to slow down to make simple decisions like that, and it was driving him
insane. So he sat. But no where near calmly. Mentally he was pacing, while
physically he was staying put.
"Talk to me," Aida begged softly, taking a seat
next to him on the bed. "Please. Let me help you. You know I will if I
can."
He shook his head again. �Can�t talk.
Can�t think. Everything�s�too fast. Doesn�t signify�no sense.�
"Come here then." Gently, persuasively, she pulled
him down until they were both lying on the bed, his head resting on her chest
where he could hear her heartbeat. "Listen to the beat." Aida's voice
rumbled in her chest as Sands listened. "Try to slow your thoughts."
Sands shut his eyes tightly and tried to listen; tried to
filter everything out-all the now screaming voices-and concentrate on her
heart. That steady, calming beat thumping in his ear. He listened to it, thump thump, thump
thump, and ever so slowly, that�s nearly all he
heard. The voices were still there and they wouldn�t give up that easily, but
for now they were the angry din and not the raging whirlwind they had been. He
clutched her shirt in his hands and still he listened.
Aida rubbed his back and shoulders, trying to make some
impression on their near iron hardness. She could practically feel his
desperation melting away, but he was still just as tense as ever. At least she
was managing to do something right though.
�I am not alright,� he whispered to her, minutes later. It
probably wasn�t quite what she wanted to hear, but at least it was coherent.
"I know you're not. I'm so sorry for doing this to
you," she whispered at the ceiling.
�No. Don�t. Not your fault. I did this. Not you.�
"I should have made you stay here. I could have if I'd
tried hard enough."
�I would have fought.�
"I'm your wife.
I should know when things are going to be bad for you."
He had no answer for that, only a slight clenching of his
fists around the handfuls of her shirt he was clinging to. It was hard to talk
to her and to keep the still, slowness of his thoughts the same time; hard to
keep his concentration focused on the heartbeat. The voices wanted to control
him again. That had been the closest thing to true freedom most of them had ever
experienced, and none of them wanted to give that up.
"Shh," Aida calmed him,
noticing his distress. "We can talk later. Just put yourself back together
right now. I'll keep you safe. I promise."
�It�s�bad when they fight. It�s�worse when they work together,�
he murmured. �They want out. All of them.� He closed his eyes tightly once more
and tried to move even closer to her than he already was.
"You're stronger than they are. You always have been,
no matter what they may try to convince you. You're stronger than them right
now. Just try to focus on that strength."
�I�m not strong. I�m tired. I�m so tired, Aida. They�re so
many of them. I can�t stop them all,� he moaned against her shirt desperately. �So loud. Never quiet. Always talking.
Inside. And now they want out.�
"But you won't let them out." There was quiet
confidence in her voice. "You'd never risk it. That's one of the reasons I
love you. Sometimes I may want to ignore it so I can wallow in self-pity, but
you'd never let anything happen to
me. Nothing that you could control. And you can control this."
�How?� he moaned with a soft whimper as he pressed his
forehead against her chest, straddling her and raising up on his knees for
leverage.
"I can't tell you that." Her fingers speared through his hair to
cradle his head. "What gives you
strength?"
�I don�t know,� he moaned desperately. �Help me Aida,
please. I can�t do this.�
"You do know. You do. And you can do this because I trust you to."
�Why? Why would you ever trust us-me,� he shook his head at
the slip.
"You're my husband. You love me. I love you more than
anything. And I wouldn't be safe if you let them all out. So you won't. I trust
that."
He let out another short desperate whimper, but that was the
last he was going to allow himself. She was right. If they got out, they would
surely kill her, not knowing nor caring who she was to him. There would be
nothing but mindless bloodlust and a strong deathwish
depending on who was calling the shots. He wouldn�t let either thing happen. Not
while he could stop them. He had to stop them and so he did. It wasn�t quite
that easy of course. They fought hard with a desperate rage that made them
stronger than they ever had been before. But he was still stronger if only by a
hair. That was still enough to box them back into the corner of his mind where
they belonged and attempt to build a wall around them. It wouldn�t hold-it
never did-but for now, he had won. He nearly sobbed in relief and weariness. It
they gathered up the strength to attack like this again soon, he didn�t know if
he would be able to hold them off a second time. It didn�t seem likely though.
"Shh...it's
okay. I'm here. You can let it out. You can relax. I'll protect you. I love
you. I'm here, you're not alone. It's alright, you can cry. I'll keep you safe.
Just relax, baby. I'm right here..." Aida continued in this vein as was
needed, doing all she could to comfort her poor husband.
He wouldn�t cry. He would never cry. Crying was weakness and
it would never be allowed. He had shed two tears for his parents� death-one for
each of them, no more, no less-and he had vowed to never let another one fall. Ever. But he did try to hide himself in her neck,
unconsciously needing her to hide and envelop him. If he could have pulled her
over him like a warm blanket, he would have.
Aida tightened her arms around him, holding him as closely
as she could. While he might have not been crying, she was doing so for him,
but was doing her best not to let him know. If he found out - at least at this
moment - he'd take it personally and become withdrawn. And that was the last
thing he needed. The first was her comfort.
�I�m sorry, Aida. I should have�I should have said
something. Before I got�like this,� he whispered into her neck, his voice thick
with shame and self-loathing.
"Don't be sorry. Never be sorry," she replied
softly. "I know how hard it is to let on to weakness, especially to those
close to you. And I still won't let you take all the blame. I noticed how uncomfortable
you were getting. I should have let myself be overprotective and demanded we
leave earlier."
�That�s my problem,� he muttered darkly. �You want me to
never be sorry, well you�ve got your wish. I�m never really sorry. I don�t
care. You�ve said it yourself.�
"Are you brooding?" she asked, ignoring his last
comment.
�Another problem of mine.�
"I'll go so far as to admit that you have good cause to
be, but I'll warn you now that I probably won't take most of what you have to
say seriously."
�Fine. Don�t,� he muttered, distancing
himself from her emotionally before he got irrationally angry at her for such
the comment. He moved away from her physically as he did mentally, forgoing the
sanctuary of her touch in exchange for keeping his anger. It was then that he
noticed her tears. �Don�t cry for me. Don�t you dare.
I don�t want your pity, Aida,� he muttered, standing a little shakily at the
side of the bed.
"What makes you think you have it? Why can't I simply
be crying for myself? For the pain I feel every time my heart is ripped out of
my chest on your behalf?"
�Because I know you. You�re
empathic. You feel for others. You care.� He didn�t move from the side of the
bed, not to pace nor to look at her. He just stood still, staring straight
ahead at the wall.
"And since when is 'caring' synonymous with
'pity?'"
�Fine forget it. Cry all you like,�
he murmured, walking to stand in front of the window and to look out. It didn�t
seem as if he were looking at anything in particular
however, and the view was nothing special. He was just�looking.
"Well," Aida said tightly, getting up from the
bed. "I suppose I know where you get your strength from now." The stick up your ass.
He frowned to hear the irritation in her voice when it had
just moments ago been the only thing holding him together. �I get my strength
from you, Aida,� he said softly, still staring ahead.
"Which is why you're treating me like an unwanted house
guest right now, right?"
�I�m not�I don�t mean to,� he murmured, hanging his head a
little.
"No, you're embarrassed by the fact that you need your
wife. Well you shouldn't be, because your wife needs you too."
�I�m not embarrassed,� he murmured. �I don�t quite know what
I am, but that�s not it.� He glanced at her out of the corner or his eye.
Aida just shook her head and went into the bathroom, running
a wash cloth under cool water. She could feel a headache coming on.
�I�m sorry, Aida. You don�t deserve�this,� he said softly
once she had returned.
"All I want to do is help snap you out of unhealthy
moods and it feels like you rip my head off for the
effort."
�I know. And I�m sorry,� he said again, slumping into a
chair against the wall near where he had been standing.
Aida shrugged and regained her place on the bed, closing her
eyes as she put the wash cloth on her forehead.
Sands crumpled a bit at her reaction. He needed her so much
right now and he had pushed her away. He could feel his anxiety and desperation
start to come back at the thought and he couldn�t handle that. Not now. He
pushed himself out of the chair and kneeled on the floor near at the side of
the bed. �Please, Aida. I�m sorry. I didn�t mean it. Don�t be upset with me,
please.�
"I'm not upset," she said softly. "I'm
just...tired."
�You promise?� he asked before he could stop himself. �No,
it doesn�t matter.� This was hard. �Just�rest. It�s ok. For
as long as you need. I�ll�stay here.�
"Here here, or
across-the-room here?"
�Both. I�ll try.�
Aida sighed. "Alright."
�Rest now. Don�t worry. Everything
will be fine. I won�t make a sound. You�ll get to sleep. You�ll feel better.�
�I�ll be alright. I�m still too wired and cautious of what
will happen when I close my eyes to sleep.�
"Suit yourself."
�I�ll just stay right here,� he murmured, turning his body a
little so that he was sitting on the floor rather than kneeling. �I�ll be
alright,� he said again. �You sleep.�
She nodded. "Wake me if you need me."
�Alright.�
"Promise me," she said, not convinced that he
would.
He hesitated. �I promise.�
"Alright." With that, Aida let herself to drift off,
although her sleep wasn't necessarily sweet.
***
Sands managed to stay still and quiet for quite a long time.
At least, it seemed like a long time to him in any case. He sat at the side of
the bed against the wall, gazing forward with a kind of glazed look in his
eyes. If you weren�t watching him for an extended period of time you�d swear to
yourself that he neither moved nor blinked; he hardly seemed as if he were
breathing as well. He just and stared, and sat and
stared some more. Occasionally his lips would move as if he were
talking to Aida or to himself, but he wouldn�t make a sound.
After an indeterminable number of minutes, he couldn�t take
it anymore. �Aida,� he whispered, but remained where he was seated and kept
staring straight ahead. �You made me promise. I�need someone to talk to. Someone real. They�re all not real but they like to pretend
that they are. They like to lie and trick and deceive. But I can�t listen to
them. I want to listen to you. You�re real. I need to talk to you, Aida. You�re
real. I need real. Please.�
Aida's eyes opened slowly.
"I'm awake," she sighed upon seeing the desperation in his
eyes.
�Sorry, sorry. Didn�t mean to wake you.
I didn�t want to, but you made me promise,� he said sorrowfully.
"I know I did, baby. You did the right thing. I can
sleep when you don't need me."
�I always need you,� he murmured.
"Today you need me in a special way." Languidly, she
reached over and brushed his cheek. "Come up here and join me."
He turned to look at her for the first time at her touch,
and slowly nodded. �Alright. But it�s hotter up
there,� he murmured as he rose to his feet from his relatively cool spot on the
floor. �Like fire. Fire blackens and curls flesh and objects alike with deadly
grace�.sorry, sorry. I�ll be quiet,� he murmured as he moved to join her on the
bed, immediately huddling himself into her side.
Aida didn't feel hot, but she winced at the heat radiating
out from her husband's body. Perhaps
he'd gotten too much sun after all.
"You don't have to be quiet," she said softly,
wrapping her arms around him. "You never have to be quiet."
�Not even when I don�t make any sense?� he murmured with a
sigh as he nuzzled her shoulder, simply happy to be near her again.
"Not even then. You're free with me. Do you understand
that? You're not going to drive me away by talking."
�But I worry you when I talk like that. I don�t mean to,� he
murmured against her.
"I'm a big girl.
I can handle being worried. I
just want you to be comfortable."
�And happy? Happiness is a warm
gun. Did you know that? I didn�t say that. Someone else did, but I like it.
It�s true. I like guns. I like my gun. But you don�t want to hear about
that either. Nuh uh, no way. No guns, no shooting, no murder or talking
about murder. It makes you sad. And then you think about leaving and telling
the police about me. They would put me in jail for a very long time. I don�t
want to go to jail, Aida. Tell me I won�t have to.�
She couldn't tell him that. Not without possibly lying.
"I would never tell the police about you," she said instead.
�Never? Never
ever? But I thought� You promise?�
"What did you think?"
�That you would. That when you left
you�d tell them about me because you don�t want me to kill anybody else.�
"No. I wouldn't do that."
�Why not?� he asked curiously. �I
thought you didn�t like it when I kill people? Sunrise doesn�t care. But you
do. You don�t want me to.�
"No. I don't.
But I would still love you. And I know that you'd rather die than be
caught."
He nodded at that. �I don�t want to be caught. I don�t want
to be locked up. They would never let me go. They would keep me forever. I
don�t want that. I�d never get to hold you again. Death is always preferred
over that. I wouldn�t survive not being able to touch you ever again.�
"I know, baby. I know." She stroked his head.
�And not feeling you touch me would be just as bad,� he
murmured, closing his eyes at her touch.
"I won't do that to you."
�Promise?� he asked in a small, cautious voice.
"If you promise to work with me to
keep me from wanting to."
�How?� he murmured, desperate to get her to promise, and
therefore listening attentively.
"I don't know. I
wish I did, but I don't have all the answers.
We just have to make sure we talk things through whenever one of us is
upset. I think that may be a
start."
�But I�m not�I�m not the only one who kills, Aida. And he
won�t stop. I know he won�t. What then?� he asked, pulling away from her far
enough so that he could look her in the eyes sadly.
"You're not responsible for what he does. Not in my
eyes."
�Why not? He�s a part of me. We�re
not separate. Not really. He�s me. But I�m not him. I don�t think. I don�t
know. When I killed bastard and Valencia, was I killing myself? It doesn�t make
any sense sometimes. Not at all. Everything I�ve ever
known is wrong. Nothing makes any sense. Nothing matters. None of it means a
damn thing. It�s all meaningless; for naught,� he said despondently.
"You don't have to understand everything, my love. You
know that I understand even less than you do. All I know is that you and
Jeffrey are two different people to me, and his actions have nothing to do with
the way I feel about you."
He sighed a little in relief at that. �When he dances the
light fandango you�re only in the band with me. I get it,� he murmured. �I love
you, Aida. And only you. I couldn�t love anyone else.
I don�t have any more room.�
"That's good to know." Aida snuggled up to her husband. "I should probably call and let everyone
know that we're not coming for the show."
�I�m sorry,� he whispered shamefully. �I didn�t mean
to�freak out. I wanted to go. But�I don�t want to go. I don�t know. There were
just too many people, all with questions and more questions and I didn�t know
how to talk to them. And it all got very loud.�
"It's okay. I don't really feel up to visiting either.
I'm tired. Not sleepy, just tired. And the fireworks show is a big show.
We can go up on this butte above town and watch it if you want. Just the two of us. Take a blanket and some pillows and sit
on top of the car and watch the fireworks and the stars..."
�Just the two of us? No family? Just us?�
"Just us. And I'll see what I can do to get us out of
Sunday."
�I�m sorry, Aida. I didn�t mean�I didn�t mean to ruin
everything. You wanted to see your family and I�m taking that away. I�m sorry.�
"You're not taking it away. The truth is, I was feeling a little awkward around my siblings today. I
don't really know them anymore. I never really knew them to begin with. I was
always the black sheep of the family. It's nice to see my parents, and my
siblings, but I don't really belong here in this sleepy little town
anymore."
�You belong with me,� he said as he buried his face into her
chest as if to prove the point.
"Yes. I suppose I do." Aida smiled sadly. It was
uncomfortable to go home and discover it wasn't home anymore.
�What? What�s wrong?� he asked warily, hearing the trace of
sadness in her voice. �Do you think you don�t belong with me?� He pulled back
to look at her with sad, worried eyes.
"No, that's not it. It's just that part of me wishes
I'd come home a long time ago. But I think I'd feel just as out of place even
if I had."
�Oh. I think I know what you mean,� he murmured as he laid
his head back down on her chest. He thought back to when Jeffrey had wanted to
take a tour of the remnants of his family�s estate. He looked up at the charred
ruins and it was as if he were on another planet. He kept asking himself if he
had ever lived there at all. The answers he got weren�t quite sure of
themselves. But maybe that�s not what she meant at all.
"So, tonight? Does that sound good to you?"
�I guess. As long as we�re alone. I
don�t know. Loud noises make me jumpy.�
"Oh." There was a trace of disappointment in
Aida's voice. "But tonight is the forth of July. The entire town is going
to be full of loud noises."
�I know. I�ll be alright. I want to go. I want to be alone
with you outside in the night, fireworks or not.�
"It won't be too much for you?"
�You�ll be the only one there with me. I�ll be ok.�
"Are you sure?"
�No one can be sure of everything, Aida.�
"We don't have to go."
�I know we don�t. But I want to. I want to do this with
you.�
"It's alright.
If you still want to tonight, we'll do that, but I could stay in just as
easily."
�And what am I supposed to do in here? Cover my ears? I�ll
be fine, Aida. I have lived through a few Fourth of July�s before, you know.�
"I'm sorry. I
just...I don't know. I'm tired, I
think."
�Well�if you don�t want to go we don�t have to. I�m
certainly not going to force you to go Aida. You can sleep until Sunday if you
want.�
"You mean sleep through Sunday? Or did you actually
want to go to Mass with my parents?"
�I can�t say I know what a Mass service is like, but no. It
certainly wasn�t on the top of my list.�
"Me neither. But I'm not sure how to get out of it
without simply skipping town, and I've already tried that."
�Claim illness?�
"And have people hovering over me?"
He shook his head at that. �No, definitely
not. Uh, sleep through it? Claim your alarm didn�t go off?�
"We'll get a wake-up call."
�Claim your heathen of a husband wouldn�t let you go?�
"Momma said that if I couldn't talk you into coming,
she'd do it herself."
�Why is she so insistent on getting us to church? It�s not
as if one service is going to make any difference in the long run,� he muttered
into her neck.
"Because that's the exact opposite view of the one my
mother holds."
Sands sighed. �We could always just leave.�
"We could. It's not like I'll ever hear from them again
so they can't tell me how disappointed they were that I never showed up."
�You don�t know that, Aida,� Sands said softly.
"What? That I'll
never talk to them again or that they'll be disappointed?"
�That you�ll never talk to them again.�
"Would you get me a cell phone so I could at least call
them now and again?"
�Of course I will. I�ll even get you two if you want.�
"Two?"
�If you wanted two. If you wanted
five I�d get you five.�
"What would I do with five cell phones?" There was a trace of amusement in Aida's
voice now.
�Um, call five different people at the same time?�
"Why would I want to do that?"
�I don�t know. You�d be the one who asked for the five cell
phones. Not me.�
"I didn't ask for five cell phones."
�I know you didn�t. You asked for one. But if you
asked for five, I�d get you five.�
"Why?"
�Because you asked for them.�
"But it's a ridiculous request."
�So?�
"Why would you honor a ridiculous request?"
�Because you asked.�
"And if I asked for the sky, would you give me that
too?"
�I�d try my best.�
"I take it this means you're feeling better."
�A little. I still feel a vague
urge to get back into the car and keep driving until I�ve run out of road, but its
fading.�
"That's good. Wanna take a
nap with me?"
�I suppose. It sounds like the best idea I�ve heard all day,
and that means I don�t have to move, so sure.�
"Are you still hot?"
�Yeah, but it�s ok. I don�t mind.�
"We can turn up the AC."
�Then I�ll get cold.�
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. �I don�t want you to get up. Turning up the AC
means you have to get up. I want you to stay right here. With
me.�
Aida yawned. "Okay. I can respect that."
�Good. I don�t want you going anywhere,� he murmured,
clutching her shirt in fist as his arms were bent up so that they were pressed
in-between them. He quickly moved them away so that they were at his sides. He
wanted to feel her breathing against him. That had great appeal at the moment.
Naked against him would be better-but not for the usual reasons-but he would
settle for this. �I love you, Aida. I�m sorry I made you worry earlier. I�ll be
alright. I promise.� He still wasn�t quite alright yet-the thought of leaving
her side or her leaving his put him into something near to panic-but it would
pass in time. It had to.
"I know you will. You just need a little time."
Yawning again, Aida let her eyes slip closed as she turned a little so she was
more fully pressed against her husband. "Just a little
time."
He nodded slowly against her, appreciating the added contact
she gave him. This was what he needed. This was what made him feel safe and
warn and loved. Despite parts of him railing against the concept, he needed
those things. He needed human contact. No man was is an island. He couldn�t
afford to be. He needed her and he very much hoped that she knew it. It seemed
like she did. �I love you,� he murmured again as he closed his eyes, fully
realizing just how exhausted he was both physically and mentally. A good long
nap in his wife�s arms sounded like heaven right now and he needed all the
soothing glimpses of heaven he could get right now. He needed stillness;
clarity of mind; he needed balance. And she was helping him find those things.
�Thank you,� he murmured, his voice already beginning to sound thick with sleep.
He didn�t bother opening his eyes again; it was far too much effort at the
moment.
***
�Hey Rivers, you got a fax from Langley,� Emily murmured,
barely glancing over at the incoming fax before turning back to what she was
currently working on.
Roland frowned, thinking Emily was trying to mess with him,
but after glaring at her he did indeed notice that there was a fax waiting for
him in the machine. He pulled out the three page fax and glanced down at the
cover sheet, trying to figure out who it was from. It read:
Attn:
Roland Rivers, Central Intelligence Agency Officer
The
contained fax was sent to your desk here at Langley a few days ago. It would
have been forwarded to you sooner but our analysts wanted to have a look at it
first. We were hoping to glean some information about the whereabouts of the
sender based upon its contents, but unfortunately we were unsuccessful.
We have
sent the letter on to you as it was addressed to you, but be warned it does
contain content which you may not appreciate. Be assured however that you and
your family will be given the best protection this country can offer.
Vincent
Sawyer
Assistant Director, CIA
Roland frowned at the letter, not remembering another time
previous when he had been formally addressed by the Assistant Director in such
a way. It did not bode well. He moved the cover sheet aside and began to read.
It was clear from the first two words, �Dear Fuckhead,�
who had written it. He clenched the paper in his fists as he held it, his grip
growing tighter and tighter as he read on.
�Rivers? What�s up your butt? Bad news?� Emily asked upon looking over to see Roland�s
clearly tense form. When Roland didn�t even seem to hear her, let alone
respond, she knew something was up.
�I�m going to kill him,� Roland said very calmly once he had
finished reading the letter. �I�m going to strangle him to death with his own
intestines.�
Emily made a face. �Don�t you think that�s a little much,
Rivers? I mean damn, I didn�t know you were the twisted type�� Emily was cut
off as Roland thrust the battered letter in her direction. Emily was taken
aback for a moment, but accepted the letter and read it as Roland had. �I�m
going to cut off his dick and stick it up his ass,� Emily said coldly. ��Lesbian
bitches?� That monkey cock-sucking bastard. You only get to kill if you get
to him first.�
�From the looks of it, he�s coming after Roland�s wife,�
Susannah said evenly once she too had read the letter. She made no dire threats
or curses, but from the red spots high on each cheek, it was clear to anyone
who knew her that she was pissed off. �I suggest we get there before he
does. We don�t have any other leads at the moment except the identity of his
two�companions.� She rechecked her notes. �Aida Grant and Salida Adame also known as Teresa Adame
also known as Tess Barillo, daughter of Armando Barillo, the drug kingpin in Mexico. We�ve already put
agents at both Miss Grants� home town around her remaining family in case they
go there, and Miss Barillo�s family in Mexico. That�s
the best we can do at the moment. If we�re going to catch this�man,� Clearly
she had wanted to say something else but withheld, �then we need to take the
fight to him. Not let him lead us along.�
�Wait a minute, the dark haired chick hanging on Sands� arm,
that�s Tess Barillo? You�re sure?� Emily
asked, having not come across that bit of information yet.
Susannah checked her notes again before nodding. �Yes,
that�s supposedly her real name. Why?�
�Because Tess Barillo
was supposed to have died in a car accident in Boston months ago. It was
all over the news,� Roland murmured, picking up on Emily�s train of thought.
�Her family would be very interested to know that she�s still alive,� Roland
said darkly. �Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.�
***
BOOM!!!cracklecrackle....
Aida watched the sky avidly as red, silver, and blue
fireworks exploded above her head. Her
favorites were the huge just red ones that made her bones shake. She'd always
loved fireworks, and now it was even better. Now that she was lying on top of
the roof of the car, sandwiched between two blankets and pressed against her
husband. A bottle of wine would have made this perfect, but she didn't dare
drink right now anyway. Popcorn would have been good though.
�Are you having fun?� Sands murmured as he held her from
behind. She was pressing down on his stomach in a way that was more than a
little uncomfortable, but he didn�t want to move. He still found himself
needing the closeness even after the time between the events of today and now.
He had been doing his best to stay calm, but he still flinched at every other
firework or so, looking around stupidly for the source of the loud noise that
had startled him.
She nodded, entranced by the display above her, but wasn't
so oblivious that she didn't notice her husband's tense muscles and the way
they jerked every now and again. "All you have to do is say the word and
we can go," she murmured.
�No, I�m fine and you�re enjoying yourself. I like it when
you�re happy, Aida. It makes me happy,� he said softly as he turned his head to
gently kiss the side of her neck. �And the fireworks aren�t so bad. I like the
ones where the bits of light shoot off in random directions after it explodes.�
He flinched as a particularly chest rattling firework went off. �But I don�t
much care for the sounds afterwards.�
"I love the sound," she murmured. "I like the
way it makes my heart stutter."
�I always think of someone shooting at me,� he muttered.
�But that�s just my paranoia talking.�
"Most of these sounds would indicate that some poor
fool had dragged a cannon up here to get you."
�And a part of my brain knows and accepts that; even accepts
that the sound isn�t even a cannon or a gun at all but fireworks. The rest of
me can�t help but jump at the sound. I can�t help it. It makes me nervous. I
don�t like being shot at.�
Aida chuckled and shifted so she could turn her head enough
to see his face. "I don't blame you."
Sands didn�t know what was so funny about his comment-he had
been shot before and he didn�t want to be shot again-but he nodded and gave her
a small smile in return anyway.
Soon though, the firework display drew to a close, leaving
man and wife alone in the rapidly growing silence. Aida sighed, but managed to
push herself upright without placing her hands on anything...delicate.
"I'm hungry," she sighed. They hadn't grabbed any dinner. They'd
woken up just in time to come up here for the show, and now she wanted to
correct that.
�Alright,� Sands acknowledged, as he remained lying on the
roof of the car, already missing the feeling of his wife pressed against him.
He himself still had no appetite whatsoever after the day�s events, but he
wasn�t going to make her starve just because he wasn�t hungry. �What would you
like?�
"Not too much. We're only going to go back to bed. Right?"
He shrugged. He had already taken up too much of her focus
today. He didn�t want to force any more of his decisions or problems onto her.
�If that�s what you want.�
"I don't know. It might be nice to go for a walk. I
haven't moved around much today and I don't want to get all stiff." They
started to gather their things, and after he climbed down, Sands helped Aida
down.
They were getting into the car when Sands paused. "Did
you hear that?" He wasn't sure what he'd heard - the crunch of gravel, a
twig snapping, a latch catching - but he was already
on edge from the fireworks and the rest of the day's traumas; his nerves were
very content to stay on edge.
Aida stopped. "Hear what?" she asked after being
silent for a moment. When Sands quietly explained what he heard, she shrugged. "Probably a deer or something. There's
lots of them up here."
Sands wanted to accept this; wanted to believe that he was
just being paranoid; but something didn�t feel right. Something was causing the
hairs on the back of his neck to stand up and an itch to develop between his
shoulder blades as if someone was watching him, and he couldn�t shake it.
There, he heard it again, the sound of wheels rolling slowly on gravel in a
sustained rasp. �I think someone�s following us,� he announced very calmly, not
bothering to turn around. Aida probably wouldn�t believe
him-especially not now-but he knew he was right.
"You think my brothers are spying on us?" she
asked as they climbed into their vehicle.
�Someone is, but I very much doubt that it�s your brothers.
Unless they�ve learned a few tricks in covert tactics while you�ve been away. I
probably wouldn�t have even noticed them if I hadn�t been listening for them,�
he murmured. �There�s a black Buick-how original-two car lengths down the road.
Don�t look. They�re the one�s following us. My bet�s
on CIA,� he said each word with coiled anxiety, as if this were the last straw
after a day of last straws. This was�inconceivable. There was no way in hell
all of this could happen to one man on one day. And yet, it was all happening. Right now. How was he supposed to fucking deal with all of
this shit without losing his mind? Check, his mind had already been fucking
lost earlier. He was running on fumes as it was, and this was the straw to
break the camel�s back.
�Let�s see if the bastard knows how to play chicken,� he
growled, completely overlooking Aida�s presence in the car with him in his rush
to try and deal with the plateful of shit he had just been handed and expected
to eat. There was no way in hell he was going to let them get away with this.
"What?" Aida asked in alarm, both at the cool way
he said my bet's on the CIA, and his proposed game of chicken.
��macabre burning screaming metal around their heads,� Sands
murmured to himself darkly as he stared down the other car over the steering
wheel as he put the SUV into gear. He hadn�t seemed to notice Aida�s frantic
question.
"What are you doing?" she asked again, her voice
turning waspish in her fear even as she fastened her seatbelt. "Sands?"
�I�m playing chicken with the CIA. What�s it look like?� he
asked reasonably, not stopping to think about what she had said.
"Isn't that more than a tad bit dangerous? What if
you're wrong?" Aida's knuckles went white on the armrest as Sands
accelerated.
�Then we�ll both die in a beautiful fucking display of metal
on metal. We�ll make our own fireworks. But I�m not wrong.� Still, he said all
of this as calmly as if he were talking about the weather. Still they went
faster and faster, and still the oncoming car didn�t move. �Oh, there�s a real
cowboy behind the wheel,� he said with a delighted laugh. �Should
make things more interesting.�
"Has it ever occurred to you," Aida said, swallowing
hard, "that I don't want to die after fighting so hard to live?"
�We�re not going to die, Aida. He�s going to blink first.�
He didn�t sound as sure of himself as he had a few minutes ago. And he wasn�t
laughing any longer. The fun had left the entire experience, leaving it dull
and definitely dangerous. �Fine.� He moved the car
back into the right lane with a screech of tires feeling utterly disgusted with
himself as he did so. He had given in to the fucking CIA. It made him sick just
thinking about it. He didn�t bother turning to look if they had turned around
to follow them. He honestly didn�t care anymore.
It was apparent that the CIA did care though, when
they swung into a tight U-turn and came after them, making no attempt to hide
themselves as they turned on their headlights.
�We should have taken the Porsche,� Sands muttered as he
caught a glimpse of the car gaining speed on them in the rearview mirror. �We�d
be able to outrun them.�
Aida didn't answer or even comment. She simply curled up in
her seat, not liking how she was starting to feel afraid. Or
how her husband had turned so...ruthless.
Sands scowled in the mirror at the car following closely
behind them. �Fucking trained apes. I used to have
respect for the CIA but now, now that�s all lost. They couldn�t even manage to
trail me without being fucking caught. I thought they were supposed to be
fucking spies. This is bullshit. They couldn�t tell their asses from
their elbows. You hear that, you spineless pricks!� he
yelled into the mirror. �I�m not afraid of you!�
I am. Aida watched the other car in the
passenger-side mirror. She was afraid of who these men turned her husband into.
And whether it was right or wrong, all she could think about was helping him
get away so he'd be her husband again.
"Drive through town, then south for twenty miles.
There's a ferry downriver. It runs until midnight, and it can only take one car
at a time. The trip is half an hour long and the nearest bridge is another
twenty miles downriver. Either way it'll give us a jump."
Sands followed her directions as she spoke them, feeling a
swell of pride and bravado go through him as she was
helping him fight the law. �God, I love this,� he sighed clearly enjoying
himself as he fled two no doubt highly trained-despite appearances-members of
the CIA. �It�s intoxicating. The best of killing, fucking, drinking and smoking
all rolled into one.�
If she'd ever needed
proof that her husband was insane, this was it. This was nothing like the
trouble she'd gotten into as a teen - even though she had gotten arrested once
for some minor vandalism. This was life-endangering and she didn't like it one
bit.
�Only when confronted with death do we ever truly feel
alive,� he sighed. �The way your heart pounds in your chest, knowing that each
breath might be your last�there�s nothing like it.� He raced through the city
as Aida directed him, going as fast as he possibly could without getting into
any accidents. Although that might be fun too. He
wasn�t even wearing his seatbelt so he would surely go flying through the
windshield upon contact-one last push of freedom through flight before the end.
I am enjoying this a little too much, he thought to himself absently as
he felt arousal take him in a firm grip and shake him hard to get his attention.
If there were some way to do all of this while fucking Aida at the same
time�his mind reeled at the thought.
Aida whimpered a little as Sands swerved to avoid a car that
almost backed into them, realized that he'd never turned on their lights, and
then they were out of town and speeding down the highway. Get me out of this
and I promise to go to Mass for the rest of my life, Aida vowed, curling
into a tighter ball in her seat.
�Fuck you, you bastards, you�re earning your pay tonight,�
he sang into the rearview mirror. �You can�t catch me. You never will. I�m
smarter than all of you. I�ll always be one step ahead. Why don�t you take
those shiny little badges you�re so fond of flashing to get laid, and stick
them sideways up your asses.� He laughed as their car nearly sideswiped a bus. �Almost. They almost got you. You won�t be so fucking lucky
next time. And if you survive this and come after me again, I�ll go after your
families after I�ve killed you both.�
"Sands, please don't talk like that," Aida begged
softly. She was scared, and he was not helping. She wasn't even sure he knew
she was there anymore.
�Like what, sweetness? I�m only letting them know where they
stand.� He yelled a curse as he narrowly avoided someone who was trying to
change lanes.
"They can't hear you." I can.
�That doesn�t matter. They should know better anyway.�
"If they know better, then surely you don't have to
keep saying those things."
�Fine, fine, fine.� He very nearly
reached for his gun in the center console and shot the driver who had just
attempted to cut him off. Aida stopped him though. �You�re not having any fun,�
he pouted.
"No. I'm not." In fact she was trembling, worse
than Sands had during the fireworks.
�Why not? I�m having fun. This is
the must fun I�ve had all day.�
"I'm not like you," she whispered.
�Nobody�s like me.�
"I'm scared."
�Of what? Of
them? You don�t need to be scared of them. They�re nothing.�
That's not what I'm scared of. Not fully. "If
they weren't anything," she murmured, to hide her real thoughts, "we
wouldn't be running."
�We�re running because it�s fun. If you�re not scared of
them, then what are you scared of?� he hesitated as a thought occurred to him.
�Are you scared of me? But I haven�t done anything.�
"I didn't say I wasn't scared of them. It's just that
you said that they were nothing, which, while it implies that I shouldn't be
scared of them, it also implies that we shouldn't be running."
�Do you want me to stop running? I can always just shoot
them?�
Aida shook her head violently. "No. I don't want
that."
�Why not? They�re chasing us.
Doesn�t that make you mad?�
"No. It hurts. Because they knew where to find us,
which means they talked to my parents, and I don't know what they know to tell
my parents. They could be terrified for my life right now. Or they could be
ready to disown me."
�You don�t need them, Aida. I�ve managed just fine without
mine.�
But mine loved me, Aida thought, just before a
firework went off and shattered the back window. She screamed as she realized
that there was no one around to be setting off fireworks.
�And that is why I don�t like fireworks anymore,� he
muttered with a baleful glare in the mirror. �Those sons of bitches are
shooting as us. Stay down, Aida.� He had enough presence of mind to know
without a doubt just what would happen if she got shot. He didn�t want that to
happen. �How much further to the fucking ferry?� he yelled over the roar of the
highway they could now hear with the back window being gone.
"Th-there's a sign a mile
before," she yelled back, slipping out of her seat and into the foot well.
Absurdly grateful that she'd pushed her seat all the way back earlier in the
day, she huddled down and tried not to shriek with each of the following
gunshots. And there were a lot. They're trying to shoot out the tires, she
thought dully.
Sands was crouched down as far as
he could while trying to drive and not get shot at the same time. There was no
way in hell he was going to be able to see a fucking sign. He was out of
options. �Hang on,� he told her, and slammed on the breaks.
Aida screamed - she couldn't help it - and braced herself
between the dashboard and her seat. The car swung around and then was blessedly
still.
�Stay here.� He grabbed his .45 and an extra magazine out of
the center console, made sure to turn the safety off on the handgun, and
reached around his seat to open the passenger door behind him. He tried not to
wince as at least three slugs from the guns of the CIA agents behind them made
contact with the door. This was a new fucking car, damn it.
He took a breath, gripped his .45 tightly and opened his
door.
"Sands!" Aida yelled,
almost going after him. What was he doing? Was he trying to get himself killed?
What was she supposed to do then? More gunfire cut her musing short as she
clapped her hands over her ears and cringed, her teeth grinding together as she
bit back more screams.
Sands and the two CIA agents exchanged rounds long enough
for Sands to get a pretty good idea as to where they were both standing as they
shot at him. He was outnumbered, it was true, but he could tell right away that
they were both rookies. They found their cover and they stuck to it. They
didn�t move around in any show of tactics, they just shot at him while he shot
back. Who do these bastards think they are? He thought with a rueful
shake of his head. I could do this with my fucking eyes closed. He was
tempted to try, but then was reminded of Aida�s presence in the car as one of
the two halfwits took another shot through the already shattered window. It was
time to end this.
He stilled his breathing and measured his heart rate until
he was only aware of his own body, everything else faded into the background.
It was then that he took aim. Two shots each through narrow cracks in their
cover, roughly four seconds, and they were both dead. Piece
of cake. He hadn�t even needed the extra rounds. It was
almost�disappointing. He held cover for a moment longer to make sure that they
were both well and truly dead before flipping the safety back on the .45 and
getting back into the car after closing the bullet-riddled passenger door.
�Aida, it�s alright now. They won�t be bothering us again. You can get back in
your seat.�
Aida - trembling and with her hands still clapped over her
ears - didn't hear a word he said. She was cold, that was all she knew.
Sands frowned when she didn�t move. He put the gun and extra
magazine back into the console-out of sight, out of mind-and reached over to
touch her shoulder gently. �Aida, you�re safe now. They�re gone.�
She whimpered and shuddered, shying away from him.
Sands held his fingers where they were,
not knowing what to do with them. He tried calling to her again. �Aida
please, talk to me. You�re safe now. Everything is
going to be alright but we can�t stay here.�
Slowly - painfully slowly - Aida lowered her arms. Her face,
when she looked up at him, was bone white, her eyes enormous.
�I�m taking you home, Aida,� he said slowly upon seeing her
face. �You�re safe now.�
"Home?" she whispered, her mouth dry.
�Whichever home you want.� He
wasn�t about to deny her anything seeing her in that state.
"I don't have a home."
�Then where do you want me to take you if not home, Aida?�
"I don't feel good."
�What�s wrong? You didn�t get shot, did you?� he asked
frantically, his hands reaching out to touch and examine her for injury. He
could feel that he had gotten grazed across the right side of his head by a
passing bullet-at least one of them had been of some worth-but it wasn�t
serious, only bloody.
Aida let him run his hands over her, grateful for his
warmth. "I'm cold," she whispered between teeth that were practically
begging to be allowed to chatter.
�But are you shot?!� he asked, pulling her up so that she
was sitting her seat once more.
She shook her head with a jerky motion.
He heaved a sigh in relief. �Ok, you�re probably in shock
then. We can�I can deal with that.� He reached over her and levered her seat
back as far as it would go so that she was practically lying down. �Put your feet
up on the dashboard,� he instructed. Once she had done that, he reached back in
the back seat to grab one of the blankets they had been lying on as they had
watched the fireworks and draped it over her. �Stay warm, we�ll be back at the
hotel soon. I promise.� He thought he�d be able to get there. It wasn�t a very
big town. It occurred to him that their motel might be watched as well-they had
told Aida�s parents where they were staying, but he didn�t have any other
options. He needed somewhere to take her, and that was all he had.
"Can't go back," she whispered. "Not
safe."
�I don�t know where else to take you, Aida. It�s too far
back to the hotel and sunrise.�
"Have to. We need to leave."
�Aida, for all I know you could be fucking dying right now
because your heart�s not working properly from the shock. We need somewhere
safe where I can look after you.�
"I'm fine. Just want to go."
�You�re not fine. And neither am I,� he murmured, noticing
just how much his hands were shaking on the steering wheel as he drove. It was
probably just an adrenalin rush though. And he was pretty sure the cut on the
side of his head had stopped bleeding.
"Can't go back to town like this.
Too conspicuous."
Sands frowned and glanced down at her briefly before
returning his eyes to the road. "I have no choice, Aida."
Exhausted, traumatized, and terrified of seeing her family,
Aida started to weep. She couldn't go
back, she couldn't. Why didn't he see that? She just wanted to leave.
"Aida please don't cry. If you
don't want to go back to the motel�then we won't. We'll go back to the hotel
with Salida and the cats. It's not really that far. We'll make it. Just don't
cry. Everything will be alright."
"Don't make me go back," she cried. As long as he didn't make her do that, she'd
be fine.
"I won't, I won't. I promise. You won't have to go
there ever again if you don't want to," Sands attempted to reassure her,
not knowing what else to do.
Her sobs eased as her desperation and despair did. While the tears didn't fully stop, she was
able to compose herself a little. "I don't want to go back," she
whispered again.
"Why not? I'm not going to
make you, but why, Aida? Don't you want to see your family again?" Sands
asked curiously. If she didn't, that was more than fine with him, but he was
confused.
"No, no..."
His question agitated her again and she lost some of her composure, but
she still tried to answer his question.
"Th-they'll ta-alk
at me...and...and they'll m-m-make sense...after
tonight...and they'll want me t-to lea-ave, and-and
I'll...I'll..." Her heart wrenching
sobs took over for a brief moment, but she gulped, and finished. "I d-don't want to leave you!"
Sands stopped the car. He didn't care how it looked-bullet
holes in one of the doors and a shattered back window-he needed to concentrate
on her and forget about driving. It wasn't important. She was. He turned to
her. "Aida, listen to me. We are never going to be separated. Do you
understand? Nothing will stand between us. Nothing. We will always be together."
"I stand
between us!"
"Shh, no you don't, Aida.
That's not true. I don't believe that."
She didn't want to argue - he wasn't going to come around to
her point of view no matter what she said - so she kept quiet.
"You don't believe me, do you? You think you stand
between us."
"You just killed two men," she whispered.
"I didn't kill them, they got themselves killed."
"You killed them," she repeated dully. "Never
mind that it was probably self-defense given the way that we really had no
proof who they were, and that if they'd shot out one of our tires, we might
have been killed since we were driving so fast... They're still dead, and I can
only think that there should have
been another way. And that's how I'll always be in the way."
"Just because we�don't agree on a few things doesn't
mean you stand in the way, Aida. You don't. No couple in history has ever
agreed on every single aspect of their lives together. So we have differences.
That doesn't mean that we're not working through those differences. We are.
You're not standing between us, you're standing next
to me."
Aida looked at him strangely, as if he was speaking in a
foreign language. "You make this seem like a small thing," she
murmured after staring at him blankly for a few seconds. "Like
we can't agree on where to shop, or where to live. What just happened
is...is revolting to me."
It was his turn to stare at her in confusion. "I can't
understand that," he admitted. "People live and people die, Aida.
What does it matter how or when or where they die?"
"There's a big difference between a heart-attack and
being gunned down in the street."
"No, there isn't. Death is death, Aida. The means
doesn't change the end. We're all going to die. Whether by murder or a shark
attack or in a fire or falling off a building or simply going to sleep and
never waking up, it's all the same. We all die."
"So if I died right now it wouldn't really be that big
of a thing because I was going to go sooner or later anyway?"
"No, that's not-that's not what I meant. I mean, it
doesn't�it doesn't matter that I killed those men. It was their time to die.
But no, it's not yours. Don't say that."
"How do you know?" she asked. "What if I decide it's my time? What if I just
decided that I had no purpose left in life," her hand snaked towards the
center console and the gun it contained, "and that I might as well just stop?" She managed to get the gun
before he could stop her. For a long moment she held it pointed at herself, her
eyes locked with his. Then, slowly, she flipped off the safety and pointed the
weapon at him. "What if I decided that I should shoot you?" she asked
softly. "Would that make it your
time to go?"
Sands knew he was a very sick man indeed when a shiver of
arousal ran through his body as she pointed the gun at him. "I guess�it
would. Are you going to shoot me, Aida?"
Aida laughed despairingly when Sands refused to acknowledge
the point she was trying to make. "No," she whispered, flipping the
safety back on. "But please stop giving me this bullshit that there's some
kind of higher purpose behind this thing you do. You're not God and you're not
the angel of death, and just because you do something doesn't mean there's some
greater purpose behind it." Wearily, she put the gun back.
"What would you have me say, Aida?" he asked,
almost sorry to see the gun go as the fire between his legs began to abate a
little. "I don't care about them. I never have. I don't care whether they
live or die. I kill those who get in my way, and even those who don't. I kill
the innocent and the guilty; it makes no difference to me. I simply don't care. Would you rather I said
that?"
"I like that better than you stylizing yourself as a
psychotic grim reaper." Aida laid back down and closed her eyes. "I don't care where
we go anymore."
"Oh, then what would you have me style myself as? I'm
crazy enough that I could probably talk myself into believing pretty much
anything. There's a whole slew of infamous serial
killers for you to choose from if that's your thing. Hannibal
Lecter? I haven't turned cannibal yet, but I'm
sure I could give it my best shot. No? How about Jack the Ripper? I do like to
kill women. Have I ever mentioned that? I've probably killed more women for
pleasure than men. That's why we came to New Orleans
in the first place, you know. I killed some whore in Las
Vegas and sunrise thought it prudent to flee the
state. That's doesn't strike your fancy either, huh? Well damn, I guess you're
just stuck with me, your schizophrenic, sociopathic husband."
"I'm going home," Aida whispered, opening her car
door and climbing out. Her legs were a little shaky, but so what? Her husband
didn't care about her feelings, he didn't care that he didn't care, and there
were just some gaps that couldn't be bridged.
Sands got out of the car to follow her. "Aida, get back
into the car. You don't want to go back there, remember? And you're in no shape
to be walking anywhere. Now please, get back in the car. I won't say another
word."
"Until the next time," she murmured, still
walking. "I go back now, they convince me to
listen to my conscience. Yes, they probably ratted us
out, but only because they believe that I'm incapable of living with a
murderer. Hell, I won't be able to stay because I won't let you take all the
blame, but I can always go back to New Orleans.
Or I can go with you, and we have this same discussion every single time you
have to rub my face in the fact that I have a conscience and you don't, until
my heart has been torn into tiny little shreds and I end up slitting my wrists.
Life's a bitch."
"No, don't say that. Don't leave, Aida. I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to say all of those things. I don't feel that way. I'm not like
that. I just said them because I'm�scared, alright? I was just in a shootout
with the CIA for Christ's sake. But that's no excuse to take it out on you. I'm
sorry, Aida. Don't go. Please don't go."
"You do mean them, Sands. Please don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying to you, Aida. I don't�I don't know what
I mean. I don't know why I'm not like everyone else." He slumped as he
stood, looking as if he had already lost her. "When I first�killed
someone, I was scared. I didn't know why I didn't feel guilty. I knew what
guilt was, I still do, and yet I didn't feel it. I felt nothing except fear
that I felt nothing. I didn't know what words like sociopath or psychotic
really meant. They didn't apply to me. They couldn't. I wasn't like that. I was
normal. Only I wasn't. I never have been. I'm just�wrong, Aida. Everything
about me is wrong. Some vital part of what makes people human simply isn't
there in my brain and I don't know why. I've been searching my entire life for
a reason and still I don't have one. I'm insane, evil, psychotic, sociopathic,
dangerous, whatever you want to call it. I�never understood how you could love
me." He used the past tense because it was clear that she didn't love him
anymore.
"I'm sorry, Aida. I'm sorry for ever coming into your
life. I'm sorry I fucked everything up for you. I can't say I didn't mean to,
because I knew what would happen if you stayed with me. I knew the choices you
would be forced to make. And I didn't care. I only wanted you with me. I still
do. But I can't�blame you for leaving. I think I would have long ago if I was
in your position. People like me are meant to be alone."
He took a seat on the pavement where he stood, his legs
suddenly unable to support him anymore. He didn't bother to get up. "Try
and forget about me, Aida. You'll probably be happier that way," he
murmured. "All I've brought you is pain and death. I'm sorry." He
buried his face in his hands, unable to face her any longer. He had lost her.
Aida stopped. She didn't turn around to look at him, but she
stopped. "You realize that this is what you say every single time we go through this, right? That you always say
that I have every right to leave, and that while I'm your reason for living,
you understand why I feel like I have to." She laughed disbelievingly,
more at herself than at him. "And I always let the guilt trip get to me.
You're one hell of a manipulator, you know that, right?"
"I know," he murmured, sounding disgusted with
himself. "It's a gift," he said with a sneer. "Just go, Aida. No
guilt. Just go."
"You know that I'll end up in jail, right?"
"What?" he looked up at her, disbelieving. "No,
you won't. You can't. You haven't done anything."
"I know everything about what you've done. They'll question me and I'll be charged with
the obstruction of justice when I don't answer."
"I've made you like me," he said dully, staring
off into the distance yet seeing nothing. "I think I'm going to be
sick."
"No you won't."
"Why do you say that?" he groaned as he held a
hand to his clearly nauseous stomach. The thought that he had brought her down
with him made him feel physically ill.
"You've already spent considerable time and effort
explaining how you don't really care about anything. If this is how I'm going
to live the rest of my life, it must be fate."
"I don't believe in fate. And I care about you. You are
probably the only person I have ever cared about. And I do care, Aida. I know
you don't believe me, but it's true." He took a couple of deep breaths in
an attempt to calm his raging stomach.
"How can you say that you don't believe in fate, yet
believe that certain people are meant to die by your hand?"
"I don't know," he said with a slow shake his
head. "I�don't really believe that people are put in my way to die�that
was always the best excuse I could come up with to attempt to rationalize my
actions. It doesn't work anymore," he murmured.
"Because of me."
"Maybe."
There was silence for a long moment before Aida finally
asked, "What am I supposed to do, Sands? You're my husband and I love you.
My loyalties belong to you. I'm willing to give up my home, my family, and my
freedom for you. But I have to have some kind of incentive to stay with you. Life with you has got to
be better than life without you."
"Help me," he pleaded with her softly, looking up
to her with wide, completely soul-bearing eyes even though she was still turned
away from him. "Help me to change; to stop killing. I can't�won't
do it on my own. I won't. I'll say I'll try, but it would be a lie. I don't
want to change. I like who I am. But�I want to change for you. I hate who I am
for what I've done to you. As for the sociopathy�I
don't know how to change that except by drugs. I'll�I'll take them. I will. For you."
Finally - finally
- she turned around to face him. "This isn't the first time you've
promised to stop killing," she reminded him gently.
He nodded. "But it is the first time I've said I'll
take whatever anti-psychotics they give me," he said softly, unable to
hold her gaze.
"What about Jeffrey?"
"If I'm going to change�I have to stop thinking about
him," he murmured. "He'll fight, but there's no other way."
"And Salida?"
"She'll fight too. But�I don't know what to do about
that."
"And her children?"
"What do you want me to say, Aida? Her children would
probably be better off without their parents anyway."
"She's not just going to leave."
"I know," he said with a sigh. "And neither
will Jeffrey if it comes to that. But I don't know what else to do, Aida."
"Do you think we could...compromise? That somehow you could take
enough to ease your socopathic tendencies but not
enough to incite war?"
"I don't know," he said honestly.
"I'm willing to talk it over...if you are. And to be honest, I'd feel guilty about...you
know. Getting rid of
them."
"Aida, the anti-psychotics alone could be enough to get
rid of Jeffrey," Sands said quietly.
"I'm willing to talk it over," she repeated.
"Alright. When?"
he said with a sigh. "And�I couldn't just�go and get a bottle of thorazine or lithium or whatever.
They have to be prescribed."
"I know. Even this is risky. But the place to talk
about this isn't the middle of the road, and you were right when you said I was
in no condition to do any walking. Let's just find somewhere to spend the night
were we can also get a new car tomorrow."
"Alright," he murmured and rose to his feet. The
world tilted sharply to the left and he was nearly back on the ground again as
a wave of vertigo came over him, but he kept his feet
under him. "Whoa. Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head a little as if
to clear it. "Let's go."
"Are you alright?" she asked with no small amount
of concern.
"I don't know. I think so. I don't know what that was,
but it seems to have passed. Don't worry about me. Are you alright?"
"No. I'm not. But I'm not going anywhere either."
He gave her a weak smile at that as they got back into the
car.
*****
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More Than Darkness