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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
- 81
- 82
- 83
Something was different. He didn�t quite know what it
was but he knew that much. Something had changed and recently too. Reality was
once more in an uproar it had been enough for him to open a single eye and pay
the smallest amount of attention. If things remained the same�if he awoke to
find himself still in that all white cell in chains and isolation�he would
simply roll over and return to his life of nonexistence. But on the other
hand�on the other hand if something was different than he might just be tempted
out long enough to take a look.
He opened that single eye and looked. And things were
different. Gone was the white cell. Gone were the chains and orange jumpsuit.
What was going on? He cared enough to open both eyes and look around. His eyes
came upon a face. It was familiar and yet he couldn�t place it. Someone he had
known from before; a woman with dark hair and blue eyes. She glanced over at
him as if feeling his stare and the sense of recognition only deepened.
"They didn't tire you out that much, did they, Jeffrey?" Salida
was lying on the floor, looking her husband in the eye. Maeve had come into the
kitchen a few moments before to tell her "Daddy fell down and won't wake
up," before snatching a cookie and leaving the room to go draw. Used to
such reactions from her daughter, Salida had gone into the living room to wait
for Jeffrey to wake up.
He just frowned. The voice triggered something more
as did the name, and yet it wasn�t right. These things weren�t his. They were
someone else�s. �Jeffrey?� he repeated, confusion marked on his face. No, even
the sound of it wasn�t right. That wasn�t his name.
"Sands?" Salida turned her head a bit so she could see
into his eyes better. "Sands?"
There. That�that was better.
Was that his name? Sands? �Sands,� he said slowly, as
if trying it out. �Yes. Sands.� He blinked at her,
bringing himself to a sudden upright position as the sense of his surroundings
crashed down upon him for the first time. �Where? The
white�it�s gone.� He looked down at his hands, pulling them apart to test his
range of motion. �No chains,� he murmured dully.
"Jeffrey escaped from prison nearly three months
ago," Salida said softly.
�Escaped?� the word seemed unreal. �Is�this�real?� he
asked with an effort, struggling to regain some form of lucidity.
"Yes. It's all real."
His mind reeled. It was an unpleasant sensation. �How long? How long was I there?�
"Nearly two and a half years. Or at least, that's
how long you were gone. The trial and various proceedings took about nine
months, and two months before that for them to figure out what jurisdiction had
the strongest claim on you."
�Two and a half�� he couldn�t comprehend it. �She did
this to me. Spitfire. Why did she do it? What did I do
wrong?�
Salida was quiet for a very long time. Finally she
said, "I don't know. Maybe the news about her parents sent her over the
edge. Maybe madness really is catching. Maybe her guilt about living with a man
who caused the death of so many others finally got to her."
�She betrayed me. She�she took my life away from me. My child.� His eyes widened. �She took my child.� He looked
at her desperately. �Tell me. Do you know? Where is my child?�
Salida shook her head. "I don't know. I did some
checking around right after you got caught. Aida just...she just took off. She
probably knew what I was planning for her. Anyway, I did some checking around;
she used one of the emergency accounts to get a plane ticket to Brazil, and
then to England. But after that, I don't know. For all I know, she got a job
and got herself away under a false name. I could only track her while she used
your money."
�I�m going to kill her. She took my child.� Her
betrayal didn�t seem to weight nearly half as much as that simple fact in
Sands� mind.
"Alright."
�Where are we?�
"London. It was easiest for us at the
time."
�Easiest for who? I heard
voices before�who�?�
"Me, and Jeffrey, and the
twins."
�The twins?� It dawned him. �How old?�
"Thirty-four months."
�Thirty-four months,� he
repeated. He didn�t know how old his child would be but knew it had to be close
to that, didn�t it? Had it been born? Time had gone strange. He had missed two
birthdays. He didn�t remember having either of them but surely he had. He was
older. The evidence surrounded him.
"I'm the oldest." Salida and Sands turned
around to see Julian and Maeve standing in the doorway. "But Maeve's
meaner."
Maeve had other things on her mind though. "Who's
that man, Mommy?"
�Dear god,� Sands whispered upon seeing them. It was
true. These were Jeffrey�s children. He could see it. He had a memory of
feeding Julian. Had it been days ago? No. It had been years. Years that had
been cut out of his life as if they had never existed.
"That's Daddy, stupid," Julian said.
"No it's not," Maeve insisted. "It's
someone else."
�I�m Sands,� Sands told the girl softly. �You�re
Maeve. I remember you. And you�re Julian.� The names came to him easily as they
had always been there.
"You're the man that lives with Daddy,"
Maeve concluded. "Mommy told us about you."
�What did she say?�
"She said that once we all lived together, and
that you had a wife, and she and Daddy were married, and had us, and then your
wife lost her mind and made you both go away."
Sands eyed Salida silently for a moment before
speaking. �This is what you told them?� He shook his head. �Nevermind.
Yes. That�s�your mother was telling you the truth.�
"I had to tell them something," Salida
muttered. "And they are only
children."
Sands shook his head. �It doesn�t matter. That�s good
enough as anything I suppose,� he murmured.
"I'm glad you approve," she muttered wryly.
Then in a louder voice, she asked her children to go play in their room for
awhile. This produced two disgusted looks, but Julian and Maeve did as she
asked.
Sands watched the two children go with thinly veiled
fascination. They had been infants last time he had seen them. He couldn�t yet
discern any clear forms of psychosis within them yet but he knew it had to be
there. Their parentage left them with no other choice. �How did Jeffrey
escape?�
"He had a seizure and woke up in the infirmary
before they'd strapped him to the table."
Sands shook his head. He didn�t remember that at all.
�I guess I should be thanking him.�
Salida rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he'd understand
if you 'forget' to. Can I get you anything? Something to eat?
Drink?"
�I don�t know,� he said with a sigh. He was still
trying to adjust to all of this. One day he had been caught, chained and
celled, and the next he was a free man determined to murder his own wife and
take back the child that was stolen from him. It was a lot to take in.
"That's alright. Maybe you'd like to simply go
outside."
Outside. Fresh air, freedom, open spaces. He glanced around the room he was
in�a fairly large living area by most people�s standards�and suddenly felt as
if the walls were closing in on him. �Yes. Outside.
Have to go outside. Claustrophobia,� he muttered, rising to his feet and
searching for the door.
Salida stood and took one of Jeffrey's coats out of
the coat closet. "It's raining, and it's the middle of winter, so take
this. The porch should protect you from most, but you don't want to get
wet."
In truth he didn�t care if he simply melted away like
a sugar cube. He just wanted to go outside.
But he took the coat anyway and nodded, pulling it on as he passed through the
door as if the house were on fire and breathed in deep the scent of cool rain
and fresh air as if he had been suffocating. He sank to the ground and simply
sat in the middle of the dry porch and listened to the rain, occasionally
moving to stick his head out from under the awning to feel the cold droplets on
his face. He remembered sitting on another porch�it had been warm then�talking
with her. She had asked him to kill someone; to kill the murderer of her
parents. He had agreed, he had done what she wanted, and still she had betrayed
him. Was Susannah dead now? He didn�t know. Had he
done what she had last instructed him to do before everything had ended? He had
to. He had promised. She had promised never to forsake him and she had lied�but
he hadn�t lied. He had done nothing wrong. Why had she done it?
As no answers were forthcoming Sands simply sat in
silence listening to the rain.
***
"Ada!"
The former Aida Grant turned around as one of her
coworkers called her name. "Don't even ask, Joe. I can't go out. I have to
get home. I promised Ian we'd do something together tonight. Besides, opening
is tomorrow and I've got to get enough rest."
"Oh, I don't know. If you left off the concealer
during your big scene, you wouldn't have to do much to make big dark circles
under your eyes."
"Gee, thanks, Joe." Aida shook her head.
"I gotta go."
"Suit yourself. Say hello to Ian for me."
"Will do." Having
used up her last dregs of politeness for the day, Aida turned and started the
short walk home. Just as she had in New Orleans, she lived as closely - and
cheaply - as she could to her work. No small task, but luckily the man who
owned the apartment building she lived in now also owned the theater she worked
at, and he gave his employees a small discount on their rent.
Aida needed it. While her life was very much like it
had been in the States, having not had to struggle to make it had dulled her.
Living on her own with a child to raise by herself why trying to not use Sands'
money had been like a shock of cold water. She'd come back to reality quickly.
Yes, she regretted what she'd done, regretted it so deeply that it was part of
who she was - and part of the reason she'd gotten the part of Lady Macbeth who
knew a few things about guilt herself - but she had a life to lead. She
couldn't wallow in guilt, and if she wandered around her small apartment at
night because she was unable to sleep� That wasn't anyone's business but her own.
She reached the lobby of her building just as it
started to sleet again. Trying to warm herself, she took the stairs to the
second floor where the landlady lived. Mrs. Stayton-Lewis was a widow in her
mid-sixties and had been delighted to watch Ian while Aida worked. Even the small
amount that Aida paid for that service eventually came back to her in the form
of all goodies, toys, books, and trips that the woman spoiled Ian with.
As she reached the second floor landing, childish
laughter floated down the hall to her ears, relaxing every tense muscle in
Aida's body. She knew she didn't deserve Ian - his name reflected that,
reminded her that only by God's grace did she have such a joy in her life - and
she cherished her time with him. After
this run of Macbeth I'll finally have enough saved up to quit my second
job. Every night before she could go to bed, Aida worked two or three hours
at transcribing and coding medical records for a private medical practice
downtown. All the money she got from that job had gone to pay off the home
courses she'd taken, her worn but reliable Volkswagen, and slowly built up her
savings. Of course, she was going to really have to wow the theater critics in
this, her first leading role since joining a troupe here in London, to be
financially independent. That's why tomorrow was so important.
Spending the evening with Ian would help. He helped
to center her.
"Mama!" Ian's
young voice rang out as Aida slipped into her landlady's apartment. He was on
the floor, playing - if that was the right word - with Macy, Mrs.
Stayton-Lewis' ancient Schnauzer.
Laughing, Aida swooped him
up into her arms before he could get to his still awkward feet, covering his
squealing face with kisses.
Yes. This makes
it all nearly worthwhile. Aida shoved away the specter of her past for the
time being. It was hard; Ian looked just like his father. Even at the tender
age of two and a half she could tell. It had led her to allow his hair to grow
a bit long. The resemblance was even more striking then. And in the times when
she found herself watching her son sleep as she thought about her husband, she
found herself praying for them all.
"Is that you, Ada,
darling?" Anne - as Mrs. Stayton-Lewis insisted on being called - came out
of the kitchen, drying her hands on a tea towel. "Do you care to stay for
dinner?"
"Not tonight, but thank you." Aida smiled.
"Ian and I have plans."
"I heard. Pago's�"
The older woman shook her head in mingled distaste and wonderment. The restaurant
was one that catered exclusively to young families. It was boisterously noisy,
garishly decorated, and the food wasn't anything great�but kids loved it.
"May I talk to you for a moment before you go, then?"
"Of course." Aida
set Ian down and he scampered off to find his coat, backpack, and the
belongings that went in it. Watching for a moment because she couldn't help
herself, Aida reluctantly turned her head back to her friend. "What is
it?"
"Not to alarm you or anything�" Aida
immediately knew the news wasn't going to be good. "�but I thought I saw a
strange man watching Ian today in the park. Now, I'm not really sure because he
was so far away that I couldn't really tell what he was looking at for
certain�but I just had a feeling that
he was watching Ian."
Aida stifled a shiver. She'd been dreading something
like this. You could get newspapers from virtually anywhere here in London and
she got the Sunday USA Today religiously every week. She knew that Sands had
gotten out of prison, that he'd escaped, but that had
been in mid-October and it was February now. If Sands had wanted to find her,
he would have immediately. Right?
"Do you know what he looked like?"
"No. Like I said, he was nowhere close to
us."
"Nothing? You couldn't
even tell his hair color?"
Some of her worry - extreme for the situation - must
have broken through because Anne looked at her strangely. "He was wearing
a hat." She hesitated, then continued, "This
doesn't have anything to do with your past that you're so secretive about, does
it?"
"Nonsense. My life's an
open book." Or at least the worst
bits have been in the newspaper. "I'm just cautious. You know that.
I'm sure it was nothing."
Please, please,
please, please�
***
I have a son. A son, a son, a son. Sands repeated to himself over and over as he sat still as a statue on a
weather worn park bench. He had been sitting there for hours but he didn�t mark
the time. He had seen his son. He had found him. Here! In London where they had
been all along! Fate must have loved him still. It was the only explanation. It
wanted him to have his son back. It wanted him to take him�he had not yet
learned his son�s name but he thought it was something like Ian�--away from
her. And he would. He would watch her looking so high and mighty up on that
stage. The irony of the part she was to play was astounding. His wife the great
actress playing the part she was born for�guilt-ridden Lady Macbeth. He hoped
the guilt would drive her mad as he had done the Shakespearean queen.
He would watch her. He would learn her habits, watch
her comings and goings. He had to see for himself what she had done with the
life he had stolen from him. It was clear she didn�t care for their son. Why
else would she leave him alone day in and day out with a doddering old woman
who probably couldn�t even remember her own name? The whole thing disgusted
him. But he wouldn�t make her pay. Not yet. He would watch and he would wait.
The moment would come. He just had to be patient. He had learned much in the
way of patience over the last two years. And of vengeance.
***
"Ada! Get your make-up
on, woman! The curtain rises in ten minutes!"
Aida shook her head. If the play started in ten
minutes, she'd spent the last half hour staring absently into her vanity
mirror. She was uneasy tonight - something beyond the usual mild stage-fright. Something was tying her stomach in knots and making her check
overhead for the other shoe that was about to fall.
I'm being
silly. It's just that thinking that someone's been watching Ian makes me
nervous. And that's leaking into this. Aida powdered her face, making sure
none fell on her costume. Nothing's going
to happen. This isn't some Moulin Rouge situation where someone's going to get
shot before the curtain call.
Yet in spite of all her mental prepping, the next
thing Aida knew, she was on stage, reciting some of her most emotional lines.
"�fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty! make
thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings
of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, your murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest
smoke of hell
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark
To cry, 'Hold, hold!'"
Sands watched from the middle of the crowded theater,
an anonymous face among the crowd. He had waited and killed a solitary ticket
holder after finding the performance was sold out. He had been careful though;
the body was currently residing in the bottom of the Thames. It wouldn�t do
well to get caught again. Not when he was so close. He sat back in his chair
with a scowl and watched her. He couldn�t see her very well due to the distance
and heavy amount of makeup she wore, but he knew it was her. That voice haunted
his dreams.
"O, never
Shall sun that morrow see!
"O, never
Shall sun that morrow see!
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters:--to beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent
flower,
But be the serpent under't.
He that's coming
Must be provided for: and you�"
Aida felt herself being watched, which was
ridiculous. Of course she was being watched. But this...
No. Being ridiculous.
To cover her uneasiness - or rather, to emphasize it
and make it part of the character she was playing - she twirled around and
surveyed the crowd, making it appear as it Lady Macbeth was searching for the
right words to say. As if she was already having second
thoughts about what she was helping to plan.
"You shall
put
This night's great business into my despatch;
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom."
Sands met her eyes unflinchingly although he knew she
couldn�t see him. But that didn�t matter. They would have their meeting sooner
or later. When he found his moment. But it wouldn�t be
right if she didn�t know he was looking for her. I hope she likes my present, he thought to himself, smiling
wickedly.
***
Aida retreated as quickly as she could after curtain
call. Standing around in the public eye held no attraction for her this night.
All she wanted to do was get changed and go home. Ian would be asleep by now
but just sitting at his bedside would help calm her nerves.
She changed so quickly that she didn't even bother to
look over the flowers that had appeared in her dressing room during the
performance. Instead, she swept them into her arms and carried them to her car.
Five minutes later she was home, telling Anne that
she'd talk all about opening night the next day; she was just too tired to do
so now. Tired and still keyed up. So she set the bouquets of flowers around her
small home. There was a single red rose that she at first thought had fallen
out of another arrangement , but the small note attached made her think
otherwise. She had no small vases though; the rose went into another bouquet
and the note went into the small pile of white envelopes that had accompanied
various other offerings. These she took into Ian's room to read.
Her first order of business was to tuck her baby in
more securely, lightly stroking Ian's dark hair and soft cheek. She took his
small hand in hers and said a short prayer for him, mainly for protection. Then
she laughed at herself and sat down in the room's rocking chair to read
whatever notes had gotten through to her. The first few were the usual junk -
secret admirers, invitations to dinner (or more intimate meetings), entreaties
for help entering the theater, and the occasional sincere compliment.
It was the last envelope - the one that'd accompanied
the single red rose - that shook her the most though.
She Has Hurt Me
Hiding In The Shadows. Her eyes immediately skimmed to the bottom of the
page, looking for a signature. Since the paper looked as if it'd been ripped
straight from a library book, she wasn't surprised not to find one. That didn't
make her feel any better.
I don't have to
read this. I can throw it away now, get the handgun out of the closet, and just
wait for things to blow over. And this doesn't really have to apply to me, does
it? Couldn't it just be something that reminded
someone of Lady Macbeth? Because the same could be said of
her. Yes. That's what it probably is.
Not believing a word she was saying to herself, Aida
read the page.
She has hurt me hiding in the shadows,
Sealing her betrayal with a kiss.
She
surrounded my neck with her arms and
She left
my heart in cold blood behind my back.
And she
follows her road,
Happy, smiling, dauntless, and why?
Because
it doesn�t sprout blood from the wound,
Because the died is standing up.
Aida's fist clenched automatically, hiding the
chilling words from view. Getting up, she went to retrieve the rose that had
come with this�disturbing piece of poetry, and threw both out her window.
Sands watched the red rose he had gotten her fall
from the window to bounce violently on the pavement below. He smiled and walked
up after the window had been closed and crouched down to scoop up the battered
rose. He brought the ruined bud to his nose and breathed in its scent, somehow
thinking to himself that maybe it would smell like Aida. It didn�t and he let
it fall back down to the pavement, the petals further marred by a twisting boot
heel. Tomorrow I will have to send
another. A pity she didn�t like the poem I found for her. Goodnight my dearest
two-faced whore. May your nights never be restful again.
He sent a kiss up to the window and walked back to the park across the street
to continue his vigil, huddling himself against the cold he felt from within.
***
Three days passed. They weren't enough to make Aida
forget all the unsettling things that'd happened recently, but they were enough
to make her wonder if that had been it.
Anne had reported that she'd seen no one suspicious on her afternoon
walks with Ian. There had been no more disturbing notes left in her dressing
room. There had been no more feelings of being watched by unfriendly eyes...
Without being aware of it, Aida started to relax. And then she opened her front
door on Saturday morning and saw a thick envelope sitting on her unnecessary
doormat. She was reluctant to touch it, but even more reluctant to allow a
parcel of papers to scare her. So she brought it into her home.
It went ignored - not forgotten, but purposely
ignored - for most of the day. Aida went and preformed at her Saturday
afternoon matinee, came home, fetched Ian from Anne, made dinner...
She would have waited until after Ian was asleep to
read whatever she'd been given, but this time�this time she wanted the light of
day to back her up. So while Ian was playing under her watchful eye in the
bathtub, she reluctantly drew the literal sheaf of papers out and started to
read. Aida immediately knew that she should have burned this on sight, but now
that she'd started reading, she couldn't stop.
You sit in your
rocking chair looking through the engravings of a book of Shakespeare once
given as a birthday present. Your son is away, kept under the watchful eye of
Mrs Stayton-Lewis or Anne as she insists she be called. You can distantly hear
what you imagine to be your son�s cheerful voice in the park across the street.
You worry about him but you wouldn�t deny him his freedom; his play.
A sharp rap on the
door startles you out of your peacefulness. Had your son come home already? Was
it your neighbour coming by to say hello? You were wary but curiosity got the
better of you. You set the book aside without a thought and rise from your
chair to answer the door. It could be important. A thought chills your blood.
What if something happened to your son? What if something happened to Ian!
These thoughts quicken your pace until you are all but running to throw open
the door.
You do so, your
breathing quickened and your heart racing. You stare ahead in confusion.
There�s no one there. You stick your head out into the hall and that�s when you
feel a hand on your mouth smothering your scream. The fingers are cold and yet
somehow familiar. You feel yourself pushed back into the room, staring in
horror at the man you had once said you loved. He closes the door behind him
with his free hand, his other not moving from your mouth. You try to run; try
to arm yourself, but it is no use. He is strong and you are terrified.
�Hello Aida. Did you
miss me?� he�Sands�asked after sliding the bolt on the door to ensure that you
would not be interrupted. His voice was cold, whatever love he had once felt
for you had died in the years you had spent apart. He looked at you as if
waiting for a reply but his hand hadn�t moved from your mouth. �Don�t try to
fight. You know you can�t. I�ve seen our son by the way. The child you stole from me. He looks just like his
father, you know? I�ll bet that pisses you off. A pity you couldn�t have had a
red-headed little girl with curls like her mother. You wouldn�t have had to
look at her and think of the husband you had betrayed now would you? No, of course not.� His hand moved from the first time away
from your mouth but he held your arms fast in a crushing grip, keeping you
rooted to the spot. You didn�t know what to say. �What, no pleas for
forgiveness? No attempts at explanation? No reasons why you sought fit to
betray me?�
The reasons rose to mind automatically. This...this
was Sands in front of her. In writing. It was a
warning of what was to come, of what she could try to avoid but couldn't run
from forever. She didn't have the resources. She didn't want to upset Ian�
�she didn't want
to run. Sands was owed an explanation.
That doesn't
mean I have to keep reading this. I can stop now. Aida knew things were
just going to get worse the farther she read�but she couldn't tear her eyes
away. If this was Sands, she was desperate to know him. Desperate
to understand what was going through his head.
Desperate to know if he was venting
or predicting.
�I�I didn�t. Sands, please. Don�t hurt�� You�re cut off by a vicious slap
that rocks you on your feet. You probably would have fallen had it not been for
the viselike grip on your arm.
�Save your pleas,
whore,� he hissed. �I did everything you wanted. I even killed that bitch for
you after the fact and still you betrayed me. I loved you and you sold me out.
They could have killed me. You sent me to a certain death.� He laughed then and
you couldn�t help but shiver at the sound. �You�ve killed me. I may yet walk
and talk and breathe but I am dead. I lost two years of my life for you. My son
doesn�t know me. What do you tell him? Do you tell him I�m dead? I imagine you
do. It would be easiest, wouldn�t it? And you do so like making things easy,
don�t you Aida? Black and white. That�s all there is. Right and wrong. Love and hate. I didn�t immediately do what
you wanted to therefore you hated me. Fair enough. I can almost understand
that. But you betrayed me Aida. You forsook me. You�re nothing but a whore and
a liar and I�m going to kill you. I don�t imagine you�ll go to Heaven. Does
that bother you? You the perfect Catholic? I don�t
imagine your God looks too favourably on women who
forsake their husbands; on women who send them to their deaths. No, don�t you
dare shake your head at me,� he hissed, grabbing your chin roughly and forcing
it still. �You did this to me. You betrayed me. Do you know what they did to
me? Do you know what I�ve suffered? Fuck you. I know you want to know. You with all your curiosity; wanting to know what makes me tick;
wanting to know what I think. Fuck you. I�m done sharing. I�m done with
you.�
No! No, he
had everything wrong! She hadn't...not really...but she'd... Everything had
been so confusing. There she'd been, out of jail for a month - she knew what
he'd suffered. She'd suffered it for him, been condemned and sentenced in his
place. How could he forget that! - her parents killed
because of her thoughtlessness and his heartlessness. Knowing she was hated by
her siblings, knowing she was responsible for her parent's deaths just as much
as he was... So alone.
He hadn't understood that at all. He'd killed his own parents and never once
mourned for them, but he understood loneliness. He understood what it could
drive someone to do! Why did he still expect her to be always perfect? Why
could he not understand that she was entirely capable of making mistakes out of
fear, confusion, and guilt? Why, why, why...
�Until death do us part.� You remember those words, don�t you? I know I do. You
sent me to my death to be rid of me. Only I didn�t die. I sometimes wish I had
but life has never been good to me. Not once. I almost believed otherwise when
I met you but fuck, you can see how that turned out as well as I can.� His
hands moved from your arms to your throat, caressing your pale skin almost
lovingly for a moment. Your body goes tense. You know what�s coming. You try to
run, try to kick his feet out from under him, but it doesn�t work. He brings
you both down to the floor, his hands tightening around your neck. �I don�t
suffer a liar to live. Not one who wears the face of the woman I thought I
loved. I�m parting with you, Aida. Through death.
Don�t worry though. I�ll take good care of my son.�
He grins then and you
can�t help but fear for Ian�s wellbeing. What would Sands do to him? This fear
put renewed vigor into your struggles but it was no use. His hands only
tightened around your throat, immune to the bloodied gouges your fingernails
made in his skin. Spots were beginning to dance before your eyes, getting
bigger and bigger. Blood was rushing past your ears and you couldn�t make out
what he was saying. You felt your heart beat begin to slow; the darkness crept
in. This was the end and you knew it. You would never see your son again. The
blackness consumed you and you knew no more. You were no more.
Sands stood above the
body of his dead wife and spat a curse onto it. He turned and left without
looking back.
He wouldn't
hurt Ian, would he? Aida looked up to see her son happily blowing bubbles
in the tub. Or at least happily trying to. He hadn't
gotten the knack down yet. I won't let
him. I won't. No matter what it takes.
***
Now. Now was the moment. Sands had waited
for so very long and now the moment had finally come. He would go to Aida. He
would make her pay. He would exchange the words he couldn�t have on paper. He
hoped she had liked the note he had sent. It wasn�t quite the same kind she had
sent him those two years ago, but it was fun none the less. He liked the
thought of her scared of him. It made him feel vindicated somehow. And yet� He pushed the �and yet� aside and made his way up
to Aida�s apartment. Her had looked over it the other
day while she had been out and he knew it would be easy to break into.
Aida heard the furtive footsteps outside her door.
She'd been waiting for it. For him. Ian was with a family
they'd met through his play group. So he was safe. So it was just going to be
her and Sands...and the pistol in her hand.
Sands picked the lock with ease�he had been
practicing�and opened the door silently. To say he was surprised to see her
there sitting with a gun aimed at him would be an understatement. He recovered
and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He didn�t stay a word and
didn�t seem outwardly concerned that she had a gun pointed at his chest.
"Hello." Aida wondered if she sounded as
tired as she felt.
�Hello,� he responded in turn.
"I take it you're not really interested in
talking."
�I hadn�t thought about it.�
"I didn't think so."
�Did you like the presents I sent you?�
"Not particularly. But then I doubt you chose them
with my enjoyment in mind."
�Not particularly,� he parroted. �Are you going to
shoot me? What, if you can�t get a job done right do it yourself? Is that it?�
"I wasn't thinking when I made that phone call,
Sands. I was in pain because I actually loved my parents. I had to do
something. Besides, aren't you the one who once told me that you would let me
call the police on you? Isn't that what you told me the day you told me
everything else?"
�I don�t care about any of that,� he said coldly. �I
didn�t kill your parents. Susannah did. She�s dead now. I did your bidding.
Sorry it took me so long but I had to escape from a maximum security hellhole
in the middle of nowhere. It delayed a few things for awhile. I�m sure you
understand.�
"Of course I do. And I know you didn't kill my
parents. I did."
�Oh you did, did you? So what, I was supposed to kill
you? No wonder you turned on me. I clearly didn�t consider that,� he said
dryly.
"As if you would have
then."
�What, killed you?�
"Yes."
�Oh, you�re right. I loved you then. I would have
done anything for you. Even go headfirst into a firing squad just for
information about who had killed your parents. I went straight to Susannah. I�m
sure you�ve head all about it by now. I was expecting resistance but boy was I
surprised when she opened the door with a gun in my face, two of her goons
grabbing me from behind. You should have seen my face. To think, my own wife
sold me out. I didn�t believe it. I mean, how could I? She loved me, right? She
wouldn�t do that to me. She knew I�d rather be dead than caught. Jeffrey
believed, but he always more cynical about such things. It took me awhile
longer. I had to ask myself what I had done to you. I didn�t know what I could
have possibly done wrong to make you hurt me so. And you did hurt me, Aida.
Well done.�
"I know it's not enough, but I knew right away
that I'd made the worst mistake of my life. Somewhere in my messed up mind I
didn't want you to hurt people anymore. Even if they deserved
it. And not because I have some kind of overwhelming
love for my fellow man. I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't
stand the thought of you taking another life. In some twisted way I was
thinking of you."
He snorted. �That makes me feel so much better.�
"I didn't expect it to." Aida sighed and put down her weapon. "Well, why don't you do what you came
here for?"
�And what do you think that is exactly, Aida?� he
asked moving across the room to her.
"I don't suppose it matters since the end result
will be the same."
�Tell me why you did it. Tell me what I did. Make me
understand.�
"No. You don't want to understand. If you
understood, you wouldn't be able to kill me even if you still wanted to, and I
know how much you want to kill me so why should I take that away?" Aida
was risking everything on a very big gamble, but she couldn't allow this to go
on forever either.
�And what about your son? What about�Ian?� The name was still unfamiliar to his lips.
�You took him from me. Do you understand that? I never�� his expression hardened
and he just stood and stared at her, visibly getting ahold of himself.
"He's spending the night with some friends. I
didn't think you'd really want him to witness anything that happens tonight. It
wouldn't do for him to fear you."
�So that�s it then? You offer yourself willingly to a
sociopath who you�ve betrayed. Not the wisest thing you�ve ever done, my
once-wise wife.� His voice grew funny around the word �wife,� but it was yet
truth. They were still married despite all that happened.
"Why should I resist? I mean, you're obviously
determined and I don't have the resources to run forever. Not to mention that
it probably wouldn't be good for Ian."
Sands frowned and to Aida�s surprise he took a seat
on the couch across the room for her. He sat there in silence just staring at
her. In truth, he didn�t know what to do any longer. He had come here with a
plan�he was going to strangle his wife like he had in the letter�but now�now he
found he couldn�t do it and that both confused and angered him.
Aida looked at him and sighed. "Apparently this
is going to take longer than I expected. I think I'll make myself some tea. Would
you like some?"
Sands didn�t acknowledge her. He simply sat on the
couch and stared straight ahead lost in thoughts and memories.
Aida shrugged and got up. She gave the couch a wide
berth on her way to the kitchen - she wasn't a complete idiot - and made the
tea she'd wanted. And a cup for him as well. There
really wasn't anything to be gained from being rude. She didn't want to be rude. Sands might think that
she hated him, and he might not love her anymore, but she still loved him.
Sands accepted the cup of tea without really looking
at it. He simply took what was offered to him without hesitation. The cup sat
in his hands unmoved, the tea within untouched. After a very long moment�so
long that Aida was beginning to wonder if he hadn�t fallen asleep with his eyes
closed�he spoke, �I can�t stay here. Do what you like. It doesn�t matter
anymore. You have nothing to fear from me.� He set the cup down on the coffee
table in front of him and Aida could hear how it rattled in its saucer as his
hands shook. �Goodbye, Aida. Keep your life. Keep your son. Don�t let him
become like me.� He rose to leave.
"He'd like to see you," Aida said quickly. His
sudden about face had given her hope. Perhaps in time he'd learn to love her
again. And Ian was a good a place to start with that as any.
�He does? You�told him about me?� he asked with a
confused frown.
"Of course I did."
�Why? He might never have even seen me. I might have
still been�there.�
"So? He has a right to know that he has a
father. When he asked me where his daddy was...what was I supposed to do? Lie?
I know - knew - you, Sands. I knew that if you had the opportunity to get out,
you would. And that nothing would keep you from tracking me down once you did. Why
would I tell him you were dead when there was a possibility that you'd someday
appear on my doorstep? He would hate me for deceiving him when he got old
enough to realize what had happened. And I knew that even if you did kill me,
you wouldn't hurt him. That's just part of who you are. So I had no reason to
make Ian think that he had no father."
He shook his head, somehow unable to take all of this
in at once. It was too much, too soon for him to deal with. His world had been
upended and he had yet to find his feet again. His fingers went to the bridge
of his nose, attempting to fight off the migraine he knew would be descending.
�What did you tell him?� he hadn�t wanted to ask, hadn�t wanted to invite more
confusion and unreality, but he had to know.
Aida's reply was very quiet. "I told him that I
made a very big mistake before he was born. That I'd made a
lot of people mad. And that you stayed behind to make things safe for
him and I. I told him it was my fault that you weren't
with us."
That had been the truth, and yet it somehow unsettled
him to hear her speak of it that way. He shook his head again, filing this
information away to be dealt with later; much
later. He felt as if he should move on to safer topics, but he didn�t know any.
He longed for information about his son�anything, really�and yet he knew he
couldn�t handle that kind of information either. His state of mind was so
fragile now adays. He knew it, accepted it, and hated
it. Hated that it had come to this, hated that it had been
her fault. Someone who had taught him both love and
the bitterest betrayal in the same sweet persona. He couldn�t stand it.
�I can�t�� he started, unable to finish for he wasn�t quite sure just what it
was that he couldn�t do. Be with her? Listen to her speak of betrayal? He
didn�t know. He just knew that he needed something; peace, silence,
tranquility, to get his head straight again.
Aida nodded and looked away. "You know where to
find us. We won't be going anywhere."
�I just�I can�t stay here. I�m claustrophobic now,�
he said wryly, clearly blaming her. �Can�t stand to be in one
spot for too long. I get uneasy.� He didn�t know why he was still
talking to her. What explanations did she deserve?
"You're free to go, Sands. I'll even walk you
outside if it's what you want."
�I don�t know what I want anymore,� he muttered, but
waited for her to come with him irregardless.
When he didn't leave, Aida got the message. She
slipped into a pair of shoes and joined him at the door.
He didn�t know why he was doing this, didn�t
understand it at all, but he couldn�t help it. He hated her for what she had
done to him, and yet he missed her as if when she had left she had stolen a
piece of his soul in her passing; a piece he had yet to reclaim. He walked in
silence through the halls of her building until they were both outside. He
didn�t have a coat on and yet he didn�t seem to feel the cold. Weather in this
country was miserable, but he enjoyed it as it fit his mood. He turned to look
at her, not knowing what to say and yet somehow not wanting to leave her side
either. The bleeding hole within him from where she had taken that piece of his
soul cried out for her but he ignored it. He couldn�t do that. He couldn�t
simply act as if nothing had changed between them. Everything had changed.
Aida just watched him, unsure of what to do. This was
a disgusting parody of the day they'd met, when he'd walked her to her door and
they'd stood in front of each other like this. There was no hope of a happy
ending tonight, yet she just wanted to take him back upstairs with her.
When the awkwardness became too much, Aida murmured,
"You can knock on the door next time. I'll answer."
He didn�t acknowledge this statement, instead
murmuring, �It�s my birthday this week. First once I�ve remembered in two
years.� He had meant for it to hurt her, and yet the words were filled more
with sorrow than malice.
"I know." Aida glanced around her before
looking back at him. "You can spend it with Ian...if you'd like."
Sands frowned at the offer. �That�s your present to
me? You�re giving me time with my
son? How very generous,� he said dryly. He was bluffing however. He would do
anything to spend time with his son. Anything to be able to
at talk to him. He had watched
him whenever he could but it was a hollow experience. He had missed so much. He
didn�t even know what his son�s full name was. He snorted to himself bitterly.
He didn�t even know when he had been born. He had received nothing while in
prison. No letters, no visitors, nothing. He had spent over two years alone.
Cut off from everyone but Jeffrey and the others. It was why he had left. If
that was what life was going to be then Jeffrey could have it.
But now, now he was free and everything had changed.
The world had moved on while he had been away. He sometimes sat wondering what
would have happened if it had been longer? Five years? Ten?
Twenty? Would he have bothered to come back at all?
The question kept him up at night; so many things did now. If he had hardly
slept before going to prison he practically didn�t sleep now. It simply wasn�t
worth it. It wasn�t worth the fear that somehow he was dreaming all of this
from his cell. It was still his cell. Never the cell but his. Forever his.
He blinked and looked up to see Aida staring at him.
He had done it again. He had stood in silence and let himself become lost in
his thoughts, shutting the world out for awhile; sometimes longer than others.
He never took note that he was doing it, and it always worried him when he came
out of it without a sense of how much time had passed. �Did you say something?�
he tried, having not heard anything she might�or might not�have said while he
had been�away.
She shook her head. "I was just thinking."
He didn�t want to ask, didn�t care to know� �About what?�
"If you'd prefer a divorce for
your birthday. Or at least, in addition to spending
time with our son. Seems silly to stay married to a woman you
despise." Aida avoided his eyes while saying this. She wouldn't be able to
stand it if she saw relief there.
It wouldn�t have mattered even if she had been
looking at him for his eyes were cast out over the park, seeing the desolation
there in the dark of winter. �I don�t despise you,� he said distantly after a
long contemplative silence. �I don�t know exactly what I feel for you anymore
but I know that�s not it.�
"Well, then someone you don't love
anymore."
�I�m not dead yet,� he muttered.
"What?"
�What? Oh. Nevermind.�
"Alright." Aida
hoped he realized how much she'd like to ask when he'd meant.
�Goodnight, Aida,� he murmured.
"Goodnight, Sands."
Sands just started walking, not turning back to look
at her as he embraced the night. He didn�t feel like going back to Salida and
her kids but he couldn�t stay here either so his feet pointed homewards. He
would see Aida again soon enough. He wasn�t sure how that
made him feel exactly, but that was the way it was.
***
There was a knock at the door. Aida looked up at the clock
- it was barely 7 am. Ian was still asleep. She was still getting ready for the
day. Briefly she wondered if it was Sands, but it was much too early for him to
be up. Wasn't it?
In her slippers and robe, she went to answer the
door.
Sands stood there behind the door still in the same
clothes he had on last night. He looked cold and tired but he was there. �Good
morning, Aida,� he murmured once she had opened the door.
After a shocked moment of silence, Aida asked,
"What are you doing here? At seven in the morning?
You hate mornings."
He eyed her as if to say that it was no longer her
place to tell him what he hated or not but shrugged. �I didn�t sleep.�
"I can see that," she murmured as she
stepped out of the doorway. "I was just making coffee and toast. Would you
like some?"
�I suppose,� he said as he stepped inside after a
brief hesitation.
Aida shut and locked the door then walked into the
kitchen. Sands' prompt return was unnerving and she wasn't quite sure what to
do with herself.
If she had known he was feeling much the same way she
might have laughed. He hadn�t gone home at all last night. He knew Jeffrey and
sunrise would be pissed off but he didn�t care. He just took a seat on Aida�s
couch as he had last night and waited. He didn�t know what else to do. He
supposed he could have looked around the small apartment for insights into her
life now but he wasn�t interested.
"I-I wasn't sure you were going to come back
after last night," Aida said, just because the silence was nearly deafening.
�I didn�t go�� he might have said home but the place
Jeffrey and Salida and their children lived wasn�t home. ��back to Salida and
her children. I just wandered the city.�
"Just because you don't go back to Salida
doesn't mean you'd necessarily come back here.�
�I don�t have anywhere else to go.� It was true. He
didn�t know this city, didn�t have any friends, he only had her. It was
pathetic, but there was nothing he could do about it.
"Oh..." Somehow this disappointed Aida. Made her feel as if she were being taken advantage of. He
didn't really want to be with her, he just didn't want to be alone. Of course, that's what our marriage has
always been about, isn't it?
Sands heard the disappointment in her voice and rose
from his seat. He didn�t have to sit around for this. �Forget it. I�ll just go.
Enjoy your breakfast,� he muttered, turning to walk towards the door.
"Why do you do that?"
�Why do I do what, Aida?� he asked with a sigh,
halfway to the door. He didn�t turn to look at her.
"That.
Why do you...why is it that every time I express disappointment at hearing that
you don't really want to be around me but it's better
than nothing - or something of that ilk - do you act as if you're surprised and
disappointed in me?"
�It surprises you that I might not really want to be
around you right now?� he asked dryly, turning to look at her.
"No. I never said I was surprised. I said I
think you're being ridiculous that I would think you were paying me some sort
of complement by being around me when you don't want to be."
He laughed at that without humour. �Perhaps I simply
wanted to see my son.�
"Then why didn't you say that instead of just
getting up to leave?"
�Because I didn�t want to fucking
argue with you.�
"Why do you assume I would have said no?"
�Wouldn�t you have? You�ve prevented me from seeing
him thus far. I�m only going by past experience.�
"I didn't prevent you from seeing him, Sands. I
sent you to jail. Didn't I say just last night that I was going to let you see him?"
�By sending me to jail you prevented me from seeing
him, Aida. And I figured you would have reconsidered by the light of day.�
"I made a mistake -"
�A mistake? My, what a
lovely euphemism that is. It�s a little late for explanations don�t you think,
Aida?�
"I wasn't the only one who made mistakes,"
she said tightly.
He smiled. �Of course not. I
naturally deserved to betrayed by my own wife. I am,
after all, guilty. Convicted as charged. Did you
follow the trial, by the way? I�ve always wondered that.�
She ignored his question. "You never should have
put me on a pedestal I never had a hope of staying on, Sands."
�You didn�t answer my question. Come on. It�s the
least you can do. It�s been bugging me for over two years.�
"Of course I did." Aida swiped away angry tears.
"Just because I got tripped up by my conscience doesn't mean I don't -
that I didn't - that my love for you was ripped out of me. And before you say
that it wasn't good enough that I merely followed along, that I can't imagine
what it was like, I want you to remember that I was convicted of your crimes before you were."
�When you�ve spent two years in a maximum security
hellhole we can compare prison stories. Until then, I don�t want to hear it,�
he growled.
"At least no one ever tried to rape you!"
�What?� that derailed his righteous tirade for a
moment. �No one tried to rape you. They were more fucking �friendly� than was
appreciated but no one tried to rape you.�
"Yeah, that's what I told you."
�You never fucking told me that!� he hissed, beginning
to pace as was natural with him when confronted with something he couldn�t
immediately deal with. �What happened? When was this? You were only in prison
for two months!�
"It doesn't matter. It happened a long time
ago."
�Of course it fucking matters!
Who was it? I�ll rip his fucking balls off!�
"That's why I never told you!"
�Godamnit, Aida,� he muttered, pinching at the bridge
of his nose while he yet paced.
Aida just turned around and studied her walls. "You
see, it doesn't matter if you spend two months or two years in jail. Hell is
still hell no matter how long the duration."
He laughed and it was full of bitterness. Whether it
was for her or for him he didn�t fully know. �At least I didn�t put you there.
Not directly.�
"Oh? So I put myself there. Yes, I suppose I
did. And I suppose I would have liked being raped to. Some flaw in my character
must make me naturally disposed towards men who only cause me to hurt myself in
the end, because of course; none of them would hurt me unless I let them."
�Fuck you. That�s not what I meant and you know it.�
"No, I don't know it."
Sands rolled his eyes. �Fine.
I meant it.�
"I don't know you anymore, Sands," she whispered miserably. "How am I
supposed to know what you mean?"
�And whose fault is that again?�
"Mine. I never said it was anyone else's."
�Then why are you bemoaning what you can�t change?�
he asked bitterly. �Yes, I�ve changed. How could I not? And yes, we�ve been
apart longer than we�ve been together. You realise that, don�t you?�
"We were apart even when we were together."
�Oh don�t give me that bullshit,� he moaned, shaking
his head in disgust. �I was there for you the best I could be. I�m sorry if it
wasn�t fucking enough.�
"I was
the one who wasn't enough for you. Not
the other way around."
�What?� he hadn�t expected this.
"You needed someone blind to who you really
were...or at least able to take what you were and have it mean
nothing in reality. You needed someone without a conscience, who wouldn't be bothered
by your need to kill. You needed someone who wasn't always conflicted, torn
between love and despair; between acceptance and revulsion. I couldn't be that.
And I tried, Sands. I did. But I
couldn't do it in the end."
�So what you�re saying is that I should really be looking
for someone more like myself. Like say, Salida for example. Hell, maybe I
should just marry her. Although technically I�m already
married to her. Think she�d mind being a polygamist?�
No, that wasn't what she was saying. But then again,
she wasn't sure he'd ever understand what she was trying to get at. So when she
heard Ian call her - most likely awoken by their raised voices - she left the
room to go get him.
Sands froze, not knowing what to do. He knew Aida was
getting her son�his son�and he wanted
to see him, but what the hell was he going to say to him? It had been two
years. The child wouldn�t even know who he was. How was he supposed to deal
with this?
Aida came out of the bedroom, their son on her hip,
and for a moment she just watched him out of her reddened eyes. They were
supposed to be a family. No matter what she said - and a great deal of what
she'd said had been the honest truth - she still loved Sands. No matter how
much it hurt or how much she wished she could stop. She knew he didn't want her
love...just his son. Just the living, breathing
representation of their love.
Well...that she could give him.
Sands stood transfixed by the sight of his son before
her. He looks just like me. He would
have been blind not to see that. Same dark hair and eyes, same fair skin, and
yet he had his mother�s delicate features, not his. �His�name?� he asked,
clearing his suddenly dry throat. He had heard that it was Ian, but not from
her own lips. Was his last name Sands? Grant? Or whatever name Aida was using
at the moment? He didn�t know.
"Ian Mitchell."
�Why?�
"What?"
�Why the name? Why did you
choose it?�
"Ian means 'God is gracious,' and Mitchell means
'who is like God.' I named him to remind myself that there were still good
things in my life."
He snorted. �It�s probably a good thing I didn�t get
to choose then.�
"You would have done the same. He's the good
thing in both our lives."
He shrugged and looked over at his son. �When was he
born?�
"August. August
7th."
He tried to remember what he had been doing that day
but he couldn�t. �Where?�
"Here in London."
Sands considered that before nodding. �Does he talk?�
"Yes.
Just not early in the mornings.
He doesn't like mornings."
�Who does?�
Aida cocked her head so she could look into the tired
face of her son. "Want Daddy to hold you while I make breakfast?"
Sands� eyes widened at that.
Ian just nodded, not even lifting his face out of the
crook of Aida's neck. With a sweet smile, Aida gently transferred him from her
shoulder to Sands', where Ian once again hid his face from the light.
Sands� face took on a kind of incredulous wonderment
as he looked down at his half-asleep son, looking at ease in his arms as if he
had belonged there. The child didn�t say a word and that was fine. Words would
have spoiled this. Sands took a seat on the couch, his son curled up against
his side, and he sat there in silence.
Aida watched them in silence, and then she left the
room, unable to bear it anymore. She'd go take a shower where she could cry, knowing that the groaning of old pipes would drown the
sound of her sorrow out.
***
Sands returned a few days later in what was beginning
to be routine. He�d come to see her and Ian, stay for as long as he could bear,
and then let Jeffrey go home to Salida and the twins. He made sure to keep a
tight rein on Jeffrey while he was visiting with Aida�it was harder than ever
these days�for he knew that while he himself had decided not to kill her,
Jeffrey might not be so forgiving. He knocked on the door lightly, hoping they
were home. He had come in the middle of the morning this time rather than at
the crack of dawn as he had the first day.
Aida answered the door, half expecting him. "Happy
birthday," she murmured as she let him in.
�What? Oh. Right. Yeah.
Thanks,� he murmured.
She didn't know why she expected enthusiasm out of
him, and since she didn't know that, she didn't let him see that his indifference
to her presence hurt. "Ian hasn't gotten up yet. The storm
last night keep him up late."
�That�s fine,� he said with a nod, for once following
her into the rest of the house rather than taking his usual seat on the couch.
�Why do you live here?� he asked out of the blue after looking around.
"Here, here? Or London
here?"
�Here. In this apartment. Or
flat. Whatever. Why didn�t you try and find a house
for you and Ian to live in? Surely this isn�t enough space for two people.�
"It's fine. We're not usually in much, what with
me working and Ian being looked after by Anne. There's always outside of things
get cramped. It's near work, its familiar..." she hesitated before
continuing, "And I can afford the rent myself. I wanted to stop
using...using your money as soon as I could. It didn't seem right to use it to
support myself."
�Why? It�s not exactly like I was using it,� he
murmured.
"I'd betrayed your trust. Continuing to use your
money once I'd found work just seemed...wrong."
Sands shook his head. �It�s your money, Aida. It will
continue to be your money�and Ian�s�no matter what happens to me.�
"I don't want your money. I used it to keep a
roof over Ian's head and clothes on his back until I could do those things
myself. For that I'm grateful. And if I ever need it for him again, I'll use
it. But other than a way to ensure that our son is always cared for, I don't
want your money."
�Why not? It�s not blood
money, despite what you may think.�
"That's not what I think," she said,
getting agitated. "It's just wrong. It's wrong to use you for your money
for myself when we don't have much of a relationship to speak of anymore. I
don't need to be dependent on you."
�I don�t want to argue with you, Aida. Not today.�
The one present he truly wanted from her�he would never ask for it�was one day
where he could forget what she had done. One day where they were married and so
in love with each other that it hurt. One day where they were a family again.
He knew it would never happen, but couldn�t help but dream.
"I'm sorry." Aida got up and went into the
kitchen, moving around and going through the motions of preparing coffee for
them both simply to give herself something to do.
He followed her, for some reason simply wanting to be
in her presence. He couldn�t explain it and he wouldn�t bother.
"I was...I was going to make breakfast this
morning. But all I had on hand was cold cereal. So I ordered some croissants
and muffins from the bakery down the street. You're more than welcome to them. If you�re hungry."
He nodded and took a seat at the small table,
unwillingly remembering other times he had sat and watched her bring food for
him as he grabbed a croissant and the jar of strawberry jam she had placed on
the table. �Thank you,� he said softly.
"No problem. I'm used to bringing food to
people. At least I don't have to feed you, though."
�I suppose that�s something,� he said with the barest
hint of a smile.
"I was getting rather good at my airplane noises
though."
�Airplane noises?� he asked curiously.
"You know...to get babies to open their mouths
when they don't want to eat something."
�Oh,� he said with a nod, understanding the concept
even if he had never actually seen it done before. �Why an
airplane?�
Aida shrugged. "It's just the way it's
done."
He shook his head. �I guess I�m not one to question
what works,� he murmured. �It does work?�
"Occasionally."
�Occasionally?�
"Babies do as the please at times."
�I suppose that makes sense. We�re their live-in
personal servants. If they�re hungry, they�re fed. If they cry, we comfort
them. If they�re sick, we take care of them. They sleep when they want, eat
when they want, play when they want, hell we even change their diapers.� He
shook his head ruefully. �They�ve got it all figured out.�
"It does seem that way."
�But you�� he hesitated, turning to look at her. He
had grabbed and jellied a croissant but it remained uneaten on the plate in
front of him as he spoke with her. �You�re doing ok?�
"What do you mean?" Aida finally took a
seat, although she didn't look totally convinced that he wasn't going to bite
her.
Sands sighed. �Forget it.�
"No...tell me..." Aida
shook her head and looked away. "I'm sorry. Old habits
and all that."
�I just wanted to know if you were doing alright.
That�s all.� Please don�t read more into
this because I don�t know what the fuck I�m talking about anymore.
"I'm surviving."
�Aren�t we all?� he murmured.
"Some better than
others."
�Is it enough?�
She was quiet for a long, long time. Long enough that
Sands decided she wasn't going to answer. But then came
the word "no" on a puff of breath so soft that he barely heard it.
He nodded. He hadn�t thought so. It wasn�t enough for
him either. It never was. There was no forgiveness for her�and perhaps there
never would be�but he was nearing to something else: acceptance. He missed her.
He had known that from the beginning. He missed having her in his life. He
missed her love, her laughter, her voice, her smell, her touch, he missed all
of it. He longed to have it all back
again; to wake up not to find himself back in his cell but before that; before
his life had turned to shit. He wanted her back. �Didn�t think so,� he murmured
just as softly.
Once again they were interrupted before the conversation
could get too serious. Ian - now assuming that his father always came by in the
mornings - appeared out of nowhere and crawled up into Sands' lap, just as
silent as he always was this early.
Sands was learning not to
stiffen at this innocent touch, but it was hard. �Good morning,� he whispered
to his son, a hand slowly moving up to stroke his dark hair. Ian mumbled
something in return that could have been anything from a good morning back to a
sleepy string of gibberish. Sands didn�t really expect anything else.
When Sands looked up, he caught Aida with an odd look
on her face. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just...I
always knew he looked like you...just not how much."
�Oh,� he glanced down at Ian�s sleepy face, trying to
be objective. �He looks like you too. He may not have your hair, but he has
your face. At least the shape of it anyway.�
"But he looks more like you than me."
�Perhaps, but that doesn�t mean it�ll stay like
that,� he said with a frown, wondering what she was getting at.
"It's likely."
�Does that bother you?�
"No."
�You�re sure?� He didn�t know why else she would be
bringing this up all of a sudden.
"Yes."
He nodded, trying to accept this. �Alright.
Yes, I suppose he does look like me. Handsome little devil,� he murmured before
growing serious but not looking at her. �I guess we�ll just have to wait and
see how far the similarity goes.�
"I guess..." Just the thought of thinking
about that had Aida changing the subject. "So...any plans for the
day?"
He shook his head. �I�ve never been big on birthdays.
To me it�s barely above a normal day.�
"That's not right. After...after what you did
for me on my birthday...you should have some fun today."
He shrugged, not committing himself to an answer
either way.
"It's nice enough outside for once. You should
take Ian to fly a kite or something." The boy stirred at this suggestion
but still wasn't ready to pipe up.
�Never flown a kite before,� he murmured. Outdoor
activities had never been his thing. Even now he still preferred the indoors or
the night to the glaring brightness of the sun. He didn�t know if he was paler
after two years of living strictly indoors except for the occasional chained
walk around the yard under gunpoint the entire time, but he supposed it didn�t
matter.
Aida shrugged and got up to fix Ian some breakfast. "It
was just a suggestion."
�I wasn�t saying it was a bad one, I just�
Nevermind,� he muttered.
"I wasn't taking any offense."
�Oh.� He didn�t know how to read her moods anymore.
Had he ever? He wasn�t so sure anymore; of anything.
Aida returned to the table with a sippy
cup full of milk and a bowl of instant oatmeal. "Do you want to make sure
he eats or do you want me to do it?"
�I don�t think I�m qualified,� he hedged.
"Alright. You don't
have to. Besides...oatmeal probably doesn't mix well with silk." To Ian
she said, "Com'ere, baby," as she lifted
him out of Sands' lap.
�It�s all I have,� Sands murmured, looking down at
his black silk shirt. He had been surprised to say the least when he had found
that Salida had packed his things as well as Jeffrey�s. He had half expected to
be stuck wearing red and only red until he could buy himself a new wardrobe.
Although anything beat orange cotton and chains. The mere thought sent a shiver
down his spine and he scowled at the reaction.
"Sorry..."Aida murmured, assuming his
shiver was nothing more than a delayed reaction to hearing what had used to be
his pet name.
�What? Why are you sorry? I like silk.�
"What? Oh." Even worse, his shiver wasn't cause by hearing one of her old
pet names for him. "Sorry...I thought...you shivered. I thought I'd said
something..." Mainly to give herself a good
excuse to shut up, Aida scooped up some oatmeal and tried to convince Ian to
open his mouth.
He shook his head. �I was just thinking. It doesn�t
matter.� He might have told her the details of his reaction to hurt her days
ago but now�now he was just tired of it all; tired of all the bullshit. Fuck,
he was just plain tired.
"No. It does matter. I'm not saying you have to
tell me," she said quickly, assuming he'd think she was pressing for
details, "I'm just saying that what you think does matter."
�The last two years aren�t simply going to go away
just because I want them to,� he offered softly a few long minutes later. �It�s
what I think about. All the fucking time.�
"The memories do start to fade with time. I
barely dream about them anymore, and only have nightmares now and then. Which
is a great improvement from...before." In the
month or so between her rescue and his capture, she'd had nightmares at least
twice a week if not more often.
It didn�t comfort him in the least to hear that she
still had the occasional nightmare even now when she had spent but a fraction
of the time he had in a minimum security prison. Ok yes, she had gone through
an entirely different kind of hell than he had which he couldn�t understand.
Just the thought that she had nearly been raped made him want to go on a
killing spree but fuck�she didn�t know what he had gone through either and she
never would. �If you say so,� he murmured.
"Maybe you're the one who's right then. Maybe
your memory is just sharper than mine." Aida pushed away the oatmeal when
it was clear Ian was more interested in a blueberry muffin. With the patience
only a mother can have, she handed it over and simply waited for the mess that
would ensue.
Sands sighed and fought the urge to bang his head
against the table. �Just forget it. I don�t want to talk about it. I�ll deal
with it.�
"Of course." He
dealt with everything. That was just the way he was.
"Muff'n," Ian
declared sleepily, pushing the breakfast pastry towards his father.
�Uh, thank you,� he responded to his son, taking up
the sticky muffin. In truth he didn�t like blueberry muffins in the least, but
what was he supposed to do? He made a show of taking a bite before setting it
down on the plate in front of him next to his uneaten croissant.
Aida's heart melted at this display
of...fatherliness. While Ian pulled another muffin towards him - which he
promptly started to shred - she simply watched Sands.
�Are you going to eat that or just play with it,�
Sands murmured towards his son, honestly not caring either way. Everything his
son did held some sort of fascination for him. Even
the knowledge that it was indeed his son sitting before him sent his mind
spinning on a regular basis.
Ian looked up and grinned at his father as he shoved
a bit of soggy muffin in his mouth.
Sands immediately had a strong desire to exclaim something
like, �Did you see that? He smiled at me!� to Aida, but he bit his lip to keep
his words to himself. He did return Ian�s smile however.
***
"I don't wanna go to
bed, Daddy," Ian said through a huge yawn. He'd learned that when it came
to bending the rules, his father was the man to go to. Not his mother.
Sands had figured this out as well. In truth, he was
somehow unwilling to enforce any big rules upon his young son despite the
rationale behind them. �What do you want to do then, Ian?� he asked, taking a
seat on the edge of Ian�s bed after a moment�s consideration.
The boy thought for a moment. "Tell me a make-believe."
�A story? You want me to
tell you a story?�
Ian nodded.
�Well tuck yourself in first. What kind of story?�
Ian obediently wiggled under his covers. "A
story about...me, and Mommy, and you."
Sands froze at his son�s innocent suggestion. Not a happy story then. Fuck. Just make something up, asshole.
Surely you can do that. �Once upon a time there was a little boy named Ian
and he lived in a huge castle with his mommy and daddy. Is this�is this the
kind of story you want?�
The boy nodded.
Sands sighed. �Alright. This
boy Ian lived in a huge castle with his mother and father. He was very happy
because he could stay up as long as he wanted and never get tired. The weather
was always nice and he could play outside. He even had a pet��
"Dinosaur!"
Sands nodded after a moment. �A
pet�dinosaur that he took with him wherever he went. The dinosaur had to
live outside though, because dinosaurs are too big to live indoors. But he was
a happy dinosaur and he didn�t mind. Anyway, the little boy would go on
adventures with his mother and father. They would go flying together, go on
picnics, the little boy even let them all ride his dinosaur to the park once to
play. He was a nice little boy and his family loved him very much.� Sands
stopped for a moment, an unidentifiable feeling welling up through him. He
didn�t know what it was so he ignored it and went on. �Every day this little
boy was happy. His mother was the best actress in the whole world and she would
act out make-believes for all of us with fancy clothes and beautiful sets.
Sometimes we would join her and we would make our own make-believes. We could
imagine whatever we wanted and it would come true.�
"Like when Mommy told the story that you'd come
home someday?"
�Yeah�like that,� Sands murmured.
"What else, Daddy?"
Sands sighed, not wanting to tell the story anymore
but went on anyway. �What would make you happy, Ian? What do you want the
most?�
"For you to be here all the
time."
That was the answer he had been dreading, but he knew
it would have come up sooner or later. �We�ll see, Ian. Get some sleep,
alright? Dream of pet dinosaurs and castles and your mother
in beautiful sparkling costumes. I�ll see you in the morning.�
"Okay, Daddy." Ian watched as Sands turned
on his nightlight and closed the door behind him.
Sands walked down the hall in silence, taking his
usual seat on Aida�s couch and simply sitting and staring at the wall. He had
no idea if Aida was even still awake�it was still early but he hadn�t heard her
moving around�but he didn�t want to leave quite yet. All in all, his first
celebrated birthday in�fuck knows how long had gone tolerably well.
Aida came in the door a few minutes later with a basket
of laundry in her arms. "Ian asleep?" she asked as she took a seat
and started to fold clothes.
�What? Oh. I�m sure he�s getting there. He wanted a
story first.�
She shook her head. "That sounds like Ian, alright."
�I wouldn�t know,� he muttered to himself. He didn�t
know if he should tell her what Ian had said he wanted or not. Aida wasn�t
stupid; she had probably guessed as much for herself.
"You'll learn," she said mildly. "That
is, if you intend to continue coming around."
�Why wouldn�t I?� he asked with a confused frown. Although truthfully, he hadn�t thought that far ahead. It
wasn�t safe to stay in one place for too long but how the hell was he supposed
to give up his child now? He couldn�t do that. He wouldn�t do that.
Aida shrugged. "You never know what'll
happen."
He tilted his head at that, wondering just what she
meant. �What do you mean sp�� He bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood.
Aida concentrated even harder on her clean laundry;
she knew what he'd been about to say. "Just that no one can be certain of
the future."
Sands silently cursed himself for his almost slip,
licking the blood from his lip as he did so. �Especially not someone like me,�
he muttered.
"That's not what I meant."
�What did you mean then, Aida?�
"I don't know what I meant. I was just trying to
make conversation."
He sighed and nodded. Had it always been this hard to
make small talk with her or was it just recently? �Conversation is fine. What
do you want to talk about?�
"What kind of story did Ian ask you to tell
him?"
�One about us,� he said after a moment.
Aida was quiet, then she
murmured, "Yes...he does like those kinds of stories."
�This one had a dinosaur in it if that makes a
difference,� he murmured.
"Last time it was a polar bear."
�Oh. Well dinosaurs are clearly more interesting than
polar bears. At least he�s learning.�
"The day before that it was mummies."
�He always asks for the same story?�
"No. Just different things in
it. But always with the both of us."
Sands nodded, thinking this over. What kid wouldn�t
want both of his parents in his life? Fuck, even he�d
had both a mother and a father. Sure they hated each other and he�d hated them
both but they were still a fucked up family together. �Well that�s what he
wanted tonight.�
"You said that already. That he wanted a story
with all of us."
�That�s not what I meant,� he sighed. �He wants us.
Together.� He scrubbed a hand across his face and slouched back into the couch,
the now-familiar sense of claustrophobia creeping in. He did his best to ignore
it. Eventually, maybe it would go away. It seemed to come on as he got agitated
or stressed, and the worse he got, the worse it got until he was practically
climbing up the walls. Fuck. Thinking about it was not helping.
"Oh..." Aida very carefully folded a pair
of socks, then murmured, "I'll talk to him. Explain
how things are...so he can understand."
�Don�t you do that. Don�t
you dare take away his hope.� Sands didn�t know what
would happen between them but he couldn�t let her do that. Better to let him
hope and maybe hurt later on than to never hope for anything.
"Sands...you don't trust me. You don't love me. I'm
pretty sure you don't even like me. If you move in just to make Ian happy...I
won't let you. Because
the tension between us would make him
unhappy as soon as he noticed. It wouldn't work. Even though we both
love him more than anything, it wouldn't work."
�Aida, I don�t know what I fucking feel for you
anymore, alright? But you are the only person I have ever loved. That doesn�t just go away no matter what fucking
happens. And�and I don�t just come here to see Ian.� He rose to his feet and
began to pace. It wasn�t quite climbing up the walls but it was close.
The hope his words caused scared Aida, scared her so
badly she stood up, knocking clean clothes to the floor as she did so. "I
think it's time to say goodnight, Sands."
�What, you don�t like what I have to say so you kick
me out? That�s not good enough anymore, Aida. I�m tired of this. I�m tired of
the two of us fucking dancing around each other waiting for the first blow
land. How do you feel?� he asked pointblank, putting an end to his pacing with
an effort and turning to look at her.
"Tired," she said, deliberately misinterpreting
him.
He took a step towards her, closing the distance
between them. �How do you feel about me?�
"Don't make me do this, Sands."
He ignored her. �How do you feel about me?� he
repeated.
"It won't change anything. You still won't trust
me. You'll still hold the past two years against me."
�Let me be the judge of that. Do you still love me?�
"Sands..." He was close enough for her to
touch now; she had to curl her hands into fists to keep from doing so.
He moved even closer. �Tell me, Aida.�
"Yes, damn you."
�You still love me,� he said, silently asking for
clarification.
"Yes," she whispered.
�Then help me understand, Aida. Was it just your
parents? Is that why�you did what you did?� He hadn�t moved away from her.
�Please, Aida. I need to know. You probably think I should understand but I
don�t, alright? You�re supposed learned genius of a husband and I don�t know
anything.�
"I don't know how to explain it, even to
myself," Aida murmured, unable to look him in the eyes. "And believe
me, I've tried."
�Look at me, Aida,� he directed softly. �I trusted
you, I loved you and I confided in you. You knew my feelings about being
caught.� He shook his head sadly. �I can�t tell you how many times in that
first year that I�d wish you had just killed me.�
"That...that was part of it. I'd
asked...demanded, that you do something that I hated you for doing. I demanded
that you kill someone. I wanted to
stop you from doing it. And yes, that wasn't the best way to do it - it was the
worst - bet even though I wanted to keep you from killing again, I felt that
the person who murdered my parents deserved it. And I was mad at myself for
being weak enough for putting up with...with your penchant for murder, and for
being so stupid as to go home, and for a thousand other things. And I felt so
lonely...and confused...and...and...."
�That�s your
reason? You got me caught, tried and imprisoned to prevent me from killing the
person you sent me to kill? The
person I specifically said I wouldn�t kill for you leaving you to fucking pout
and hide yourself under the porch until I agreed?!�
"No! Don't yell...you'll wake Ian. Besides, I
told you I couldn't explain. There was just so much...so much pain...inside me. My parents were dead
and part of me felt it was because...because I'd never done the right
thing...in society's eyes. I'd never...I'd never turned you in. If I had the
day we'd met, the day after we met, I
might have died, but they would still be alive. So it was my fault."
�Your parents were killed because some psychotic
bitch thought that they deserved to die,� Sands hissed yet maintaining
something just above a whisper as to not wake his son.
"If we'd never met, she never would have known
about them."
�Fine. You want to blame for
your parents� death, that�s fine. Hell, what do I know? I probably would have
wanted to kill them myself sooner or later. I mean in-laws, fuck.�
"Please leave, Sands."
Sands stood and stared at her for a long minute
before turning sharply on a heel and heading towards the door, muttering
something that sounded like, �happy fucking birthday to me,� under his breath
as he marched.
"Stop being selfish, Sands." Aida didn't
want him to leave thinking that she blamed him for anything. She didn't. Why
couldn't he understand that?
He whirled on her, his dark eyes blazing. �Oh? And
why should I do that? Clearly selfishness is all I have left.�
"I don't blame you! I never blamed you!"
�You�ve got a funny way of showing it,� Sands said
after a moment�s stunned silence.
"I was trying to put things right after the
fact. I realized almost at once that it wouldn't work, that I was hurting the
one person I had left in my life that I could support on, and that I was going
to be alone for the rest of my life. I regretted that one decision more than
nearly anything I've done in my life, not because I was hurt by it, but because
I hurt you. You, who's had nothing but hurt in your life."
He stared at her for a long minute, his eyes no
longer filled with anger or malice. No emotion had rushed in to fill the void
left by them, but he wasn�t angry with her. Not now. �Trust isn�t easily won
back. If at all.�
"I know. Which is why I'll tell
Anne to expect you tomorrow. You can pick Ian up after I've left for
work."
�What? Where�what am I going to do with him?� He
hadn�t expected this.
"I thought you wanted to see him still. I mean,
if you don't, I'll handle it."
�No�no I want to�I just� What do I know about kids?�
"I don't know. But you'll learn. All parents
do."
�Right. Sure they do,� Sands
muttered, not believing it.
Aida just stood across the room and looked at him;
she had no more words of comfort or explanation to give him. Yes, she loved
him, but it wasn't enough. He didn't love or trust her - even if he ever did
again, it wouldn't be the same.
�I never stopped loving you, Aida. I can�t. I don�t
know how,� he spoke up suddenly as if the words had just leapt out of his mouth
without his consent. He had just stood there looking at her, guessing her
thoughts, and spoke what was on his mind. Aw
fuck. Why�d you have to go and say that, you fucking idiot? Just leave. Turn
around, and just go. Good advice, but he couldn�t follow it yet. He
couldn�t leave her.
"And I love you. But it's not enough."
�Because without trust there is no love,� he muttered
with a shake of his head, cursing himself even further. God-fucking-dammit, but he hated this. He hated that he felt so alone
without her. He hated that he spent his every waking moment with her because he
couldn�t stand to be without her. And yet, nothing. No
trust, no love. He was alone again while he watched her move not two feet in
front of him. It was hell and he fucking hated it.
Aida cautiously stepped forward, and gently kissed
his cheek. "I'm sorry I ruined everything for us."
Sands caught her before she could fully pull away and
brought her lips to his, kissing her as if relying on that kiss to keep him
alive. It was wrong�so wrong�and yet so right at the same time. He loved her,
he hated her, he had been betrayed, he had been
redeemed. They had saved and killed each other too often to count. Trust had
been shattered but not lost while love had never ceased to burn.
Aida pushed away, breathing raggedly. "You need
to go now, Sands. Staying would be a mistake. We both know that." Despite
words and actions, she was still close enough for him to be able to taste her
breath.
�I don�t want
to go,� he breathed. He couldn�t just turn around and walk out the door. Not
when she was here and his. And she was
his. That had never changed. And it had been so very long since he had had
anything like this. So very long.
"What we want isn't always good for us."
�What about what we need?�
"We both need more than a one night stand. If we
do this, I won't be able to make you leave, and you won't be able to make
yourself leave."
�Please don�t send me away, Aida,� he whispered. �I
don�t care about anything anymore. I don�t care what we do or not do.
Just�don�t send me back to them with their happy little life. Don�t.�
"If I don't....will you be
able to face a miserable life with me? Because that might be
all that's left to us."
�It�s better than no life at all.�
"Is it? Is a life of bitter fighting and the
occasional desperate fuck better than nothing?"
�What kind of life do you expect me to lead, Aida?
Honestly?�
"I just want you to be happy. I've taken so much
from you, that that's all I want. Even if it means you
find someone else."
He let out a dry laugh at that. �I doubt I�m that
lucky twice,� he muttered. He knew he was handsome, he knew he probably
wouldn�t have any trouble whatsoever finding someone new�but would they last?
Would they live through the night? Or would they end up like so many other
women he had wined and dined throughout his life? He didn�t know.
"Me neither."
He simply laughed again, without humour.
Aida looked up at him questioningly, wondering what
had affected him so.
�So that�s it then. I stay with you to spend the rest
of my days in distrust and misery or I spend my nights mindlessly fucking one
whore to the next never knowing if they�ll live through the night. Pretty
grim,� he muttered. It probably wasn�t as bad as he was making it out to be but
he honestly couldn�t see any brighter side right now.
"Unless you think that given time you could perhaps
come to trust me again..." Aida trailed off, knowing how unlikely that
was.
What fucking
choice do I have? �I don�t know, Aida.�
"Until you know then...we probably
shouldn't...probably shouldn't spend so much time together. I don't know about
you, but it only makes me more confused.�
�Right. Whatever.� It didn�t
matter anymore. Nothing did. He would return as he did every night to Jeffrey�s
fucking bucolic life with his wife and kids. Sands would just disappear.
Perhaps it would be for good one day. He couldn�t honestly imagine that anyone
would miss him. Well, perhaps Ian would.
But he�s young yet. He�ll learn. �Goodnight, Aida.�
She didn't let go of him. "I'd make this all
better right now if I could."
He sent her a wry mixture between a sneer and a
smile. �You can�t.�
"There's nothing...?"
He shook his head. �I don�t know.� He could tell her
to pretend, tell her to lie to him and grant him an evening�s peace, but he
wouldn�t. Such a fiction would only make reality that much worse.
"We could work things out?"
�I don�t know, Aida,� he said again. He hated himself
for repeating the same useless phrase over and over but it was all he had to
answer with.
"We could get counseling...but you've probably
had your fill of that." Aida squashed her own suggestion with a growing
sense of despair.
�Not me. Jeffrey. I just didn�t talk. They wanted
answers�wanted to know what makes me�me, but I wouldn�t give them any.�
"I'm glad. That you didn't talk, that is."
�Why?�
"It means they didn't break you. I had
nightmares..."
�They didn�t break you, Aida. And I have nightmare
even now,� he muttered. �It�s why I don�t sleep.�
"No, not me. I had
nightmares of you."
�What? What do you mean you had nightmares of me?�
"Of what I'd done to
you."
�Oh.�
"I'd wake up sobbing, the image of you a broken,
beaten man nearly living in front of my eyes. Before Ian was born I'd get up
and look for you before I remembered that...that I'd made you go away."
�I didn�t break. I�withdrew. I don�t know what
happened after that. I just went away. I didn�t want to deal with the world
around me so I didn�t. I lasted one year. One year before I
decided that the world could go to hell because I simply didn�t care anymore.�
"That's longer than I did. And I was already
withdrawn by the time I got there," she said softly.
�Jeffrey�he stayed behind. He remained. I don�t�I
don�t know how he did it. He was the one who escaped, not me. I guess he had
something to look forward to,� he murmured.
"You had Ian...and the chance to kill
me..."
�I didn�t know about Ian. And I didn�t care about
killing you.�
"The gun wasn't loaded," she said suddenly.
"The other night. It wasn't loaded."
He nodded, not surprised. Neither of them had been armed.
�I don�t have my knives or gun anymore. They took them from me. I never got
them back.�
"I'm sure you'll find it easy enough to replace
them."
He nodded again. He had to. He felt naked and vulnerable
without them and he didn�t like it at all. He was tired of feeling helpless. He
was tired of feeling lonely. He was tired of feeling at all.
"Mommy?"
Sands and Aida both looked up to see a sleepy eyed
little boy shuffling out towards them. Sands sighed, kicking himself
for waking Ian up.
"What is it, baby?" Aida asked, going down
on one knee to look Ian in the face. "Did we wake you up?"
Ian shook his head. "No. I hava question."
Sands half dreaded his young son�s question, but bent
an ear towards him to listen anyway.
"Ask your question, Ian," Aida said
quietly.
"Why don't you kiss Daddy? Katie's mommy kisses
her daddy."
Sands chanced a glance in Aida�s direction after
Ian�s question. This would make things worse, not better between them. Did he
care? Hell, he had just kissed Aida a minute ago. What was one more? He made no
move toward her however.
"I do kiss your daddy, Ian. Just
not in front of you."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't...because.
That's why. And it's way past your bedtime, young man." Without further
ado, Aida ushered their son back to bed.
Sands watched mother and son move, somewhat troubled
by the way recent events had unfolded. Ian had asked a simple question,
deserving a simple answer. They could have just kissed. But no, it was better
this way, right? It had to be. And yet, he knew it wasn�t. This was misery. His
life was misery. The only moments he had of happiness were here and they were
few and far between. He glanced at a small wall clock across the room and saw
that he still had a few hours of birthday yet. Despite how it was ending, it
had probably been the best birthday he had ever had. He thought he should share
this with Aida, but he hadn�t yet and he probably wouldn�t later.
Aida reappeared, looking slightly embarrassed. She
didn't say anything...she just came and stood in front of him, as if asking
"what now?"
He had an insane urge to ask her to a dance despite
the utter lack of music, but he refrained. �Can you just sit with me for
awhile?� He gestured towards the couch.
"Of course."
He led her to his place on the couch and bid her to
sit down next to him. He didn�t exactly pull her into an embrace, but it was a
near thing. He was suddenly starved for human contact however, so he sat as
close to her as he could while trying to maintain the distance she probably
felt was necessary.
Aida surprised him though by cuddling closer, as if
she were suddenly cold.
Sands froze for an instant as he was startled by her
gesture but quickly relaxed into her touch, even going so far as to wrap an arm
around her, bringing her closer still. He breathed in the scent of her hair�now
longer as he had first remembered it�and closed his eyes as memories overtook
him.
Far from loosing herself in memories, Aida found
herself falling asleep. Just having Sands near was...
...it was heaven.
After many
long minutes Sands opened his eyes to look down at her, not knowing how still
and silent she had gotten. When he saw that she was asleep he merely smiled
sadly and settled himself back into the couch to watch her. This was the
closest he had been to her in over two years and he didn�t want to miss a thing.
It wasn�t likely that he�d sleep anyway�
Not ten minutes later Sands had joined her in
slumber, his arms never losing their hold around her slim shoulders.
***
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More Than Darkness