Sands Through The Hourglass
Once Upon A Time In Mexico Fan Fiction
By Scarlett Burns
Rated: M (16+)
(for adult language, violence and disturbing situations)

Summary: Post-movie. Sands finds himself back in CIA hands, and his future is uncertain. A setup within the CIA puts Sands to the test, and he's forced to lay it all out on the line to gain proof about the conspiracy against him.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
~*~
Spook Speak | Translation Guide

Part 3

"Trust you? That would be new," Mike uttered, causing Sands to arch a dark eyebrow in his general direction.

"Well, yes… I do admit it would be a new experience for you," Sands said wryly as he stubbed out his second cigarette. He’d been careful to pay attention to how long he’d been holding it so as not to repeat his earlier blunder. "However, knowing that you’d have a difficult time trusting your dear ol’ partner Officer Sands, I will not ask you to rely on faith or loyalty. I have something better for you Mikey. I have proof."

"Proof?" Lake exclaimed, stepping in "What possible proof could you have?"

"Tell me Officer Lake, do I strike you as a stupid man? You can tell the truth," Sands said, his demeanor calm as he again leaned back in his chair, but an edge of warning creeping into his tone. "I won’t kill you for speaking your mind. I might shoot you where the sun don’t shine, but I won’t kill you Officer Lake."

Lake cleared his throat uncomfortably at the vision Sands’ words conjured up, but he regained his composure quickly as reality struck him. Officer Sands was blind, he probably couldn’t even hit Lake if he tried, assuming that Sands had a gun in the first place.

"All you have to do is find my cell phone. It has a tracking device in it so it shouldn’t be too difficult for the Company to find. If you manage to produce it, I might even develop a tiny smidgen of respect for the two of you," Sands continued, not waiting for an answer to his first question.

Mike looked at Lake and rolled his eyes, and Lake in turn looked at the perturbing officer.

Sands was leaning far back in his chair, the two front feet off the ground as he swayed the chair back and forth, looking totally full of himself.

Lake had really had enough of Sands macho bullshit.

Lake hit the stop button on the tape recorder. He doubted he’d get anything else important out of Sands in this meeting, and if by chance he did, he could just write it down. Besides, he had something he wanted to say that would be less than professional and frowned upon by the Company.

"You didn’t strike me as a stupid man until your last sentence, Officer Sands," Lake replied calmly, even as Mike gave him a serious warning glance and shook his head slightly to say ‘no’. Lake ignored him and went on, "How is a blind – handicapped – Officer, such as yourself, Officer Sands, going to shoot an able-bodied, fit officer, such as myself, when he can’t even see his target… especially when he doesn’t even have a gun in the first place?"

The front legs of Sands’ chair hit the floor with a thud.

Mike was speechless, and he noticed that Sands was too.

‘I swear it’s like watching a train wreck,’ Mike thought to himself. ‘Oh Lake, you idiot! Sands is going to kill you, and he certainly won’t need a gun to do it.’

"Officer Lake, that was way out of line! Are you forgetting that you are addressing a superior officer?" Mike said, his tone authoritative and slightly disgusted. Lake had gone way too far for any officer, but to call Officer Sands handicapped and stupid? That was suicide.

‘Sands is a dangerous man, a brilliant man, a psychotic man, but he certainly isn’t a helpless man. He could never be that.’ Of that, Mike was sure.

Sands was sitting there, deathly silent, as his brain digested the words Lake had said to him. It was as if the world around him was in slow motion and the words only slowly started to sink in.

Blind. Stupid. Handicapped.

Sands’ brows came together in a rush. The room was silent, waiting for his reaction as his mind argued with itself. Sands hated when his mind did this; it was during these times that he would think about all that had happened, and all it would truly mean.

Mike and Lake stood still, watching Sands intently. The tension in the debrief room was so thick you couldn’t have blasted through it with a grenade launcher. Evidently even Lake knew he’d crossed the line. Too bad he didn’t think before he talked.

Sands forced himself to snap out of the one-man argument he was having and flashed Lake an evil grin full of malice as he gave him the finger. "Climb it Tarzan."

Both Lake and Mike exhaled deeply as Sands finally broke the silence. Mike was still quite worried however, knowing it wasn’t like Sands to let something like this go so easily.

"I-I’m sorry Sands, Lake had no right." Mike apologized, trying to figure out what was going through Sands’ mind. ‘He has to be planning something.’

Sands said nothing, only lowering his head slightly as he let his hand drop to his side. His brow was furrowed as if frustrated. Actually, he almost looked defeated.

This worried Mike; as a matter of fact he got a downright chill.

Mike walked over to Sands slowly, cautiously, just as one would approach a dangerous wild animal. As he did so, Lake spoke again, "See Mike? I knew Sands was all talk and no show. Just a lot of hot air and bullshit."

Mike, now by Sands side, spun around to face Lake. ‘The kid must have a death wish. That can be the only explanation for his stupidity.’

Sands listened intently, knowing he was on the verge of losing his cool. He heard Mike defending him. ‘Well look at that, the man is good for somethin’ after all.’ He concentrated deeply on the sounds around him, a thought taking form. ‘Mike is standing right beside me…’

"What’s gotten into your head, Lake?!" Mike replied, as he shot Lake a scathing glare. Unfortunately, this caused Mike to let his guard down, and a highly peeved Sands was sitting next to him. It was not a good combination.

Sands let a small smile creep across his face; both officers too busy sparring with each other to notice the look of mischief. Lake was saying something else, the idiot no doubt insulting him again… but Sands wasn’t paying attention to what was being said… no, what concerned him was where it was being said.

Sands was so quick that the two other officers in the room didn’t even see it happening until Sands stood up sharply with the automatic in his right hand.

Sands had easily zeroed in on the sound of his former partner’s gun in its holster. With expert precision he’d snaked his hand across Mike’s back, freeing the gun from the holster and owner, and into Sands’ dangerous possession within a mere couple seconds.

‘Now things will get interesting,’ Sands thought wickedly as he lifted the gun, training it on Lake’s voice. Lake immediately stopped talking.

He heard Mike start to move towards him and he swung around, training the weapon on his old partner.

"Don’t get into this, ol’ pal. I’d hate to have to shoot you too, because the truth is I kinda like you."

Mike wisely backed off and the gun zeroed back in on Sands’ main target, as Lake started backing towards the door.

"Oh no, no, no, Lake… you’re not getting away that easy. One more step to that door you’re undoubtedly trying to flee through, one call for help and I will shoot you. I swear I’ll blow your fucking brains out… and believe me, I won’t miss." He paused and cocked his head to one side. "You follow?"

Lake wisely stopped moving.

"Sands…" Lake started meekly, but stopped almost as quickly, at a loss for words as he stared at the now frightening figure of a black-clad Sands with a gun zeroed in on him.

Sands knew the kid was scared to death, which was exactly what he wanted.

A menacing smile crept across Sands lips as he slowly and stealthily made his way closer to Lake, making sure to remember where the desk and chairs were. Sands felt like he was there in Mexico again, using his newly heightened sense of hearing to bring the cartel men - and women - down.

He could almost feel the heat of the Mexican sun beating down on him, feel the dust off the street enter his lungs…

Sands was directly in front of Lake now, the gun still aimed at Lake’s chest… much to Lake’s surprise.

"What’s the matter Lake? Cat got your tongue?" Sands asked him, tilting his head. He knew Lake was surprised at the sudden development, and he knew that Mike was not.

"Sands, he’s just a stupid kid. Please…" Mike tried one last time, and Sands head snapped around to face him briefly.

"Stay out of this Mikey, I’m handling it," Sands said to Mike before turning his head back to Lake and speaking to him in a dangerously flippant voice, "and when I say I’m handling it…" he paused for dramatic effect, "I’m handling it."

Sands edged closer to Lake, gun still poised at the ready, not wavering an inch. Lake took a step back, but Sands was too close and his left arm quickly grabbed for Lake’s neck. Since he couldn’t see him he had to guess where that might be. He missed, instead only getting a firm hold on Lake’s jacket, but it would do.

Sands yanked Lake closer as his left hand quickly found its way to Lake’s neck. Their faces were only a couple of inches apart now and Sands could hear the shaky breaths Lake was taking.

The rookie was terrified.

Sands gave his neck a squeeze and slowly backed Lake up until he felt Lake’s body press into the wall.

Sands smiled wider. "N’ayez pas peur," Sands purred dangerously, using the different languages to keep Lake worried, one of his favorite tactics. Sands clicked off the gun’s safety so Lake would know he meant business.

Sands leaned forward a little more, his face almost touching Lake’s, before whispering "It means… don’t be afraid."

Sands roughly shoved the barrel of the gun under Lake’s chin. Mike said something to him, but Sands wasn’t listening.

"I-I-I didn’t mean… t-t-to insult you. It just slipped out, I-" Lake stuttered, but was cut off by Sands.

"Flocci non facio! You said it, and now it’s time for you to pay the piper." Sands breathed in deeply through his nose and Lake could swear Sands could smell his fear.

"Handicapped, am I? Wouldn’t be able to shoot you if I tried? Then how do you, pray tell, an able-bodied and fit young officer, explain the current situation? Held at gunpoint by a blind, handicapped officer who’s all talk and no show, huh?" Sands pressed the barrel of the gun harder into the officer to accentuate his point.

"You’ve underestimated me, and now things have gotten a wee bit dangerous… haven’t they?" Sands said. The chill in his voice could freeze water. "Take a right leer, dear Lake. See that? It’s your partner doing nothing to save your lousy hide. Do you know why?" Sands asked, waiting for a reply. He was greeted with silence. "Do you?!" Sands repeated forcefully.

"No," Lake said, his voice barely audible.

"Because Mike Gleason knows me, he knows how dangerous I really am, and he knows that I’m more than just talk… savvy? I can put on quite a show as well."

Lake gulped, trying to swallow the lump that had lodged in his throat.

"You wouldn’t dare kill me, a fellow officer, here at OOS," Lake stated, sounding more than a little unsure of himself as his voice wavered slightly.

Sands raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and leaned into Lake, whispering almost silently into his ear, barely loud enough for Lake to even make it out.

"Oh yes I would."

Lake felt an involuntary shiver run up his spine. Sands was only slightly taller than him but he seemed to loom over him in his black ensemble, his pitch black hair falling across his face, while a black-gloved hand held onto his neck, the other on the trigger of Mike’s gun. The black glasses reflected the dim light emanating from above them and Sands’ face was abnormally calm for such a drastic situation.

Yes, Sands looks fully capable of murder at the moment.

The cold barrel of the gun chilled Lake’s skin and he realized that he was truly at this madman’s mercy. If he moved for the gun, or did anything rash, Sands would probably shoot him, and it only took half a second to pull the trigger of a gun.

"What do you want me to do, Sands?" Lake finally asked. Sands tilted his head to one side, then the other, considering his answer.

"Well now, I don’t know that I want you to do anything, Lake." Sands held on tighter to Lake’s neck as he moved the gun away from his chin and aimed it towards a much lower region of Lake’s body. "It might take a couple of shots for me to hit the target, but as for your dangerously stupid assumption that I won’t be able to hit you, well, I think I can prove you wrong Mr. Lake."

"No…" Lake whispered. Threatening to kill a man was one thing. Threatening to take his manhood altogether, well that was another thing, and frankly, it frightened him more.

"No?" Sands asked innocently, before kneeing the man in the crotch full force. Lake gasped and started to double over, but Sands still had a firm grip on the man and continued to hold him against the wall.

Sands shoved the barrel of the gun into the man’s crotch. Lake’s groan satisfied him that he’d hit his mark. "No… what?"

"No, please don’t shoot me," Lake pleaded pathetically. "Please."

Sands snorted, thoroughly enjoying his position of power; it was, after all, what he lived for.

Sands jolted the kid against the wall again, shaking him up. "You do realize how pathetic you are, don’t you?"

Mike watched as Lake’s eyes widened in worry. Unlike Lake, Mike wasn’t really worried for the kid’s life. Sands would have shot him by now, if he was going to do it; at least he sincerely hoped that was the case.

"Yes," Lake whispered hoarsely, his pride thoroughly broken.

Sands smiled widely. His grip on Lake’s neck tightened, making it hard for the other man to breathe.

Mike shifted his weight, and the thought of intervening while Sands was occupied crossed his mind. However, the idea was quickly dispelled by Sands’ voice. "Don’t even think about it, Mikey."

Sands was holding the kid in what could only be called a death grip, and the kid looked about ready to pass out. It seemed that the only real question was whether it would be from fear or lack of oxygen.

"Do you realize how vulnerable you really are right now, Officer Lake? I can do… whatever I want to do to you… and there is there nothing you can do to stop me. What, pray tell, are you going to do Lake? What’s your brilliant plan of action? I do believe I’ve gained the proper clearance to be privy to such information," Sands said dangerously.

Lake struggled feebly to try and free himself from Sands’ grasp, but he was no match for the older and more experienced officer, especially while he was barely able to breathe. He coughed weakly, once, and a strangled "I don’t know," managed to pass his lips.

"Of course you don’t know, and do you know why? Because every matter requires prior knowledge and you know nothing about me, therefore, how could you possibly come up with a plan?" Sands tilted his head up a bit, as if pondering a thought. "I do believe you owe me your deepest apologies, Officer Lake, and you better make them sound sincere," Sands continued, his voice sounding completely calm. It was, in effect, much more frightening than if he’d actually sounded angry.

"Sorry." Lake croaked.

"Te audire no possum." Sands shook Lake a little, to get his point across as Lake looked at him in confusion.

"I’m… sorry…"

"You miscalculated my abilities, didn’t you Officer?"

"Yes… was wrong," Lake managed.

There was a long silence as Sands thought. He was standing as still as a stone statue while Lake continued to gasp for air.

"Do you think I should let you go and let bygones be bygones?" Sands said suddenly. Caught momentarily off guard by the quick change in attitude, Lake just stared at him wide-eyed for a long moment before starting to nod his head furiously in agreement.

Sands faced Mike with a smirk. "What about you? Think I should let the kid live to screw up another debrief?"

"Well, I think you’ve pretty well scared this kid shitless. I don’t see the harm in it," Mike said, choosing his words carefully. He saw Sands’ smirk widen into a grin when he’d confirmed that the kid was indeed ‘scared shitless’ and looking the part.

It was a look that Sands wished desperately he could see at this moment, but he supposed that feeling the kid squirm and hearing him gasp for breath would have to do.

Sands turned back towards Lake, smile still in place. "Hear that? Your partner thinks you should live," he said cheerfully, but it didn’t last. Sands dropped the smile and all hint of playfulness was gone, his tone returning to that dangerously calm drawl as he stated flatly to Lake, "Too bad I don’t."

"Sands! Don’t!" Mike shouted, but Sands never was one to listen.

Sands’ hand was tightly enclosed around Lake’s throat. He pulled the gun away from Lake’s precious jewels but it was of little comfort to Lake as he watched Sands’ actions.

Sands still had the gun, and he still intended to use it. He pointed it at Lake’s head briefly before making a quick decision. He focused intently on the sounds around him, aimed again and pulled the trigger.

The echo of the bullet leaving the gun bounced back off the soundproof walls of the debrief room, making it seem incredibly loud. It was immediately followed by Lake’s gasp and the sound of glass shattering.

The room was flooded with darkness.

Sands had focused on the sound of the light above them, and had shot out the bulb with little problem, his head never turning towards the target, facing Lake the entire time.

The gun took its place back under Lake’s chin and Lake could feel the heat of Sands’ breath against his face. "How does it feel Lake? How does it feel to be completely surrounded by darkness? Unable to see the room around you? Unable to see your partner? Unable to see your attacker? Unable to see the gun pressed up against your jaw, a gun that could bring you permanent darkness at any moment…" Sands paused for a moment, savoring the control like it was a good piece of slow roasted pork, savoring the ultimate power he had over this man. The power over life and death, the ultimate control.

"Tell me Lake. How does it feel?" Sands hissed.

Lake felt as if he was about to pass out, his breath coming short and quick. "Frightening," Lake finally admitted, his voice mirroring the feeling.

"Good, because your slip of the tongue just cost you your life, and I want pure fear to be the last thing you ever feel in this world."

Lake pleaded one last time.

Then he felt the cold metal move from under his jaw and press hard against the side of his head.

Mike looked on helplessly, barely able to see the two other officers in the dark, sure that if he moved, he’d be shot too.

‘Oh shit.’

Lake looked at Sands with terror filled eyes.

Mike shouted one last time for Sands to let the kid go, but it was in vain.

They all heard the click of the gun in Sands’ hand.

And the room was quiet.

Sands finally let go of his stranglehold on Lake and the kid fell to the floor in a heap, the gun now at Sands’ side as he stepped back, smirking, before deadpanning into the silent darkness, "You’re dead."

The room was dark and quiet. No one dared to move or breathe.

Lake slowly opened his eyes again, although it did little good in the darkness.

Confusion filled his face; he’d heard the gun go off, felt the pierce of the bullet… hadn’t he? Or had he? He let out a long, shaky breath as he attempted to get his bearings.

Suddenly, Sands started laughing.

Admittedly, Sands’ laugh was an odd thing to hear, but it was at that moment that Lake realized what had happened. Sands had only yelled bang as he shoved the barrel hard into Lake’s temple, and let his fear-ridden body drop to the floor.

Sands hadn’t actually fired the gun.

He’d been playing with him the whole time.

But Lake had heard the click… "What?" he started to ask as he caught his breath, the room still frighteningly dark.

Still lying on the floor Lake saw the dark outline of a figure loom above him and answer back, "Don’t flip your wig, kid. It was only the sound of yours truly clicking the safety back on."

Sands smirked before lifting the gun up and demonstrating, rather sarcastically, how to flip the safety on and off.

At the new revelation and developments Mike slumped into the nearest chair in relief. He realized that he was covered in sweat and took out a handkerchief, starting to pat his face dry. It had been too dark for him to see exactly what had happened, and he’d been more than a little caught up in the moment. Sands had given them a good scare, but thankfully nothing more.

Sands smiled. ‘Oh, how I’ve missed all this. The thrill, the control, the power - and the ability to strike pure terror into the hearts of those who try to fuck with me.’

Sands knelt down next to Lake. He could hear him trying to catch his breath.

"Just remember this Lake. I could have killed you," Sands stated menacingly, tapping the gun against his thigh absentmindedly as he spoke. "And the only reason why you’re not dead on this floor right now is because I chose not to kill you." He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. "I hope for your sake, dear Lake, that you never do or say anything again that will make me regret my choice here today." Sands leaned a little closer towards Lake, causing him to lean away. "What do you think Lake? Can ya walk to the tune of that beat?"

"Yeah," Lake answered softly, caught slightly off guard, as Sands stood up again. "But-" Lake started, then stopped abruptly.

"But?" Sands questioned. Lake sat there on the floor for a long moment, rubbing his sore neck before answering.

"But why didn’t you? Kill me, that is," Lake asked, curious about the answer. He was quite sure that Sands was capable of murder.

"Hmm…" Sands considered the question as he walked back towards the desk; one hand reaching out in front of him slightly until it hit the edge. He was grateful that the room was probably dark enough that the other two Officers couldn’t see his obvious weakness. Sitting on the edge of the desk, Sands’ gaze seemed to fall on nothing as he fiddled with the gun in his hands, "You’re afraid to live and scared to die." He let out a small laugh, "That’s truly… unbelievable."

Sands heard some shuffling from the floor, and assumed that Lake was finally starting to get up. "It’s not that," he heard Lake say, "But you seemed serious enough to do it."

"Oh, it would have been easy enough for me to do it kid, and I certainly wouldn’t have found it difficult to pull the trigger after what you dared to say to me. However, I’m not so insane as to surely wreck my career and future at the Company by killing a kid who’s hardly worth the effort," Sands said calmly, surprising both the other officers in the room, until he spoke again.

"At least not here at OOS where I’d be immediately arrested," Sands threw in, smirking.

Mike looked at the silhouette of Sands. ‘He’d been in control the whole time.’

"Hey, Mikey?" Sands questioned, while he unloaded the gun’s clip. Sands wasn’t quite sure where Mike was anymore; he’d lost track after focusing on Lake so intently.

"Yeah?" Mike asked, getting back up.

"Catch." Sands said, tossing the unloaded gun in Mike’s direction.

Mike managed to catch it, despite the dark and the slightly off throw, and regarded Sands as he put the gun back in its holster. Sands was rolling the clip in his hand, not really facing either of them. Mike glanced at Lake and put a single finger to his lips, signaling for Lake to say nothing else.

‘Sands seems calm enough and I definitely don’t want Lake blowing it now, at least not any more than he already has.’

"Well Sands, I’d say this debrief has run its course. As always… it hasn’t been dull."

Sands smiled at that, "You know I’m always good for a little excitement, Mikey."

"True. I suppose some things never change."

Sands stood up and tossed the clip on the desk. "It does seem that way, doesn’t it," he said distractedly. ‘And some things do change.’

Lake started walking towards the door, then stopped at the sound of Sands voice. "Oh and Lake, I wouldn’t mention what happened in here, if you catch my drift."

Lake looked at Sands, then at Mike who gave him a look that clearly said ‘agree with him, and don’t talk about it’.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Groovy. Besides, who’s going to believe you? Mike owes me one, more than one actually, but who’s counting? And thanks to you, this whole little incident isn’t even on record." Lake looked at the recorder and realized Sands was right. The tape didn’t include any part of the ordeal; he himself had turned it off before the whole thing started.

"Don’t be too terribly disappointed, kid. You’re walking out of here with your life firmly intact. Just take this as a friendly lesson, and remember it well. Don’t ever underestimate anyone, no matter what you think you know about them. In the Company it’s something that’s likely to get you killed… or worse. Take my word for it," Sands said, tapping one of the lenses of his sunglasses. "I know, and I would truly hate to see any fellow agent or officer have to learn it the hard way. Consider yourself lucky, kid, because I’m sure that if you’d been sent out in the field before today, you’d be dead before you could even send in your first HUMINT report." Sands quirked an eyebrow. "I just gave you free training in field psychology, I’m sure you can dig it."

Lake let the words sink in, and at least had the good sense to be humble and not say anything stupid. Deep down his mind knew Sands was right, damn him.

Sands frowned. ‘Why the hell did I just tell that kid all that? Lake certainly doesn’t deserve any helpful tips from me, and I’d have been perfectly happy if that idiot had gone out into the field and gotten himself terminated.’

He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it.

‘Seriously, I cannot watch, or rather listen, to any more Soap Net.’

"Then I suppose I should thank you," Lake said, not sounding very thankful.

"Fuck off!" Sands snapped back, irritated and confused, though more at himself than at Lake.

Lake raised his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing. Mike chuckled as shades of the partner he remembered started to slip through Sands’ seemingly somber mood.

"Mike, I believe I’m through here. Just remember, find the cell phone. It’s got all the proof the Company needs that my superior superior’s intentions were to burn me, and not with the Company’s blessing."

Mike nodded in consent, then realized that Sands couldn’t see the gesture and voiced his reassurance. "We’ll relay the information immediately. The Company will be on it right away."

"Spiffy," Sands replied as he followed the sound of his ex-partner’s footsteps out of the room, hoping to hell that the Company would manage to find his proof.

Today was his last day at OMS, Crystal had informed him after debrief a few days earlier, and the days and nights that followed had been long, boring… and totally uneventful. Sure, his body might have needed the rest, but the inactivity was somewhat less fruitful for his mind. No matter how he tried to distract himself, the same question kept popping into his mind, over and over again. He tried to push it away, but it always came back taunting him, asking him the same thing every day, every hour, every minute…

And try as he might, Sands simply did not have an answer.

No master plan.

No ingenious solution.

After several days of struggling with himself, racking his brain for an answer, Sands finally had to admit it to himself, if to no one else.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

"Shit," Sands whispered out loud.

‘What’s wrong with me? I’ll do what I’ve always done. I’m still an officer for the Company…’

Sands swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up as he heard footsteps approaching his door.

The door opened and then closed again quickly.

"So I hear they’re releasing you today."

Sands smirked at the familiar voice and nodded in affirmation. "You’d think those fuckmooks would know better than to set me loose on the unsuspecting public."

"Yeah, but they never seem to learn. They keep making the same mistake."

Sands made a quick up and down motion with his eyebrows mockingly. "Well you know what they say Cam, all wrong-doing is done in the sincerest belief that it is the best thing to do."

Cameron snorted. "Since when does the Company think about what’s the best thing to do?"

"Oh, right. My bad," Sands laughed. "So, do you mind telling me exactly what you’re doing here?"

"Perhaps I’m just here to see how you’re doing."

Sands’ head went back and he groaned.

‘I swear he’s trying to kill me with kindness.’

"Don’t make me shoot you."

Cameron walked further into the room to stand by the bed Sands was still seated on. "Sands," he said, waiting for him to respond. After half a minute of silence Sands made a ‘get on with it’ gesture with his hands and raised his eyebrows impatiently. "You’re still an asshole," Cameron concluded.

"What? Were you expecting someone else?" Sands asked in mock disbelief.

Cameron sighed and leaned against the nearest wall. "I’ve been informed that my new assignment is to act as your chauffeur for the day."

Sands smiled a little smugly and stood up, suddenly ready to go. "Well if that’s the case just be sure to keep it clandestine. Now let’s get a move on, I’m sure there’s a pack of smokes somewhere with my name on ‘em."

The door opened again, just as Sands was absentmindedly making sure his sunglasses were in place, and Crystal walked in.

Cameron saw what she was holding, and frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything.

"Well I bet you’re glad to be going home," she said with a smile, as she tried to think of a good way to break the coming news to him.

"Home sweet home," Sands muttered sarcastically, before adding, "I bet the staff is even gladder."

Cameron looked over and saw a small smile tugging at Crystal’s lips before she answered. "I wouldn’t doubt it. Before you go Sands, remember that you’ll need to continue to come in once a week to see your psychologist and… for rehab." Sands’ brow furrowed unhappily as she went on. "Well, you’ll need some help… adjusting… to everything. OMS and the Company require that you take a DLS class with us," she said nervously. She quickly handed Sands one of the items she’d been carrying and gave Cameron the rest; a small bag and a box containing a few of Sands’ things, including Cam’s present from a while back.

‘DLS Class? What the hell is that?’ Sands thought, frowning, as he felt the object shoved into his hands. Crystal was making her way towards the door, even as she continued speaking. "Those are antibiotics and pain killers," she said, pointing to the bag in Cameron’s hands. "Sands, you’ll need to take two of each a day, for a week. You’ll have a checkup here once you run out of pills and we’ll decide if you still need them after that. You may need the pain killers for a little while longer." She stopped and turned around to face him while standing by the door. "You sure there’s no family you’d like me to notify?" she asked again, for the third time that week, concerned about him being alone so soon, but not daring to voice that concern.

"For the last time, no, sugar-butt."

Crystal dropped her gaze to the ground for a moment. After a glance at his files a couple of days ago, she knew he was lying, but she didn’t press the matter, feeling as if she was already walking on thin ice.

"About the cane…" She paused for a moment, seeing his growing fury as he held the object tightly, "don’t be ashamed to use it, you know, if you need to." She walked out the door, leaving it at that.

After hearing her leave, Sands’ ran his hand up and down the aluminum cane a couple of times, lost in thought, before he held it out in front of him then abruptly dropped it, hearing the aluminum hit the linoleum floor and bounce a couple of times before becoming still. He stepped over it and made his way to the door with every intention of never using such a crutch. He turned towards Cameron, who unbeknownst to him, was quietly picking up the cane to take with them. "You coming or what?" Sands asked, now in a thoroughly foul mood.

"Yeah, yeah," Cameron muttered as he tucked the cane under his arm and led the way out of OMS.

---

Cameron looked over at Sands in the passenger seat of his black Suburban as he followed the directions to Sands’ apartment. Cameron was somewhat grateful that Sands was one of the many officers that lived close to the CIA offices. He’d hate to have to drive Sands for any long period of time; sure, he had done so the day he’d picked Sands up in Mexico, but Sands had been unconscious most of the way, and it had undoubtedly made the long drive much easier.

Sands hadn’t said a word since he’d gotten his cigarettes fifteen minutes ago. Not one. He was obviously thinking about something as he sat there, facing forward, smoking a newly bought cigarette like it was his lifeline.

Sands’ curiosity was killing him and his distrust of Cameron was starting to seep into his brain.

‘He hasn’t told me the truth about that day in Mexico. How did he know where I was if he hadn’t talked to Martin? Or is Martin lying about not talking to Cameron, just as he lied about not talking to me?’

"We’re almost there," Cameron told him, as he turned into the apartment complex.

Sands cocked his head and took a long drag off his cigarette as his thoughts were interrupted. "There’s no place like home."

After about a minute Cameron pulled into a parking spot fairly close to an entrance door and shut off the engine.

"Shall we head in?" Cameron asked, as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and turned towards Sands.

"No," Sands stated flatly.

"What?"

Sands turned to him suddenly, his face showing absolutely no emotion. "Who sent you?"

"What?" Cameron repeated again, totally caught off guard.

"Quo usque tandem abutere patentia nostra?"

"Huh?"

Sands’ face continued to be an unreadable mask. "You need to expand your vocabulary Cam. You heard me the first time. Who sent you to bring me out that day in Mexico? Because I tell ya, I rather assumed that it was Martin. However, I’ve made a startling discovery as of late. Martin claims that he never spoke to me on the Day of the Dead
- that’s not surprising - but he also claims that he never sent you to exfiltrate me either, and that is very interesting indeed."

Sands took another puff of smoke and blew a large cloud into Cameron’s face. Cameron didn’t smoke, and Sands knew he hated the smell.

"So you see, Cam, the puzzle pieces that I have in my possession seem to belong to two completely different puzzles."

Cameron looked at Sands for a long moment and then sat back in his seat.

‘Of course Sands isn’t going to just up and trust you. What did you expect?’

"Are you saying you don’t trust me?" Cameron asked.

Sands laughed and cocked an eyebrow, opened the car door and threw out his cigarette. "A question for a question. Do you trust me?"

Cameron returned the gesture. "I see your point."

Sands got out of the car and closed the door, leaning against it as he waited for Cameron to get out.

Cameron followed, a little curious as to why Sands wasn’t pushing the question further, but left it at that while he grabbed all of Sands’ stuff from the backseat and started towards the apartment building.

Sands followed the sound of the box as its contents shifted with each of Cameron’s steps. He wasn’t going to just let the question go, but he preferred to continue the conversation in more private and familiar surroundings.

‘I’ll have more of an edge in my apartment,’ Sands thought, and then chuckled slightly to himself under his breath. Cameron looked at Sands in bewilderment, but said nothing. Sands looked to be in a weird mood and Cameron wasn’t anxious to start anything. As a matter of fact, he was pretty anxious to get all this over and done with as quickly as possible.

Once they reached Sands’ apartment, Cameron unlocked the door to let them both in. Sands carefully walked towards the couch, while Cameron closed and locked the door behind them, all the time watching Sands. "Where do you want this stuff?"

Sands sat himself down on the couch, picturing the apartment’s layout in his mind. He pointed towards a door off to Cameron’s right. Cameron followed the direction of Sands’ finger; it was a little off the mark but he got the idea. "If you drop that crap off in the bedroom there, that would be dandy."

As Sands heard Cameron open the door and go inside, he quickly stuck his hand under the couch cushion and started groping around.

Sands smiled a little mischievously, and brought up the object he’d been searching for. He heard Cameron start back towards the living room, and quickly hid his find under his left leg. His mischievous look was gone by the time Cameron came back into the room, and as Cameron asked him if he’d like anything before he left, he began to plan out what he was going to do.

"Yeah, you can fix me a tequila. Stuff’s in the kitchen."

Cameron rolled his eyes at Sands’ request. It had sounded more like an order.

"No problem," Cameron said, walking into the kitchen. As he started looking around in the cabinets he heard Sands call out from the living room "…and don’t forget the lime."

Sands leaned back on the couch looking relaxed as he waited for his unsuspecting prey. Said prey currently fixing him a tequila… with lime… in his small kitchen, seemingly not used to any kind of job in the culinary area judging by the way he was banging and crashing around.

‘It’s like STOMP giving me my own private performance for Christ’s sake,’ Sands thought to himself as he hollered a sarcastic "Are you alright in there?" to Cam. Cam gave a muffled response in the affirmative as Sands waited, the object he had retrieved from under the couch cushion hidden beneath him.

It was obvious to Sands that asking Cam nicely about how he’d found him that day in Mexico was getting him nowhere.

Well then, that was just peachy keen with him. After all, he’d never had any problems using force when necessary. Hell, he’d never had any problems using force even if it was totally unnecessary.

Sands heard Cam’s usual no-nonsense footsteps as he reentered the living room, and the sound of ice tinkling against the side of a glass.

"You alright amigo? Sounded like you were having a little trouble in the kitchen there," Sands asked in his trademark sarcastic drawl.

Cam rolled his eyes but ignored the comment. "Here’s your tequila."

Sands moved his head towards him stone-faced, but didn’t make a move to reach for the glass.

Cam stood there for a moment, nonplussed, before adding, "with a lime."

Sands smiled, and reached for the glass. As Cam gave it to him, he couldn’t help notice the slight look of malice that shifted across Sands’ features.

"Well, I guess I’ll be going now…" Cam told him, starting towards the door. Cam was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable as he watched Sands take a sip of his tequila, and then immediately set it on the small coffee table in front of him.

"Veni huc."

Cam halted his progress to the door, turning around and facing Sands again, with a frustrated sigh. He knew very well that Sands spoke Latin to him because he knew Cam couldn’t understand him. But he knew Sands also did it to other people, so it seemed to be some bizarre game that Sands liked to play.

"Sands, you know very well that I don’t speak or understand Latin."

Sands smirked and made a somewhat sinister come here motion with his finger. Cam never thought that such an innocent gesture could be so frightening, until now. ‘Don’t go over there,’ Cam thought even as he reentered the room. ‘Bad idea… bad idea…’

Cam sat down hesitantly next to Sands on the couch, staying as far away as possible. Cam’s designated space between the two of them didn’t last long however.

Three things happened in the span of a few seconds.

Sands closed the gap between the two of them, grasped the back of Cam’s neck and pulled what appeared to be a syringe full of an unknown liquid out from god knows where.

Cam gulped slowly, damning himself for his own stupidity.

Sands held up the needle, his other hand holding Cam’s neck in a painful grip.

"Now Cameron," Sands drawled, and the use of his full name was not lost on Cam. "I have tried asking you nicely, twice, but to no avail. Now, I’ll ask you again and I’ll ask you for the last time…" he continued as he brought the needle up to Cam’s neck, "…how did you know that I needed to be exfiltrated that day in Mexico?"

Cam opened his mouth to answer, but Sands quickly interrupted him, "Think very carefully about what you say to me Officer…" Sands said as he edged a little closer to Cam, his voice now exuding that dangerous calm that meant only one thing; he was furious. "… because if you lie to me now I swear I’ll fucking pump this shit into your veins and let you worry about what it is and how much time you’ve got left until it takes you. Capiche?"

Cam stayed completely still.

‘Sands thinks I’ve betrayed his trust… perhaps even thinks I may be part of some larger plot involving Officer Martin.’

After all that had happened, Cam supposed he couldn’t blame Sands for his reaction. After all, he hadn’t answered Sands previously and it probably did seem suspicious to him. He should have known better.

‘I just need to stay calm, and explain.’

Cam swallowed again, his heart beating a little faster than he would have liked. "Yeah."

"Any time Cameron, I’m all ears."

"Before I start… I just want to say that I didn’t betray your trust in me, Sands."

Although Sands did his best to hide it, Cam saw the small frown that played over his face ever so briefly, replacing Sands’ normally unreadable mask.

"Why the hell would you think that I ever trusted you?" Sands asked. Deep in the back of Sands’ mind though, a voice rang out.

‘You should have known better than to ever trust Cam. You should know that you can’t trust anyone.’

Snapping himself out of his thoughts Sands snarled, "Get on with it or else…" He halted for a moment and smiled "…Me oporlet propter praeceptum te nocere."

"Well," Cameron started quickly, knowing Sands was in no mood for stalling. "Officer Martin may be lying about everything else, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t send for me to-"

"I think it’s rather obvious that I figured that out Cameron," Sands rudely interrupted, exasperated now. "I don’t think you’d be in this rather precarious position otherwise. Now stop farting around."

"FBI Agent Ramirez told me that you were injured and needed to be exfiltrated. Not long before Ramirez retired, he and I had worked to bring down a drug kingpin, so he knew how to get a hold of me. Ramirez also knew that I had worked with you previously. On the Day of the Dead he must have seen you at some point, known that you were injured, and then called me to get you out. Didn’t want to deal with you himself, said he was too old to deal with your shit."

Sands remained quiet for a moment, his grip on Cam loosening ever so slightly. "How did you know that I was going to be at the Flying Cow?" Sands demanded, still not wanting to let go of his suspicions.

"Ramirez told me. I don’t know how he knew, I only know that he was aware of the fact that you were going to be there. He told me that if you weren’t there then I should check a certain side street for your body." Cam paused for a moment as Sands slowly removed the needle from his neck, but kept his grip firm and the syringe ready just in case. Cam continued, "You were acting as his handler, weren’t you?"

"I was."

"Did you mention your meeting at the Flying Cow to him or tell him that you’d be there sometime that day?"

Sands sat back slightly, relaxing his grip on Cam a bit as his mind mulled over Cam’s explanation of the events. Truth be known, he couldn’t remember whether he’d shared that information with Ramirez or not. Those last couple days in Mexico just weren’t sharp in his mind, and he supposed that just too much shit had hit the fan for him to remember. Still, it irritated him no end that his memory on the subject was so vague.

Sands let go of Cam, still lost in his own thoughts. Cam, perhaps wisely, stayed silent and waited for Sands to make the first move.

Sands came to a sudden realization right then and there. He’d known Cam since he’d started out in the Company, and despite his life-altering misjudgment about Ajedrez’s motives and character, his instincts about a person were normally dead on. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Cameron was capable of such deceit.

The fact of the matter was he actually did trust the man sitting next to him.

Sands took a long, deep breath. Distrust was a vile little creature that refused to leave Sands’ twisted little world, and it was a hard habit to give up, especially now that he no longer had the ability to look into a man’s eyes or read the expression on his face as he spoke. It made it all the harder for him to trust his own instincts. A voice could tell you a lot about whether what a person was saying was the truth or a lie, but usually the eyes were what gave a person away…

Sands stood up abruptly, still not having said a word, and Cam was unnerved both by his silence and his sudden change of position.

But by far the most unnerving thing was watching Sands, Agent Sheldon Jeffery Sands, bad-ass extraordinaire, pacing before him as he nervously ran a hand through his shoulder length black hair mumbling, seemingly to himself, in Latin.

"Non est mea culpa."

‘I don’t know that I can trust him, I don’t know that he’s telling the truth. How do I know if a man is telling me the truth when I can’t look into his fucking eyes?’ Sands continued to think to himself angrily, not realizing he was mumbling things out loud.

"Veritatem dies aperit."

Cameron watched Sands worriedly. In all the years Cameron had known Sands, which was admittedly quite a few, he had never seen Sands do what he was doing right now.

Never.

Not even remotely.

And frankly seeing him act this way… well, it was scarier than Sands threatening his life.

Cameron was seriously considering the possibility that Sands might be having a mental breakdown right in front of him at this very moment… but was surprised when Sands suddenly stopped his odd behavior and rounded on him.

Sands stalked towards Cameron quickly, a look of anger on his face as he stood over Cam, who was still sitting on the couch.

Then Sands did something totally unexpected.

He reached up and roughly jerked off his sunglasses.

Cam finally saw the extent of what had been done to Sands. He had never seen Sands without his sunglasses or bandages, not since his return. Cam drew in a sharp breath, horrified at the sight of the two dark holes that stared back at him, where Sands’ eyes should have been. "Oh my god…" Cameron said softly as he started to look away, his stomach turning flip-flops. But Sands grabbed hold of the front of Cam’s shirt quickly, and pulled him back around, seeming to anticipate Cam’s reaction.

Grabbing hold of Cameron’s jaw, Sands aggressively turned his face so that it was facing his own, then leaned forward till they were only inches apart.

"Look at me," Sands ordered, giving him a slight shake. "Look me in what were once my eyes, and promise me…" Cameron forced himself to look, and noticed that Sands was having some difficulty continuing. "…promise me that what you’ve told me is the fucking truth."

Cameron finally figured it all out. Sands was desperate… desperate to trust someone. No matter how much of a bad ass he unarguably was, right now in his current state, he needed someone to trust. Cameron looked straight at Sands as he answered sincerely, "I promise you Sands, I’ve told you the truth… you can trust me."

Sands stood up straight again, taking a couple steps away from Cameron. Sands suddenly looked tired, and a little older than he had before.

"I swear Cam, if I find out at any time that you’ve lied to me…" he began, his tone full of warning as he gently put his sunglasses back on. His head was pounding, and he vaguely remembered that he should be taking his painkillers right now. "… I’ll make sure you know how I feel before you die."

"Sands, I-"

"Just get the fuck out of here Cam."

Cameron stood up slowly and made his way to the front door. He turned around; giving Sands one last worried glance, "I’ll… I’ll call you later, alright?’

"Noli me vocare, ego te vocabo. Get out!" Sands demanded as he removed a cigarette from its pack and lit it.

Cameron sighed, and as he left, the door shutting firmly behind him, he sincerely hoped that Sands would be alright.

Go to Sands Through The Hourglass: Part 4 ~>