Exactly twenty-three minutes later Cameron arrived at headquarters with Sands’ unmoving, non-speaking form sprawled across the backseat. Cameron figured he’d drifted into unconsciousness, because he hadn’t said a word for well over fifteen minutes, which would have been an impossibility if Sands was conscious.

Just as Cameron had requested, several white coats were waiting for them when they arrived, as was Sands’ superior, Officer Martin. He’d barely brought the car to a stop when the white coats rushed over and examined Sands. Gently, two of them lifted Sands off the backseat and onto an emergency stretcher. During all this, there was no movement from Sands whatsoever, which was, in Cameron’s opinion, not a great sign. Cameron watched as the white coats immediately rushed Sands inside Headquarters, while Office Martin came up beside him and introduced himself in an abrupt manner.

After Sands disappeared through the nearest headquarters entrance, Cameron followed Officer Martin inside. Martin was obviously trying to get to Sands, but the white coats would have none of it.

"I need to talk to him," Martin growled, half to himself, as he turned to Cameron.

"Sir, with all due respect, Officer Sands’ condition is critical. He won’t be able to speak to you now, even if you do see him, as he is currently unconscious. He’s suffering from at least three gunshot wounds and an unknown injury to his face. It’s… it’s a possibility that he may not even survive," Cameron told him, as they entered a large room that appeared to be Martin’s center of operations. Martin humphed indifferently, and took a seat in a comfy chair behind a long oak desk, not showing the least bit of concern for his fallen officer.

"Would that be so bad?" Martin asked casually.

Cameron’s eyes widened; he was completely taken aback by the remark. Certainly officers often didn’t get along, and let’s face facts, no one got along with Sands, but it was unheard of to blatantly say that the death of another officer ‘wouldn’t be so bad’. Especially one you currently worked with.

"Sir?"

Martin leaned back in his chair and looked into Cameron’s eyes, "You act shocked, but you’re really not. You know Sands. He’s a loose cannon, and has most likely put the agency in jeopardy more than once. Oh, I don’t have proof mind you," Martin said, waving his hand in a dismissive manor. "Sands is no fool, he knows how to cover himself. I should have known that with Sands as controller this operation would turn into a wet job."

Cameron didn’t like where this was going, and decided to change the subject. "How long till the AA helicopter arrives to transport Officer Sands to OMS?"

"Within the hour."

After about ten minutes of awkward silence between the two officers one of the white coats emerged from a backroom and joined them inside the office. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. His face was pale, as if he was shocked by the sight he’d just seen.

"Well, will he live?"

"Can’t say for certain. He’s lost a good deal of blood and has extensive injuries. However, if he’s transferred to OMS immediately I’d say he has a good chance of making it."

Cameron didn’t like the look on the doctor’s face. "What’s the extent of his injuries?"

The white coat sighed heavily and wiped some beads of sweat off his forehead. "He’s suffering from a number of gunshot wounds. One in his upper left arm and one in both thighs. They’re survivable and completely recoverable with the proper treatment b…"

"That’s all? So I can talk to him then. Excu…" Martin interrupted rudely, only to have the rudeness returned by the white coat.

"No sir, that’s not all. I haven’t covered his most serious injury, one that I am ill-equipped to handle here. OMS will have to take care of…"

"What is the injury?" Cameron asked hurriedly, knowing full well that it had to do with the extensive amount of blood running out from under Sands’ sunglasses. He wasn’t a complete idiot, despite what Sands might say.

"He’s obviously been tortured. The most serious injury he suffered is to his eyes," the white coat shifted his weight from side to side before continuing. "He’s blind."

Cameron shut his eyes briefly. ‘Christ almighty!’

"Is there any chance of…"

"No," the white coat interrupted, knowing full well what Cameron was going to ask. "No chance of Officer Sands recovering his sight. Complete disability for life. He requires immediate evacuation to OMS for treatment… and therapy."

Cameron had a sudden wave of sympathy for Sands, the thoroughly irritating and unbalanced officer he’d known since his days of training at the Farm. Being blind meant being imperfect, and it meant being vulnerable and needy.

These were Sands’ worst nightmares.

Cameron looked up at the doctor again. "How can you be so sure?"

The white coat returned Cameron’s steady gaze before telling both officers the ugly truth.

"There is no chance of recovery… because quite frankly there is nothing there to fix." At the confused looks the two officers were throwing him, the white coat decided to put it bluntly. "He has no eyes at all."

Cameron’s mind reeled. "No eyes…" he repeated back in a whisper. The mere thought was horrifying to him, and he realized now why the white coat was so pale. He’d seen it, in all its gory reality. Even for a doctor, it couldn’t have been easy. Cameron leaned heavily against the desk next to him, suddenly feeling the need to sit down. He heard Martin’s chair creak from the officer’s weight, so evidently he wasn’t the only one.

The white coat continued, "Frankly, I’m surprised he’s alive. Not only has he lost a massive amount of blood, he’s obviously been tortured. To top it all off, from his symptoms I’d guess whoever did it must have given him quite a nasty drug to keep him aware and awake while they… operated."

"Fuck!" Cameron swore under his breath, uncharacteristically for him.

"Is he aware of what has happened to him?" Martin asked dully, a surprising lack of emotion in his voice. To Cameron, Martin sounded like a robot devoid of all feeling.

It was unnerving. Cameron looked at Martin, and was further surprised to see the man didn’t look too surprised or too phased by the gruesome facts the doctor was piling on them either. ‘Very odd.’

"To a certain extent, yes. I’m sure a lot of what happened after the torture is fuzzy, but I believe he knows what has happened. He can most likely remember the whole hideous operation, if they gave him the drugs I suspect they did."

Cameron finally gave in and sat down on the desk, not caring if it was offensive to a superior or not. He’d known Sands for some thirteen years. As much as the man could push his buttons he never would have wished this on him. He wouldn’t even wish this on his worst enemy. He wondered what would happen to Sands now, and the scenarios that ran through Cameron’s head were more than slightly disturbing.

Cameron was lost in his thoughts as the white coats took Sands, heading directly for OMS. Cameron never even looked up, not yet prepared to face Sands again as they took him away to an uncertain fate.

As the flurry of activity followed Sands out of Headquarters, Cameron closed his eyes and silently prayed for Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands; it might have been the first time anyone had ever done so.