Sands figured that he must have been quite a sight. He was sitting in a hospital bed, with bandages tightly wrapped around his eyes, legs and one arm. He imagined himself wearing the typical white hospital nightshirt, topping off the whole look with a big ass cowboy hat sitting on top of his head. It almost made him laugh… almost.

"So, does this mean you’ve forgiven me for that little trick I played on you Senior year at Camp Swampy?"

Cameron arched an eyebrow at the mention. "Not a chance."

~*~

Sands sat in his hospital bed, mentally preparing himself for what he knew would be a very challenging day.

Debrief day had finally arrived and he was to be escorted to OOS headquarters later in the morning. Sands was keyed up, and ready to go. He’d be released from OMS in another week, which was something he was extremely happy about. Yet at the same time, deep inside, fear tugged at him and refused to let go. He hated the feeling of fear; it was a feeling that he wasn’t used to.

Then again, there were a lot of things of late that he wasn’t used to, but that he had to live with anyway.

His eyebrows came together with worry. There were so many things that could go wrong with his plan.

Sands felt like yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs for his brain to stop thinking about his future. Sands couldn’t plan ahead for this. He couldn’t set things up this time. No, this time he’d have to be ready to think on his feet. He had to pull himself together because he sure as hell wasn’t going to watch himself fall.

He could only plan so much, until the unknown got in the way, and for days he had been doing nothing but coming up with plan after plan, and backup after backup.

Now it was time for him to be the Cowboy again, be the Officer he’d always been.

But the feeling wasn’t coming to him as easily as it always had before.

His left hand reached over, his fingertips lightly brushing the cowboy hat given to him by Cam. The gift had taken him completely by surprise; no one had ever liked him enough to give him any sort of gift before, at least, not for a very long time.

He quickly put his hand back in his lap. Why did everything seem so different? So foreign? Why did it seem as if he was living in another world now, with no way back to the life he once knew?

Because that’s what it was to him really. A Show. He was on Broadway, and everybody that he manipulated or used were his co-stars, the world his audience and he the star.

"Minutus cantorum, minutus balorum," Sands mumbled out loud to himself.

At least that’s the way it was before the Day of the Dead, and today would be the first time he had ventured out of OMS since the infamous day.

Deep down in the depths of his soul, he was truly unnerved by the idea. Yet this place, OMS, was driving him mad. He needed to leave. He needed to find balance in his life again.

Sands was, thankfully, snapped out of his reverie by the sound of the nurse entering the room. Since she’d first come in to care for him, he’d come to know her as Crystal.

Last Friday he’d started insisting on having an all black ensemble to wear to debrief, one much like the outfit he’d been wearing when he first arrived at OMS.

He remembered the sound of the nurse’s voice when he first suggested it and chuckled at the memory.

Everyone at OMS had scoffed at the whole idea of course; that was to be expected. But he was Sands, and after much persuasion he finally got his way and a much needed ego boost. He’d happily given Crystal his sizes and the names of some of his favorite - and oh-so-tasteful - shops in the vicinity, that sold what he’d asked for.

Crystal dumped the pile of attire on the bed next to Sands, then set a pair of black cowboy boots down on the floor.

"You told me you knew of some tasteful shops to go to," she said in playful annoyance.

Sands smiled cheerfully. "It left a bad taste in your mouth, didn’t it sugar-butt?"

"Yeah, you can say that again."

"It left a bad taste in your mouth, didn’t it sugar-butt?"

Even though Crystal was fully aware that Sands couldn’t see it, she rolled her eyes. "Sands…"

"Well, if it left a taste in your mouth, even a bad one, then it’s still tasteful, right?"

Crystal smirked. As much as Sands irritated her, his annoying behavior was a sure sign that he was feeling better. "A mere technicality. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, Officer."

"But you got what I asked for," Sands stated. It wasn’t a question.

"Of course."

Sands smiled, satisfied that he’d managed to get what he wanted despite everything ranged against him.

"Will you be needing help?"

Sands’ smile disappeared immediately, and turned into a frown. Crystal didn’t have to be a genius to know it was time to leave. She’d bruised his ego and that was not a good thing.

"Well, buzz when you’re ready," she said before beating a hasty retreat.

Sands sat on the bed for a moment, stone still, darkness surrounding him… something that would surround him for the rest of his life. He’d heard Crystal leave. Obviously she had taken the hint that he wasn’t too keen on the dressing idea. Still, he briefly wondered if he really could manage by himself, before quickly stomping out that idiotic thought. But a voice entered his mind, one that shook him whenever it decided to haunt the depths of his brain.

‘Oh Shit. Mother’s voice.’ It sent a chill up his spine every time he heard it, and for the last ten years or so he’d only heard it in his mind.

He was alone now and in the dark, and he’d have to get used to it.

Sands’ hands went to his pounding head in frustration as he willed the voice to stop taunting him, and his body shook slightly as a low, strangled noise escaped his lips.

After a few deep breaths Sands managed to gain control of himself once again. He reached over until his hands hit the pile of clothing, and proceeded to get ready for his debrief.

Today was an important day for Officer Sands, for it would decide his future.

~*~

Minutus cantorum, minutus balorum. - A little song, a little dance.