Chapter 15: Home Sweet Home?

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."

~*~

Quo usque tandem abutere patentia nostra? - How long are you going to abuse my patience?