Cameron walked up the second flight of stairs and made his way down the hall to Sands’ apartment. Reaching the door he knocked hard three times and waited… and waited… and waited. Cameron frowned slightly before knocking again and calling out, "Sands, open up. It’s me, Cam."

Still, there was no response. Cam felt a knot begin to form in his stomach as he got a duplicate of Sands’ apartment key - given to him the day Sands was released from OMS - out of his pocket. Wary of entering without Sands opening the door himself, Cam knocked again and tried the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, the door was locked.

Cam sighed and fidgeted with the key in his hand, staring at the doorknob and listening to the echoing silence inside with dismay. A woman walked past him, giving him a suspicious glance before heading down the stairs.

Cam knocked on the door one last time. "Sands, if this is your idea of a joke it isn’t very funny."

Still there was nothing.

Worriedly Cam glanced up and down the hall before withdrawing his gun, then inserting the key into the door. Turning it, he opened the door and cautiously stepped inside.

Cam’s eyes widened at the sight that greeted him. Closing the door, he hurried over to Sands’ prone body, lying unconscious on the living room floor.

"Jesus! Sands!" Cam called out as he knelt down beside him, efficiently checking him over for any wounds, thinking that perhaps someone had broken in.

‘I don’t see anything,’ Cam thought, somewhat confused, as he shook Sands a bit in an attempt to rouse him. However, Sands still didn’t move, and the lack of any external harm did little to ease Cam’s worries. As he sat back slightly, he returned his gun to its holster, at a loss as to what exactly he should do. It occurred to him that the phone was beeping and he looked over to see it off the hook, lying on the floor next to Sands.

‘Water. Maybe some water on his face will wake him up,’ Cam thought as he stood, picking up the phone and replacing it in its cradle. It was then that Sands abruptly sat up with a sudden gasp, and Cam nearly knocked the whole table over in his surprise.

"Sands?" Cam asked tentatively, but got no real response as Sands’ breathing speeded up. He appeared to be on the verge of panic. "Sands, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?" Cam questioned, but still didn’t seem to be getting through to the man sitting before him. Sands’ right hand began to reach out blindly in the air in front of him as his breathing became ever more labored. His sunglasses had been knocked askew to reveal some of the nothingness that lay beneath, and strands of his long hair clung to the sweat on his face.

Cam bit his lower lip nervously as he thought, ‘He’s a total wreck.’

"Sands?"

Cam moved toward Sands slowly, not wanting to startle him, but still seeking to help him. It was painfully obvious something was very wrong. "Sands," he said softly, as if talking to a child.

Finally Sands’ head moved towards the sound of Cam’s voice and he took a small amount of comfort in the acknowledgment. Sands swallowed hard, his breathing still far too quick to be normal. "Cam?" Sands asked quietly, his upper body swaying a bit as if he were dizzy.

"Sands, what’s wrong?" Cam asked again as he knelt down, unafraid of startling Sands now that he held his attention. He grasped Sands’ outstretched hand and immediately noticed how clammy his skin was to the touch, his palms sweaty. "I… I… Cam, something’s wrong. I…" Sands began to stutter, in a small voice that Cam had never heard from him before.

"Sands it’s OK, just…"

"No… no, it’s not. Eric… I… I can’t see!" Sands whispered to him desperately, as an involuntary shudder passed through his body.

Cam furrowed his brow in confusion, surprise… and worry. He couldn’t remember the last time Sands had called him Eric.

"Sands…"

"I can’t see!" Sands said again, more loudly this time, his voice cracking. Sands reached a hand up to his face as he attempted to stand up, succeeding only with Cam’s help, and swaying dangerously in place. "My eyes… my eyes hurt so much. Eric, why the fuck do they hurt so much?" Sands asked, becoming frantic. It was painfully clear to Cam that Sands was having some sort of panic attack or mental collapse.

"Sands… you’re alright. Just try and take a few slow, deep breaths," Cam said soothingly, as he tried to guide Sands over to the couch, but Sands pulled back at his lead, roughly and suddenly, the quick movement almost causing him to tumble back down to the ground. Sands was still breathing oddly, and he was sickly and pale and not at all Sands.

"Don’t you touch me!" Sands warned in a dangerous tone laced with unfamiliar desperation. "Don’t you dare touch me!" Sands said again. This time his voice was a mere whisper.

"What… what have you done to me? I can’t see… I can’t see anything."

Cam swallowed, his throat dry, as a feeling of dread swept over him. Sands was definitely having some sort of mental breakdown. Unfortunately, out of the two of them, Sands was the only one with a degree in psychology.

"Sands, I haven’t done anything to you. Don’t you remember?"

"Yes… yes you did," Sands accused. He began to feel his way around the apartment as if searching for something, stumbling several times before finding a wall to help guide him.

A thought struck Cam as he watched Sands in concern, ‘He’s never looked as blind as he does right now.'

Sands made it to the door of his bedroom and Cam followed him, still completely unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to make any drastic phone calls, still holding out hope that Sands would snap out of whatever panicked state seemed to have gripped him.

As Cam entered the doorway of Sands’ bedroom he watched as Sands felt around the bed, and then his dresser. Sands began to pull out the lowest drawer and it quickly dawned on Cam what he might be searching for.

Leaping into action Cam came to an abrupt halt as Sands swiftly stood up and spun around to face him, automatic in hand.

"What are you doing, Sands?" Cam asked, as he cursed himself for his stupidity. He took a step back from the imposing figure of a crazed Sands; hair a tangle of black, sunglasses askew, sweat glistening on his brow, his breathing rapid and ragged. He raised the automatic and aimed it at Cam, his hand uncharacteristically shaky.

"Just stay away from me motherfucker. I…" Sands seemed to stop for a moment, as if battling with himself. "I’ll blow you straight to fucking Broadway."

"Alright, alright," Cam said, trying to sound calm as he backed up a little more. "Listen to me Sands. You’re in your apartment. About a month and a half ago you returned to the US after your operation rolled up in Culiacan, Mexico. Don’t you remember? You were injured," Cam said, then took a silent step to his left, removing himself from Sands’ line of fire.

"I can’t remember. I…I can’t… I can’t see…" Sands trailed off feebly. He looked frustrated and confused, his gun still trained on the spot Cam had just vacated.

"Sands… The Barillo Cartel…"

Sands jumped in surprise at the sound of Cam’s voice, and took an unsteady step away from him, caught off guard by his stealthy change of location. The hand clutching the gun faltered, and he didn’t attempt to correct his aim as he continued to try and grasp what Cam was telling him.

"…the Day of the Dead. Armando Barillo… Ajedrez…" Cam continued to prod.

Suddenly, Sands turned the gun on himself.

Cam’s eyes widened in surprise at the one thing he never expected. "Please, Sands! Just… just put the gun down."

Sands began to laugh, a twisted and crazy sound that chilled Cam to his core. "I won’t tell you what you want to know. I won’t tell you anything! The Company will not stand for this! I’ll willingly take myself to hell before compromising my operation," Sands went on. His laugh became a choked sob while the gun remained pressed against his temple.

"There’s no operation Sands! There’s nothing to compromise!"

Sands shook his head. "I called him. I… I did call him. I spoke to him. He spoke to me. I recorded it. God damn it! I recorded it!" He shouted, struggling to catch his breath. When he spoke again, his voice came out haggard. "I’m a loyal officer to the Company."

"Of course you are Sands."

Cam watched him with something beyond fear in his eyes. There was no doubt about it, Sands had completely lost it.

Sands backed himself up against the dresser, then slowly slid down to the ground with the gun still at his temple. "I’m a loyal Officer," Sands stated, sounding weak and tired as he sank down. "I made those calls … and I’m a loyal officer."

Cam could wait no longer. He dove towards Sands in a desperate attempt to pull the gun off its target before Sands could pull the trigger.