Chapter 19: Neutiquam erro (I am not lost)

Cam dove for the gun and his hands grasped it. Sands let out a yelp of surprise as he felt the gun being pulled away from him.

"Goddamn it. Let go of the gun, Sands!"

Sands let out what could only be called a growl as he tried to regain his grip on the only thing he felt he could control.

"You fucker! I… I see… no… no. I mean… I know… I know how it is. You don’t want me controlling the balance. But it’s what I do. I control the balance. I control… the balance."

When his position finally allowed him to, Cam grabbed hold of Sands’ wrist and twisted hard, and Sands gasped as he was forced to drop the gun to the ground. But Sands was never one to admit defeat, even now when the mighty mistress had her deathly fingers around his neck. He immediately acted. Just as Cam tried to kick the gun away from Sands, Sands shoved Cam hard against the dresser and turned his attention back to the floor, his hands groping around in the place he’d heard the gun drop as he muttered urgently.

"Restore the balance. Set them up and watch them fall. Just watch them fall. Watch them fall."

Cam shook his head, trying to clear it, as blackness threatened to close in on his vision. It was by sheer will - and terror at the sight of Sands fingers brushing against the gun lying on the floor - that he managed to fight off the encroaching darkness and lurch forward to stop him.

When Sands’ fingertips brushed up against the gun, he grasped it quickly. "Watch the mighty fall," Sands whispered, as he started to raise the gun to his temple again.

But Cam had the element of surprise on his side and grabbed hold of Sands’ arm before he could take accurate aim, slamming the gun and Sands’ hand against the dresser just as a shot went off. Sands shouted madly, but as soon as the shot rang out his body went rigid. His hand released its hold on the gun and it dropped to the floor.

Not willing to take any more chances, Cam immediately scooped the gun up and unloaded the clip. Watching Sands out of the corner of his eye as he lay against the dresser, pale and breathing heavily, he tossed the unloaded gun onto Sands’ bed and tucked the clip inside his jacket.

"Sands?" Cam asked. He crouched next to him and, after some hesitation, laid a hand on Sands’ shoulder. Sands’ body and mind appeared to be totally spent, as if they both just came to the agonizing conclusion that there was no way to win the battle. "Jeff?" Getting no real response Cam grabbed hold of Sands’ shoulders and gave him several hard shakes, raising his voice a few levels higher than normal. "Listen to me you crazy son-of-a bitch!"

Sands eyebrows drew together as he finally turned his head to face Cam. Cam heaved a weary sigh as he allowed his body to collapse next to Sands on the floor. Attempting to keep the tiredness and worry from lacing his voice, Cam continued. "Jeff, you’re in your apartment with your ex-partner in crime, Eric Cameron. Cam." Cam paused for a second, making sure Sands was comprehending him, before asking, "Are you following me, cowboy?"

Sands took a deep and shaky breath; not really sure of what had just happened, but attempting to focus on what was going on now. He felt dizzy and weak, and he couldn’t seem to get his own body to stop shaking.

Finally, Sands nodded a slow response in the affirmative.

It was slowly seeping into Sands’ mind now, what had happened in Mexico, and what had happened… what was it? A minute ago? Thirty minutes ago? An hour ago? A day ago? It had been almost two months, yet the thought struck him hard, suddenly, without warning.

A small and unwelcome flow of air escaped Sands’ lips, as his lungs emptied out their supply in defeat.

A minute passed in which they sat in complete silence, Cam letting Sands get his wind back and sort things out in his mind. Cam leaned heavily against the dresser behind him, deciding to be patient and let Sands make the next move.

Slowly, the fog within Sands mind cleared. It took with it the feeling of confusion, but didn’t pay him the courtesy of also removing the feeling of depression he was experiencing.

After another minute rolled by Sands pulled himself away from his internal conversation, remembering Cam was likely still in the room.

Finally Sands broke the rigid silence.

"Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker."

Cam let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and laughed in relief. "Alright John McClane, I think you’ve had enough action for one day. Why don’t we make our way into the living room? I’ll fix you a stiff drink. You look like you need it."

Sands let out a frustrated groan and leaned his head against the dresser.

"Fuck off Cam. Just leave me alone," Sands snapped back, irritably. He didn’t know what was going on with himself, and he’d be damned if he let Cam figure it out before he did.

Cam rolled his eyes as Sands seemed to go back to his normal self, his annoyance tempered with great relief.

"There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here alone in this condition."

"I don’t need your help!" Sands growled, as he slapped Cam’s hand away and tried to stand on his own, failing miserably.

"Of course you don’t, asshole. You’re perfectly capable of handling yourself. But I’m already here and I really have nothing else better to do, so you’re getting my help anyway, like it or not."

A long silent moment passed between them before Sands emitted a short grunt.

"Friggin’ pain-in-the-ass," he grumbled as Cam grabbed hold of his arm and helped him up roughly.

"Oh yeah, and you’re not?"

Sands allowed himself a small smug smile as he regained his balance. "That’s right, I’m not."

Cam gave him an incredulous look, before Sands continued. "I’m a royal pain-in-the-ass."

"Well, I can’t argue with that."

Cam led Sands to the couch and sat, or rather pushed, Sands down on it.

"Sands, your skin is clammy. I think you have a fever. Please, just sit there for a minute and try to take some slow, deep breaths. It will help clear your mind."

Cam could swear that even without eyes, Sands had managed to fix him with his nastiest glare. Sands opened his mouth to say something no doubt equally nasty but Cam cut him off.

"Don’t even start your shit."

Sands snapped his mouth shut and ground his teeth. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Cam watched Sands sit there in complete silence as he obviously tried to withhold an outburst. Cam noticed that Sands wasn’t breathing quite as quickly as he had been before and his body was shaking a little less. However, he still seemed exhausted, and when Sands was too exhausted for a good comeback… well, then something was seriously wrong.

After a moment, when it appeared Sands was starting to get a grip on things again, Cam walked into the kitchen and poured them both a good measure of tequila. Since Sands seemed to be out of limes he brought the drinks out as is and approached Sands, who was bending over with his hands covering his face.

"Sands, drink this. It’ll help to relax you," Cam said as he sat next to him.

Sands lifted his head, readjusted his crooked sunglasses, sat back against the couch heavily and reached for the drink. Cam put it in his hand and watched as Sands took a long pull from the glass, ending it in a weary sigh. "Where’s a lime when you really need one?" Sands mumbled into his glass, and Cam allowed himself a slight smirk. Sands seemed to finally be getting back with it, at least to the point of coherence.

As Sands finished his tequila, Cam finally asked, "Sands, what happened?"

"Shit," Sands swore, setting his now empty glass down in front of him on the coffee table. Cam waited for him to continue, but Sands didn’t elaborate any further.

"Care to expand on that thought? You sounded fine when I talked to you earlier. What the hell happened?"

Sands leaned back against the couch, shifted his weight and reached a hand into his pocket, coming up with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sands lit one up and took a drag before answering in his most nonchalant tone, "Nothing."

"Don’t give me that bullshit Jeff. You don’t make a habit of losing control… of anything, least of all yourself."

He knew that being too kind to Sands would result in a bullet in the head or at least a shove out the door, actually probably both. "I know you too well."

"I agree on that last statement."

"Don’t start your shit with me. You can’t give me the brush off. You think I can’t tell what you’re trying to do?"

"Oh, and what’s that?" Sands asked nastily, his patience spent, as he took another puff of his cigarette and filtered the smoke slowly out through his nose.

"You’re trying to lock me out, push me away. You’ve always had a problem with people - oh you can manipulate them wonderfully - but you’ve always had a hard time connecting."

"Wowza, listen to all that crap you can spout Doctor Phil," Sands spat sarcastically as he started to get up, not wanting to hear anymore.

Cam quickly stopped him from getting up, and pushed him back into a seated position, determined to make Sands hear him out.

"You’ve always been like that to a certain extent, but I can’t for the life of me understand why you’ve completely given up on people. You’ve only gotten worse. Why? Is it because of what happened to…"

Sands interrupted him, furious, "Mention them and I’ll kill you, I swear I’ll…"

"No you won’t Jeff."

"You do realize how irritating you are, don’t you? My trigger finger is just itching to shoot something, so don’t tempt me."

"If you were going to shoot me you would have done it by now. Besides, you know I’m right."

Sands smiled mercilessly. "I wouldn’t be so sure."

"But I am."

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you, Jeff. Either you tell me what’s going on or I’m picking up that phone and calling OMS and telling them to come get you," Cam threatened. He knew it was an empty threat because, as tough as he was being with Sands now, he knew he couldn’t be responsible for Sands being committed to a sanitarium.

"Would you do that?" Sands asked, in a tone that betrayed nothing of what he felt.

"I just watched you have some sort of mental episode and go so far as try and kill yourself. You want to try me?"

Sands sat there for a long time, saying absolutely nothing as he smoked; his breathing seemed to be back to normal and his skin was a little less pale. Cam didn’t know what to think, but stayed silent, knowing he could really only push the man so far, and that he was already stretching his limits.

"Well, I suppose I’ll never get any peace until I tell you."

Cam waited for Sands to continue.

"Congratulations Cam! I didn’t know you had it in you," Sands sighed and stubbed out the last of his cigarette on the table.

"Director Douglas was kind enough to inform me that I am nothing but a throwaway to the Company."

Cam closed his eyes and rubbed them tiredly.

‘That explains a lot.’

"What did he say?"

Sands thought back. The whole situation was beyond frustrating and he felt the urge for another cigarette; he didn’t deny the impulse and promptly lit another. So many things were pulling him apart. He used to have control of his life, yet now it seemed that he had lost that power.

‘That was before.’

Sands cleared his throat, "Just to give you the overall gist of the delightful convo I experienced earlier.... Douglas informed me that I’m a person of interest. I’m to consider myself a civilian until they delve further into the operation in Culiacan. Oh, and I’m not allowed to stray too far from home, either."

Cam thought for a moment. "So… you’ve been suspended?"

"Congratulations, you win a plush toy."

"But you haven’t been terminated from employment yet, there’s a possibility they’ll find your phone and prove that-"

"Doubtful Eric," Sands interrupted, not realizing that he was starting to call Cam by his first name. Sands’ head still throbbed painfully, the result of having been taken off the major painkillers. He also suspected that he might have smacked his head at some point because one side of his face hurt like hell, and his sunglasses were biting into his skin.

"They found my cell."

"Then… shouldn’t you be in the clear?" Cam asked, confused.

Sands laughed softly, but there was no humor in the sound. "Well that’s what I thought too. However, according to Douglas there is no record of my having ever called Martin."

Cam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But you did call him?"

Sands nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, I called him," He said aloud, and it served to convince himself as well as Cam.

‘I’ve been totally irrational about this whole situation.’

He’d made those calls, yes, of course he had. And damn it, if the CIA couldn’t or wouldn’t find proof that he’d been burned by Officer Martin, well then he’d have to find it himself.

Without much warning, Sands felt a trickle of wetness slide down his cheek, coming from the side he’d hit. "Ah shit," Sands said under his breath, and turning farther away from Cam, removed his sunglasses.

"What’s the matter Sands?" Cam asked, worried.

Sands brushed his fingers across his cheek and felt the all too familiar wet, sticky substance… blood.

‘Well that explains why I’ve got pain shooting through my skull.’

Sands replaced his sunglasses, stubbed out his second cigarette, and stood up, using the couch as support. As Sands started towards the bathroom he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder that quickly spun him around.

"What are… oh, Jesus, Sands." Cam said as soon as he got a full view of Sands’ face, seeing the flow of blood running down his cheek. Before Sands even registered it, Cam had removed his sunglasses.

Sands reached out to snatch them back on reflex, but then, realizing what it must look like, stopped almost as quickly. He held out his right hand and demanded dangerously, "Give them back to me."

Cam, realizing what he’d done, immediately handed them back.

"Don’t you ever do that again." Turning around abruptly, Sands stalked to the bathroom without another word and closed the door.

As Cam heard the faucet run in the bathroom he returned to the couch and sat down, rubbing his face repeatedly in an effort to wake himself up. This day had turned out way more stressful and exhausting than he had ever imagined.

"You know," Cam called out to Sands from the living room, "When you called about getting a little target practice in this afternoon this was not what I had in mind."

After a couple moments of Cam’s attempts to lighten the mood, he heard Sands shout back, "Yeah, well next time I shoot my bolt I’ll be sure to let you know I plan on wigging out beforehand."

After a few more minutes Sands came out of the bathroom, his face washed, his hair brushed and his sunglasses back in place. He looked much better, his color slowly returning along with his strength.

Sands’ returning strength echoed in his voice as he spoke to Cam in his distinct ‘I’m going to start some shit’ tone.

"Cam, there’s a mole in Mexico and the rat wants to off me, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him win."