Cam watched Sands walk into the kitchen and grab a bag of chips off the counter. It amazed him how one minute Sands could be on the verge of suicide, and the next minute he could be talking to him as if none of it had ever happened. Cam knew that there was no way that Sands could be completely over it all so quickly, but Sands was a master at, among other things, hiding his humanity.

"You still think Martin is the traitor?" Cam asked Sands as he returned from the kitchen, chips in hand.

Sands shook his head. "He’s involved somehow. Now it’s just a matter of finding out exactly how deeply his rabbit hole goes, and who else is helping him dig it."

"You don’t think it’s just him?"

"Not a snowball’s chance in hell. He doesn’t have the balls… and I don’t mean the snow kind. He’s either working with someone or for someone. It all comes down to who."

Cam thought silently for a moment. He tended to agree with Sands. Martin was not a good field officer, which was the reason he sat behind a desk and ran things. However, he wasn’t even terribly good at doing that. For quite some time there’d been rumors to the effect that Martin was going to be replaced by another officer; there still were. As a matter of fact, now that Cam thought about it, Sands’ name had even been one of those mentioned as a possible replacement… at least, before the coup.

"Sands, were you aware of the rumor floating around the Company that Martin was going to be replaced as supervisor?"

Sands eyebrows lifted, and his expression became one of mild curiosity. "Really?"

"You hadn’t heard?"

"No." Sands said, putting on his bored façade. "I was a little too busy in Culiacan to stop and get all the latest scuttlebutt from you ladies. Besides, that’s probably just what it is. He hasn’t been replaced."

"Perhaps not. But it’s an awfully big coincidence that your name was tossed around as being one of those up for promotion, to replace Martin."

Sands snapped his head around to face Cam, caught off guard by his words.

"What?"

"I’m saying that there were those within the Company who believed you were going to replace him as supervisor. Now, I’m not the one sitting in this room with a Masters in Psychology, but it seems to me that it might make an awfully good motive, if Martin was corrupt enough."

Sands smirked a little. "I take it you believe my story then."

"Of course," Cam said, without hesitation.

For a minute there was silence. Sands cocked his head slightly to the side and when he spoke it was with a casual air. "You know… I’m not to be trusted."

"But I do trust you."

Sands didn’t seem to know what to do with that admission, and shrugged as he crunched another chip. "Your funeral."

Cam grabbed a handful of chips out of the large bag of Ruffles beside Sands before answering.

"I’m not saying that I believe you didn’t cross the line in Mexico, Jeff. I know you’re a cowboy, as does the Company. I’m quite sure you took part in some less then honest dealings in Mexico to get your job done… probably even had something going on the side. Even so, I’ve known you since you started out and you’re no traitor to your country. You are a loyal officer, I’ll give you that." Cam snacked on a chip before continuing. "I’m not naive enough to think that the Company isn’t aware of how some of its officers get the job done, and I definitely know you’re aware of it. I swear I may never understand why, and yes, I might be a total idiot for it… but I trust that what you’ve told me about this whole screwed up operation is the truth."

"You trust me?" Sands repeated, more than a little surprised, but doing his best to hide it.

"Yeah."

Sands contemplated his words as he swallowed another chip, ‘He actually trusts me? How did that happen? How could I let that happen? More to the point, how could Cam let that happen?’

Sands couldn’t understand it, but in the end he decided his head was pounding far too much for him to think terribly hard about the fact. He surprised himself and Cam when he laughed an honest laugh, something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time. "And you think I’m crazy, Cam."

"You are."

Sands smiled properly for the first time since Cam arrived. "But who’s crazier? The crazy man or the man who trusts the crazy man?"

Cam answered laughing as well, "I’d really rather not answer that." Sands’ smile remained, as he simply shook his head in disbelief.

He couldn’t figure Cam out. He couldn’t figure out why the man seemed to trust him, why he’d gone to all the trouble of pulling him out of Mexico that day, and damn it, he couldn’t figure out what had possessed Cam to give him that gift in the hospital. That one really ate at him.

It was fucking maddening really, because he didn’t think he was being any less of an asshole than usual.

‘I still hold fast to the assumption that he’s trying to kill me with kindness.’

"I hate to ask this, Sands, as I’m sure I’m not going to like the answer, but what exactly are you planning on doing?"

Sands smirked and grabbed another handful of chips.

"That, dear Cam, is for me to know and you to find out."

"What, don’t you trust me?"

Sands raised an amused eyebrow; "I don’t trust anyone."

Cam frowned a little and was about to say something when Sands continued. "However if I were to give a man my trust, you are most likely the man I’d deem trustworthy… which perhaps by default makes you worthy of my trust. However you may not be able to trust my trustworthiness so my trustworthiness I trust to you."

"You want to try repeating that?"

"No."

"You want to try telling me what you are going to do now?"

Sands gave a somewhat over-exaggerated groan of dismay before deciding to answer him. "If you absolutely must know, I plan on jet-setting to Mexico on the next available flight."

"What? What for?" Cam asked, knowing very well that if Sands was under investigation he was probably confined to the state and his ‘jet-setting’ would not make the Company very happy.

Sands shot Cam a "duh" expression, "For a friggin’ siesta under the baking Mexican sun. What do you think I’m going there for?"

"One can never tell with you, Sands."

Sands smiled a bit at Cam’s words. "I feel it’s time to once again unleash my famous savoir-faire… Mexican-style, get decked out and kick some serious ass."

"Sands, I don’t think that’s the best move…"

"Well then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion."

"Jeff, how do you intend to find your way around and scout for information when you’re still not… adjusted?"

Sands jaw tightened and his voice became dark. Cam knew immediately that he’d just said something that put Sands in one of his instant bad moods. "I’ll do just fine," Sands all but growled, but his mind was thinking just the opposite.

"You’re pushing too hard and too fast Jeff. I’d hate to see that be your undoing."

Sands stood up quickly, his temper flaring. He was sick of his own weakness getting in the way and that had to end, now.

"I’m going, damn it, and I’d sure love to see you try and stop me," He sneered at Cam, showing the anger that he rarely let others see.

Sands didn’t care anymore if this was a good idea, a bad idea, or even a feasible idea. All that mattered was that it was an idea. He’d be a fuckmook if he just sat here on his ass waiting for the Company to nail his hide to the wall. It was time to show them all, from every son of a bitch at the Company who’d betrayed him to every last asset in Mexico who’d abandoned him like rats leaving a sinking ship.

Just who did they think they were fucking with when they tried to burn Officer Sheldon Jeffery Sands?

No one fucked with him and got away with it. Sands was, as far as he was concerned, completely un-fuckable.

Cam’s voice interrupted Sands’ thoughts. "I can’t stop you. But the CIA will. They’ll arrest you as soon as they find out you are out of the state, and knowing them it won’t take ’em too long to find out."

Sands was standing beside Cam, angry and frustrated and seriously craving revenge. Yet still, deep down he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt that he owed Cam an explanation, and he sighed, feeling torn between his inner asshole and his inner… well, he wouldn’t call it a conscience, he had lost that long ago. Still, whatever it was, it was in the way of his inner asshole, and he really didn’t like that. However, in the end Sands found himself giving in to the side of him that usually remained deathly silent.

"Eric, you don’t seem to understand. The Company is going to arrest me either way. I can sit here defeated, and wait for them to do it, or I can go to Mexico and uncover all those little secrets Martin is keeping and possibly save what’s left of my career. Now, which do you think I’m going to choose?"

Cam closed his eyes in frustration as he realized that Sands was trying to level with him. Sands really was in quite a mess, and it was going to take a gigantic miracle to clear him if those within the Company had turned against him.

"But how the hell are you going to do it alone? For God sakes, you’re not the Lone Ranger, Jeff."

"How do you know?"

"What if…" Sands started, trying to think of the right way to say it. No matter how he tried to justify it to himself, what he was about to say, well, it really was against everything he stood for.

"What if… I was to ask you to be my partner, Officer Cameron?"

Cam sat there startled for a moment.

‘Did he just ask me to come with him?’

"Sands, I can’t go. I’m only in between assignments. Who knows when they’ll call me back for active duty; it could be anytime. Besides, if we were caught it would be the end of…" Cam stopped himself before he said it. God, it was selfish as hell, but he was thinking of his own career. And why not? Wouldn’t Sands do the same?

Perhaps it was just his guilt but Cam could swear there was a quick flash of hurt disappointment in Sands’ face before it was efficiently covered up by Sands’ familiar, indifferent stony mask. "Why don’t you finish Cam, or shall I? It would surely be the end of your illustrious and reputable career in the CIA."

"It’s not that I don’t want to, but…"

"It’s fine, Cam," Sands interrupted in a cool, yet calm tone. "You’re just looking out for number one, and believe me, that’s something I can relate to. Now get out of here. I’ve got shit to do."

"Sands, I-"

"Don’t bother to explain. You owe me no favors, so just get out of here and forget I asked," Sands said, continuing in a tone way too casual for the situation. When he didn’t hear Cam leaving he continued, putting the bag of chips back in the kitchen, "I didn’t need you. I don’t need you. I’ve never needed anyone. Now I’m sure you have something waiting for you at the Company, Flash priority no doubt, so you’d better high tail it out of here."

Feeling torn, Cam could only nod and mutter an unenthusiastic "yeah", thinking that Sands had said the word ‘need’ one too many times for the words to be believable. Not knowing what to do, Cam wished Sands luck and was already walking out the door when Sands called out to him from the living room.

"Cam, you do realize what your next assignment for the Company is likely to be, do you not?"

Cam’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he stood there for a moment nonplussed.

Sands’ extended his arms in a sweeping gesture, his palms facing upwards. "Me, of course." He paused for a beat and tilted his head. "If there is one thing I know, it’s how the Company works… so predictable, really. They’ll ask you to bring me down, because you’ve worked with me before, because you know where I’m going and why, and because the Company will believe that you know me better then any of the other officers."

‘Oh lord.’

Cam hadn’t thought of that. If that happened, that meant the next time they met, they could be enemies. He didn’t think he could take that.

Could he really take an assignment that would mean Sands’ demise, a demise dealt out by his own hand?

At Cam’s silence Sands dropped his arms and turned his back to Cam, but as he walked away he half turned his head and mumbled, seemingly against his will, "Non illigitamus carborundum."

Of course Cam had no idea what it meant, and after a moment, a bit unwillingly, he let himself out of the apartment while Sands disappeared into his bedroom.

However, Sands knew what he’d said, and as he began tossing things around in his closet searching for his suitcase, it not only became something he’d said to Cam, for who knows what reason, but it became his own mantra as well. One that he repeated over and over and over in his mind as he tossed the empty suitcase on the bed and began chucking things in it haphazardly.

‘Non illigitamus carborundum. Don’t let the bastards grind you down.’