It felt like he’d stood up too fast; he was dizzy and barely hanging on to consciousness. Only… he wasn’t standing or sitting; he was lying flat on his back, yet he couldn’t feel anything beneath him.

Sleeping the day away?

A voice.

His own? He wasn’t sure. Everything seemed unreal, yet he was pretty sure that he wasn’t asleep.

Have you ever seen such a thing in your life, as three blind mice?

‘That’s not right,’ Sands thought, but couldn’t pinpoint why. The more he tried to think, the more confused he became. That wasn’t his voice, but who else’s voice could be in his head other than his own?

“Not quite all there yet, are you, little mouse?”

His eyebrows drew together in confusion, instinct the only thing he was able to go on while his mind was stuck in idle. The room seemed impossibly dark. It was as if he was deep within the bowels of some dark cave, where light was unnatural and darkness was the norm.

Such darkness could make a sane man go mad.

‘Three blind mice, three blind mice…’ a voice sang, different from the last. Not his own. It was most definitely not his own. It was feminine, and although the voice was pleasant it made him uneasy. ‘See how they run?’

He tried to see through the blackness, and attempted to focus his gaze on the silhouette of his mystery companion.

Although he couldn’t be certain, he thought he could just make out a figure. But the more he stared into the blackness, the more wrong everything seemed, and the more elusive the figure became.

Then it occurred to him; the outline of the figure was not darker than the surrounding blackness… it was lighter.

He attempted to focus his gaze on the figure but the longer he stared the harder it became to separate the figure from the darkness.

Not just darkness: absolute darkness.

‘This isn’t right,’ he thought. Even at night it wasn’t this dark.

An ache in his side began to make its presence known, and a soft moan escaped his lips. But the moan didn’t come from pain, rather from relief. He could feel something now, and it reinforced his belief that this wasn’t a dream.

He wiggled his fingers experimentally and they responded, albeit sluggishly. The result was a tingling sensation that started in his hand, then quickly spread all the way up his arm.

Unexpectedly, feeling came back to his body and the sensation was overwhelming. It was as if he’d been falling, feeling nothing but the air around him, until he made impact with the earth. The feeling left him breathless, and his hands grasped whatever they could find in an attempt to ground himself. His whole body tensed, suddenly aware.

Sheet. He was clutching a cotton sheet in his fists.

“Breathe,” the voice spoke; soft, feminine and recognizable. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and his body relaxed into the warm bed beneath him. Opening his mouth, he tried to form words, but couldn’t seem to get any sound out.

That was most definitely odd; he was positive he’d never had trouble with the spoken word before.

Your specialty.

Frowning, he realized that the form beside him was beginning to dissipate. It became ghost-like as foggy tendrils lost their form and dissolved into blackness.

He took a long, deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “What…?” he croaked out, unable to say any more.

“Don’t,” she said, whoever she was. “Here, drink this.”

Damn it, why can’t I think?

Paper touched his lips, and he opened his mouth, grateful for the cool water that was slowly tipped into his mouth, wetting his parched throat. “Drink.”

The wispy tendrils formed a solid image; so brief was the visual that it was almost too quick to comprehend the face they formed before dissolving back into the darkness. “Cecelia?” he asked, voice still gravelly from unconsciousness.

As soon as he said the name, he knew it was wrong.

No, no, no. Wrong again, amigo.

He took another sip of the cold water, and then relaxed back.

“Better?” she asked, moving the cup away.

Ava. That’s who it is. Ava.

The realization of her name brought a flood of memories with it, and they all tumbled back in a disorganized jumble that left his brain spinning. “Ava?” he asked.

“Just relax, dear.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Dear? He attempted to sort out all the information going through his mind, but his thoughts were still too mixed-up to completely grasp the oddity of her endearment.

Trying to sit up, he was quickly stopped by Ava’s firm hand on his shoulder. He found that he was too tired to protest, and sank back into the pillow as she asked, “So, what are you up to today, Officer?”

He coughed, clearing the lump that had formed in his throat. He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but he was sure that he didn’t like the child-like tone she was using with him.

“Ah, what games we play,” he said, regaining his voice. “Back and forth, left and right, up and down. When do we stop?” he asked. One hand swayed lazily back and forth as he spoke.

“Whenever you want it to stop, dear,” she said in the same patronizing tone. Her weight left the bed as she stood, causing Sands’ body to roll to the left. He gritted his teeth as he turned onto his sore side.

“Say when?” he asked with a tired laugh, a rush of air escaping his mouth.

“Mmm hmm.”

Sands frowned as he heard her prepare something beside him. She wasn’t even listening.

He tried to sit up again, this time having a bit more success when she didn’t attempt to stop him. He propped himself up on his elbows and turned his head in Ava’s direction. “I have this nagging suspicion that everyone’s out to make me insane.”

She paused in her preparations. “Do you know where you are?” she asked, sounding more interested than before.

“I’m trying to decide if I’m in Wonderland or Oz.” Bringing a hand to the back of his head, he popped his neck, but it did little to ease the stiffness. “Tell me; are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

“You’re at OMS…” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “In the psychiatric ward.”

Sands couldn’t help it. He rolled his head back and laughed. “It seems that all the rabbit holes lead to the same place.”

He wasn’t sure why he found the whole situation funny, but he continued to laugh. Maybe it was because of the irony of the situation, or maybe it was because if he didn’t laugh, he’d probably flip out. That definitely wouldn’t help the situation he was in now... no, something was going on and it was vital that he maintain his normal temperament.

Keep cool. Gather information. Don’t flip out.

“Playacting nurse today, are we?”

“I am a nurse.”

Sands smiled cynically. “And what will you be tomorrow? An astronaut? ” he asked as his laughter subsided, leaving him out of breath. “What’s the story, Morning Glory?”

Although his fuzzy mind couldn’t be sure of the situation, he had an inkling of what was going on here.

Are you broken, Officer?

She chuckled a little, returning to the side of the bed. “Are you insinuating that I’m lying?”

“I’m more than insinuating.”

“Well, if you’re so sure about it then it must be true,” she replied lightly. “Time for your pills.”

She grabbed his right hand, and turned it so that his palm was up. She dropped two pills into his hand as he asked, “And what are these groovy little happy pills for?” He was fairly certain these would send him tripping or put him in a sedative-induced coma. Either way, it wouldn’t be conducive to a worthwhile thought process.

“Antibiotics,” she said. It would have been convincing, had she not paused a beat too long. Sands found that interesting, because she seemed to be extremely efficient at misleading people, and he was certain she could lie through her teeth without any pesky morals getting in the way… or dead giveaways that would tip him off.

He popped the pills in his mouth, but pushed them to the side with his tongue. She handed him the water, and he took a sip, pretending to swallow the pills.

It was totally obvious.

It was the oldest trick in the book.

And she didn’t say a word. She didn’t even check to see if he’d swallowed the pills. Silently, she took the cup of water from his grip and walked away.

Perhaps she wasn’t all bad.

‘Pandora.’

After all, she’d given him fair warning… and perhaps even a fighting chance.

“How was Alaska, Shelly?”

Of course he knew he’d never been to Alaska, just like he knew this wasn’t Cecelia talking to him now, and that he had indeed returned to Mexico after the Day of the Dead.

‘Up for a little sport, are they?’ he thought, smiling to himself. The voice continued on, and it sounded incredibly real, making it all the more satisfying when he was able to block it out completely.

Oh yes. He was game.

Of course, that didn’t mean that he was going to play their game. Sheldon Jeffery Sands didn’t play other peoples games; he made other people play his. The best part about it was they had no idea that while they were playing Clue, he was buying out Boardwalk.

“Why are you ignoring me?” the voice asked. “Please talk to me, Jeff. I know something is bothering you,” it continued to plead.

Sands took a deep breath, and continued his earlier mantra.

Keep cool. Gather information. Don’t flip out. Keep cool. Gather information. Don’t flip out.

This was going to be a long night.

For once it seemed like a good idea to let his thoughts drift to the past, and let the present fade away.

The sound of a coin spinning on the oak table broke the silence. After completing several successful rotations on its edge, the coin slowly began tilting to one side, succumbing to the forces of gravity. It was not quick to stop its motion, however, as its circular spin flipped its axis and it rotated around the edge instead of on it. The coin continued its horizontal spiral until finally coming to a rest on the tabletop.

“Well that clears everything up,” said the man sitting beside him after a few seconds of silence.

Sands smirked at his so-called-peers seated at the table; the three other psychologists assigned to this project. He was the newest addition, having been hired on to the project when it seemingly hit a standstill a couple months ago.

The lead scientists were also there today, as well as two Company big-wigs from Washington who carried a lot of power in the form of government backing, but didn’t have a fucking clue what the rest of them were talking about. It was clear that the best way to get them to understand was to treat them like five year olds… and hope they were able to keep up with that level.

“Doesn’t it, though?” Sands said, leaning back in his chair.

“Would you kindly explain your ‘demonstration’, Officer Sands? We haven’t got all day, and we were starting to get somewhere before your interruption,” said one of the suits - also known as Karlin – sounding exasperated.

Sands gave the coin another twirl and watched the quarter perform its pirouette again, aware of the suit’s close scrutiny. He waited until the quarter came to a stop, and then looked up to meet Karlin’s expectant stare.

Sands said nothing, and spun the quarter once more with a practiced flick of the wrist. He pointed at the coin as he spoke. “Congratulations. This quarter knows far more about PANDORA than all of you.” He looked up from the coin again and was met by a group of blank stares. Sighing, he returned his gaze to the quarter before continuing on. “For a few moments, this coin is able to do as I ask it to. I ask it to spin on its end, and voila! So it does. But what’s happened?” Sands asked, the coin once again becoming motionless on the table.

“Get to the point, Jeff,” said one of his colleagues, all too familiar with his long-winded, round-a-bout explanations.

“I’m sure I’ll get there eventually,” Sands said flippantly, his eyes locking with Karlin’s, daring him to answer.

“It stopped.”

Sands threw his hands up in the air. “Brilliant! Give the man a monkey.”

Tapping the quarter with his index finger, he ignored everyone but Karlin. “I know what your next question is. Why?” Sands held up his hands and slipped into his familiar sarcastic drawl. “Right on the ball Karlin, there’s no evading your sharp intellect.”

Sands quickly became serious, lowering his hands to the table as his lips settled into their trademark smirk. “The coin begins to lose the power and direction I give it as soon as I let go. In other words, you can’t control something you don’t have a handle on at all times… and none of you have a handle on PANDORA.”

Somehow Sands had managed to fall asleep, despite the fake Cecelia’s persistence, and morning came surprisingly quick. Cecelia, it seemed, had left sometime during the night; probably when he’d fallen asleep. He wondered how long it would take before the Company’s patience wore thin.

He figured it wouldn’t take too long. The Company had never been known for its inaction.

That, coupled with the fact that he became inhuman while in the grips of nicotine withdrawal, practically insured that he’d be speaking to a head honcho before the week was out.

As it turned out, it only took two more days. Two more days of Ava pretending to give him pills that he never swallowed, of hearing Cecelia’s voice come and go, of repeating his mantra over and over in his mind, and of fantasizing about the next cigarette he could get his lips around… it was almost enough to drive a man off the deep end. Almost.

Close, but no cigar. Well laid plans go up in a puff of smoke.

Damn. He needed a nicotine fix, and quick.

“Got a light, Mac?” Sands asked with a wave of the cigarette. Something metal slid towards him next, and he grabbed it while it was still sliding across the table. Lighting up, he threw the lighter back.

“You’ve been through quite a lot the past few months, haven’t you Officer Sands?” an older man asked. He sounded vaguely recognizable, but Sands couldn’t place him, too preoccupied with his cigarette.

He took a deep drag, and held the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible. Exhaling, he absently fingered the sunglasses on his face; he was silently grateful that Ava had given them back earlier in the day. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he said at last, slipping into a silky drawl.

The sound of a lighter flicking open broke the silence as the man lit his own cigarette. “You don’t remember me?”

“I’m sure the earth moved for both of us,” Sands said, taking a puff of his cigarette.

The man snapped the lighter shut, chuckling softly. The creak a moment later told Sands that his companion was also leaning back in his chair. “Looks like PsyOps couldn’t even make a dent. I think that’s bad for the Company, and extremely good for you.”

“A pathetic effort,” Sands said. “I’d say the Company is in need of my expertise.”

“Why do you say that?” the man asked, exhaling slowly. It wasn’t a question so much as it was an admission.

Sands smirked. “They took my eyes, not my brain, Mystery Man. The Company tested me, but they certainly didn’t try to break me.”

“That’s good for the Company, then. No one understood PANDORA like you did.”

Sands kept his face neutral, taking another drag of his cigarette. So Ava had been acting on his behalf after all… this was about PANDORA. Not only that, but she hadn’t given him the drugs that would have made the mild test of sanity much more effective.

“Tell me, Sands. How is it that you weren’t fazed by the last few days?” Suspicion worked its way into his voice as he continued. “Not even by the drugs?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Damn straight I would, but I know you’re not going to tell me.”

Sands leaned forward, and said in a conspiratorial tone, “The element of surprise is your number one amigo.” Sands held up a single digit to accentuate his point, and flashed a wolf-like smile. “Bad form to try and test me with techniques that I dreamed up. Couldn’t you think up any of your own?”

“I never claimed to have a knack for the head-fuck. I’m just a man who has power in every place but the brain.”

A slow smile spread across Sands’ face. “Give me a quarter and I’ll explain it to you again sometime, Karlin.”

“So the earth moved after all.”

Sands snorted, taking another pull of his cigarette. “I can practically feel the aftershocks. Let’s cut the foreplay and get down to the heavy stuff.”

“All right. The only reason I’m here right now is because of our mutual acquaintance, Eric Cameron. He tossed some information my way, and I’m merely making sure no one drops the ball.”

“And?” Sands prodded. “You want to lift the lid of Pandora’s Box for one more look-see?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Sands tapped the ash off his cigarette, quirking an eyebrow. “What about all those pesky little side-effects PANDORA was blamed for?”

“You’ve got the wrong idea. That bitch PANDORA died a slow and torturous death, and none of us are looking to relieve that nightmare.”

“But you’re going to create a whole new one of your own.” Sands said.

“No.” Karlin stated. “You are.”