Categories > Movies > Once Upon a Time in Mexico > Going Home
Going Home
0 reviewsSands is kicked out of the CIA. He has no choice but to go home. How will he face his mother again? Can he face the demons that he left behind?
0Unrated
He wasn't surprised when the doctors said that they couldn't help him. He could only partially remember what had happened but from what he could piece together; there probably wasn't a whole lot there for them to work with. So he was blind.
On the second day of his hospitalization they came to see him. They were people from the CIA. Given the contempt and the lack of sympathy they seemed to have, he could tell that they weren't his friends. They walked into his room as if they had a right to be there.
"Sands?"
Grateful for the cover that his sunglasses gave him he smiled. To them he would appear as arrogant as ever. As if staring out the window was more important then anything they could have to say.
"We're here on orders from Milo. He wants us to assess the reason you're here. And depending on that, either re-assign you or find out where you're headed."
Once again Sands snickered. Milo was the piece of shit that had assigned him to Mexico in the first place. His head hurt and he involuntarily put his hand on his temple as if to relieve pressure. "I don't know where I'm headed. I can tell you that re-assigning me won't be necessary. I have no eyes." He could feel the heat of their stares.
"What do you mean?"
Sands shook his head. "I'm sorry was I unclear? I. Have. No. Eyes. I was double-crossed and Barillo had my eyes removed."
The visiting agents just looked at him. He said this, with a calmness that was unnerving. As if there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he had said. Almost as if they had been having a perfectly normal conversation and he added as a side note, an after thought that his eyes were gone.
"Bullshit."
These two men had never worked with Sands. They had no idea what the man was capable of and that he would not be intimidated. He smiled at them and carefully took off his sunglasses. Through practice he knew where the men were standing and he was sure to look straight at them.
He reveled in the identical gasps that came afterwards. He loved to shock people. And these assholes had it coming; they were the ones that accused him of lying. He set his jaw as they continued to stare into the darkened holes that were his eyes. The silence became uncomfortable; like an itch in an inappropriate place that can't be scratched.
"What are you fuckmook's staring at?" He pushed his sunglasses back onto his face. He scoffed at them. "I told you. It was a little farewell present from Barillo before he was killed. No, I didn't kill him. I'm pretty sure that El did that."
"I don't think that re-assignment is necessary. I'm not sure how headquarters will want to proceed but after we talk to Milo we'll be back."
"You can tell Milo, from me, personally that he can suck my…"
They already knew what the rest of that sentence was going to be so they left. As soon as the two men left Lizzie, (his private nurse) noticed an instant change in his behaviour. The smug, arrogant, cocky attitude left. The only thing that remained was the tired, quiet and unsure man that she was used to.
"Mr. Sands? Are you alright?"
He smiled at where he believed she was standing. "Of course, Sugarbutt."
She waited a few minutes. She knew it wouldn't be long before he breathing would even out. Even if he started off faking she knew it would only be a matter of time before he would drift into his unpleasant dreams.
He's standing on a beach. The sun is warm and the sand is almost white. He's listening to the sounds of the waves splashing against the sand. Jena is standing beside him, smiling. He has just asked her to marry him and she has said yes.
Later they watch the sunset. He holds her. She reaches up to touch his face and she screams. There's blood on her fingers. In the background he can hear a drill. Then his vision starts to fade. He doesn't need to touch his face to know that the wetness he can feel dripping down his cheek is his eye or what's left of it.
He sits up with a start. He won't scream; he bites on the inside of his cheek and swallows the scream. He screamed enough while they did it. He shook his head, shameful of his behaviour that day and of his own weakness. After Dr. Guevera finished his right eye he had stopped. There was a brief moment where Sheldon had actually believed they'd let him go. Then the drill started up again. Then he had done something that he'd never admit to anyone. He had begged and pleaded for them to stop. Obviously they didn't.
So now he would hold on to whatever dignity he had left. He would not scream over nightmares. He would holdfast and redeem himself in anyway that he could. And right now that was with silence.
Lizzie also remained silent. She saw the play of emotions on his face as he had some sort of inner struggle with himself but she made no move to comfort him. He may have only been there for a few days but she knew that he was extremely independent. If he needed her for something and he would have to be really stuck, he'd ask her for her help. She watched in amazement as all the tension left his face. It chilled her to watch how quickly he could turn off his emotions.
He turned so he was 'looking' in her direction. "Don't think too hard Sugarbutt, you'll short something."
"Mr. Sands, you're impossible."
He shrugged. "So I've been told." His smile widened. He looked cute in an almost goofy sort of way. She wondered what he was thinking and then decided that if Sands was thinking it, it couldn't be good.
He was thinking about the last person to tell him that he was impossible. He shuddered, despite his attempts to control it. He thought for a moment about Ajedrez. He had loved her, trusted her and had let her in; more than he had let anyone. She had used that against him.
"Lizzie. If you're there, leave."
She walked over to the door and closed it. At first she didn't think that her trick would work. It just happened for her that another nurse of a similar weight walked past the door.
Sands waited a few minutes. He must have been satisfied that he was alone. He removed his sunglasses and set them on the table beside the bed. He took a deep breath as if that would make something better. Easier. He raised his right hand and carefully traced the edge of his socket. He continued to rhythmically breathe. "You can do this." He muttered under his breath.
She watched all of this with a sense of detachment. Up until now she had only known what they could tell her. He was a CIA who had been caught doing his job and was tortured. That is to say that he had had his eyes 'removed.' Aside from that and the gunshot wounds he had sustained; there was no sign of any other 'torture.' Now, however the CIA wanted to wipe him out. This enraged her more than anything. This man had risked it all and lost more than that. And the only thing that they were willing to say was that he had known the risks when he took the job.
She knew that he was facing a very difficult task. And now, she saw it had just been made worse. Up until this point she had figured that he would deal with being blind the same way he'd deal with everything else. Now she knew that he was falling apart.
She watched as he covered his sockets with his hands. His whole body shook, she realized with no tear ducts this was as close to crying as he could get. His crying spell didn't last long. He reached over, picked up the phone and dialed a number.
She ended up going into the hallway because the mail carrier was heading towards Sands' door. She picked up the envelope and stepped back into the room. "Mr. Sands?"
He tilted his head in her direction. "For the last time Sugarbutt, it's Sheldon or Sands. Preferably Sands. Can you dig it?"
She smiled. "Oh Lord. Is there no end to your lame sayings?"
"Afraid not. I have a whole stockpile of them. So, what's up?"
"You have mail." She disliked the way he paled. It was as if he had been waiting for a catastrophe to strike and this piece of mail was exactly that.
"Give it here."
She handed him the simple white envelope. He gently ran his index finger along the envelope until he found the crease. He tore it open and out fell a piece of paper and a diamond ring.
"Lizzie. At any time that I was unconscious was there a woman with blond curly hair, green eyes and the body of a model that came to see me?"
"Yeah. She came in and spoke with Dr. Devel. She said that she was your fiancée. Since she was the only family that we could locate the doctor told her the condition that you were in."
"Well this is fucked."
"Sands…"
He held up his hand to silence her. "It doesn't matter. She's gone and I have more important things to deal with. The fuckmook's in cheap suits will be back soon and I have to make sure that I have answers to their questions. Can you leave again?"
At first she was going to protest. But she realized that he functioned better on his own. "Sure. You know my number if you need me." He offered her a tight-lipped smile and a slight nod of his head. He didn't pick up the phone again until he heard the door to his room close. He knew that this time she had really left.
On the second day of his hospitalization they came to see him. They were people from the CIA. Given the contempt and the lack of sympathy they seemed to have, he could tell that they weren't his friends. They walked into his room as if they had a right to be there.
"Sands?"
Grateful for the cover that his sunglasses gave him he smiled. To them he would appear as arrogant as ever. As if staring out the window was more important then anything they could have to say.
"We're here on orders from Milo. He wants us to assess the reason you're here. And depending on that, either re-assign you or find out where you're headed."
Once again Sands snickered. Milo was the piece of shit that had assigned him to Mexico in the first place. His head hurt and he involuntarily put his hand on his temple as if to relieve pressure. "I don't know where I'm headed. I can tell you that re-assigning me won't be necessary. I have no eyes." He could feel the heat of their stares.
"What do you mean?"
Sands shook his head. "I'm sorry was I unclear? I. Have. No. Eyes. I was double-crossed and Barillo had my eyes removed."
The visiting agents just looked at him. He said this, with a calmness that was unnerving. As if there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he had said. Almost as if they had been having a perfectly normal conversation and he added as a side note, an after thought that his eyes were gone.
"Bullshit."
These two men had never worked with Sands. They had no idea what the man was capable of and that he would not be intimidated. He smiled at them and carefully took off his sunglasses. Through practice he knew where the men were standing and he was sure to look straight at them.
He reveled in the identical gasps that came afterwards. He loved to shock people. And these assholes had it coming; they were the ones that accused him of lying. He set his jaw as they continued to stare into the darkened holes that were his eyes. The silence became uncomfortable; like an itch in an inappropriate place that can't be scratched.
"What are you fuckmook's staring at?" He pushed his sunglasses back onto his face. He scoffed at them. "I told you. It was a little farewell present from Barillo before he was killed. No, I didn't kill him. I'm pretty sure that El did that."
"I don't think that re-assignment is necessary. I'm not sure how headquarters will want to proceed but after we talk to Milo we'll be back."
"You can tell Milo, from me, personally that he can suck my…"
They already knew what the rest of that sentence was going to be so they left. As soon as the two men left Lizzie, (his private nurse) noticed an instant change in his behaviour. The smug, arrogant, cocky attitude left. The only thing that remained was the tired, quiet and unsure man that she was used to.
"Mr. Sands? Are you alright?"
He smiled at where he believed she was standing. "Of course, Sugarbutt."
She waited a few minutes. She knew it wouldn't be long before he breathing would even out. Even if he started off faking she knew it would only be a matter of time before he would drift into his unpleasant dreams.
He's standing on a beach. The sun is warm and the sand is almost white. He's listening to the sounds of the waves splashing against the sand. Jena is standing beside him, smiling. He has just asked her to marry him and she has said yes.
Later they watch the sunset. He holds her. She reaches up to touch his face and she screams. There's blood on her fingers. In the background he can hear a drill. Then his vision starts to fade. He doesn't need to touch his face to know that the wetness he can feel dripping down his cheek is his eye or what's left of it.
He sits up with a start. He won't scream; he bites on the inside of his cheek and swallows the scream. He screamed enough while they did it. He shook his head, shameful of his behaviour that day and of his own weakness. After Dr. Guevera finished his right eye he had stopped. There was a brief moment where Sheldon had actually believed they'd let him go. Then the drill started up again. Then he had done something that he'd never admit to anyone. He had begged and pleaded for them to stop. Obviously they didn't.
So now he would hold on to whatever dignity he had left. He would not scream over nightmares. He would holdfast and redeem himself in anyway that he could. And right now that was with silence.
Lizzie also remained silent. She saw the play of emotions on his face as he had some sort of inner struggle with himself but she made no move to comfort him. He may have only been there for a few days but she knew that he was extremely independent. If he needed her for something and he would have to be really stuck, he'd ask her for her help. She watched in amazement as all the tension left his face. It chilled her to watch how quickly he could turn off his emotions.
He turned so he was 'looking' in her direction. "Don't think too hard Sugarbutt, you'll short something."
"Mr. Sands, you're impossible."
He shrugged. "So I've been told." His smile widened. He looked cute in an almost goofy sort of way. She wondered what he was thinking and then decided that if Sands was thinking it, it couldn't be good.
He was thinking about the last person to tell him that he was impossible. He shuddered, despite his attempts to control it. He thought for a moment about Ajedrez. He had loved her, trusted her and had let her in; more than he had let anyone. She had used that against him.
"Lizzie. If you're there, leave."
She walked over to the door and closed it. At first she didn't think that her trick would work. It just happened for her that another nurse of a similar weight walked past the door.
Sands waited a few minutes. He must have been satisfied that he was alone. He removed his sunglasses and set them on the table beside the bed. He took a deep breath as if that would make something better. Easier. He raised his right hand and carefully traced the edge of his socket. He continued to rhythmically breathe. "You can do this." He muttered under his breath.
She watched all of this with a sense of detachment. Up until now she had only known what they could tell her. He was a CIA who had been caught doing his job and was tortured. That is to say that he had had his eyes 'removed.' Aside from that and the gunshot wounds he had sustained; there was no sign of any other 'torture.' Now, however the CIA wanted to wipe him out. This enraged her more than anything. This man had risked it all and lost more than that. And the only thing that they were willing to say was that he had known the risks when he took the job.
She knew that he was facing a very difficult task. And now, she saw it had just been made worse. Up until this point she had figured that he would deal with being blind the same way he'd deal with everything else. Now she knew that he was falling apart.
She watched as he covered his sockets with his hands. His whole body shook, she realized with no tear ducts this was as close to crying as he could get. His crying spell didn't last long. He reached over, picked up the phone and dialed a number.
She ended up going into the hallway because the mail carrier was heading towards Sands' door. She picked up the envelope and stepped back into the room. "Mr. Sands?"
He tilted his head in her direction. "For the last time Sugarbutt, it's Sheldon or Sands. Preferably Sands. Can you dig it?"
She smiled. "Oh Lord. Is there no end to your lame sayings?"
"Afraid not. I have a whole stockpile of them. So, what's up?"
"You have mail." She disliked the way he paled. It was as if he had been waiting for a catastrophe to strike and this piece of mail was exactly that.
"Give it here."
She handed him the simple white envelope. He gently ran his index finger along the envelope until he found the crease. He tore it open and out fell a piece of paper and a diamond ring.
"Lizzie. At any time that I was unconscious was there a woman with blond curly hair, green eyes and the body of a model that came to see me?"
"Yeah. She came in and spoke with Dr. Devel. She said that she was your fiancée. Since she was the only family that we could locate the doctor told her the condition that you were in."
"Well this is fucked."
"Sands…"
He held up his hand to silence her. "It doesn't matter. She's gone and I have more important things to deal with. The fuckmook's in cheap suits will be back soon and I have to make sure that I have answers to their questions. Can you leave again?"
At first she was going to protest. But she realized that he functioned better on his own. "Sure. You know my number if you need me." He offered her a tight-lipped smile and a slight nod of his head. He didn't pick up the phone again until he heard the door to his room close. He knew that this time she had really left.
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