Categories > Movies > Once Upon a Time in Mexico > Going Home
Sands hates dreaming. Even when his dreams seem less torturous they still suck. He knows he's dreaming because he can see. This being said he can't be bothered to acknowledge his fear.
He's cowering behind the couch, hoping that his hiding place is good enough that his father won't find him. His father had been drinking again and with Mommy at work this is never a good thing for 4-year-old Sheldon.
The man in his dreams is more of a monster than anything else. He seems inhumanly tall and impossibly strong. The 4 year old yelps as his arm is grabbed and he is dragged from his hiding spot. The man throws the child on the floor. As the child is punched and kicked he learns a valuable lesson—that in life if you want to be strong you must be in control.
Sheldon sits up in bed. He can feel his stick in one hand and the cool softness of his sheets in the other. That's another thing with being blind, he tries to tell himself that he is awake and that everything is okay as it's ever going to get but he isn't sure. His heart freezes in his chest and he can feel fear chasing up his spine (he hates that feeling) as he hears jingling downstairs.
As he puts his sunglasses back on (he took them off when he decided to sleep) he considers the impossibility of what he thinks is happening. If that fucking Mexican is here he won't be for long because I'm going to kill him.
Marie-Anne on the other hand didn't know whether to believe this gentleman or not. He just showed up at her front door, claiming to know Sheldon. She let him in because she honestly didn't know what else to do.
El stood in the doorway. He had no idea what he was doing here. He couldn't explain why he had felt the urge to find Sands. Either way, Sands was here (sitting in a sparsely lit room with sunglasses on, which El thought was a little strange) but he was here.
Sheldon sat on his bed, blind stick concealed in his hand. He was using all of his remaining senses to try and figure out who was at his door. He knew the scent of the other man's cologne immediately, combined with the jingling of the chains and the sound of him putting the guitar case on the floor. "El." Sheldon tried to keep his voice steady, tried to remain calm but the fact was he was falling apart and he knew it.
El sat on the edge of the bed. He was sure that Sands knew that the guitar case was full of guns. He felt it less likely that he would be shot if he tried to put him at ease.
"Sands."
Sands sat up completely. He reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand and pulled one out. He lit it (grateful that he had this down to a science), took a drag and 'looked' at El. "You fucked me over. You didn't wait for the president to be killed. Although, I couldn't help but notice that you made sure Marquez was killed, not to mention that the 20 million pesos mysteriously disappeared. Thanks."
"After the Day of the Dead I went to look for you. I knew that you hadn't been killed. Men like us aren't that lucky. A little boy, selling bubble gum told me that a blind gun fighter had been captured by the Americans. I did not know that you were blind, you hadn't been the last time that I saw you."
Sands took a drag off the cigarette and let the smoke come out of his nose. He knew that if they were in a cartoon he would have smoke coming out both ears as well. "Okay. Why did you come looking for me?"
El shook his head. "I don't know. I don't like you, I would have been perfectly happy living Guitar Town forever. But I had to find you."
Sands snubbed out his cigarette. "Okay. You found me. I'm fine now fuck off." Sheldon thought that he wanted him to leave, he could even trick himself into believing that he wanted him to leave. However, he knew that El was the last connection he had from before his eyes were taken.
El sat, staring at the man. He found the sunglasses unnerving. He had no idea what was under then but he knew that this was not the same snarky, arrogant man that had asked him to kill Marquez.
"Stop staring at me. You want to know?"
"No."
"Sure you do." Sands lifted the sunglasses from his face.
El barely managed to suppress his gasp. He had thought when they first met that Sheldon was a beautiful man. He was not gay; he still loved Carolina and he always would. He realized that Sands was shaking. He was sure it wasn't out of anger. His breathing was becoming shallow and every muscle in his body was tense. El was sure that he was making a mistake but went for it anyway.
He pulled Sheldon into a hug, practically pulling the other msn into his lap. For the first few minutes Sheldon's body relaxed against El. El ran a hand through Sheldon's hair and began to sing softly in his ear. It had been his experience that soothing music calmed down just about anyone. He was glad to find that Sands wasn't any difference. It was only a few minutes before he was asleep.
He's cowering behind the couch, hoping that his hiding place is good enough that his father won't find him. His father had been drinking again and with Mommy at work this is never a good thing for 4-year-old Sheldon.
The man in his dreams is more of a monster than anything else. He seems inhumanly tall and impossibly strong. The 4 year old yelps as his arm is grabbed and he is dragged from his hiding spot. The man throws the child on the floor. As the child is punched and kicked he learns a valuable lesson—that in life if you want to be strong you must be in control.
Sheldon sits up in bed. He can feel his stick in one hand and the cool softness of his sheets in the other. That's another thing with being blind, he tries to tell himself that he is awake and that everything is okay as it's ever going to get but he isn't sure. His heart freezes in his chest and he can feel fear chasing up his spine (he hates that feeling) as he hears jingling downstairs.
As he puts his sunglasses back on (he took them off when he decided to sleep) he considers the impossibility of what he thinks is happening. If that fucking Mexican is here he won't be for long because I'm going to kill him.
Marie-Anne on the other hand didn't know whether to believe this gentleman or not. He just showed up at her front door, claiming to know Sheldon. She let him in because she honestly didn't know what else to do.
El stood in the doorway. He had no idea what he was doing here. He couldn't explain why he had felt the urge to find Sands. Either way, Sands was here (sitting in a sparsely lit room with sunglasses on, which El thought was a little strange) but he was here.
Sheldon sat on his bed, blind stick concealed in his hand. He was using all of his remaining senses to try and figure out who was at his door. He knew the scent of the other man's cologne immediately, combined with the jingling of the chains and the sound of him putting the guitar case on the floor. "El." Sheldon tried to keep his voice steady, tried to remain calm but the fact was he was falling apart and he knew it.
El sat on the edge of the bed. He was sure that Sands knew that the guitar case was full of guns. He felt it less likely that he would be shot if he tried to put him at ease.
"Sands."
Sands sat up completely. He reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand and pulled one out. He lit it (grateful that he had this down to a science), took a drag and 'looked' at El. "You fucked me over. You didn't wait for the president to be killed. Although, I couldn't help but notice that you made sure Marquez was killed, not to mention that the 20 million pesos mysteriously disappeared. Thanks."
"After the Day of the Dead I went to look for you. I knew that you hadn't been killed. Men like us aren't that lucky. A little boy, selling bubble gum told me that a blind gun fighter had been captured by the Americans. I did not know that you were blind, you hadn't been the last time that I saw you."
Sands took a drag off the cigarette and let the smoke come out of his nose. He knew that if they were in a cartoon he would have smoke coming out both ears as well. "Okay. Why did you come looking for me?"
El shook his head. "I don't know. I don't like you, I would have been perfectly happy living Guitar Town forever. But I had to find you."
Sands snubbed out his cigarette. "Okay. You found me. I'm fine now fuck off." Sheldon thought that he wanted him to leave, he could even trick himself into believing that he wanted him to leave. However, he knew that El was the last connection he had from before his eyes were taken.
El sat, staring at the man. He found the sunglasses unnerving. He had no idea what was under then but he knew that this was not the same snarky, arrogant man that had asked him to kill Marquez.
"Stop staring at me. You want to know?"
"No."
"Sure you do." Sands lifted the sunglasses from his face.
El barely managed to suppress his gasp. He had thought when they first met that Sheldon was a beautiful man. He was not gay; he still loved Carolina and he always would. He realized that Sands was shaking. He was sure it wasn't out of anger. His breathing was becoming shallow and every muscle in his body was tense. El was sure that he was making a mistake but went for it anyway.
He pulled Sheldon into a hug, practically pulling the other msn into his lap. For the first few minutes Sheldon's body relaxed against El. El ran a hand through Sheldon's hair and began to sing softly in his ear. It had been his experience that soothing music calmed down just about anyone. He was glad to find that Sands wasn't any difference. It was only a few minutes before he was asleep.
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